#tw power dynamics

[sutorus]

THE GRUDGE PROFESSOR!GETO for KINKTOBER 2023!

DESCRIPTION: everybody loves professor geto, and judging by the thousands of viewers you get on every live, a lot of people love you, too. but you and professor geto hate each other. you’ve had enough of his humiliation rituals, and decide to do something about it.

PAIRING: mean professor!geto x student!reader

WC: 5.3k i am an unstoppable beast

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI. fem reader, afab reader, teacher/student dynamic! adult age gap! (reader is in college, unspecified age), sw/camgirl!reader (don’t like don’t read! no shaming 😤), strong language, dirty talk, pet names (sweetheart, baby, angel, darling), reader calling geto "sir", unprotected relations, creampie, afab reader and terms

A/N: this switches between povs a lot so i hope that’s okay or at least readable lol! also i set out to write him so much meaner but he’s just kind of a simp... enjoy?

reblogs are very much appreciated i'll uwu for u :pleading eyes emoji:

it is said that those who cannot do, teach. 

geto suguru could have done many things. he had the brains, the muscles, the features, the traits. the ambition to succeed in any field he desired. satoru says in a world ruled by the strong there is no place for humility. 

but humility is not why suguru became a teacher. neither is ineptitude. no, he’d become a teacher because it was the right thing to do. 

to use his gifts to help shape new generations, help unlock potentials long dorment and buried deep under years of a lackluster schooling system. geto suguru prided himself, above all, in being a righteous man. 

but japan’s most upstanding citizen for 28 years in a row held a shameful secret. a secret in the shape of you. 

he saw the darkest sides of himself on your face (eyebrows scrunched, eyes shut tightly, jaw slack as you—), your voice (higher in pitch with desperate moans that sound almost scared on the brink of your—), your body (taut and plump in all the right places, glistening with sweat, bouncing up and down on a—). 

when you walked into his classroom that fateful day, the world tilted on its axis. his first thought was, fuck, then, it can’t be, then, most embarrassing of all, i’ll finally find out what she smells like. 

(he did, when you went up to his desk to hand over your test. a whiff of vanilla, argon oil shampoo. too sweet, too youthful. and he’d watched you leave, tennis skirt flowing like a water lily, dick already chubby in his pants.)

it was slowly starting to consume him.

the first time you spoke in class, he knew he hadn’t been mistaken. it was really you. the cute, slutty girl he’d been milking his cock to for the better part of a year. 

god, when you finally said his name. you would never in your wildest dreams think that he’d been imagining those words coming out of your mouth, of him coming out of your mouth, dripping out of you, all over you—

he was losing it. this was not like him. this was never supposed to happen, and he has to put an end to it. 

everybody knew of geto suguru, the prodigy professor. already getting a phd despite not even being 30, handling the administrative slack for the department while managing office hours every day of the week, promoting student events, helping organize spirit weeks and charity drives. 

everything he did, he did for others. those not as capable as him — which was most people. in other words, it was really, really hard to hate him. 

but you damn well managed to. 

and to think you were excited to take his class. everybody told you to run, not walk, to sign up for his twentieth-century Japanese philosophy chair. 

“oh, professor geto is just the best,” they’d said. “he makes it sound so interesting and engaging, he gives the most life changing assignments, he really cares about us.”

bullshit. 

the first time you stepped into that classroom, suspiciously full for a philosophy class, you felt a shift in the air almost immediately. 

and sure enough, professor geto suguru was eyeing you down like he’d just seen a ghost. it made you self conscious, like he’d taken one look at you and decided right then and there you were too dumb for the class. 

it made your blood boil. sure, you stood out a little bit from the actual philosophy majors, but that doesn’t mean he gets to judge you. he literally doesn’t know you!

but fine, first impressions are tricky like that. for all you knew, you could’ve been misjudging him right there. 

however, with each passing day, you grew more and more assured in your suspicions.

you knew the man had it out for you, always calling on you to answer when he knew you weren’t paying attention, never grading your papers above a B even though you did everything right, somehow managing to fucking avoid you during his excessive office hours. 

his looks were almost the most infuriating part of it.

his beautiful face constantly set in that nonchalant look, his big veiny hands always gesticulating, his huge fucking arms straining the fabric of those dress shirts, his ear gauges and man bun contrasting the prim and proper image the rest of him conveyed. 

under different circumstances, he’d make your mouth water. under different circumstances, you’d imagine him going down on you all night long, singing praise about how good you taste and how tight you are. 

but in this timeline, you absolutely loathed him. and he loathed you too. why? you didn’t know. 

but you knew for a fact that it was personal. 

“i don’t care,” megumi said around a mouthful of meatball, cutting your monologue short. “i’m not doing it.”

you sigh, melting into your chair. “megumi. please. i am literally begging you, i just need some hard evidence so i can go report his ass.”

he eyes you curiously. “report him for what?”

“i don’t know. bullying? sexism? whatever the hell his problem is,” you pick at your food, huffing in annoyance. 

“you’re overthinking it,” megumi replies, dismissively. 

“okay, how about this,” you lean forward, putting an elbow on the table. “if you write the assignment for me, i’ll get your dog that expensive halloween costume you’ve been wanting.”

megumi lifts an eyebrow. 

“you need to get one for each,” he says simply. 

you grin. “deal.”

suguru really does give it his all to make your life with him a living hell. pulls out all the stops, years of friendship with gojo satoru paying off as he comes up with ploy after ploy to get you to drop his class. 

it feels bad, being mean to you. but for the hidden, twisted parts of him, it feels delicious. 

watching you huff and puff, all hot and bothered when he corrects your answers on the spot. watching you nibble on your pen at the increasingly difficult exams he hands out. letting himself wonder if you missed a stream this week because you were too busy cramming for a make up test. 

he knows he’s pushing you to your limit, and even if there’s some sort of sick satisfaction in seeing you so agitated at his hands when it’s usually the other way around, he doesn’t enjoy upsetting you. 

the problem is, suguru knows it’s either he gets his shit together or he continues tormenting you, and, well. 

the spirit is willing but the flesh is so, so weak. 

he knows it’s getting worse, too, because he’s not infatuated by you only when you’re undressing on his screen, or all dolled up in class. 

when you tie your hair up in a ponytail, when you suck on a hangnail, when you lick your thumb to erase a smudge on your paper… all of it drives him wild. 

he can’t teach with a permanent half chub anymore. this has to end, one way or another. 

you sit down in front of your computer, adjusting the camera before turning it on. soon, viewers start trickling in, little dings notifying you of their messages. 

you smile, waving at the screen. 

“hi everyone! i know i’m a little bit late today, i hope you can forgive me…” your eyes scan the chat, giggling at the compliments. “‘you look tired, sad face’, ah. i’m sorry. i guess i’ve been a little stressed lately.”

your robe falls over your shoulder as you readjust your position. a few donations come in, accompanied by supportive messages.

“you guys are so nice. it’s not a big deal, it’s just this dude giving me a hard time at college.” 

you absentmindedly trace your collarbones, reading what your viewers are saying. 

“you’ll kill him for me? that’s so sweet,” you joke. “nah, it’s not a student. it’s a professor. exactly, ynlover444, a grown ass man picking on me!”

you sigh deeply, allowing your body to finally unwind and relax on your chair. you prop a knee up against the armrest, giving your viewers a little peek in between your legs. you’re wearing one of your favorite sets, trying to get in the mood after the week you’ve had. 

“ugh, sometimes i wish i could just…” you suck in a breath, clenching your hand into a fist before releasing it. “sit on his face and get him to shut up, you know?”

you laugh at the countless me firsts that flood the chat, bringing a finger to your lip. 

“anyway! enough about that horrible man,” you reach beside you to grab a box your viewers know all too well by now. “let’s get to the fun stuff, shall we?”

as always, satoru is no help. 

“why don’t you just fuck her?” he asks, eyebrows arching above his sunglasses. “ya gotta just fuck her.”

suguru clears his throat before taking a drag of his cigarette. “i’m not fucking a student.”

satoru shrugs. “everybody does it. besides, you basically already do.” 

suguru wonders, not for the first time, why he ever told his friend about his situation. about your streams, that he’d stumbled upon randomly and innocently and had gotten instantly hooked, about you barging into his classroom like an angel at hell’s gates, about you you you you, everything about you. 

“that won’t fix anything.”

satoru clicks his tongue, swirling his soda inside the can.

“poor, naive suguru. did you not just tell me about what she said on her stream?" and yes, regrettably, suguru had told him. "it’ll fix everything.”

suguru doesn’t even let himself consider it, except he does.

at this point it’s no secret that he’s thought about being inside you, but now that you’re here it’s just too real and too risky and completely fucking wrong. 

it goes against the entire life he’s built for himself. 

he’s lost. he wants you so fucking bad, wants you close, wants you so far away, wants to ravage you and never have to see you again. 

it’s fight or flight. if he got you alone, it could go either way, he realizes that. 

suguru wonders what part of him will win by the end of all of this. 

your heels clack on the linoleum floor of the hallway as you approach professor geto’s classroom, megumi’s graded paper clutched tightly against your chest. 

the thing about megumi is that he's a star student. he’s never gotten anything below an A on any of his essays, makes the dean’s list every year, tutors his seniors. so the big, bright B- on the page tells you everything you need to know. 

damn right it’s personal. 

you don’t even bother knocking, slamming the door open while still trying to contain your indignation. 

geto is sitting at his desk, piles of papers sprawled on top. he has his white dress shirt rolled up to his elbows and a surprised look on his face that would be cute if you didn’t want to slap it right off. 

he says your last name like he’d been expecting you all his life.

“to what do i owe the pleasure?”

your jaw clenches as you take a few loud steps towards him. you slam megumi’s paper down on his desk, leaning over. 

“professor geto, i demand an explanation. a real one, this time.”

the man takes a deep breath, lips twisting disapprovingly. he smoothes the paper over.

“as i already explained in my notes right here, the structure is fine, but i couldn’t help but miss a more in-depth analysis of the four nodal concerns of philosophy that we talked about in class, such as—“

“no,” you interrupt. “just no. you know you’re bullshitting me and i’m sick of it. this paper deserved an A!”

“miss—“

“what’s your problem with me?” you spit out. your eyes finally meet and there’s nothing in geto’s that could answer your question. your chest is heaving, lips wobbling and hands shaking, trying to contain your anger. 

geto clears his throat, visibly uncomfortable. “like i said, your paper could’ve used a bit more—“

“no it fucking couldn’t have, because it’s not my fucking paper, it’s fushiguro’s fucking paper and the only reason you gave it a B is because i was the one who handed it in!”

he sits up, straightening his posture.

geto sounds austere when he asks, “do you realize how much trouble this could be for both of you if i reported it?”

you can’t believe this man. he’s been picking on you the entire semester and when you finally confront him about it this is what he chooses to focus on. 

“are you fucking kidding me?” that earns you a stern look from him, eyebrow raising taller than that fucking high horse he sits on. “professor geto. what did i ever do to you?”

there must be something earnest in your voice because geto sighs, getting up from his chair. 

he walks until he’s standing in front of you, leaning against his desk and crossing his feet. 

“do i bother you?” is all he says. it surprises you. 

you jut your chin out. “as a matter of fact, you do.”

the man hums. 

“i bet that’s really difficult for you,” he speaks like he’s sympathetic, like he understands. he sounds almost sheepish when he says, “i bet sometimes you wish i would just shut up.”

you blink rapidly. “no, it’s not like that. it might shock you but i genuinely do enjoy your class, it’s just that—“

“or maybe you wish you could shut me up,” he continues, ignoring you. “maybe going as far as to say that you could… sit on my face to get me to shut up.” 

your mouth goes dry.

before your brain can fully process the shift in the atmosphere or the fact that your professor is maybe possibly hitting on you, you realize where those words are coming from. 

it’s what you said. about him. on stream. right before fucking yourself on your hot pink dildo. 

you can’t speak, can barely even look in his general direction. 

you had really thought things couldn’t get any worse. had barged into his office with nothing to lose, almost hoping he would cordially invite you to remove yourself from his class permanently. 

but now? now you have no idea what’s going to happen to you. 

“i…” you start, the words dying in your throat. geto chuckles, crossing his fat fucking muscly arms across his chest. 

he says your name, low and syrupy. “is it true? you’d like to?”

you can feel your face flush hot in embarrassment, and you shift your weight from one foot to the other, wishing desperately that you’d never walked into his classroom. 

you have half the mind to apologize to him, right now.

“it’s just a figure of speech,” you try. geto clicks his tongue. 

“what a shame.”

your wide eyes shoot up and meet his. “w-what?”

he smiles sweetly. 

“it’s a peace offering. you can take it, or we can forget you ever said anything,” and isn’t he just so slimey, actually, when he’s the one who brought it up. he had said it, and now… 

now you can finally allow yourself to look at him.

those delicious, broad shoulders, the ever-present bored look, the stubborn fringe that falls out of his bun. 

you could so easily forget what you came here for. 

“so, like, a truce?” you ask, taking a daring step forward. geto nods, uncrossing his arms. “and you stop treating me like i’m fucking dumb?”

he tilts his head. “i think you’re a very smart young lady. determined. entrepreneurial…”

“geto—“

“professor geto,” he corrects you, hands reaching out to graze your hips. “you’re intelligent. i just like to push my students.”

you both know that’s a lie, but it’s okay, because now you know exactly why you got under his skin and it makes your own burn. 

you run a hand down the line of buttons on the front of his shirt, looking up at him through your eyelashes. 

“then… push me, professor.”

it’s so incredibly lame, the porn line you hit him with, but to your surprise it works, a low groan rumbling deep in geto’s chest. 

he swiftly closes the distance between the two of you, grabbing both sides of your face and crashing your lips together. 

it’s ravenous, the way geto dips his tongue inside when you gasp in surprise. you moan against his mouth, slipping a leg in between his two. 

he’s half hard already when he rubs up against your thigh. 

geto picks you up with ease and sets you down on his desk, and it’s so fucking cliché, the papers crinkling under your weight, the pens clattering to the floor. but it turns you on beyond belief. 

you share a few open mouthed kisses, an exchange of tongue and moans and hot breaths between your lips. 

if you were honest with yourself, you'd admit that you've fantasized about it before. a silly idea, at first, something you'd just blurted out mid-stream.

but that little seed had been planted, and when you got yourself off that night, you might've imagined for a moment that it was your mean professor's cock squeezed tight inside you, making you come undone.

geto slips his hands under your skirt, grabbing your ass and pulling you closer to him. you line up your crotch with his, moving your hips in tight little circles that make the both of you groan. 

his fingers are tugging your underwear down, down, the soft patch sticking to your gooey cunt. he lets the soaked fabric dangle from your ankle, grazing the back of his knuckles on your core. 

“mmm, fuck,” geto breaks the kiss, swallowing. his pretty lips are flushed and shiny, parted around his panted breaths. “you always get this wet or am i special?”

he’s smirking, the bastard, leaning back in to kiss your neck.

god, you smell so good, like lotion and perfume and sunshine and sin. 

“shouldn’t you know?” you sneak your fingers up into his bun, pushing your chest against him. he works his lips expertly on your skin, using just the right amount of teeth, of pressure.

geto hums against your neck, kissing a line up to your jaw. he snakes a hand under your skirt, thumb pressing down hard to rub on your clit, two fingers slipping inside. 

you immediately clench, a soft, drawn out mewl leaving your lips. 

the slide of his fingers against your walls send a chill down your spine, filling you up so perfectly. you feel the thin skin at your opening stretch around him, burning at the friction as his fingers plunge in and out of you. 

“god, look at that,” he rests his forehead on your shoulder and pulls the hem of your skirt up. “do you hear that, baby? so fucking wet for me.”

you whine, hands cupping his jaw so you can kiss him again. 

“please…” you mumble against his lips. “more…”

you wonder how much of what you can say he's heard before, which exact words have left your lips and sent him over the edge. it makes you self conscious, oddly, like he can see right through you.

not-so-kindly ignoring your request, geto removes his fingers, bringing them up to his mouth.

you watch as his eyelids flutter in pleasure, a hum rumbling low in his throat. 

he looks so good like this, just edible.

you pull him in for a kiss before he can, relishing in the surprised little noise he lets out. your knees are wobbling, feet dangling from your seat as you taste yourself on his tongue. 

he swallows your moan hungrily, forearms trembling with the need to hold back.

geto knows this is wrong, so wrong on so many levels, puts both your positions in jeopardy, it makes him feel perverted and primal and so fucking alive. 

he’s been watching you fuck yourself on those silly toys for god knows how long now, knows every spot that makes your hips buck, knows exactly how to make you cream like a debased slut around a cock. 

it should feel unfair, how easy it’s going to be for him to make you cum, only if it weren’t for the fact that your mere presence is enough to get him hard as fucking diamonds. 

“tastes good, huh?” he whispers, thumb caressing your chin. you nod, smiling devilishly. 

“tastes better on your tongue, prof.” 

geto groans low like a starved animal, holding your throat in his hand with a loose grip. he’s overwhelmed, that much shows, not knowing what to do with you or where to start. but there’s one thing he’s sure of. 

he presses one last kiss to your spit-slick lips before dropping to his knees. 

you can hardly believe it. sulky, big bad bully professor geto suguru on his knees for you. you prop a foot up on his desk, your sole skidding on a piece of paper. 

“scoot closer, please,” he asks, cordial even like this. you bring your ass to the edge of the desk, your dripping pussy hovering over his face. 

he looks so good under you, hair already disheveled, a delicious tent in his tailored pants. 

you tuck the hem of your skirt into the waistline so you can watch as he sucks your clit into his mouth, moaning like he’s fucking relieved. 

you throw your head back, fingers buried in his silky hair as geto’s fingers find their way back inside. 

he fucks them in and out of you lazily, pushing out strings of slick. geto slurps it all up, spreading your wetness all over your clit and sucking it back in his mouth. 

god, his cock is straining in his pants but he doesn’t dare touch it, can’t until he’s inside you. you taste like fucking heaven, like all his fantasies, like he always knew you would. 

you’re whining softly, bucking your hips into his face almost shyly, as to disrupt his pace.

you sound so much better in person, although he can’t wait to have you moaning into his ear without needing the headphones. 

“god, this perfect pussy,” geto mumbles into you, his breathing labored. he runs a thumb all over your cunt, gliding it over your soaked lips. “been dreaming about it for so long.”

“yeah?” you ask. “tell me. tell me how you stroke your cock to me every night.”

and every night might be overselling it. geto is a busy man. 

but your words do make him realize that no girl he’s had since he found your stream has satisfied him quite like you do. your flirty smile, your moans, the way they sometimes turn into uncontained giggles as you stuff your pretty cunt with a dildo. 

so he tells you, blush spreading across his cheeks. 

“fuck, i do,” he tongues your clit, tracing lazy circles. “i do. just look what you do to me.“

and there it is, that cheeky, slutty giggle, directed at something he said this time. 

he takes his fingers out, spreading your opening with both thumbs as he licks you all over. 

geto gulps, tongue dipping inside of you, sucking your clit into his mouth, sliding down to your entrance, every clench of your pussy pushing out more and more slick for him. no one's ever eaten you out as thoroughly as this.

“oh, fuck, sir,” it slips out casually, the way it would were you talking to any other professor. but given the circumstances, you revel in the deep moan geto buries into your cunt. 

you trap your lips between your teeth to keep anything else from tumbling out, but it’s useless.

“please, sir, i’m so close—so close just keep doing that, yeah just like that—“

“fuck,” he mumbles, pulling away to suck in a desperate breath. then, “fuck,” sultrier, right into your core. 

you grind against his face, finding purchase in his hair as a final few flicks of his tongue push you right into the crest of a mind-numbing orgasm.

it’s so good, so much better than when you're alone. the friction so perfect, his long, thick fingers plugging you up last minute to viciously fuck into you. 

“god…,” you breathe out, legs trembling as he runs his hands up your thighs. 

his chin is glistening, bubbles of spit and cum gathering in the corner of his mouth. he looks so good like this, like he was meant to please you and nothing else. 

geto feels like a fucking teenager, so goddamn close to busting in his pants at the sight of you. his dick hurts, balls tight and the head throbbing where it’s tucked into his underwear. 

“please, sweetheart,” he can’t hold himself back any longer, slick fingers already undoing his belt. 

you get to work on his zipper, pulling his pants down along with his underwear and damn. 

you figured he was big. he was a tall man, broad shoulders, shoes the size of a yacht, and the bulge in his trousers was a pretty good indication. but it couldn’t have prepared you for the sheer size of him. 

longer than it is thick, cleanly shaven, pretty veins and ridges and standing angry red in attention. god, you want it inside you. 

he notices you looking. 

“do you need more prep? i can—“

“no, fuck no, suguru, need it inside me now,” you wrap a hand around him and he hisses, caging you in with his arms on the desk. 

he huffs out a laugh, blowing the fringe framing his face. “what happened to sir?”

you kiss down his jaw, squeezing right below his tip. 

“sorry, sir,” you say against his ear. “are you going to punish me for my slip up?”

geto groans, pulling on your hair hard and making you face him. 

“take your shirt off for me,” he instructs, and you obey, maneuvering around his tight grip on the back of your head. 

his spirit is so unbreakable.

here you are, teasing him, coaxing him to rough you up, push you around, relieve both your frustrations properly once and for all, but he’s just so… adoring, and hungry, and just so irrevocably into you, and you find out that’s so much better. 

geto relents his hold on you to unclasp your bra, cupping your breasts and sucking a nipple into his mouth. you whine, caressing his hair. 

“so fucking perfect,” he massages your tits, looking mesmerized. 

“yeah? they haven’t gotten old to you yet?”

he laughs, so cute, and you can barely remember that just hours ago you hated the sight of him. you stroke his cock up and down, squeezing harder at the tip trying to milk all that delicious pre he’s been wasting on the inside of his boxers. 

“no, f-fuck—never gonna get old,” he pushes your boobs against each other, imagining his cock sliding in between them, his balls nestled underneath, his load blown all over your pretty face—

fuck, he’s gonna cum if he keeps going like this. 

he rips your hand away from him, ignoring your knowing smirk and pushing his tongue into your mouth. 

“i’m gonna fuck you now, okay, sweetheart?” you moan, nodding, shimmying your hips so he can have the perfect angle. 

a big hand clasps your thigh to wrap your leg around his hips as his tip pokes around your entrance.

you’re whining in anticipation, clenching around nothing, nails clawing his clothed back. 

when he slips in, it feels like coming home. you’re like warm honey around him, cunt pushing him out but clinging to him at the same time, with every stroke. it’s fucking maddening. 

“ahh, g-god, sir, ‘s too big—“ you swallow around the lump in your throat, feeling the tip of his cock in your guts. 

he’s huffing, concentrated, bullying his cock into you inch by inch with shallow thrusts until he finally bottoms out. 

“fuuuuck, angel,” he grips your waist with both hands, like he could just fuck you up and down his length if he wanted to. “took me so well, look at that.”

you do, dropping your heavy head to look at where you’re connected. you clench around him and he whines, pulling out almost all the way before slamming back in. 

the metal legs of the desk skid on the floor, papers and pens raining down to the floor as geto starts roughly plunging in and out of you. 

you let out little ah, ah, ahs in time with his strokes, the ache deep in your stomach finally starting to fade. 

“f-fuck, you’re gonna—topple us over, suguru, go easy—“

“can’t,” he chokes out, wheezing as he pushes his cock in as far as it can go. 

he gives shallow little thrusts, his length straining the fine skin at your entrance so good, hitting a spot inside you over and over that makes your head spin. 

your fingers twist into the back of his shirt, pulling him in to whine right into his ear.

he’s so big, stretching you out so thin that you feel every ridge and vein, can feel both your heartbeats inside your cunt. 

“ohhhhh fuck, fuck sir, please please touch me—“

he grabs your ass before you can even finish your sentence and presses you flush against his hips. 

geto’s tip is kissing your cervix now, his balls sticky and creamy against your ass, your clit grinding against his pubic bone as his thrusts violently shake the both of you. 

“fuck, wanna do it so fucking loud but i can’t, we can’t, what if someone walks in—“

you moan wantonly at his words, expecting to be chided, but geto seems to love it despite his worries because his cock kicks deliciously inside of you.

“look how loud you’re being, listen to yourself,” he grunts out, the belt pooled around his feet clanging with every stroke, the absolutely lewd squelches from your pussy resonating in the entire classroom. 

you two sound so good together, better than you’ve ever had, better than he could’ve ever imagined. 

“so loud, so wet on this cock,” he spits out, sweaty strands of hair sticking to his forehead. “do those toys make you feel this good? this full? answer me.” 

“hahh, n-no, no one but you,” you can’t think straight, head thrown back in pleasure and eyes squeezed shut. “only you, sir.”

geto whines like he’s aching, pounding into you mercilessly and making a mess under the two of you. 

“fuck yeah, that’s right. i’m making you feel good, baby?”

“mm-hm,” you mumble, tongue lolling out. geto's going so hard now, has you pressed up so tight against him, body caging you in, fucking every breath and thought right out of you. “close.”

“yeah?” he speeds up his effort slightly, and you’re sure he’s going to have desk-edge shaped bruises on his thighs tomorrow. “gonna cum on my cock? cream all over me?”

you let out a long, drawn out whine, tits bouncing up and down with the force of geto’s thrusts. 

“let me see your face when you cum, darling,” he cups the back of your neck, breathing hard through his nose. “keep your eyes on me. that’s right, sweetie, so good, you’re doing so good.”

you preen at the praise, feeling suddenly self conscious with the man's laser focus attention on you. 

you coo out little noises, growing in desperation, holding onto his biceps for dear life as his hips piston in and out of you. 

your pull him into you closer and rub your clit against him, grinding helplessly as your orgasm creeps closer and closer. 

the moment you open your eyes and meet his hungry ones, you’re cumming. your walls spasm around him, making the glide of his dick impossibly wetter with your release. 

geto chokes on a sound, his cock hostage of your pussy’s vice-like grip as your greedy cunt milks him for all he's got. 

“f-fuck, baby, look so pretty when you cum, always look so fucking sexy so fucking perfect that you’re gonna make me bust, i’m gonna cum for you god gonna cum inside, gonna blow my load all deep inside this pussy—“ 

it’s the most desperate he’s ever sounded, speaking through clenched teeth and a soaked mouth. you moan in return, letting him use you. 

he slams his forehead down your shoulder when he thrusts once, twice, three times and cums, his balls drawing up so tight that it hurts. he fucks it into you with shallow thrusts, panting, almost wheezing in pleasure. 

it feels like it lasts forever, his orgasm. like all of the blood in his body goes straight to his balls to push out the thickest, most satisfying nut of his life into the prettiest girl he's ever seen.

you feel it fill you up so good, hear it, too, squelching and sticking to both of you. 

geto’s body slumps against yours and you stay like that for a while, catching your breaths. there’s cum sliding out of you, down his balls, onto some poor student’s essay you have your ass on top of. 

when he pulls out of you, he takes a beat to watch it spill out of you some more, his face and chest red, his smile groggy. 

“god, this,” geto has to fight the urge to say thank you for letting him fuck your brains out. he swallows. 

“yeah,” you blink away the haze, feeling sore and fucked out. “this.”

“…is probably going to happen again, right?”

he knows it shouldn’t. he knows it will.

maybe both parts of geto can learn to coexist.  

you grin, touching the tip of your tongue to his lips. 

“well, i still haven’t made good on that promise of sitting on your face, have i?” 

the next morning, in class, the students erupt in happiness at the news that professor geto had an accident that ended up ruining most of last week’s graded papers he had in his possession. 

so he decided to give everyone an A for their troubles. 

and finally, finally, there was peace in the world.

#OOF. #this was a doozy it feels like sooooo much more than 5k words tbh #i wanted to wait to post it bc im rly proud of it i dont want it to flop but : #i cant resist it i want it out #✩.kinktober #✩.geto #geto suguru smut #geto smut #geto suguru x you #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x y/n #geto suguru x reader smut #geto suguru x you smut #geto x you smut #geto x reader smut #ummm what else #jujutsu kaisen smut #tw power dynamics #jjk smut #kinktober #jjk kinktober #geto reader smut #✩.tw power dynamics #✩.petra.doc #geto suguru x female reader #geto x female reader

[lijojo]

genshin sugar daddies

premise: you have seven sugar daddies: one for every day of the week. a bit overwhelming, right? however, you somehow find ways to make time for each and every one of them, no matter how emotionally and physically demanding they are. it's just that, now they don't seem too keen on sharing, and you don't know what to do. (modern au)

tw: nsfw, dark content - minors dni

mondays are always harder in more ways than one. mondays are diluc's days, and that means that you're spending a good portion of your nights at angel's share.

on mondays, it's happy hour. which means that you're sitting at a booth in the corner looking pretty while diluc is tending to his customers. you're more than happy to sit back and relax while you wait for him to finish with work. when the drinks are on the house, you're willing to wait as long as it'll take.

periodically, when he's not busy, however, he'll walk over to you and engage in conversation. you act as a taste-tester for new drinks so he's always asking you if you like them. you two will talk about your day, any interesting events, and so on until diluc is pulled back into work again.

then you're back to fiddling your fingers and watching him work. over time, you've learned that he preferred that you not do anything while you were supposed to be with him. that instead, you fixated your gaze on him while he moved about. sometimes you'll catch him looking at you to see if your eyes are still on him.

even while he's dealing with a certain tone-deaf bard, there's something about the way he looks at you so intently that reminds you of a predator.

when angel's share closes, you're there to keep him company while he cleans up. when he's done, he'll sweep you away back to his manor.

you'll fall onto the sheets as he grinds against you. his shallow breaths brush against your throat. the look he gives you is nothing short of intense.

"everyone at the tavern was looking at you, you know," he mutters, running his fingers down your chest, sinking into your pants. he pulls them down effortlessly along with your panties. "didn't you feel it, darling? their filthy eyes on you. they want to ruin you. everyone wants to ruin you."

he throws your legs over his shoulders, his fingers crawling up your thighs. you jump when he suddenly inserts two fingers into your cunt, scissoring you. his free arm wraps around your leg to keep you locked against him. his eyes are glued onto you as he presses a kiss against your calf.

"but your eyes were on me all night, weren't they. couldn't take your eyes off me, could you. you're mine, dear. do you hear me? you're mine."

you don't overlook how tight his grip is. tight enough to make you wonder if he'll ever let you go. in the morning, he does, but you're scared for the day he wakes up and decides that it's for the last time.

tuesdays aren't as bad. when you’re sore from the night before, childe is there to take you out to meals, shopping, and sightseeing. he's not always available to spend time with you on tuesdays, because of his equally-demanding job and whatnot, but when he is free, he never wastes a second.

or a dollar.

childe smirks smugly from his sea. his posture is lax, one hand lazily tracing circles on the chair's arm while the other comes up to rest under his chin.

"how about you twirl for me, girlie? you look so beautiful."

you giggle, observing yourself in the mirror. "why thank you."

you bask in the way the soft satin kisses your skin. the way your newly-own earrings sparkle under the dressing room's light. just a couple years ago, you could've only dreamed of being dressed so prettily.

"do your side-bitches ever treat you as well as me?"

"childe!" you chide.

he laughs, getting up from his seat. but you both know better than to believe his little chuckle is genuine.

he approaches you, sliding his hands around your waist. tucking your head under his chin, he stares at you through the mirror's reflection.

you don't say anything, and childe doesn't either. it appears he's more than happy to enjoy just standing there. his gaze is glossed over, far away.

the two of you sway side to side for what seems like forever until he decides to say something.

"do they buy you pretty things like i do?"

of course they do, you think. although you spend one-on-one time with each and every one of them, they are all aware of each other. it's only right that they did. it was the first thing you said when you brought the idea up to them, that it wasn't going to be exclusive.

but when you see the way he looks at you, you can't really tell him the truth. not when his focus is redirected from his thoughts to you.

"the things you buy me are a special kind of pretty," you reply.

it seems like that answer is enough for him, because he doesn't say anything else. instead he hums quietly, letting the vibration ripple in the back of your head. he slides his hands down your hips and before you can say anything else, he whips his head around.

"i'll buy these sets." he motions over to the closest clothes rack to an attendant you hadn't noticed. "and that one. and the dress she's wearing. how many colors does this come in, by the way?"

the attendant doesn't hesitate. "five colors, sir. they come in bla—"

"great." he shuffles through his pocket to pull out a black card. "pack them up, we won't be here any longer," he retorts.

the attendant looks ecstatic, quickly shuffling out of the dressing rooms towards the cash register with newfound glee.

"childe," you whine. "i don't think these will fit in my closet."

his hands crawl lower, his finger hovering over your clit. "then they'll fit in mine. come over any time of the week when you want to wear one of my special pretty things."

your breath hitches as he rubs slow circles on your clit. he pushes the two of you back into the dressing room and closes the curtains.

"what are you doing, she'll be back any second—"

he kisses the corner of your jaw, pressing his lips close to your ear. "no worries. if there's one thing i'm sure about, it's that no one undresses you faster than i do."

wednesday is when usually everything calms down. kazuha will typically invite you to a new park, scenic route, or gallery. together, you'll write haikus, sonnets, and limericks together. some hours you'll just sit in silence, putting pen to paper. and when the sun goes down you'll exchange poetry.

out of the seven men, kazuha probably scares you the most. he was the first person you decided to do this whole ordeal with, after all. and since he's known you the longest, he also knows about your circumstances more than others. maybe that's why he's so focused on treating you as if you were a fragile cherry blossom petal. his touches feel like ghosts, running down your forearm as he presses a kiss to the apple of your cheek.

in exchange for his protection, his money, and his care, you give him honeyed words. you act as his muse for when he's hit a creative block. you're there to listen to him read out verses when the wind can't bear the strength to carry them. you listen to his grief about his best friend, his loneliness when he was forced to leave his home country. as someone many of the locals looked to for wisdom, he too carried the emotional burdens of being someone's rock. emotional burdens that he let onto you (whether purposefully or not, you're unsure). but you listen anyway, hearing him talk about days of poverty, where sometimes he had to worry about things to eat, or how to get proper healthcare.

you can't lie and say you're always stable enough to hear some of the things he has to say, but you try.

even if you sometimes feel like you can't take it, you just smile and squeeze his hand tighter like you're supposed to. sometimes your mind will go on autopilot, and sometimes you'll stand up on the grounds of needing to go to the bathroom. but at the end of the day, this is what you signed up for. this. making men happy so that you yourself won't have to worry about your endless debt.

you peer over your notebook to see kazuha immersed in his own writing. but instead of his usual peaceful expression, he looks somber. his hands won't leave the paper, his eyes glued onto the words that he's drawn onto the pages.

"what's got you so worked up?" you ask curiously. "is it something new?"

it's like your voice snaps him out of his trance. he blinks, looking up at you. there's a smile you know all too well on his lips. "yeah, i suppose you could call it that."

"could i look at it? i want to see what's got you so focused like that."

his lips press into a straight line. "hmmm, maybe later."

his words catch you off-guard. usually he's the one who's eager to share his work, regardless of the quality. "oh? is it something you want to keep secret?"

he doesn't many any hint of an answer. instead, he puts down his pen and stares at the ground in contemplation. he's picking and choosing what words to say.

"i could protect you," he says, shuffling his papers to the side. you turn to him, curious. his expression slowly hardens. "by myself, i mean. i could take care of you."

"kazu—"

"i have the means to make a living for the both of us. i could sell more of my poetry, i know they'll sell well—"

"where is this coming from?" you move closer to him, brushing his hair aside. "kazu, are you worried about something?"

there's something that's stopping him from saying anything. his fingers intertwine with yours, his thumb caressing the back of your hand.

he purses his lips, before turning away and sighing. "no, not really."

after that, he doesn't say anything else. the two of you bask in silence once again. even though you're used to the quiet, there's something deep down in you that feels nervous. like something in the atmosphere changed. there's a sudden resolved glint in his eye as he get backs to writing so diligently on a piece of paper he won't let you read.

after all these days spent talking about himself, somehow you're scared for the day he suddenly decides to stop.

on thursdays you're usually at tighnari's greenhouse, watching him take notes of other plants while you twiddle your thumbs. once in a while, he'll begin rambling about the plants—what kind of species they are, how rare, their medicinal properties, and the like.

you're more of a companion, than anything. someone who can make his days a little less lonelier. and you appreciate it. it's much more tranquil with him. you can enjoy his sharp quips, especially when cyno comes to visit.

his sex-drive is relatively normal, if not a little below average. just like wednesday, you also expect thursday to be a typical rest day.

except when spring comes.

when spring comes, your routine get a little wonky. for one week, at least. because that's when tighnari's heat hits him like a fucking monsoon.

you can already tell when it's coming when he begins to hover closer to you. whenever you take your hand out to do anything, even the slightest gesture, he's already taking it and dragging it towards his sensitive ears.

the moment you've made your plans set to 'take the week off' and help him out, he's already on you, face pressed into your neck as if it's his oasis.

as you can tell, he takes this week very seriously.

"i bet—shit—those other fucks don't get to hold you as long as i do," he lets out as he fucks into you like there's no tomorrow. his hands hold onto your waist like he owns it, pressing sloppy kisses down your spine. "looking so pretty for me. i wonder what they'd say if you got pregnant with my babies. you'd be so much more beautiful plump with my kids. is that what you want huh? to make them angry with my cum stuffed in your gorgeous pussy?"

some days you almost can't believe how uncharacteristically aggressive he is. he dicks you down like he's trying to imprint his shape into the core of your body so that none of the others can fit inside.

and when he cums, he'll take whatever unfortunate portions slip out and smear it all over your chest. especially where your heart is.

then the process starts all over again.

when it's over, he'll spoon you. as if he didn't almost fuck you to death. his touch is tender, like a ghost's hovering over your skin.

"why won't you leave them all for me?"

you shift a little to look at him and kiss him softy, sweetly, on the line of his jaw. "oh, nari, you know i can't."

his ears droop at your words. "you can't, or you won't."

his words make you freeze a bit.

you think back to last week, and the week before, and the one before that. you think about why you started selling your services in the first place, the endless debt you used to be in, and the progression of the relationship between all seven of your...contacts. even if you wanted to, you don't think you could back out if you tried. you've dug a hole for yourself. one deep enough to cause some sort of disruption if you ever decided to stop digging.

so you just hum. "you know how much i love routine."

as some sort of apology, you give him and open-mouthed kiss, one he's almost desperate to return. he moans, hands cupping your face to bring you closer to him.

you're well unaware how much your words have an impact him.

at the end of the week, all al-haitham wants to do is unwind. it's the only logical thing to do. no late-night drinks with the colleagues, no stressful trips to some tourist trap. on fridays, al-haitham comes home to a meal made with love.

when al-haitham's at work during the day, you're usually running your actual errands. it's when you have time to make those one-in-a-blue-moon visits to your actual home, although it's getting harder to call it that.

when it gets to the late-afternoon, you'll usually head to al-haitham's place to start cooking. if you didn't know how to cook before, you do now. every ingredient is handled with care, measured meticulously just as you knew he preferred.

and when he gets home, tired and stressed out, you're there to welcome him with a chaste kiss on the cheek.

during dinner, sometimes he'll talk to you about work or the latest research he'd gotten himself immersed with. in return, you tell him about some of your childhood memories. your likes, your dislikes, what used to be your hobbies. you do your best to keep your personal matters out of the conversation, no matter how many times he tries to pry into your private life.

sometimes dinners feel like a full on investigation, the way he keeps greeding for more information about you. he watches you eat with calculating eyes. you pretend to pay no mind to it.

in the beginning, kaveh used to join you for dinners. you always liked the guy, the way he bickered with al-haitham and riled him up. but now you've begun to see less of him, as if he never comes home on fridays at all.

after dinner, there are two different outcomes depending on his mood:

outcome one is that you'll spend the rest of the night curling up on his couch, the both of you immersed in your own books. al-haitham leans on your shoulder as he flips through the pages as if they're nothing. you can't help but feel ticklish whenever his hair brushes against your jaw.

somewhere in the middle, he'll move one hand to start fidgeting with the end of your shirt, sometimes crawling underneath to caress your sides.

outcome two is less quiet. the moment he gets home with that solemn face, you know it's coming. his voice is huskier, his responses shorter. it's usually a result of an impending deadline, colleagues being more peskier than usual.

the moment you two are done with dishes, he gingerly takes your hand and leads you up to the bedroom.

his kisses tastes like green tea and dinner. his hands run up and down your torso, trying to imprint the feel of your skin into every inch of your brain. you whimper when his thumbs press softly into your nipples, rolling them around as they harden.

your hands find purchase on his collar, tugging him impossibly close. he groans at the contact.

you let out a yelp when your back suddenly falls onto the bed. your hands are pressed onto the sheets, al-haitham's fingers encircling your wrists. his knee nudges your legs further apart, rubbing at your clit.

"don't look at the ceiling, dear, look at me," he breathes out, his hands leaving your nipples to gently guide your face towards. "that's it. good girl. just me. just look at me. only me."

he smiles.

"now, let me do god's work on your divine body."

saturdays with ayato can sometimes get hectic. some saturdays you're out getting bubble tea together and enjoying the city, and other saturdays you're hurrying to some publicitiy event hosted by the kamisato clan.

on those type of days, you can expect to wear gowns layered with shiny nylon tulle fabric. it's not as revealing as what you'd try on in dressing rooms with childe. in fact, it's a bit more modest.

today you're wearing a light-blue gown to match with ayato. you turn around to get a good look at the cute bow attached at your waist, your diamond encrusted earrings swaying along with you.

it's as if you've put on another costume. another front to wear for the night.

ayato enters the room just shortly after. in his hands is a diamond necklace to match with your stunning earrings. small smile falls upon his lips when he clasps it on.

"you're beautiful," he mumbles. you giggle when he kisses you square on the lips, licking away the tinted color.

"ayato," you press in-between kisses. you place a hand on his chest to gently push him away. "you're going to ruin my lipstick."

he pulls away with a cheeky smile, taking your wrists to wrap around his neck. "you can always put on some more later."

you pout but kiss him regardless. he tightens his hold on you in reaction, moaning into your mouth.

at these kinds of events, you're there as his plus-one. just so that other officials could stop introducing girls to him when he clearly wasn't interested in them. it'd be arguable to say that you might even be there to make the events a little less intolerable.

somewhere along the lines, you'd sleep with him in addition to being his arm candy at parties. sometimes even before: you two rushing to put on your formal attires and fix your hair minutes before the event started.

but beyond that, you started to get to know him better. he'd whisper into your ear about funny stories relating to the guests as you meet them. sometimes you'd run away in the middle of the party to binge out on the food and talk about your other interests. surprisingly, he doesn't talk about the politics behind his duties as the head of the kamisato family. not as much as you expected, at least.

instead he talks about his dreams for a family. how many kids, what their names would be, how he'd raise them. and as he talked, he'd give you this heavy gaze that you're not sure what to do with. as if he was expecting something from you.

you're beginning to believe that ayato has somehow confused contractual girlfriend with actual girlfriend.

when you had met ayaka months ago, ayato introduced you as his girlfriend. you didn't attempt to correct him—that's ayato's business. not your's. but when you're expecting ayato to come clean to his dearest sister, you're sorely mistaken.

instead, while he kisses your lips so hungrily, he subtly slips a diamond ring onto your finger.

sundays are usually kaeya's days off. although the cavalry captain's duties are seemingly never endless, he takes the day off to take a breather.

in other words, he sees you.

at first, it was just candlelit dinners. he'd walk in with a bouquet of roses, complimenting your dress and staring at you as if he was undressing you with his eyes. he'd take you to somewhere fancy, pull out the chair for you and sweet-talk you all through the night.

conversations were fun with him. you didn't have to think much at all, not about how to pay the bills, the six men in your life who seemingly began to want yours to only revolve around theirs, or being someone your not.

kaeya was probably the only one who you felt you could be comfortable with. he made you laugh, he'd tell all sorts of interesting stories, and he never made the silence feel awkward.

at least, that's how you used to be.

you see, usually after these candlelit dinners you'd both go back to his place, with him ripping off your clothes the moment the door closed. but as of recently, he's been asking to come over to your place instead more often. almost too often.

and that's not the only thing that's changed.

the sex used to be rough. heated. almost as if he was consumed by all of his pent-up sexual frustration and was only focused on getting off. he'd slurp your cunt like a man starved but he'd still rail you as if that's the only thing he cared about.

but as time passed, he's been getting more and more...sensual. the sex is much more slower. personal, almost.

vulnerable.

after dinner, he slowly slips off your clothing. one article after another, until your left in your underwear. he first kisses you on the mouth, then your neck, then your chest, then your stomach. slowly, he makes a trail of them down your body, as if no skin deserved to be left untouched.

although you made a rule that no one could leave your marks on you, it doesn't mean he doesn't try. as he kisses your lower lips, sometimes he'll attempt to leave marks close to your clit. if you're not careful, diluc will find it tomorrow.

his thrusts were always deep, but now that he's much more purposeful about it. it's rhythmic, as if he's trying to reach a new spot inside you. somewhere no one's touched.

the pillow-talks are much more longer as well. he holds you tighter now, wrapping his arms around your hips as he tangles his legs with yours.

instead of ranting on about the silly incidents he witnessed on the job earlier in the week, he talks about his feelings. towards you. towards diluc. towards himself. some nights you can handle it, some nights are too much.

but you can't say anything. not when he's holding onto you like you’re his lifeline. not when he helps you pay off your debt. and so you let his raspy voice whisper in your ear as he combs his fingers through your hair. you listen to him mumble sweet-nothings.

you're not sure if you like the adoring look he gives you as you drift off to sleep.

#genshin x reader #diluc x reader #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #kazuha x reader #ayato x reader #alhaitham x reader #al haitam x reader #tighnari x reader #kaeya x reader #kaeya smut #genshin smut #yandere x reader #yanderes x reader #yandere imagines #tw yandere #male yandere #male yandere x reader #manipulation #tw power dynamics #fem reader #bro the way i've been lowk procrastinating on this #reverse harem x reader #yandere reverse harem #minors dni #jojo writes nsfw/dark content

[dadsperm]

𝐁𝐢𝐠 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ 18+ only... no minors please... ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

big brother!seishiro nagi x f!reader x reo mikage

1288 words. f!reader

content warnings: incest (full) - dubcon - threesome - fingering - praise - good girl - slight cucking - power dynamics - slight edging

all characters aged up btw

"You're a pretty sick guy, Nagi, you know that?" Reo laughed idly as he watched your big brother towering above your frightened form. Your eyes moved between the two older men in front of you, unable to believe what was about to happen.

You've always had a thing for Reo. He's cute, he's rich, and the way he's looking to devour you in this moment makes your heart race. Your eyes are fixated on him as the hair he's consistently attempting to keep tucked behind his ear keeps falling in front of his eyes.

A gasp leaves you as Nagi pinches your cheeks and forces you to look at him. His brown eyes staring daggers into your, it's like he's examining how you could even have the audacity to look at a man who isn't him.

"She's my little sister. I'm meant to protect her, isn't that right?" he speaks without shifting his gaze for even a second. You nod, obediently, earning a smile from him. "It's my job to look after you... so I think it's my right to break in your little pussy."

"M-My pussy?" you stutter. You gasp once again as he forces your legs to spread. He flips up your skirt and presses your chest hard enough that your back connects with his unmade bed. You shudder as you feel a slender finger run up the line of your slit. Your soaking panties become stickier with each second his digit is pressed against you.

"Yeah... pretty pussy, baby. Virgins always get wet so easily... 'n your even wetter because you're excited for your nii-san to fuck you. Mmm..." he groans, still teasing your panty-clad folds as he begins to palm at his cock.

You whimper, and he catches the way you glance at Reo like he's your saviour. Like you're begging him to understand you've never done this before, let alone with your brother, and you're oh so worried. Nagi moves the gusset of your panties into the crease of your thigh, baring your petalled flesh to himself and Reo.

"Woah..." Reo speaks. He turns into a blushing mess as he can't tear himself away from the sight between your legs.

"Never seen a cunt before, Reo?" Nagi asks, a single finger circling your sticky clit before he ease it into your tight heat. "Don't tell me you're a virgin, too." he laughs, shallowly.

Reo clears his throat, his eyes finding yours as he searches for your reactions to the pleasure like an addict. The way your face winces at the single finger intrusion couldn't have ended in any other result besides from him being rock hard. His cock straining against his jeans. He's losing his resolve, knowing he'll need to touch himself soon to alleviate the tension.

"No, I- I have- just never seen one that pretty..." he explains.

His response results in Nagi donning a fake pout, before laughing once more.

"You hear that, baby? Prettiest pussy Reo's ever seen... shit, I have to agree." he explains. He wastes no time forcing a second finger inside of you, pumping and scissoring them inside of you to stretch you out. "I'm gonna make you cum nice 'n hard, like a good big brother should. Because your nii-san has a big cock, y'know? It'll be easier to take after you cum."

"I- I-" you speak, a few tears rolling down your face as you try and find the words to say through the concotion of blinding pleasure with an agonising sting.

"Mm... you always look so pretty when you cry."

"Don't think we should be doin' this... Sei... i-it's wrong..." you sniffle, knuckles turning white as you grip onto the bedsheets beneath.

All he can do is tut as he watches you take his fingers like such a good girl. He curls them against your sweet spot, forcing you to throw your head back. He uses his free hand to swipe his fingers over your clit, and at the same time Reo has finally freed himself from his confines. His cock in his hand as he cant resist but to pleasure himself as you fight with the morality of being pleasured by your brother.

"This is exactly what little sisters are made for, sweetheart." Nagi assures you. "Made for nii-san's to fill up like good little girls. You're mine. 'N if you're a really good girl, you'll let nii-san and his friends touch you and fuck you whenever we want."

"Mmpf..." Reo moans, stroking himself up to a climax. Hearing the way Nagi speaks to you like you're nothing more than a plaything seems to be a sexual awakening for Reo.

As beautiful as you are, as gorgeous as your moans are, as pretty as your pussy is.

You're just Nagi's property.

"A-Am I a good girl? A good sister... f'you?" you ask him with pleading eyes.

He smirks, fingering you more as your tears continue to flow.

"Do you want to be? Wanna be our good girl?" he asks, his head tilting in Reo's direction to include him in the conversation. "Do you think what nii-san is doing is wrong? Or do you want to cum all over his fingers?"

"I think she wants to cum." Reo intervenes.

"I think so too. I think my sweet, baby sister wanted to sound like a good girl by saying this is wrong. But you're so close, aren't you? Naughty girl about to make a mess of her brothers fingers."

"N-No..." you sniffle. "Wanna be good... please." you sob, voice sticking in your throat as you can't bear to say anymore.

"The only good thing you can do right now is what we tell you. So, go on... cum all over nii-san's fingers."

And with that final, strict command, your hips are rolling against his fingers as you try to chase your high. You can't believe this is happening. The absolute astonishing pleasure you're becoming dizzy over due to your big brothers ministrations. All the while your crush is watching with so much lust in his eyes, you think he might cum along with you. His face is becoming sweatier, his fist turning to a blur as he works himself faster.

"I- I love you!" you call out, pearlescent cream coating Nagi's fingers as you continue to experience bliss. His fingers don't stop, and your words are just more encouragement to drag every last aftershock out of you.

You aren't even sure who you were talking to in that moment. To Reo? Your brother? Hell, it might have even just been the feeling of cumming. After it's all said and done, and Nagi still won't give you a moment of reprieve, you can't help but stare at Reo once again. You want to see him cum, you aren't sure why, you just feel that it might be close to art when he does.

"Stop it." Nagi commands as he looks over to Reo.

"C-Can't..." Reo explains, his fist still going as he stares at you. He's chasing the feeling you've just experienced, he wants to be in that blissful release with you. He can't stop... he can't... he-

Nagi grabs his wrist and moves his hand away.

"I invited you hear to enjoy my sister's pretty pussy. Have some respect for her. You can jerk yourself off any time, if you blow this opportunity, I won't be kind enough to let you have another."

Reo grunts practically choking out sobs as he's had his ecstacy robbed from him. He takes a few deep breaths, looking at you briefly before looking at Nagi again. He nods, agreeing with his words, the pair of them looking at you again.

"Alright, sweet girl. Nii-san's going to fuck you now."

©𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐌

#nagi seishiro x reader #reo mikage x reader #blue lock x reader #mikage reo x reader #seishiro nagi #reo mikage #nagi x reader #reo x reader #nagi seishiro #mikage reo #bllk x reader #reader insert #tw: inc*st #tw cucking #tw praise #tw power dynamics #tw edging

[van1llam1lkk]

House pet

[ sfw | TW ; Blood, physical violence, Manipulation/Coercion, Dubcon, As well as some General Yandere content but it's very tame, readers nose is broken at some point, power dynamics, The term Pet is used multiple times]

This was supposed to be shorter,, But I accidentally got Aizu brainrot of her being a tiny, little, annoying shit...

Female yandere x GN reader

Your body slams into the cushioned mat, pain radiating through your being as you slowly get back on your feet, only finding yourself up because your opponent has allowed you to.

Aizu shifted her weight to one side, closely watching you as you try to hide your exhaustion with shallow breaths. She always had this smug smirk permanently etched onto her face.

What you wouldn't give for just one chance to punch that face of hers.

She leaned in a bit closer, presumably noticing how sweaty and out of breathe you were while she had barely broken a sweat. "You're not cut out for this y'know? To be honest, I feel like someone like you would be better for something else..." She began, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you into her.

"Like what?" You asked through gritted teeth, attempting to buy yourself some more time so you can fully recover.

"Hm, I don't know." She replied with a short pause before continuing. "Something cute definitely... Maybe being a house pet?"

Hearing those words only stirred up a wave of energy within you, trying to fight your way out of her grip with little success- a low growl rumbling from your chest. “Shut up!-” 

Her grip tightened around your mid drift as she let out a low chuckle. "I bet you'd appreciate it too; nice home, comfortable bed to sleep in— all in exchange for some cleaning and some food." She cooed, her words grazing against your neck due to how close she was.

"Ah, but how could I ever forget the other thing?" She muses, ignoring how you were still trying to wriggle out of her grip.

You groan, shifting your eyes up to look at her face. Annoyance is evident in your own face as you take in her smug grin and those mesmerizing crimson colored eyes.

She doesn't answer immediately, the smile on her lips only widening a little as her teeth peek through her lips.

"You really don't know?" Aizu lowers her voice to a sultry tone - causing your skin to prickle at the hidden implication. "The only thing that someone like you would be good at." She leans into whisper into your ear, her breath hot against your skin. "The thing that makes you an ideal pet."

Aizu's hand moves lower onto the hem of your pants and you can feel yourself blush from the embarrassment and discomfort. "I don't want to be—" You start, trying to push her away but it' does little to help.

"Oh, would you just shut up for once?" she whispers, her lips ghosting over your neck. "You wouldn't have to worry about silly events like the future or important errands. All you would need to think about is how you're gonna maintain your looks and what you're gonna make for dish whoever was lucky enough to marry you." She says confidently, with a touch of arrogance hidden behind it.

"Just think about it," she continues as if sensing your unease. "I'm sure someone like you would love it if you ever gave it a try."

Your brows furrow slightly, struggling to ignore the nervousness stirring in the back of your mind. "How the hell am I supposed to 'try' marriage out?" You ask with a waver in your voice due to the nerves.

She slightly frowns at your attitude, a soft groan escaping from her lips.

"Come on, don't be so uptight. I'm just saying, you have potential to be a great pet," Aizu says, her tone turning soothing as she cups your cheek. "Think about it, no more worries about fighting or competing. Just a life of comfort and pleasure." She leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

Your mind reels with conflicting emotions, even though you know you'd never let yourself fall down such a path the allure of a life free from struggle and hardship was still tempting, but the idea of being someone's pet left a sour taste in your mouth.

Aizu pulls back, a wicked gleam in her eye. "I'll make a deal with you," she says, her hand still lingering on your cheek. "If you beat me in a fight, I'll leave this whole 'pet' idea alone. But if I win, you have to at least consider it."

With gritted teeth you slap away her hand from your face. Realistically you probably have little possibility winning this fight. But the chance to put her in her place— No matter how small, had you nodding your head in agreement. "Fine." You firmly say.

"Okay! Hand-to-hand combat, whoever hits the floor first wins." She explains, clasping her hands together.

And for someone her size you'd expect her to at least be a little weak, but no, she can practically throw your ass.

"Ready?" She asks, her words bringing you out of your thoughts. With a hesitant nod you ready yourself, getting into position.

What made training with Aizu so difficult was how fast and silent she moved. And despite her size, she had incredible strength; you wouldn't be surprised if she could throw you across the room if she really tried.

Aizu makes the first move, launching herself at you in a flurry of punches and kicks. You dodge most of them, but one catches you in the side, knocking you off balance.

You stumble backwards, but quickly regain your footing. Aizu continues to come at you, her movements quick and precise. You try to keep up, but soon you find yourself on the ground, pinned beneath her.

She smirks down at you, her grip tight on your wrists. "Looks like you lost," she says, leaning in close. "Now, about that pet idea..."

But before she can say anything else, you use all your strength to flip her over and pin her down.

She yelps at sudden change in position her face a little confused for a moment before a smile cracks onto her faces, soft giggles escaping her in fits

"Ah— You're a stubborn one!" She huffs out you could feel her legs wrap around your waist. "But we both know this doesn't change much." She murmurs, narrowing her eyes a little.

The movement happened to quickly for you to process what happened immediately, the entire experience coming in waves that felt longer than they actually were.

You hear the sudden crack of your nose first, followed by the the sweet coppery smell of your own blood filling up your senses. Your hand shoots up to cradle your burning nose, droplets of blood dripping into the palm of your hand.

You didn't even notice that you'd reflexively sat up, releasing her from beneath as you cradled your sore nose.

"Did— Did you just fucking headbutt me?" You stammer out, glancing at the blood that was coating your fingers and leaking from your nose.

Aizu shrugs nonchalantly, a smug grin tugging at her lips. "Hey, you said hand-to-hand combat, not 'no headbutts'." She giggled, clearly pleased with herself. "But I'll admit, I didn't think it would work that well."

You glare at her, holding your throbbing nose. "You're insane, you know that?" you mutter, the pain making your eyes water.

"Maybe," Aizu says with a shrug. "But you have to admit, I did have you on the floor first so... Are you considering the pet idea now?"

You shake your head, trying to clear it. "No, I'm not," you say firmly, more focused on trying to keep the bleeding to a minimum.

Aizu chuckles, sitting up and patting your shoulder. "Well, it's not like it really matters what you say." she says, grinning to herself the implications making you feel a little uneasy.

"What do you mean by that?" You respond, glancing up at her from the hood of your eyelashes.

She doesn't really say anything, just her smiling slightly widening. "C'mon, you don't really think this entire thing wasn't rigged from the start right?" She teases, tilting her head to the side. You open your mouth to object but she interrupts you before you could get a word out.

"And before you start getting all pissy at me, when I said 'considered' it was more like 'You WILL be my house pet if I win this' and we both knew I'd win so." She trails off shrugging

"I'll see you tomorrow?" She casually says, downplaying the fact that she just flat out lied to your face You just stare at her in disbelief, as she gets up and dusts off her clothes. The pain in your nose is forgotten as you try to process what she just said.

What the fuck?

#Fawn | Aizu - War #fanfic #new writer #writing #female original character #fiction #four horsemen of the apocalypse #four horsewomen #fanfiction #writing fanfic #yandere x reader #tw violence #tw manipulation #tw coercion #tw power dynamics #female oc #female yandere x reader #tw blo0d #cw dubious consent #tw minor gore #cw fighting #shes insane #dark romance #female yandere #yandere #suggestive dialogue #yandere content #yandere x darling #gender neutral reader #gn reader

[anlian-aishang]

Kinktober Day 3: Professor Ackerman

“pls do a second part with professor ackerman!!!!! smut if u can/wanna :0”

Word count: 1900

Tags: levi x reader, smut, masturbation, sex dream, slight bondage, power dynamics (student!reader crushes on professor!ackerman, feeling unrequited), modern AU, gn!reader

Crushing on Professor Ackerman? Read more here.

Journal deadlines overdue. Department meeting upcoming. Talks at campuses across the country. Faculty life had Professor Ackerman stressed, stressed past the point of reason. For certainly, if he was still capable of reason, he would not have done what he did.

His goal for tonight was to finish grading his class’s midterms. Calculus 1, it should not have been that hard. If he could just check that one task off of his to-do list, it would make his life feel a whole lot easier. Unfortunately for him, his physiology had other plans. If Levi was going to try to tackle his itinerary, the universe would just find a way to lengthen it. 

Lengthen it. Literally. Levi rolled his eyes at the thought. Inhibitions lowered as other parts of him rose. A tiny old office, cramped space, flooded with obligations, his circumstances were anything but attractive. Why was he getting hard right now? The answer lay in complement: he had not gotten off since the onset of this chaos, which, come to think of it, was nearing a month now.

Faced with the facts, Levi mindlessly marked the multiple choice sections, the math professor’s real focus on calculations of his own. Would it be better to work nonstop at a less efficient pace? Or would it be better to take a break, unwind a bit, and come back faster than before? That said, there was also the toss-up of his refractory period: would he be struck with a new burst of energy or wind down and tire out afterwards?

Given the increasing tautness of his pants, it was getting harder and harder to tell. Harder and harder not to give in. The floor’s silence turned deafening. Autumn-night darkness blinding. The lock on his office door shined in reflection of the moon and its stars. All of his surroundings made him think back to the philosophy class from his own time in college: If a tree falls in the woods… If a professor masturbates in his office…

On that train of thought, he recognized: the battle was over. Levi cursed to himself, defeated, “Fuck me.” Hands slapped atop his desk and pushed himself up from his seat. Fists bunched at his sides, he made it to his door in one deliberate stride. Levi turned the lock shut and turned on his heel. Flopping back on his chair, unbuckling his belt on the way down. 

It had been too long, and at the first stroke, that became overwhelmingly clear. Fingers trembled on the initial climb up his shaft, out of practice, nerves stinging with stimulation. Precum surfaced and spilled onto his slacks, faster than he could push them down his shins. Clear turned to white, sure to stain, silver eyes snuck a glance and swore at the sight, “Sh’Shit…”

Not just the stain, but the self-waged war he was quickly losing. Wrists found their innate rhythm, and with that instinct came more animalistic adrenaline. His heart was racing, breaths correspondingly light. Chest caved in to match the curve of his abdomen, his washboard muscles rippling as his blood rushed down. Conventionally, after so long abstained, one would have wanted to prolong their pleasure, but for Professor Ackerman, this was merely a stint of humiliation he was happy to have over with.

In this occupation, it could be hard not to have one’s ego heightened. Constantly the smartest in any room however massive. Hundreds of eager hands hurriedly taking notes on every word he said. A line out the door for one-on-one time. Levi watched so many of his fellow faculty float around like they were royalty, but he had largely avoided such arrogance, especially at times like these. Jerking himself in his office because his schedule had gotten the better of him, the doctorate struggled to think of anything more pathetic. 

Reduced to nothingness by his own self. Despite his gasps and twitches, his muscles continued to work himself without mercy. Forearm outlined as he squeezed himself tighter. Bicep curled as he found the right angle. Knuckles tugged at his tie, loosening. Shaking fingers undid his top buttons, letting him breathe just enough. Palm pressed down his front, cupping himself below as his other hand worked the length above.

Neck veins shadowed, tendons raised. Jaw clenched, he grit his teeth. His throat tightened up, shameless sounds threatening to escape - some succeeding in their endeavor. Levi cursed under his breath, certain that if anyone was here, they would hear - but also certain that he could not stop himself at this point.

Levi continued his pumps even as he flinched and screamed. Eyes darted in a frantic search for something to support him through the sensation. Telltale pulsations at his middle, an uncontrollable rock of his hips. Movements so acute, they almost hurt, making his pursuit of pleasure that much more desirable. Tension of such build-up would not only release, it would explode, placing the clean freak in an awkward arrangement of both anticipation and anxiety. As his left hand reached its maximum speed, his right hand drifted atop his desk, feeling for the tissue box to catch his mess with. In that way, he came up short, even as his climax lasted incredibly long. Wave after wave, not even the math professor could keep count. 

With each rise, tidal, and crash, his fingers clenched around whatever they could find. If not for his deafening cries, maybe he would have heard the distinct crinkle of paper. If not for the overpowering feeling, maybe he would have felt the thickness of the packets he was grabbing. If he could have managed past the overstimulated squint, maybe he would have seen your name on that sheet and realized: in the midst of his orgasm, he had clutched and crumpled your exam. However, with the pleasure he felt and the high he rode, in that moment, he did not care.

Coming to, in a cold sweat, Levi’s first thought was recognition - how lucky he was to have his reckless actions go undetected - besides the shame that he himself would live with. Finals were only two weeks away, which made tonight one of his last office hours for the semester. He should have seen someone there - looking at the test in his hands, he cupped his forehead and realized - most likely you. But that was a problem for his future self. For now, leaning back in his chair and exhaling, he could only be thankful that no students were outside his door.

Instead, the one most likely to come was having an occasion of their own. 

// // //

Sorry about your test.

I’ll help you forget about the grade.

Lie back, relax, baby. 

I’ll make it all better. 

That was what he would say to you. 

Before he fucked you stupid.

Even in its sleep, your mind could paint such a vivid picture. The way his rolled-up sleeve would sweep his desk clean, just to bend you over it. His leather belt would wrap tight around your wrists, perfectly to the notch, as if he had been fantasizing and planning it since the first day he met you. His pencil cup would rattle, his desktop would light up, his low voice would moan your name with each deep fuck he gave. 

You would never admit it, but this was not the first time Professor Ackerman had made an appearance in your dreams - both awake and asleep. You could not figure out if it was a blessing or a curse to have ended up in his lecture. All of your friends expressed envy for having a class with the hottest instructor on campus, but if only they knew the side effects of it. In class, your eyes would wander off the blackboard and onto the man standing before it. From his perspective, he probably thought you were really interested in the subject material, but in actuality, you were interested in things even less relevant than math. His handwriting: so fast, but so satisfying to look at. Just like his outfits: button shirt with complementing slacks. Glasses, belt, briefcase, and Oxford shoes all of the same matching shade. Such fascination with his details made it hard to learn what he was teaching, and therefore, you often wondered: was this a chicken or the egg sorta thing? Did you go to his office hours because you had not paid attention in class, or did going to his office hours make you even more head-over-heels and thus more prone to distractions? Either way and as a result, math was simultaneously your worst subject, yet the one you attended the most office hours for. In psych 101, you had learned that dreams were inspired based on what you had thought about during the day. Professor Ackerman constantly on your mind meant your dreams repeatedly led you into his arms.

If that dream had been your reality, you would have woken up beside him - snuggled up and spooning on the sofa in his office. As the sun rose over the hill, he would have snuck you into the faculty lounge and made you a cup of coffee before taking you off campus to his favorite breakfast cafe. However, last night’s escapades were just that - an escape. You woke up to a much more humble sight, to an empty half of your twin bed, sheets crinkled by fists you had balled in midnight climax. With one last breathless sigh off of the cusp of your sex dream, you slung your legs over the side and tugged on your Friday sweatsuit - ready to trudge through the weather and meet him in the lecture hall instead.

// // //

It was the last class before the final. Both of you recognized there were far more students here than the average day. Still not as many as the first day, though, before Ackerman’s intimidating vocabulary and crass tone had scared a sizable fraction away.

His voice was much weaker today, you chalked it up to the winter cold that had been spreading throughout campus. Each clear of his throat garnered concerned looks from his pupils, even more so when he approached them one by one and handed back their latest midterms. Shoulders rolling, neck cracking, his body language begged them to look away. With each step he climbed up and up throughout the lecture hall, his muscles chastised him for last night’s excursion: Couldn’t you have waited just one more day? What a sorry specimen.

But that hazing was nothing compared to the moment he made it to you. 

The doe-eyed one, the one so soft-spoken, the one who always maintained their mannerisms in his office hours - saying please and thank you every tutoring session - no matter how blunt or terse he had been during it. You - of course - it had to be you, whose test he had crumpled in a heat-of-the-moment back-breaking climax. 

As he placed the wrinkled packet in your hands, his lips parted in a stammer, struggling to come up with any possible excuse. Ultimately, he failed to summon anything, knowing you were too smart to believe any bullshit he had in mind. The most he could offer was a collateral apology. 

“Sorry about your test.”

Those four words lit a flashbulb in your mind, rekindling the flame you had put out just last night. Even if not for the contextual callback, that crinkle looked awfully familiar. In fact, you had seen it this very morning. The five divots at the top - the fingerprints. The peaks just beneath them - the knuckles. The hole at the middle - the palm. There was no doubt in your mind, albeit keen to fantasize, the nature of this handprint. 

No doubt about the nature of the handprint, but the backstory to it - how powerful his climax was, the sounds he made during it, what led him to grabbing your test in particular - you could only imagine.

// Kinktober Year 3 Masterlist //

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi x you #levi ackerman x you #levi #levi ackerman #anlian writes #my writing #specials #smut #alias's #power dynamics #power dynamics tw #tw power dynamics #power imbalance #power imbalance tw #tw power imbalance #professor ackerman #kinktober year 3

[ghoulofatook]

Silco bedside visits are important.

Book keeper/accountant finds herself on Silcos bad side as the result of a misunderstanding and he almost tortures and kills her. You know how it is, everyone makes mistakes.

Silco/femaleOC slow burn but it uses minimal name references (maybe like two?) so you can live your best life and read it as silco x reader because that’s what we’re here for people.

TW for violence, surgery, blood, alcohol, weapons, indentured service, torture, drug use, drug user family member, paperwork, power imbalance, power dynamics, and hardcore simping. You’ve been warned.

Part 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5

Framed by Betrayal - Part 6

Sevika impatiently swipes her mechanical arm across the metal slab, sending various instruments crashing and jangling to the ground. She helps bear your weight as you hop up to lay on the cold metal table before turning away to dig through some cupboards and drawers behind her.

You lay still, feeling exhausted, only sitting up briefly when Ran returns with a bottle of rum that you assume they’ve pilfered from the bar upstairs. With a pointed nod they encourage you to drink as much as you can, their cool manner strangely comforting. Despite both of them being silent, you appreciate Sevika and Ran helping you so… kindly. Kinder than they had to be under the circumstances.

Resolving to take a deep swig you lift the bottle high and slurp it awkwardly out of the good side of your mouth. Curling into yourself sharply as the alcohol stings the laceration. You half gasp half choke at the shocking, burning intensity of it. Accidentally spitting a small amount out through the hole in your lips where there should not be one. The evaporated fumes of the rum burn your eye where it has spilled down your cheek, strong shit.

As you take another swig Sevika swoops in and holds the bottle up, forcing you to chug a lot more than you would do on your own. Your eyes widen and you reach up one hand to hold the wound closed as you drink the potent liquor, scrunching your eyes closed with the effort.

You cough harshly when she releases you, a small spill of rum splattering your hand and surroundings. Why did it have to be rum you wonder before your head spins and you slump back into a laying position, the back of your skull smacking against the surface gracelessly.

You don’t see Sevika and Ran share a concerned look.

“We don’t have time to wait,… I’ll do it.” Sevika signs to them silently just out of your view.

Ran raises an eyebrow.

“I’ve sewn up worse.” She signs back, annoyed as she pulls the tray she’s put together over to rest by your head. You hear it clink and try to turn to see what she’s got but she gently but firmly pushes your head back to resume facing the ceiling.

“Hold still and close your eyes.” She demands, almost threatens. You obey, the rum starting to bring you some warm, drunken easing of discomfort.

She leans over and you feel the needle press at your skin before pushing through. It is agonising and you grab fistfuls of your jacket to brace yourself, closed eyes wrinkled tightly shut.

“If you don’t relax your face, this will scar like a bitch.” Sevika warns and you do the best you can, as she makes another pass, pulling the thread through with it and tying it off. Your toes curl and every other muscle in your body is stiff as a board with the effort of keeping your face still and not twisted.

You feel a hand on your shoulder and peep open one eye briefly to see Ran, coming to assist, helping hold the wound together as Sevika works.

“Eyes closed.” Sevika growls again, pulling the thread through a little more roughly till you obey.

You do your best to stay still and silent, occasionally whimpering where you can’t help yourself. Tears leak down your cheeks through your closed eyes. If Sevika notices she doesn’t give you a hard time about it. After a few more passes with the stitching, you start feeling darkness creeping in at the bordering of your vision, slowly closing in on you like a warm hug.

“No no no, shit! Ran, hold her head still! Dammit!” is the last thing you hear before you lose consciousness.

~~~

You wake up to a buffet of pain in a variety of flavours. Sharp stinging pain that laces the sliced flesh at the edges, a bone deep ache across your skull and electric nerve zingers shooting sporadically through your swollen jaw. One side of your face is swollen and your mouth is hideously dry, as if it were filled with coarse sand. You almost gag when you catch a whiff of yourself, reeking of spiced rum and dried blood, charming. A headache slowly makes itself known to add to your experience, slinking out from behind your eyes to rest in the foreground, like a cat in the sun.

As your awareness gropes around blindly for a foothold on exactly where the hell you are, you find yourself laying on a nice bed. Sprawled out on top of the blankets, still in your ruined and bloody clothing from last night. Memories of the stitching fade into consciousness and the reality of it leaves you feeling frail, weak and utterly exhausted.

Taking a few, painful deep breaths before sitting up, the room spins and you see stars, blackness rims your vision for a long moment till you slowly adjust to the change in axis.

You’re in a nice, almost ornate little room. The little single bed is plush and the bedding smells crisp and clean. The deep red bed cover has a simple but elegant gold embroidery that catches in the light but feels rough underhand. In the corner of the room a vent pumps in sweet tasting, surprisingly fresh air.

It’s still very small but it’s miles ahead of the musty safe room you’d stayed in previously. You look over to the bedside table and your mouth falls open in shock, which pulls awkwardly at the swollen stitches so you quickly snap it shut it again. There are a few things on the wooden surface but your eyes are fixed on a simple glass vase, full of clean water and a simple, elegant bouquet of cats whiskers flowers.

Before you can consider that intriguing little morsel any further the door handle turns, dragging your attention towards the tall thin man now striding confidently towards you.

You shy away, wiggling underneath the blankets protectively, not recognising him. Behind his scarf and… bandages? He looks terribly scarred, as if he had been in a horrible fire and barely escaped to survive.

“Ah…” he pauses, noticing your unsure discomfort. “I’ve been asked to examine your injuries… may I?”

He gestures, to a stool by the bed. You look cautiously between the stool and him and nod once.

“Thank you, if you can please sit on the edge of the bed here, so that I can assess the sutures” He says, patiently letting you move into place before lifting the chair and placing it beside the bed facing you.

“Now” he says, sitting down slowly, in a way that makes you wonder how his scars must pull as he moves. “Let’s see Sevikas handy work shall we?” He gently lifts your chin, tilting your face towards the window so that the light is better. His brows furrow as his one good eye flicks over your wound.

“Hrmm, she did not do badly at all.” He pauses for a beat. “But do not tell her I said that.” You see the corner of his eyes crinkle and you realise he is making a small joke. You can’t help but crack a small smile back at his endearing effort.

He asked you what happened and you explain how you got the wound, and how Sevika and Ran had stitched it up. He listens patiently nodding.

“The rum seems to have helped disinfect the wound.” He muses, almost as if talking to himself before adding. “I’d like you to apply this three times a day, morning mid and night. It will keep the wound clean, reduce swelling and assists in healing. He hands you a small glass jam jar of lavender coloured salve.

“Unfortunately you may have some crushing injuries to your ribs but there’s nothing I can do for that. You will have to endure, unfortunately, till they heal.”

Nodding you wait patiently for him to continue.

“As for the laceration, if it starts to get worse, come see me at once. It is not a small wound, and any infection would probably need to be cut away. I would not like to see that happen.”

You nod in horrified agreement “Of course.”

He chuckles as he stands. “Fear is very motivating isn’t it.” You’re not sure how to reply to that so you just half smile awkwardly. “Thank you.” You say, trying to favour the less painful side of your mouth.

“You should thank Sevika.” He says as he pulls the door open pausing in the doorway momentarily. “If she had waited for me last night you would probably have bled to death.” With that he closes the door, leaving you alone with yourself in stricken silence.

You look down at the jar and open it, it smells sweet and familiar. You recognise lavender flowers, lemon myrtle and comfrey leaf, but there are some other healing herbs you don’t recognise. You struggle to open the tight lid, cursing men for over tightening every damn thing they can. Once you wrangle it open you dab some over your lips, following the vertical path of sutures up and down. It instantly soothes, a cool tingling numbing sweeps over the area and you sigh in ecstatic relief.

You carefully place the jar on your bedside table, noting the jug of water and glass. You drink three glasses, surprising yourself with how thirsty you are once you start.

Placing the cup back you return your attention to side eye the flowers suspiciously. They are beautiful but… Silco would not have done this would he? It seemed so… out of character. He really doesn’t seem the type but you don’t know anyone else who would bother with such an extravagant gift. Cut flowers in Zaun are almost a sacrilegious luxury. Plants are valued more for their natural air filleting capabilities, healing powers and psycho-active effects before their general beauty and even then they are valued much more alive than cut. It was especially hard to ignore that these are the same flowers you discussed together with him in the garden at the College of Techmaturgy. The ones you had told him were your favourite.

You shake your head, trying to dislodge the messy thought spiral and lean against the table as you get to your feet. You feel weak and tired but you forge on towards the door, curious to see where you are.

Opening the door you peer out and find yourself in a small hallway, it looks familiar-

A door opens and Silco strolls out before freezing when he sees you. He looks you up and down. With self conscious terror you remember that you’re still wearing your dirty, bloody clothes from the previous night and probably look like a bruised and beaten mess.

He steps towards you and reaches out towards the stitched wound before hesitating and retracting his hand, flexing his fingers and slowly curling it into a fist at his side.

“What did Singed say?” He asks simply, your eyes flick back up to him in question before you realise with a pang of distaste that he must have been talking about the man with the burn scars.

“It’s fine” You rasp, and clear your throat.

“He told me to keep it clean and gave me some salve.” You explain hoping the floor would swallow you whole.

Silco nods once and turns his head, his long lean neck flexing as he muses over something.

“Third door on the left is the wash room.” He says and you look down, embarrassed that it’s him to suggest that you bathe. “Take today and tomorrow to regain your strength, I’ll need you again after that.”

You nod and he makes a pained face. It looks like he wants to say more but he doesn’t know how to say it so you wait patiently for him to spit it out. You catch his eye and raise your eyebrows in encouragement but he just frowns and turns away, striding down the hall away from you.

Puzzled you stand there a moment watching where he had been before slowly making your way to the wash room.

~~~

Steam rises as you luxuriate in the hot water of the large footed iron tub. You roll your neck and slip lower into the water so that your nose is just above the water line, inhaling a deep breath through your nose before dipping your head under again. The sound under the water is so comforting, your long hair splays out all around you as you enjoy the simple novelty of being submerged. It stings at your lip but it’s also soothing, soaking away the died and cracked blood.

When your lungs start to burn you resurface, water cascades down your face and hair as you lay back comfortably slipping your arms around the edges beside you.

Schist had stollen two barrels of shimmer from the scientists that night. You wonder over what that means as you laze in the water.

Ramsey had obviously sent her, knowing from his previous position that they had the three barrels of shimmer and very little security. You weren’t even supposed to be there at the time, it was just bad luck that you had run into each other. You reach a hand up and trail it over the raised lumpy stitches absently.

Schist was pretty close with Harker too, they’re probably all working together in some way or another.

Harker…

You frown a bit before it hurts your face, which frustrates you into wanting to scowl but you force your sore lips into a neutral line instead.

You were most disappointed by him. You could deal with people being terrible, but it was so much worse when they pretended to be kind first. You had genuinely liked him, not in a romantic way but platonically, as a friend. You had appreciated and respected him, then he had framed you and very almost gotten you killed. Perhaps it would be better to simply distrust people on principle in future you consider. Dipping a hand to swirl in the water, you create little ripples that slowly widen. Being bitterly disappointed was becoming a tiresome trend in your social experiences despite your best efforts to do right by people.

You consider the other people that you had fired for going off the rails, most of them were friends with both Ramsey and/or Harker. So it made sense that they might be running with their own little crew now.

People addicted to shimmer don’t get themselves fired from a job that provides free shimmer. Not unless they can get it somewhere else. It might be worth making a list of these people. You resolve to do it as soon as possible, motivated by your experience and sincere curiosity.

Smirking with one side of your face, suddenly nostalgic, you remember the detective stories Yrvka had read to you before she had taught you to read. Yrvka and her husband Bryn had run the little cantina bar before you had taken it over, they had paid you to help out and clean up around the place as a kid. They had been almost like second parents, your own parents too busy and too exhausted after long shifts in the suffocating mines.

Bryn lived in the sumps now… famously where the people of Zaun go to lay low. Maybe it was worth dropping in on the old man for a long overdue visit.

If he was even still alive.

The thoughts turned painful and with them you sink back under the water again, trying to clear your mind. This time you stay under for as long as you can hold your breath.

~~~

There was a single knock at your door that roused you from your recovery slumber. The door cracked open and you pulled the covers up over yourself as someone strolled into the room.

It was Silco. You heart froze again, the man honestly terrified you.

He was holding something and you watched as he carefully moved a chair over to the bedside and sat down across from you staring over you at the wall opposite, apparently thinking to himself.

After a long moment you looked up at him and his eyes latched on to yours.

“Ah you’re awake.” He said.

You nod once, the blanket pulled up just over your nose, wishing you had worn any clothing at all to bed and not just passed out completely nude after the bath.

“Is it true that you don’t carry any weapons?” He asks suddenly.

You raise an eyebrow at the strange question.

“I used to.” You concede. “but I haven’t had much need for them… well until very recently.” You add regretfully looking down.

“Hrmmm” the noise is a gentle rumble of thunder in his throat.

You sit up a bit further in the bed, so that the blankets cover your modesty from your neck down.

Your eyes flick over to the flowers and back to him and then you curse yourself for your wandering gaze, hoping he didn’t notice. Looking back up he was thumbing something in his hands. A flash of green caught the candlelight but you couldn’t make out what it was.

“You never know, when you’ll need to defend yourself Amaya, it’s often when we least expect it.” He says and your heart sinks. Is he threatening you?

“It can even be, those we least expect that turn against us.” He whispers.

There’s a beat of silence in that moment that chills your bones. You pull the blanket up again protectively and he turns his eyes back to you. In the dim light his orange eye was lit from within.

“I’d like you to have this.” He says holding what he had been holding out to you.

It was an ornate silver knife, inlaid in the hilt with stunning emeralds.

Your eyes widen and you sit up in awe clutching the sheet to your chest.

You look down at it and then up to him unsurely, you slip your hand out of the covers towards it.

He reaches out with his other hand and takes yours placing the knife into your palm and closing his other hand on top of yours.

“Keep it on your person, always. Will you promise me that?” He says looking deep into your eyes. The icy blue eye seeming less chilling as the warmth of his hand leaches into yours.

“I will” You whisper.

“Say it.” He demands squeezing your hand gently.

“I promise, I’ll keep it on my person.” You say gently, flustered.

His mouth tips up the most minute amount in one corner, you could almost miss it if his face wasn’t so close to yours.

“Good, because I need you.”

You feel blood rush into your face and your mouth parts slightly at those words. Warmth blooms within you and butterflies clang in your chest.

His brows furrow slightly and then his eyes widen in a flash of panic, he quickly pulls his hands away from yours.

“I need you, to do your job.” He adds quickly, face smoothing over again as he regains composure.

“What you do is very important.” He says getting to his feet and turning away.

“So I expect you to defend yourself better in future.”

“Of course, I will.” You say obviously.

“Goodnight.” He says and walks out the door, shutting it behind you.

You flop back in to the bed, staring at the ceiling. Still holding the beautiful blade in one hand.

What the fuck was that?

~~~

You’d slept most of the first day away, probably needed it.

“If she had waited for me last night you would probably have bled to death.“ Singed words sneak into your thoughts. You shy away from the memory of his words.

Regardless, there was no way you would waste your free day. Indentured staff were not permitted days off, or holidays or even afternoons off unless they were severely ill or dying. This was an opportunity that you could not afford to waste, busted face or not.

You applied the soothing purple salve once again, exhaling blissfully as it sunk into your aching wound. Thankfully, someone had provided you with some new clothes, they didn’t fit very well but they were better than nothing. You slipped them on pulled on your boots, flinching at the sensation in your lip as you tilted your head to tie the laces up.

You eye the silver blade on your bedside table suspiciously.

“I need you.”

You sigh, wrapping a cloth around it and slipping it under your pants by your hip before making your way out down the hall.

You’d realised after your bath yesterday that it was the same hallway as Silco’s office. You’d just been too messed up to put it all together.

You walked through the hall and down the stairs, the guards letting you pass without a second glance into the blasting music of the main bar area.

You spot Jinx sitting alone at the bar and know that’s a big red flag for her being in one of her moods. She has her special cup and the newest bar tender Chuck looks understandably terrified as she mumbles to him about something.

You make your way past carefully avoiding that part of the bar limping around the back wall till you find yourself curling around the spiral staircase that leads down to the cellars.

The keg room was empty, it smelled like stale beer and you actually appreciated the smell for once, valuing it as being from a simpler time. You stride over towards the door of your old office, eager to investigate.

You unlatch the door and slip inside, dropping into the chair behind the desk and luxuriating in the security of the tiny cupboard sized office space that had been your refuge.

Everything was just how you left it, despite your knowledge that Silco had been in here, pilfering through your records it seemed he had put everything back in its place. You smiled gently at the consideration as you reached up for the staff file, undoing the little string that held the binder shut. There was a section of the file reserved for those who had been let go, and you flipped through it, slipping the end of the pen into your mouth as your other arm reached for a notepad.

You start the list with Ramsey at the top, drawing a crude little crown next to his name to signify his ranking, followed by Harker then Schist. Compiling the rest from your own memory and those who had been fired was too easy. It’s not long before you’ve added six new names to your list. You sit for a moment and have the strangest urge to make a copy so you follow your gut instinct despite how unusual it seemed and fold it up, slipping it into your bra to stash somewhere safe. You hold the original list up and beam at it proudly for an absurd moment of self congratulation.

Ramsey 👑

Harker

Schist,

Dopp, Mogayne, Vyrillia,

Clypse, Lemm and Kile.

Not bad for a paperwork princess.

A strange clanging noise just outside the office door clips your thoughts short and you find yourself gripping your pen like a tiny blade in a moment of panic. Taking a deep breath you try to calm yourself, probably just someone changing a keg. The thought of Schist crushing you so tightly the air was squeezed from your lungs flashes through your mind and you grip the pen tighter.

No room for mistakes in this business.

You hear more rustling just outside the door so you quickly and quietly put your office back in order and pocket the list before reaching a hand towards the door handle, twisting it so slowly before kicking it open.

“Sur-PRISE!” You see written on the floor in pink scrawl just before the room explodes with bright blue smoke. You cough violently trying to make your way up the spiral staircase back towards the bar but your arm is yanked back roughly.

“Leaving’ so soon? You know, I think it’s about time we had a little talk!” Comes Jinxes husky and terrifying voice through the smoke. She wore a large respirator, and her manic blue eyes skitter over you like a swarm of insects through the murky glass lenses.

“Ugh, let me go Jinx” you growl, trying to shake free but her thin arm was inexplicably strong, holding you easily in place. She terrified you more than anyone else here, because there seemed to be no rhyme or reason behind many of her actions. She was entirely unknowable and insane.

“I can’t breathe” you gasp, tears pouring freely out of your eyes as you gasp for air still feebly pulling away from her.

“Step into my office!” She announces dramatically, opening the door to your office before kicking you into the chair slipping inside and shutting the door behind you both.

Jinx sits on the table in front of you looking down at you, tilting her head to the left as you gasp to catch your breath. You regret that the dagger Silco had given you was in such an awkward and hard to reach place.

“Okay you wanted to talk?” You rasp, trying not to display how entirely pissed off you are currently.

“Silco chewed my head off yesterday cause of you. Ramsey’s meant to be dead blah blah blah” She mimes with her hands as if they are puppets.

“You were meant to kill him?” You ask trying to decipher her insane chattering.

Her eyes narrow on you sharply and you freeze.

“Yeah, I blended him a bit but he must have pulled through” She makes a comical show of being exasperated. ”They’re so hard to kill when they’re big purps you know?” She raises her hands up over her head.

“So here’s the deal what’s-ya-name.” Jinx explains.

“Amaya” you interject dryly.

“I aint asking! Here’s the deal, YOU gotta kill Ramsey now. Since you caused me all this trouble.”

“I what!?” You blanch.

“I usually kill people who make me look bad, but he says he needs you for work stuff and that I’m absolutely not allowed to kill, hurt, explode, terrorise, drug, maim or torture you unless he says otherwise.” Counting each threat out on her fingers.

“Silco is very important to me.” She says looking away suddenly her fist clenching on her forehead.

You stay silent for a beat unsure of what to do or say, the awkwardness and danger of the moment thick in the air.

“Okay, you got a deal.” You say putting your hand out with confidence that you had no idea was possible. Trying to meet crazy with crazy seemed like as good a choice as any.

Jinx grins widely and grips your hand shaking it wildly.

“You kill Ramsey, I get the credit, kapeesh?” Jinx proclaims grinning wildly.

You nod once and she reaches across you to open the tiny office door.

“Nice doin’ business whats’ya’name.” She steps on your lap and shoulder roughly as she climbs over you out the door. You scramble after her once you realise the smoke is filtering back in to the room. Stumbling through the keg room up the stairs till you are left gasping at the top of the spiral staircase in the slightly fresher air of The Last Drop.

After a moment of catching your breath you steel yourself to the task at hand and walk through the bar towards the exit to The Lanes. On your journey through you lift a jacket off a chair as you pass and stroll out of the door praying that nobody else will interfere or threaten you along the way till you feel the cool air and rough cobblestones under you feet.

You pull the stolen jacket around you and stroll into the hustle and bustle of the lively streets stalking through the chattering crowd.

You weave through tides of strange and wonderful people, passing by pleasure parlours, bars, restaurants and shimmer dens till you find yourself in a market street.

“Long time no see” croaks the Baker Yarmin, kneading bread with two of his four arms while the other two packs a small ornate pipe with dried herbs.

“I’m a busy woman, just one today thanks” You smirk dipping your hand into your bra for your meagre coin purse. Grateful that you’d saved some coin from before your indenture.

“I thought you were a dead woman after The Eye took over the Cantina” He says taking a long draw on his pipe as his free hands wrap a loaf of bread with waxed paper.

“You thought wrong.” You say slipping some coins over the counter towards him.

He takes the coins and sniffs handing you a loaf.

“Say hi to Bryn for me.” He says softly before someone pushes you out of the way. You raise a hand up over the crowd in acknowledgement hoping he sees.

You stop by another stall purchasing a few other small items before heading down another bustling street.

Feeling suddenly exhausted, you take a moment to step briefly into a large breathing station. Paying a small fee to enter seemed immediately worth it. Huge air ducts with spinning fans siphoned clean air from topside and brought it down to refresh those within. You inhale deeply through your nose, enjoying some fresher than usual air, sitting down you drink in the view, watching people bustle by. The breathing station was set up like a small bar with tables, chairs and drinks available. Always room for business enterprise in Zaun. You appreciated a peaceful, brief respite before being informed your time was up.

“You have to pay to stay longer.” Said the man gruffly, his large feline ears folding back in a threatening display.

“I’m leaving, I’m leaving” You smile up at him feeling refreshed and in good spirits. He’s disarmed momentarily by your friendliness.

“Good then” he bites out as a last resort turning away back to his station.

The press of the crowd is the perfect hunting ground for pickpockets and you’d already carefully tucked your tiny coinpurse back into the side of your bra. You keep one hand in your jacket pocket pressed firmly against the list as you make your way through.

It’s not long before you reach your destination across town, boarding a hydraulic descender to ride lower into the fissure city you stand patiently waiting for the crowd to fill the space. Just before the gates could slide across to shut which would signal the descent a late passenger joins the ride, squeezing onto the platform before the gate is pulled shut. The latecomer stands beside you so close that you sidestep and shoot a glare up at them so they can see your obvious displeasure.

You peer up at Ran, who's eyes twinkle with delight at your recognition, confusion and then anger.

You sign to them “Following” Your hand jive is terrible but You’re sure they understand your question.

Ran points down and nods once. As if to say, Yeah, I am if you’re going down there. The elevator vibrates with heavy ticking gears as it descends.

You sigh, Ran is not wrong. The Sump level is famously dangerous, even for locals. With the rise of shimmer it had become a sprawling shanty town of the desperate and dying, the forgotten folk.

You used to visit every few weeks, visiting Bryn, the short little man who had hired you off the street and who’s wife had taught you about money and book keeping. Without them you would have no education, no edge. Probably be a miner like your parents or a pleasure worker like many others. Not that there’s any shame in that, but those are just some of the few choices for unskilled, uneducated young labourers in Zaun.

You blink back into the present, ripped away from your thoughts as you step out onto the bare rock and soil ground, people shuffle past, most wearing thick mining denim dyed dark with soot and dust. The air here is harsh and stagnant, you scrunch your nose and forge ahead. Ran follows silently beside you, impassive as always. Some people seem to recognise them and shrink away. You try to ignore it, as well as you try to forget the state of your own face, swollen on one side and full of stitches. Maybe you should have grabbed a respirator, if not just to hide behind it.

You make your way to the last place Bryn had been squatting. A small lean-to of corrugated iron sheeting and other discarded scrap.

You tap on the tin beside the entrance, a small grubby curtain hung across the opening. “Bryn?” You call, unsure if he would answer, unsure if he was even still alive.

You hear wretched coughing from within and a small disheveled man slips out through the curtain.

“Oh, it’s you my girl” He says, eyes going wide with recognition. Purple veins web across his too thin arms. You try not to let the pathetic sight of him hurt you. “What have you done to your face?” He asks stepping closer to you.

“I brought you some food.” You say, shrugging off his question, annoyed at the implication you had cut your own face wide open. In the way that only family can instantly annoy.

You place the fresh loaf of bread, a gourd flask of clean water and two tins of corned beef down on a shelf built in to the front of his hutch. He looks at them and then back up at you. “Thank you.” He says but his voice is distant, as if he’s just going through the motions of saying what he thinks he has to say. You’re both silent for a moment before he speaks again.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you… I thought you had finally stopped coming.” He sits down on a crate and you join him, sitting on the hard ground.

Ran hangs back, waiting from a polite distance.

“I’m sorry it’s been a while…” You say, meaning it. “Yarmin said to say hello.”

“That crusty old baker still baking?” He laughs, his weary face wrinkling with smile lines. Yarmin had been a regular at the Cantina way back when.

“How is my little bar going?” He says reaching for the bread and breaking off some of the crust.

“It’s going well” you lie with a smile, not willing to get into the truth of that right now.

“Good, good” he smiles sadly taking another bite.

“Bryn… I need you to tell me if you know anything about these people.” You say, pulling the list out of your pocket.

He turns a suspicious look on you.

“You in some kind of trouble?” He asks.

“It’s important.” You insist.

You read him the names and he gazes off into the distance.

“Yeah… I know some of them.” His brows furrow. “But you don’t want nothin to do with any of them. They’re no good.”

“Can you tell me what you know about them? Please?” You say taking his hand.

He looks into your eyes for a moment, must see the desperation there and sighs again.

“They call themselves the Zauntorrus” The bulls of Zaun.” He snorts at the ridiculousnesses of the name. “They think they can lift Zaun up and rise above the fissures but really they’re just a bunch of sumpers in Silco’s bad books.”

You nod slowly.

“Did they do that to you?” He says, nodding to your face.

You nod again.

“I need to find them.” You say.

Bryn laughs but it quickly degenerates into a wheezing hacking cough.

“My girl, they’re far too much trouble for you.”

“I’ll be in more trouble if I don’t find them Bryn, please.” You squeeze his hand.

“Please.” You insist.

He sighs and pulls his hand away to break off another crust of bread chewing it thoughtfully.

“I can find out for you if you give me some time. Come back in a day or two. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you Bryn.” You beam at him.

“Be careful my dear. Please look after yourself.”

“You too old man.” You give him a hug. His bony body feels like a wooden chair wrapped in clothing against you and it breaks your heart.

“I’ll see you in a day or two.” You get to your feet.

He nods and raises the water in a grateful salute before you turn away to leave trying to hold yourself together.

Your throat burns as you try not to cry, you cut long determined strides back through the shanty town towards one of the hydraulic ascender platforms.

He looked so much worse than the last time you’d seen him. He’d lost so much weight, you didn’t expect him to look so awful. You should have tried to get down here, to get food to him.

You fight tears away and swallow it all as best you can, mindful of Ran keeping pace beside you.

You stand on the ascender platform impatiently hugging your arms. While waiting for it to fill, just before the gate slides across you almost swear you see Schists wild green hair and black and gold eyes. It’s a split second of recognition before the swarming crowd engulfs her. You turn your watery gaze away, unwilling to see more, already overwhelmed. One hand drops into your pocket though, thumb slowly tracing the comforting shape of dagger underneath.

You see Ran move out the corner of your eye and they are signing to you. Despite the state you’re in, you’re shocked that they are initiating an interaction.

“Dad?” They sign simply.

You shake your head no… then sign back. “Similar” not knowing how else to describe it.

Ran nods once and turns away. You don’t communicate further for the rest of the ride back up to the lanes.

A few rogue tears slip down your cheeks and the salty beads sting as they soak into the stitches.

~~~

You and Ran arrive back at The Last Drop and once back inside the bar you sign “Thank you” to them. Ran bows, deadpan as always and heads off, leaving you to figure out what to do with yourself and you stand there for a moment, feeling totally lost.

A large hand falls on your shoulder ushering you into the bar.

“Where the hell have you been?” Sevika’s familiar voice in your ear.

“I went out.” You mumble glumly as she steers you through the parting crowd and sits you down in a booth with her.

“You’re meant to be resting!” She hisses, snapping her fingers at the waiters without looking away from you.

“You got a death wish? The SUMPS?” She rolls her eyes lighting the cigarette as two drinks are silently delivered in front of you by a beautiful blonde waitress.

“Ran tell you?” You ask glumly taking a sip of your drink, it was damn nice whiskey.

“No, but I’m glad he noticed you try to slip out and followed your dumbass.”

You look up affronted and Sevika laughs at you.

“I have a lot of eyes around town princess.”

“I had to go visit someone. I wouldn’t have had the chance otherwise.” You admit taking another soothing sip, exhaling rich the flavour over your palette.

“I know what you did, took some food to some old sumper and asked some questions.” She eyes you sharply as she takes another draw on her smoke, daring you to lie to her.

“I uh…” You flounder before finding your resolve. “I made a list of people I think might be working with Ramsey and Harker.”

Sevika smirks curiously.

“And you thought you’d just stroll down into the lower levels and investigate it yourself did you?”

You nod sheepishly.

She takes another long drag on her cigarette and blows the smoke out thoughtfully.

“I’m still not sure if you’re a genius, a deranged lunatic or just plain stupid.” She muses.

You chuckle to yourself at that.

“Maybe all three.” You admit with a shrug.

She eyes you thoughtfully before putting her hand out palm up towards you.

You sigh and place the list in her hands.

“What did you find out?” She asks slipping the cigarette into the corner of her mouth before taking the list in both hands to read it through.

You discuss how you’d made the list based on people who had been fired from the bar and what Bryn had told you of the Zauntorros. How he was going to find out more and get back to you in the next day or two.

“Not bad work Princess.” Sevika admits, eyebrows raised.

“Why didn’t you come to me with this sooner?” She asks taking another drink.

You hesitate for a moment unsure yourself.

“I needed to know for myself.” You confess finally.

Sevika just nods, twisting the cigarette over to the other side of her mouth.

“I’ll go down with you tomorrow.” She says in a manner that suggests there’s no discussion on her decision.

“Never pull stupid shit like this again.” She adds her eyes catching the light ominously.

~~~

Tag List

@lackofhonor @nelipt @accordionplayingrat @faraige

#silco #silco x reader #Silco fanfic #silco fan fiction #silco x oc #silco x you #silco arcane #silco simp #silco stan #ironandglassoc #Framed by Betrayal #TW Surgery #TW Blood #TW weapons #TW Indentured service #TW Torture #TW Drug use #TW Drug user family member #TW Power Imbalance #TW Power Dynamics #TW Violence #tw alcohol #HOPE Y’ALL DIG IT #this was my THIRD RE-WRITE #I’m a lil obsessive for no good reason #I JUST WANT CONSTANT ACTION AND DRAMA #No rest #sorry it took forever hehe

[meadowlarksabove]

💔

Send 💔 for my muse to talk about an ex (Open)

No matter the distance he’d covered or how much time had passed, The Legion had a way of whipping his nerves still. If the sun above their heads was the same one that shone down upon Arizona, then he was still under the watchful gaze of the red flame. He’d spent too many years speaking in secret courtship, minding his words, keeping his thoughts, protecting his and other people's lives, to just one day give it up and let himself be known. What if they could still find him and kill him? 

Gabban furrowed his brow. “A year into being a decanus Captain, my corresponding centurion Major became really taken with me. He admired what I could achieve with my own hands and with how I managed to get things done for him. I don’t know when his admiration became so strong, really, only that I started to find gifts in my quarters. Small things with even smaller messages smuggled inside. It felt strange to have my superior showing his interest in me so boldly, of course I was flattered, but things were getting complicated. Risky.” He looked over his shoulder for a moment, as if half expecting someone to be there. 

“He started to pay me visits late at night, and I’d let him inside. I wasn’t that fond of him, but he was fond of me, and at the time I thought that was enough. Though now when I think about him and our time together, I get an odd feeling…I probably should’ve told him to knock it off, but where would that have left me.” 

#.memes #.Gabban #tw power imbalance #tw power dynamics #/Gabban's short time as a decanus? miserable. #/being a frumentarius is also miserable... #/there is no winning

[eroslove88]

Ok I've never done this before so I hope it'll go well :)

But uh could you please do something with mommy kink Raiden Shogun, Ganyu and Shenhe forcibly breastfeeding their bratty sub? I really like your writing style so I look forward to it but if you're only able to do one please do Ganyu thanks again and good day/night 🙏

Lactation Kink + Bratty Sub. (Gn reader!)

Warnings: Noncon, lactation kink, mommy kink, power dynamics, slight yandere, small use of electricity and implied kidnapping

Note: I LOVE DOMINANT WOMEN!!! They have my heart and soul. Cocogoat Ganyu headcannon.

Shenhe *¨*• Cold *¨*•

You're shorter than her and much warmer than her. She's cold- not she really is. Her cold hands forcibly grab your jaw and her other arm snakes around your waist cradling you in a position where your mouth is being shoved onto her nipple.

It's already leaking due to the forced stimulation of your tongue, she never liked noisy people and she never took you as the talkative type. She hated people who complained when things were going fine, she didn't see the need in you cussing her out. So if you wanted to do something with your mouth she gave you something much more important to do. You recoiled when her nipples started leaking beads of milk, in disgust you tried pulling away but that's when her nails dug into your jaw shoving forcing your lips to wrap around her leaky bud.

Your protests were muffled by her breast, "M-Mommy, swop" your words slurred by the fat in your mouth, she only shushed your meaningless words by shoving you deeper into her chest. Her heart was beating you fast from the thrill of your squirming body. Shenhe is not as vocal as you are, she let's out small noises. "That's right, be good for mommy" she whispered between heavy breaths.

Ganyu ♡ Delusional ♡

Ganyu is typically patient and she doesn't understand why you're throwing tantrums and being rude to her. She's just trying to take care of you. Ganyu is soft and she's not trying to hurt you, "It's ok, mommy's going to take good care of you" just like a child she thinks you're hungry after barely stimulating her chest she looks for you, "What the hell are you doi-" her hands gently squish your cheeks together, "Shhh, it's going to be ok. Mommy's here" the next thing you knew you were trying to fight off the adeptus while one of her hands squishes her tit.

Milk fills your mouth and you almost gag at the warm liquid. "It's just like goat milk don't worry" she reassures, "Swallow it baby" she purrs as your tongue tastes her sweet milk and your lips latch onto her dripping bud.

She whimpers at the sensation of your warm lips. Her hand moves down to coerce yours to milk her full breast causing warm milk to gush into your mouth and down your throat. Your watery eyes look up at her weary face when she releases her fluid.

"It's ok sweetie drink as much as you need" her breaths labored. When you gargle a groan, "Swallow baby, you're going to choke" her hands still squishing your cheeks making some of her milk drip from the corners of your mouth.

Raiden Shogun ☆ Cruel ☆

Ei knows what she is, but she doesn't like to be reminded of it constantly. Besides, she's your god. You're supposed to do as your told and not talk back to her with such a horrendous attitude.

Rough hands wrap around hair, she shoves her breast deeper into your mouth as you sob against her. "You've been so bad to your mommy" she growls her free shocking your sensitive nipples. She's dissatisfied with you performance so your tongue swirls around her nipple, small drops of milk drop into your mouth as you desperately suck at the enlarged nub. "That's it make mommy feel good, suck it dry sweetie" she demands.

Your tongue pitifully laps at the dropping pearls, "Don't drop any" you don't, it's not like you can; your mouth is practically full with a quarter of her boob. Shocks make you cry out into her bust and you frightfully slurp at her core saliva dripping down your chin in an attempt to satisfy her.

#tw yandere #tw kidnapping #yandere #tw noncon #genshin yandere #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #raiden shogun #yandere ei #yandere raiden ei #yandere raiden shogun #shenhe #yandere shenhe #Yandere ganyu #Lactation #mommy #delusional #tw delusion #power dynamics #implied kidnapping #goat milk #electrocution #cocogoat

[sourlove]

YANDERE AIZAWA SHOTA HEADCANONS

TW: OBSESSION, KIDNAPPING, YANDERE THEMES, MENTIONED STALKING, IMPLIED MURDER

Aizawa as yandere doesn't happen suddenly. It's a gradual descent into what he can only describe as madness.

There was no other logical explanation to way he felt about you. He had never been one to get attached easily. Those who had remained a constant for him had more or less forced themselves in and established themselves as part of his life. While he grew to eventually enjoy their company, he had never been the one to seek out a connection.

Other people were liabilities and vessels for useless emotions that could be turned against you at any given moment. Aizawa had no space in his life for liabilities.

Until he met you.

You were so cute and afraid, clinging to him when he saved you from a villain attack, almost like a wet kitten being rescued from a storm. When you leaned into him for support, Aizawa suddenly felt something warm and foreign pulse in him.

He asked where you live and frowned at the name of the neighborhood which was definitely not an area someone like you should be staying. You were too...delicate for that kind of place. Anybody could just snatch you up if they wanted to and have their way with you.

It was only right that someone protected you, Aizawa thought idly as he waved you into your dingy apartment. He couldn't, in good conscience, just let you wander around unprotected like that.

It was all for your safety. That's what he told himself as he followed you like a shadow, as he 'took care' of your handsy coworker and creepy landlord, and as he finally chained you to his bed.

"It's for your own good."

You cried a lot at first, poor thing. Aizawa felt bad for you but not bad enough that he could let you go. You were constantly surrounded by dangerous people, isn't it better to stay here with a Pro Hero?

You were almost like a cat, he mused as the weeks passed and the search for you slowly died down (with no small effort from him). You begged to go outside at first but soon you began to associate him with good things: food, warmth, safety.

You began to want him. Maybe not to the extent of his own desire but it was good, it was progress. So he indulged you, the way he would indulge a stray kitten that hissed and spat but still sought him out for comfort.

Sooner or later, you would learn that the outside world was no place for someone like you. You would learn to give up and give in. You would learn to appreciate what he did and know that he did it all for you. It was all for you.

But until then, Aizawa would hold you and wipe your tears away. You would understand that there was no way he would ever let go of his sweet, little pet.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #yandere #obsessive yandere #obsessive love #yandere boyfriend #fanfic #aizawa #shota aizawa #yandere x reader #aizawa shouta #aizawa x reader #aizawa x y/n #yandere aizawa #yandere mha #yandere bnha #writers on tumblr #writing #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #tw stalking #stalker #power dynamics #possessive #manipulation

[starlight-bread-blog]

I remember still thinking highly of Helluva Boss, genuinely not knowing if Stolitz will be endgame given that it's a power dynamic... how naive.

#helluva boss critical #helluva critical #helluva boss criticism #vivziepop critical #helluva boss critique #anti stolitz #anti stolas #tw power dynamics

[ghoulofatook]

Angle of Approach - an Arcane/The Expanse Au - part one

Dedicated to, @of-the-argonath because they are 🎵 SIMPLY THE BEST 🎵 Tag List: @angxlictexrs @insomniac-silco-maniac

Silco in space x female medtech reader. You do not need to have seen/read The Expanse for this fic to make sense, IT'S SILCO IN SPACE! . This AU features Arcane characters blended into the The Expanse Universe (of course they are all belters). IT'S SILCO IN SPACE! ✨️

TW: Silco is a jerk, power imbalance, power dynamics, humiliation, exposure, drug use, medical procedures, syringes, drug administration.

Angle of Approach

The sublime vision of space stretches all around the tiny ship, making it seem like nothing more than an inconsequential grain of sand in the grand scheme of the endless pool of stars. Brilliant gaseous nebulas and brightly twinkling distant suns watch over the little vessel as it makes its way past, not unlike a lone ant crawling through the desolate and inhospitable desert.

A gentle orange light slowly begins to glow, dim and faint, like the first breath of a sunrise, through one tiny window.

“Good morning, the time is zero four hundred hours Earth Standard Time” You hear the serene female AI voice as it gently beckons you awake.

“We are on approach to our destination, Ceres Station. Estimated time of arrival, three days and seven hours.” The state of the art artificial intelligence m0113 adds helpfully.

Stirring from your slumber, you lay there in place with your eyes still sealed closed for a moment, breathing slowly and deeply.

You bend a heavy arm up to wipe your face and it creaks at the elbow and shoulder joints, long left unused while your body lay motionless, carefully preserved and monitored within in your stasis pod for the last six months while you slept, undreaming.

Your eyes feel crusty and dry under your hands but rubbing your face helps you slowly wake up, slitting your eyes open to a gentle warm orange glow specifically designed to help your body feel more awake.

You lay there taking a few deep breaths, extending your awareness around your limbs, slowly stretching and testing to be certain that your meat suit was in working order after being on the shelf for so long.

Sitting up was always the tricky part.

You take it as slowly as you can, using your arms to support yourself while pushing gently into an upright position. The vertigo still came hard and fast though and the nausea trailed in, hot on its heels.

You twist over just in time to heave a mouthful of acidic bile over the edge of the cryo pod. Panting with the effort and feeling the burn lacing your throat.

“Please take a moment to gather yourself before attempting to stand up” The AI suggests.

“Thanks.” You rasp dryly wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

You hear the door of your tiny quarters chime a soft alert that someone was about to enter. The automatic door whooshes gently open and you listen as footsteps curl slowly around the floor behind you.

“Ah, slow to rise I see.” Comes a deep smokey voice from behind you.

“Yes Sir” A flicker of annoyance courses through you that someone would breech the sanctity of your cryo recovery. Everyone knew it was a rough and deeply vulnerable process. It was cultural taboo to greet someone this soon after being thawed.

Your irritation is immediately given away by your quickened heartbeat and spike in cortisol levels displayed on the monitors overhead. So you promptly slip off the monitoring halo from your forehead while trying to keep your skull as still as possible, not willing to set off another vertigo attack.

You sit up a bit more and try to turn your head, painfully slowly. The orange light had slowly brightened during the time you had woken to light the room. More and more clearly, illuminating a tall, lean man before you.

Your bleary eyes clock his rank first, ornate gold wings adorning either side of his suit collar and your brows furrow in trepidation.

“Captain?” You acknowledge, gaze finally slipping up to his face, eyes widening slightly at the shocking scar carved from his lip up over his left eye to the forehead. Where the damaged eye should have been white, it was dark wet black, like a void. The Iris a burning orange ember that almost seemed as though it might be lit from within. It was in sharp contrast to his other undamaged eye, white and cold blue, now watching your reaction closely and slowly narrowing in displeasure.

You steel yourself, disappointed that you let yourself flinch at his disfigurement so obviously, right to his face. Way to impress the new boss.

He turns to pace towards the other side of the room, near your baggage stow and desk area.

“Normally I’d give my crew members more privacy during their reanimation protocols but I’m afraid I’m in need of your professional assistance sooner than intended.”

With your interest now piqued you sit up too quickly and the nausea slams your vision across through a nauseating repetition of planet rocking torture. The world seems to be shaking violently and you hurl another mouthful of bile over the opposite edge of the pod. Body contorting violently with the effort as you heave a few more wretched mouthfuls of burning vomit on to the floor.

“Hmm” he hums in disappointment at your display, striding around, carefully avoiding your most recent deposit as he opens a cupboard near the head of the stasis pod.

“Benign Paroxysmal Positional Vertigo” he pronounces.

“Top of the class” you mumble from where you hunch, frozen in fear of moving your head and setting off another attack.

He was correctly describing your condition, a lucky percentage of spacers enjoyed the side effect as a direct result of cryostasis. Being inanimate for so long caused small calcium carbonate crystals to dislodge from a part of the inner ear and be suspended in the fluid that would normally maintain your equilibrium and balance. So then when you move, the tiny crystals sloshing around causes hell.

“My brother used to suffer from BPPV on defrost” he explains, digging through the thaw kit within. You hear a gentle clink as he loads a vial into an injector.

“Hold still.” You startle slightly at the purring voice suddenly so close to your ear, letting your shoulders go slack to show your compliance. He carefully slides your hair off your neck leaving tingling trails of awareness where the warmth of his fingertips had grazed over the sensitive skin.

Your thoughts on the intrusion are interrupted by a sharp sting as the syringe presses into the skin of your neck and a dose of Phytoprochlorperazine rushes into your system, drawing a cool, grateful exhale from you as it flows across your body in a cool wave.

“Give that a few minutes.” He advises, resting the injector gun carefully back in its cupboard.

“You trying to steal my job?” you jest, hired on as the ships medical technician you barely expected the captain himself to be administering your medical treatment.

You slowly chance a look up to catch his reaction, catching a momentary small, taught smirk.

“I don’t think I have the correct temperament” He confesses, seeming more like a private joke with himself. Folding his arms behind is back he strides lazily back around the pod.

“Your bedside manner could use some work.” You blurt before you can stop yourself.

His head whips that fiery gaze back on you, eyes narrowing coldly, better reign in your smartass comments.

“Noted, I’ll leave you to your own devices in future.” He quips back, taking a seat at your desk pulling a small box from his inner coat pocket and laying it out before him.

“I need some assistance with this when you’re ready please.” The way he words it is polite but his tone is scathing and you feel it rasp your nerves.

“Copy that, Sir” You acknowledge, swinging your legs slowly over the edge of the bed and trying to stand up in one smooth movement. Despite the medication, it’s too much, too fast. Your vision darkens and your head spins. You feel yourself slipping downwards but it feels dreamlike till you collide with the cold metal floor sheeting.

Blinking a few times in your collapsed heap, you push yourself up, tilting your head to see him, unbothered, watching you with an impatient scowl. The expression implied wordlessly that you were inconveniencing him by collapsing so dramatically.

“Did you lie about your qualifications?” He spits, as if you were failing a job interview.

Too bad you were deep in the outer rings now, approaching the Kuiper belt. A bit late to fire you.

“No Sir, I’m just not used to being so rudely awakened.” You jab back in frustration. Headache pulsing through your temples and zinging behind your eyes.

He scowls down, not moving a muscle to help you as you push yourself back up to standing. You take a few heavy steps with stiff legs as blood rushes around your lower limbs in a sensation like pins and needles. You lean your weight heavily on the table across from him with one hand panting slightly with the effort of your exhausted, stiff body.

“Now, what can I do for you today?” You ask in your best customer service voice with matching dead eyed smile.

He shoots you another dark look before his eyes flick down and you follow his gaze to the ornate wooden box, inlaid with shell and brass in a beautiful, complex design. His hands move surprisingly elegantly as his spidery fingers purposefully lift the lid, withdrawing two peculiar small brass contraptions. Your watch inquisitively as he pushes them together with a gentle click of some hidden mechanism before placing down what now looks like it could be a small gun or a strange type of syringe.

You inhale a gasp as he withdraws a glowing purple vial of shimmer and loads it into the back of the contraption, twisting it into place.

Your eyes, wide with shock, flick up to meet him smirking playfully at you.

Shimmer was a highly illegal and heavily regulated substance in the belt. If any was found on the ship it could result in horrible legal consequences and a record that would ground you from legitimate spacer work for life.

“This” he explains, rotating it carefully in his hand as if to display it. “Is the only thing that treats the infection in my eye.” It glows ominously and you suddenly feel like taking this assignment was a huge mistake.

“I need you to use this device, to inject it directly through my pupil, into the vitreous humor.” He explains, holding the device out for you to take.

You stare at it dumbly as it lay in the hand of your captain, as if to spite you. Panic seizes you and your mind races through the potential consequences of this simple request. This could cost you your career as a medical technician if it was to be revealed you’d administered shimmer to any patient, under any circumstances. The UN medical board had a hard no tolerance policy on the substance. Despite it definitely having some medical value under the right circumstances, shimmer had become a horrible street drug, and with its stained reputation it had foregone any chance of reputable use in legitimate medical science.

“Well?” He says calmly, but you feel the urgency of your long hesitation bearing down on you. It wasn’t an option to refuse the captain, who had hand picked you from a selection of candidates for this admittedly lucrative and cushy assignment. If he left a bad review on your file, it would marr your reputation just as badly. You were screwed either way.

He knew it too, the bastard had you perfectly cornered between a rock and a hard place.

Your eyes flick back up to his and they bore into you with the weighty expectation of a man who was used to wielding his command. His field of authority seemed to wash over you, bending you to his will and superior rank.

“Understood, Sir” you whisper hoarsely, reaching slowly for the contraption.

His smirk is deeper this time, wrinkling the edges of his blue eye in victory over your resigned submission.

The only betrayal of your annoyance is a single exhale through your nose as you walk to his side to administer the dose.

“Don’t sulk, it’s entirely unprofessional.” He chides and you shoot him a flash of fiery annoyance that he seems to thrive on receiving.

You flinch when his hand brushes your own suddenly, once again surprising you with his intrusive, gentle touch. You watch carefully as he explains the mechanism within the contraption and how to fire the plunger.

You nod your affirmation and lift the device towards him before he grabs your arm to still you with a pointed look.

“Understood, Sir.” You confirm through gritted teeth.

So he was going to be one of those Captains. Spectacular.

“Continue” he says, leaning back in the chair so his head was tilted back, giving you an easy shot.

The anxiety coursing through you as step in closer to seek out the correct angle of approach is entirely too distracting. You try for a moment before conceding that you need to be even closer to do this properly. Trying to maintain professional conduct and ignore the warmth of his side pressed against you as you finally find the right angle, setting the device in place and pulling the trigger.

The spring loaded syringe delves at speed, deep into his eye and barely half a second later he lurches forward violently, pushing you backwards against the desk in what seem to be throes of violent agony.

Oh no, this can’t be right, you must have done it wrong, your heart is pounding in your chest.

Leaning against the desk knee to knee with the captain, you gawk in blatant awe of his anguish as he writhes, clenching his teeth with his thin lips drawn back in a savage snarl. Like a wolf you think to yourself. Noting how the wayward strands of hair that had dislodged themselves from his rigid, swept back hairstyle, added to his wildness.

Slowly the hard breathing is less and less, and his muscles begrudgingly unwind from their seizing to relax over his bony frame.

With a final sigh he finally leans back into the chair, reaching into his suit for a handkerchief that he uses to dab at the thin trickle of purple liquid that had slid from the injection sight.

He sweeps a look towards you and you suddenly realise your proximity, registering your own discomfort at having both your knees interlocked with his and extract yourself carefully to the other side of the desk before he can regain his composure fully.

“How often…” You trail off as he pockets the handkerchief and sets his spidery hands to work dismantling the savage contraption.

“Once daily if I’m to fend off the progression of the bacteria successfully.” He answers smoothly, sweeping a hand up through his hair, setting it back in place.

“Did I-“

“You did it perfectly, the side effects are quite… dramatic unfortunately but that was not your doing, I assure you.” He waves a hand at you as if to dismiss you.

You’re not sure how to proceed for a moment, but you’re too rattled by the experience to argue the point that this was your quarters. So you dip your head in awkward show of respect and trail through the side entrance to your medical bay, closing the door behind you.

You catch your reflection in the glass of one of the medical storage fridges and your heart drops down into your gut.

Groggy and discombobulated as you were from cryostasis, you’d completely forgotten that you were only wearing a small white crop singlet and white underwear.

Diving towards the cabinet containing the medical gowns you rustled up some decency and pulled one on with shame fuelled haste before flopping, mortified, onto the soft lounge bay built into the side of the room.

Your first day was not going as intended.

✨

—-

Thank you for reading. <3

#silco x reader #silco #Silco Expanse AU #silco x female reader #Silco Arcane #tw power dynamics #tw drugs #tw power imbalance #TW drug use #TW medical procedure #TW drug administration #TW Syringes #TW jerk silco #TW non consensual touch #SILCO IN SPACE #I just wanted to write Silco in space #IT’S SILCO #IN SPACE #what more do you want? #Arcane The Expanse Au #Angle of Approach #Belter!Silco #Captain!Silco #milowda na animals

[crisiscutie]

It's does remind me this one song, Christmas Kids. Yandere Sephiroth tried babytrap his s/o for not leaving him. Christmas kids represent the triplets. Which is Yan!Sephiroth tried to make his s/o pregnant. They tried best to escape hell away from their own prison house. Even, they're change their name and move other country, Sephiroth will find them no matter what.

Yandere domestic Sephiroth AU? Yes, please. I've listened to the song, I really like it. Something about sad songs with happy beats always gets to me. I may have heard it before in some YT shorts... Anyways, it fits a domestic Yandere Sephiroth and a Pregnant!Darling very well. Just imagine the darling coming back to her new home and finding Sephiroth waiting...

Companion fic here.

Content Warnings: Slight NSFW, Emotional abuse, Non-consensual touching, Pregnant Darling. Long headcanons under the cut.

Grocery shopping for the week wasn't easy, but it had to be done. The boys won't be happy that their mother went shopping without them, but school must come first.

Plus, the darling wasn't in the mood to hear Loz and Kadaj arguing and begging for certain foods that week. But regardless of their squabbles, they are her precious gifts. Her Christmas kids, as they were born on that day. The happiest day of her life.

The darling opened the door to her new home, taking a deep breath and feeling the exhaustion from the errand. The ache in her swollen feet, aching back and sensitive milk-filled breasts was overwhelming.

But the pain and discomfort she felt in her pregnant body was a small price to pay for the freedom she and her boys gained.

The young, naïve triplet boys were confused of why their mother wanted to move suddenly, but they obeyed her with little hesitation, anyway.

The darling didn't want them to turn out like Sephiroth. His possessiveness and control were too much to bear. When he took to killing innocent people in the misguided attempt to "protect" her and the boys, that was the last straw. She knew she had to leave that fucked up place called "home" behind...

She grabbed her young boys and left their prison house when the stars aligned...

Despite her unexpected pregnancy by Sephiroth, her journey brought her here. She kept pushing forward, and the reward was a peaceful, cozy home for her and her children. Until today.

As the darling placed items on the shelves, she felt a cold, eerie sensation, as if something was watching her from the darkness.

She forced herself to ignore the eerie chill, opening the window blinds slightly as she resumed her normal stocking pace.

Even though the sun was shining brightly on this beautiful day, the eerie chill still lingered in their new home.

But it has nothing to do with what happened in their past. Definitely not. It's probably just a cold flash from her pregnancy getting so close to the end.

As she tippytoes, she strained her body to place the last few items.

As a response, the backache from her pregnant belly intensified. She could feel her baby's sporadic movements, ranging from gentle kicks to violent jolts. Maybe the darling should've invested in a step stool...

A wave of heat washed over her, a heat that was neither comforting nor from the sun, but a heat that was harsh and oppressive.

Now she's having hot flashes? Oh, the perils of pregnancy. At least this little one inside her should be much easier to have than the triplet boys.

The darling softly smiled as she recalled the adventurous banter among the triplets during their journey to a new home. They were debating the sex of their new sibling.

Loz longed for a younger brother to wrestle and play games with, knowing that he would have a better shot at winning against him, unlike his other brothers.

Yazoo, with his level-headed and composed outlook, predicted it would be a girl, welcoming the possibility of her tempering the wildness of his brothers (what a hypocrite).

Kadaj didn't care either way, as long as they didn't challenge his position as the leader and his status as his mother's (self-proclaimed) favorite.

The darling let out a deep groan as she paused her stocking. Her unborn child ended the sporadic fetal movements with the hardest kick yet. Something just isn't right... Perhaps she will see someone later this week after she and the boys finish moving in.

Suddenly, the dark, icy chill behind her shifted to a menacing heat, like a furnace blazing from the shadows. It felt so familiar, like… No! It's impossible! That chapter was a distant memory.

The darling is just imagining things. It should be no surprise that the human brain likes to play cruel tricks like this.

Like how Loz kept running to his mother, crying about seeing mysterious dark feathers around his school, the grocery store and other places their family would visit. He would complain that Sephiroth was too good at hide and seek.

The darling figured the strange dark feathers were simply a product of his mind, missing his father in his own way...

But it became alarming when Yazoo began to murmur and point out the smallest details of every single dark feather as he brought them to her.

Kadaj was getting frustrated, beginning to wonder why their father wouldn't help them finish moving in.

The darling refused to believe the boys. It could just be the ravens shredding their feathers, right?

With trembling hands, the darling slowly reached out for the final item. When she completes this simple task, she can lie down and relax. All of her stress, and the aching in her back especially, would soon be gone.

Just before she could grasp it, a large, gloved hand appeared and delicately placed the last item on the top shelf.

The darling felt a strange, unwanted sense of relief as she felt the slow and gentle strokes of another hand on her back.

...His presence could not be denied any longer. She felt his chest expanding and contracting against her head, and heard the gentle thump of his heart.

Sephiroth… No matter how many miles they traveled or how many times they changed their names and minds, he still had the determination to find them. He'll always know.

His silver tresses brushed against her skin as he hummed his sinister lullaby, pressing his lips to her ear.

His free hand grazed one of her sensitive, milk-filled teats. His hand then slowly descended, aiming for the treasure below.

His darling's swollen belly, where the new life within her stirred and grew.

He rested his hand on the center of her large belly. Warm, twisted happiness now radiated from him. His plan worked.

His darling refused to turn around. Struggling to contain her sobs, His darling averted her head from him and wept in silence.

His fingers glided over the stretched skin of her stomach, while his other hand moved lower to caress the small of her back.

As he opened his mouth, his warm breath tickled her ear.

"A touching reunion."

I wasn't sure if the prompt ask had the darling pregnant with triplets or already had them and was pregnant with a spare child, so I just combined a little of both concepts, but regardless, thanks for the great inspiration.

Yandere Domestic AU chronology: Christmas Kids | The Reunion is Nothing to Fear | Wait for me | Homecoming | The Crowning Moment

#sephiroth x reader #sephiroth #yandere sephiroth x reader #yandere sephiroth #yandere x reader #yandere final fantasy #final fantasy x reader #domestic headcanons #pregnant reader #tw: pregnancy #tw: emotional abuse #tw: power dynamics #congrats if you're this far in the tags #Yazoo is right btw #Darling is having a girl #remnants of sephiroth #kadaj ff7 #yandere x darling #yandere insert #yandere reader insert #male yandere #yandere headcanons #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios