#tw: power dynamics

[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

[ncafterdark]

Kinktober 2023

Day 16: Hiro/Dagger/Ivarr--Public

*****

“Keep a better eye on this one.” 

Ivarr isn’t escorted out, as much as he’s dropped into his arms, a shiny bruise already forming on his cheek. 

“Thanks.” The bouncer jumps visibly, the third member of their little group strolling out from behind him, smugly self-satisfied, as if this was entirely his orchestrating. “We can take him from here.” 

“Not taking me anywhere.” 

Realizing that they’re more trouble than they’re worth, the bouncer stalks back towards the club, an annoyed wave of his hand. 

He waits until the man goes back inside before rounding on the two of them.

“Really? I liked that place.”

Ivarr’s expression sharpens—impossible to be mistaken for kindness, despite the delicate grip he has on him. 

“Didn’t like how he was looking at you.” 

“He was looking at both of you gonks. Hoping he didn’t have to rescue the poor bastard.” 

Even as he argues, he’s aware he’s being led, shoulder to shoulder with the two of them, a sheltered alley behind the club, allows him to be pressed back against Dagger, leaning into his touch, the man’s arm slipping around his waist easily, voice silky against his ear. 

“Rescue? As if you didn’t want us.” 

And he knows, as much as he’d like to argue, tell them they’re wrong, be petulant for the sake of it, he can’t school his voice into something convincing—knows they’d be able to tell he’s lying the second it left his lips. He isn’t given a chance to speak, lips captured in a bruising kiss, Ivarr’s leg slotting between his knees, something he can’t help but grind against. There’s a risk of getting caught, and it just makes it all the sweeter—the idea of being on display for anyone else to see. Ivarr tugs away, a gleam in his eyes. “Felt you twitch brat. Go on, tell us what you’re thinking of.” 

“Got kicked out, remember?” 

“We’re not in the club anymore. He can’t do shit.” 

A set of hands explore under his shirt, a hiss at the rush of cold against his skin, cybernetics an icy contrast, heat sparking at the tug on a piercing. 

“Go on, Kitten, you had so much to say before”

It’s simultaneously too much, and not enough, caught between them, able to read him effortlessly—almost better than he can. 

The sound of fabric tearing hits his ears, night air chilly against his bare thighs—an indignant, furious noise slipping out.

“Suit you better this way.” 

—

(Ft. @dreamskug's Ivarr and @wraithsoutlaws's Dagger 🖤🖤)

#cyberpunk ocs #oc: hiro oda #nsft #my writing #mutuals ocs: ivarr #mutuals ocs: dagger #ship: trouble comes in threes #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #tw: power dynamics #tw: cruelty #tw: jealousy

[emiradursun]

( closed starter for: @axel-mathis ) location: Emira's house

As great as working in the office was and has been, her and Axel decided to "work" from her place today. She dressed a bit more casual than what she would normally work in at the office and her hair was pulled up in a messy bun. She walked downstairs to find him in the kitchen and she walked behind him to her fridge, grazing her fingertips against his upper back as she did so. "Do you want anything to eat or drink?" She asked, opening the fridge to get herself a bottle of water and looked at her food. "I might make myself a little snack."

#axel convo #( emira x axel ) #tw: age gap #tw: power dynamics

[axel-mathis]

Who? @emiradursun

Where? The office

Axel had waited until the end of the day on Friday to have the conversation. He didn' t want to. Typing out on his phone for Emira to come into his office for a moment. He cracked his knuckles and waited for the telltale sound of her heels. After his conversation with Sloane, he had agreed to cut off his affiar with Emira entirely. It was just actively doing that that was going to be difficult. Especially with his feelings for her. "Hey Emira... come on in.."

#emiraxaxel #tw: power dynamics #tw age difference

[freyaxsinclair]

[cis woman and she/her] Welcome to Aurora Bay, [FREYA SINCLAIR]! I couldn’t help but notice you look an awful lot like [SAVANNAH LEE SMITH]. You must be the [TWENTY THREE] year old [FORMER MODEL/ATTENDANT AT SEA GLASS BOUTIQUE]. Word is you’re [OBSERVANT] but can also be a bit [SNARKY] and your favorite song is [BITCHES BY TOVE LO]. I also heard you’ll be staying in [CRYSTAL COVE]. I’m sure you’ll love it! 

INFORMATION:

fullname. freya anne sinclair.

nicknames. freya, frey, yaya (family only).

gender. cis woman

pronouns. she / her

d.o.b. september 7th, 2000 | ( 23 years old )

astrology. virgo ☀ capricorn ☾  aquarius ↑

birth place. aurora bay, california, usa.

hometown. aurora bay, california, usa.

current residence. aurora bay, california. ( @aurorabayaesthetic​ )

occupation. former model / attendent at sea glass boutique.

religion. atheist.

tattoos. none.

piercings. ears.

marital status. single.

sexual preference. bisexual.

family. sarah-anne sinclair (mother), damian sinclair (father), older brother (WC).

children. none.

CHARACTER INSPO:

cece parekh ( new girl ), veronica lodge ( riverdale ), blair waldorf ( gossip girl ), cordelia chase ( buffy the vampire slayer ), quinn fabray ( glee ), regina george ( mean girls ).

PERSONALITY:

+ observant, meticulous, driven. - snarky, defensive, irritable.

BIOGRAPHY:

( tw: cheating, power dynamics ) 

As the youngest in a family where her older brother seemed to effortlessly embody perfection, Freya grappled with a constant sense of having to fight for her parents' attention. This early struggle infused her character with a bitter and rebellious spirit, shaping her into a complex individual who, despite academic brilliance, found solace in more creative pursuits. Known for her sharp tongue, Freya curated an exclusive clique of friends, establishing a barrier against those who failed to meet her discerning standards.

The course of Freya's life took an unexpected turn during a fateful trip to Los Angeles with her mother. Her striking features caught the attention of talent scouts, propelling her into the glitzy and competitive world of modeling. Throughout her later teen years, Freya became a prominent face in campaigns for renowned brands such as Abercrombie and Fitch and Free People. Despite the allure of the glamorous lifestyle, Freya remained committed to education and moved to Los Angeles after high school, enrolling at the esteemed Fashion Institute of Design and Merchandising (FIDM).

FIDM emerged as a transformative chapter in Freya's life, where her modelling career reached new heights, placing her at the forefront of campaigns for prestigious brands like Prada and Burberry. However, the gloss of success dimmed when she fell prey to the predatory tactics of an older photographer, blurring the boundaries between professional collaboration and personal exploitation. Unveiling the photographer's deceit, Freya confronted him, only to be met with threats of scandalous photo releases that could potentially tarnish her nascent career. Despite the emotional toll, she endured until graduation, carrying with her a newfound disillusionment with the superficial aspects of the fashion industry.

In the face of the harsh realities of the modeling world, Freya made the courageous decision to return to her roots in Aurora Bay. Acknowledging the financial imperative, she embraced a role as an Attendant at the Sea Glass Boutique, where she found solace in the rhythm of everyday life. Simultaneously, Freya embarked on the arduous journey of establishing her own fashion line and brand. The setbacks and betrayals in Los Angeles fueled Freya's determination to infuse authenticity and resilience into her creations, transcending the shallow allure of the modeling world.

#aurorabay.intro #tw: power dynamics #tw: cheating

[willxmeyers]

WILL + LEMIE

continued from here... where: the flower festival who: @lemielewis x @willxmeyers what: who the fuck knows

Lemie:

Lemie found his comment about this being the first time she demonstrated any kind of team spirit highly offensive and that was mostly because it was true. Even more annoying was that her presence here today didn't signify any kind of change, she was here for her own interests and she had a feeling Will knew that. "Maybe I'm going for employee of the month, don't underestimate me. My boss hasn't fired me yet and that makes me think it would be relatively easy to pull off."

She looked around at all the flowers still planted in the soil, thriving, unaware that they were most likely about to get trampled by someone in a hurry or ripped out by an overeager kid. "I think you've noticed by now that I'm more of a glass-half-empty kind of person. I'm not evolved enough to see the positive in death," she told him with a shrug, looking away from the flowers and back at him. She spent most of her time trying to protect herself from loss and she'd be damned if she'd invite it in her home and put it in a vase.

Freezing in place, she felt heat rush to her face when the B-word left his mouth. She still wasn't sure what to say by the time he added a quick obviously as if there was anything fucking obvious about what he just said. "I think I liked it better when I thought you were implying I looked stupid," she muttered, although the words were liking their usual bark. "You look… okay too. Kind of a bro-y vibe, but you pull it off." She cursed herself out mentally, wanting to badly to just be able to say what she wanted to say without wrapping it in an insult or two. "Yeah, I do. Two brothers as well." Family wasn't something she enjoyed discussing. She brought up Lucky more often because their relationship wasn't as strained as hers was with the rest of their family, but… bringing even him up was a slippery slope into a topic she would much rather avoid. "Lori. She's the baby."

Will: "You'd be the only one gunning for it, so you're in with a shot—" Will teased her, something of glint in his eye. Everyone else at Coral Cottage didn't care much for being on Will's good or bad side. They were just there to do their jobs and go home, like normal people. He didn't work them particularly hard, it was a different speed to the fast paced corporate world he was used to, and Will was actually grateful for that. He hadn't thought much about his old life back in L.A. for some time. Surprisingly content for once.

Will chuckled lowly at her response. It was true, Lemie only saw things as they were. Nothing more, nothing less. Perhaps that why she saw through him so seamlessly. The ability to cut out all the bullshit and strip things down to the bare bones. That's how he felt every time she looked at him. "True," was all he responded with, unable to compete with her logic.

They stood in silence for a moment and Will felt the need to simply.. disappear. Another wave of frustration washed over him as his stupid mouth was saying stupid words that were coming out all wrong and stupid. Maybe she didn't want to be complicated by him, he was her boss and it was inappropriate but nothing about them was every orthodox. And it was the truth. She did look beautiful and he was simply telling her that. That's all this was. "Noted," he responded quietly before adding a thank you for her slightly backhanded compliment. The fact that she didn't say he looked like a retired boomer or something seemed like a missed opportunity on her part.

Will thought back to their previous conversations. "I remember you saying you had a brother. Lucky?" he recalled the name, somewhere deep in the recesses of his mind. The part that secretly stored any speck of information she granted him."Lori," he repeated the younger sister name. "Are you the oldest?" Not that it mattered, but he was grateful to have something else to listen to apart from the blood rushing in his ears.

Lemie: "You don't know that. The receptionist could be secretly plotting my demise as we speak." They both knew she wouldn't be hard to beat—if all of this wasn't some bullshit excuse to explain why she had shown up here today. She didn't want to be the employee of the month nor did she care about any sort of praise regarding the work she did for him. It wasn't about that. He was kind enough to play along and spare her some embarrassment, which made her feel bad about her own inability to be nice to him.

Lemie had never been an overly philosophical person. Things either sucked or they didn't. Her therapist always tried to get her to see that everything happened for a reason and that she came out stronger when shitty things happened to her, but she had yet to get her to really buy into her psychobabble. Sometimes things were just what they were and that was that.

The look on his face was unmistakable and she hated herself for having caused it when he had told her exactly what she wanted to hear. She hated herself for not being able to act like a normal person instead of throwing insults around at people she liked, just like her parents used to. Her insults weren't even good anymore. Probably because she didn't mean them. "I don't know why I said that. Thank you," she said quietly, avoiding his eyes.

"Yeah," she confirmed with a nod, not liking the turn this conversation was taking. She loved Lucky, but talking about him meant talking about other things she didn't particularly want to discuss. "No. Lee's the older, then there's me, Lucky, and Lori. There's a big gap between Lucky and I, they were save-the-marriage babies. Obviously, it didn't work."

Will: Her quiet response to his compliment hit Will harder than it should have. Why did they always do this? Any moment of realness, beyond the surface level civility they’d somehow managed to maintain, still felt like they were still gearing up for war. He wasn’t against playful banter and enjoyed her constant teasing, but not if she was going to feel guilty about it. He could take it and Will was willing to lay his armor down, even if she wasn’t ready to yet. Even if it meant getting a little hurt. Maybe he’d be stronger for it. “I’d never make fun of you like that,” Will felt the need to make sure Lemie knew that. “I just assumed you knew how stunning you looked right now because I’m guessing you looked in the mirror before you left. And you know.. you also have eyes.” His tone was honest, but not serious - wanting to bring some levity back. This was supposed to be fun, after all.

Lemie talking about her family was clearly making her uncomfortable and in a reverse role, Will would feel the same. Perhaps if he added something personal, she’d feel less exposed. Or maybe they’d just be two open wounds at a flower festival. It was a roll of the dice. “I’m one of those,” he revealed casually. “Save-the-marriage baby. Also, did not work. It never works.” After a moment of pause, Will shook his head, chuckling. “We’re not usually sober for these types of conversations,” he looked back at her, evaluating. “Should we change that? I’m sure someone somewhere is selling a flower themed cocktail.”

Lemie: To some extent, she did know that Will would never make fun of the way she looked. He never had before. She was projecting, her therapist would say, because of how out of place she felt. Because she realized that her presence here meant something she was nowhere near ready to face. The insults and the banter weren't enough to keep him at bay like they did with everyone else and that was throwing her off completely. “I did look in a mirror and I saw a dumbass wearing a dress she would normally never wear to… you know, fit the theme,” she said, improvising the last bit of her sentence so as to not give too much away. “How about for every compliment, you have to insult me too? It'd balance things out nicely, I think.”

She watched him when he admitted he could relate to the things she was saying, the idea she had of him in her mind shifting once again. “Kind of a shitty thing to have in common,” she said with a chuckle, although a small part of her was relieved. If he had lived through things similar to what Lemie had lived through, maybe he could understand her better. Maybe that was why he had been so patient with her. “I could go for a drink, but you're paying, Money Bags.”

He was right about alcohol being served and they were seated at a booth that offered cocktails just a minute later. Lemie was about to hop over the bar and steal a bottle of whatever she could get her hands on after the conversation they'd just had. “Whatever I'm having, it's gonna have to be a double,” she told him with a sigh and a knowing look. “You have siblings?”

Will: There would always be a catch with her. No simple compliment or act of kindness was ever just that, and Will understood on a level that most probably couldn’t. He wasn’t completely convinced that she had only dressed to match the theme, that seemed like something she was blatantly go against out of spite. But he didn’t press it. “If that means that you’ll believe me next time, that sounds like a deal.” Will would have to have some non-hurtful generic insults up his sleeves for these occasions.

“Life can be pretty shitty,” he mused aloud, like she wasn’t keenly aware of that. The alarm bells in his mind warned that if they continued down the family path, he wasn’t sure how honest he would be. Will didn’t want to lie to her, she’d sniff it out immediately anyway, but he couldn’t promise he’d say the whole truth. Families were complicated and Will still wasn’t ready to unpack certain things, expose those vulnerable spots. He motioned his head towards the local bar stall, both unusually quiet as they walked side by side.

Will shared the same sentiment about the drink. The tension was still carrying in his shoulders despite Lemie seeming a little less so. “Same here,” he attempted to wave down an overwhelmed bartender. The sibling question stalled him, just briefly. “I have a younger sister. Anna.” He tact her name on the end. “We’re not that close anymore.” It was hard to be in such a toxic environment and now that their parents were gone, they had even less in common except a shitty childhood. There were things Will had done to make sure that their fathers “attention” remained on him, but she only saw it as selfishness. He was happy for her to believe whatever she needed. “I think she still lives in L.A but I’d honestly have no idea.” The sudden itch for a drink was all consuming and Will leaned harder into the bar, eager to get the bartender to serve them, and fast.

Lemie: Believe was a big word, but maybe she wouldn’t immediately assume it was an insult. It wasn’t necessarily the compliment in itself, it was more about who it was coming from. Will complimenting her shifted the very delicate balance they had going on for them. She’d been hit on before and hadn’t automatically been on the defense. “Fine, then I’ll allow it.”

She was aware of just how shitty life could get and it seemed like he was too. Her curiosity was pushing her to ask questions about what he meant, about how his life had fucked him up, but she knew better than to push someone who didn’t willingly offer up information. If he wanted to share things about his family he would’ve. Assuming he was even referring to them. “Tell me about it,” she said with a smile, opening the door if ever he wanted to walk through it.

Not being close to a sibling was another thing Lemie knew all too well. “I’m not that close with mine either, except Lucky. I took care of him a lot, so… we just bonded. I referred to him as ‘my baby’ for most of my childhood,” she said with a snort, realizing how ridiculous that sounded now that she was saying it out loud. The bartender stopped in front of them them, taking both their orders before leaving them alone once more. “Do you wish you were closer? With your sister, I mean.”

Will: “Tell me about it” she had said. It could be a casual throwaway like “I get it” or she was allowing him an opportunity to share. Now hardly seemed like the time nor the place to bring up the many skeletons in his closet, some doors were better left closed. And his was the supply closet where you shove all the shit you can’t find a place for. If it opened, Will wasn’t sure he could shove it all back in and shut the door. But wasn’t he the one who steered the conversation this way? “It’s very long.. and complicated.” Weren’t all families? His response was a cop out and they both knew it.

Will kept his face neutral but internally, he was digesting what she had revealed about her family dynamic. Apparently, the Lewis’ and the Meyers’ families weren’t so different. But Will felt irrationally enraged on her behalf, although he tried not to show it. He wondered how old she was when she had to sacrifice her own childhood for her brothers. Did he appreciate it? Or did he resent it like Anna? Before he could comment, ask more invasive questions, the bartender approached.

Taking their order and departing, Will was caught off guard by Lemie’s question. He hadn’t thought about it in some time. “Maybe when I was younger, more naive.” It felt like bile rising in his throat to talk about them all but he tried to choke his way through it. Because she was the one asking. “My dad.. he, uh, loved to pit us against each other.” Will understood now that while no family was perfect, and it was all varying shades of fucked up, some were more than others. “It was only when he died that I realised we didn’t have much in common anymore without always vying for his attention.” These days, Will constantly pendulumed between recognizing that his father was piece of shit and missing him so deeply, like someone missed a limb. Even if it was infected and would be fatal without amputation. “She won in the end anyway and I’m a pretty sore loser as it turns out.”

Lemie: The door had been opened if he wanted to discuss whatever he considered shitty in his life and he didn't look quite ready to walk through it yet. Lemie couldn't blame him, she was nowhere near ready to open up about her fucked up family to him. “Long and complicated does sound pretty shitty,” she agreed, leaving it at that. She wouldn't push. Unless he volunteered information, it was none of her business. “I can relate, though. What a crappy thing to have in common.”

His words hit close to home. Although their parents hadn't made a deliberate effort to pit the four Lewis kids against each other, the results were the same. They had tasked Lemie with Lucky and Lee with Lori and the rest was history. Lemie was fiercely protective of Lucky and fiercely critical of Lee and Lori. They had formed teams naturally because the actual adults in the house had refused to parent them. “You know how in the movies, siblings always band together against their evil parents? How come it didn't happen like that with us? Like, it there something wrong with us?”

Their drinks came finally and, just like the first night out in the garden, she took a too-big sip to wash away the nerves. “She won? What the hell did she win? You own a Bed & Bed and a king-sized bed,” she said as if those two things alone meant he won at life. Clearly, it didn't, but it was her subpar attempt at making him feel better. “Plus, you're not dead yet, so there's still time.”

Will: Will was thankful that this didn’t feel like an interview, or a prosecution. He wasn’t on trial and he felt a bit bad for assuming she’d judge him for his “rich boy problems”. Will breathed a small laugh, more a release of tension than anything else. “I’m sure we have other things in common too,” he looked back at her with a smile. Will had spent only a short period of time, perhaps less than a year, actively trying to be more than whatever he was to his family. But it was still hard. The echoes of those phantom limbs.

Her face whatever her words didn’t. She knew what it meant, she understood. Will knew what happened when he tried to fight against his father, he still wore the scars. He also didn’t watch many movies, albeit that was besides the point. The Meyers had no “down time”, there was always a party to attend, a long dinner to have. He never experienced the quiet, sitting on the couch, relaxing together times that others might have. In public, they were watched and evaluated, no mistakes were to be made. In private, they were seperate or they were punished. Sometimes the quiet nights held more fear than the ones with violence. He flinched at the thought. “There’s nothing wrong with you,” Will said, hoping it was of some comfort, noticeable removing himself from that statement. He knew there was plenty wrong with him. “It’s hard to truly hate someone you know you’re supposed to love, and someone who is supposed to love you.”

Mirroring her, Will took a long sip. It wouldn’t have the same effect he’d like. The complete memory flush of some string substance, but it’d do. His therapist in rehab said that Will tied too much of his self worth in being what his father wanted. “You’re right,” he said, a weak smile as he looked back at her. “I bought it to spite him. Even though he was already dead.” Will had never told anyone why he’d decided to purchase the Coral Cottage, he didn’t really have anyone to tell it to that would care at the time.

Lemie: This was a wake up call of sorts for Lemie, a reminder not to write off people so quickly. When she had heard of Will buying the Cottage, she had done what everyone else had done and googled him. She had taken the first few tidbits she found and painted this image of him in her head that was just… wrong. She could see that now. Looking at him now was almost like looking into a mirror. A slightly different version of her own story. "True. We're both terribly attractive for one," she said with a smirk, glancing his way. "And we both like drinking a little bit too much."

She was tempted to say he was biased when he assured her there was nothing wrong with her, but that would be admitting that they liked each other more than they liked to pretend they did. "It doesn't seem fair. That we were stuck with shitty, selfish parents and that other people out there have loving families." Not that she wished parents like hers to her worse enemies, but she did wish better for herself. For Will. "People are always trying to make me feel better by saying I'll find my people one that, that family doesn't have to be blood-related. Let's just say, I'm still waiting for it to happen."

She chuckled, admiring the sentiment. If she had the money at the time, she would've done something similar. Instead, she pulled away until she felt like a figment of her family's imagination. The downside was that she'd ended up alone in the process. Lucky had left, Lee had left and her relationship with Lori was nonexistent. It was just her. "I'm sure he's rolling in his grave somewhere and you're thriving. Well, getting there," she added with a chuckle, knowing he was a work in progress the same way she was. "I still think a strip club would've been a better idea. Imagine how livid he'd have been."

Will: His smirk matched her own, a slight roll of his eyes followed. Will thought about drawing attention to the fact she’s called him attractive, maybe teasing her about it. But the last thing he wanted was to get her defences back up. He was enjoying the easiness of talking with her. No charades, no games. “Both are very valuable assets,” he agreed smugly, as he went to take another drink. Only to reason it was empty, proving her point.

“It’s the luck of the draw,” Will shrugged, although he agreed. He’d wondered similar things in the past, but it did no good to fester on what could’ve been. It some points he’d even tried to rationalise it, to no avail. “You’ve got your brother though,” he rested his head to the side. “You guys still close?” It hadn’t dawned on him that her family still were still in town. Or even how long she’d live here. There were so many questions to ask, so much to uncover about her.

Another bout of laughter, the very notion of Will buying a strip club seemed ridiculous and yet, so on brand. “It’s exactly what he would have expected of me, probably.” That was half the battle, Will’s father fluctuated between stoic and unreadable to aggressive and overbearing. It was hard to get a reading. “Instead I bought the place where he brought his mistresses when we’d come here on vacation.” It sounded like a bigger screw you in his head than saying it out loud. “Anyway, I’m glad I didn’t sell it.” That was his original plan before he fell in love with it. Among other things about Aurora Bay.

Lemie: As far as good looks went, she could admit it was an asset that came in handy more often than not. Being pretty was a privilege and probably one of the reasons she got away with half the shit she pulled at work or otherwise. Drinking to cope, though? Not something she usually liked to brag about. Will seemed to understand, though, which made it feel like less of an issue. "Oh, clearly. Look at us, we're thriving. We just finished our very strong drinks in under a minute, but we're looking good while doing it."

Lemie nodded, even though even her relationship with Lucky felt tainted by everything else going on in their family. "Yeah, but that's pretty recent. He was gone for awhile and, honestly, he's got his own issues. I love him, but I don't know much about what he's going through and vice versa," she admitted with a shrug. She and Lucky teamed up when they needed to and hung out occasionally, but he had his own life, his own friends. He had a whole child. "He is my closest family member, though. Lori and I never really had an occasion to bond and shit always goes wrong when Lee and I are in the same room. He's insufferable, to be fair."

She could totally picture Will sitting in a strip club, cigar in hand with a bunch of naked girls around him. Well, maybe less so now that she was actually getting to know him, but it definitely fit the initial idea she had of him. A cottage seemed appropriate now. "That's kind of badass actually," she admitted, turning to look at him with approval. It was something she'd do. "Yeah, me too. You know, because I'd probably be out of a job now if you had." Amongst other reasons she couldn't possibly admit to because they revolved around him.

Lemie: "Some of us looked better than others," he winked before nudged her, playfully. The true notion being that she was the better looking out of the two, but he didn't want to say it out loud. He'd let her make that distinction herself. It was nice they got to have these moments of levity, it meant Will had something to remind himself of when they were inevitably at odds again. It was only a matter of time. He filed the names of her siblings into his brain, hoping that he'd only run into Lucky as he was the only one who sounded reasonable. Will had never been great with families, even his own.

Feeling surprisingly justified in his actions, Will was certain that Lemie would have laughed at him for being so petty. He had planned to knock it down, build apartments or townhouses in it's place. But after spending a few days there, it felt weirdly like home. "Can't imagine the place without you," he admitted, the words slipping out as he gazed at her.

Eyes looked over her features, a moment of pause before he was rudely knocked by a passerby, which in turn made him knock into Lemie. "Jesus, are you alright?" Will looked behind himself to see it was not some brute pushing his way through but a middle aged woman, nudging her way to the bar. "Excuse me," she said apologetically, looking between the two. Will's hand still resting on Lemie's arm. "Aren't you two the cutest couple?"

Lemie: “You’re so fucking cocky,” she said with a chuckle, her flushed cheeks betraying her. He was talking about her, she knew that, but she couldn’t possibly let the compliment be just that. She couldn’t possibly accept it for what it was and thank him. Because Will repeatedly saying he thought he was attractive was something she wasn’t ready to touch with a ten foot pole.

The air was already filled with tension and the next thing he said didn’t help. Her lips parted to say something sassy back, to diffuse the situation, but the reply died in her throat as their eyes met. For once in her goddamn life, she was speechless. Her eyes dropped down to his lips for a second before quickly making their way back up and… Someone knocked right into Will, pushing him against her and breaking the spell.

“What? Oh, yeah, I’m okay,” she said, flustered as if she had just gotten caught doing something bad. Just as she was about to rip the lady behind Will a new one, the woman opened her mouth and said the worst thing she possibly could say in that moment. Lemie’s body tensed up and the smile that had been on her face until that point disappeared completely. “Don’t be fucking ridiculous. Him and I? Never gonna happen,” she said coldly, shrugging Will’s hand off her shoulder and hopping off of her stool. She rummaged through her back for a twenty and slapped it on the counter for her drink. “I gotta get going. See you at work.” She turned away without looking at him, pushing her way through the crowd as quickly as she could manage and slipping between booths in an attempt at a quick and painless exit.

Will: He felt it. They were having a moment, and it ended just as quickly as it arrived. The tension between them was palpable, he was just about to act on it as her eyes danced down to his lips then back up. The liquor was buzzing but he knew that wasn't where the electricity inside him was coming from. But it couldn't just be easy. Will barely registered what the woman had said before he felt Lemie's body go tense beneath his hand. It was only when the utter denial of anything happening between them left her lips that Will looked back at her. It all happened so fast, the random woman's face looking just as shocked as Will's was.

And just like that, she was gone. "Excuse me," he said to the woman, who was quite literally clutching her pearls. He left the money on the counter, every intention to follow after her. "Lemie, wait—" Will called out, following her through the moving crowd. Eyes were on her, and then she was gone again. He had lost her, but only for a moment. Blood was rushing in his ears as he frantically looked around. Thankfully he spotted her again, jogging to catch up.

He reached out to halt her, just lightly holding her arm, knowing that she'd most likely pull away from his touch. "Bloody hell," he breathed, brows knitted together in concern. "Will you stop it? What's the problem?" Will wasn't necessarily confused by her reaction, per say. But he thought they were past this and he couldn't deny that it hurt.

Lemie: Lemie hadn’t wanted to look at Will’s face as she turned away. Was he disappointed? Angry? Did he just not care? She was better off not knowing, she figured. Her breathing was quick as she walked away, hopefully leaving whatever had just happened between them at the bar. She’d had the occasional boyfriend, had flirted with guys and girls in nightclubs and bars, but this felt different. This felt bigger. This was someone she had told things about her life she usually kept buried deep, someone who didn’t look at her like a feral cat who could snap at any moment, and she had wanted to kiss him back there. Fuck.

There were less people here, but everyone she encountered looked at her with concern, which made her want to scream and/or punch something. She was fine. Just fine. She was so busy trying to convince herself of how fine she was that she didn’t hear footsteps coming towards her at a quick pace, surprised when he felt fingers wrapping around her arm. She stopped abruptly and turned to face him, the warmth that had been in her eyes replaced with defensiveness.

“Leave your hand there if you wanna lose it,” she told him, trying hard to get her heartbeat under control. It was beating so quickly, so loudly, she thought he might hear it. “Stop what? There’s no problem, I just had to get going. You didn’t specify we had to stay here all goddamn day. I came here and now I’m off to do what I actually want to be doing.”

Will: Will shouldn't have been surprised that she'd react this way. Her face looked furious, like it was his fucking fault some random woman had interjected her opinion on them. He could feel his blood pumping, heart hammering in his chest as she turned towards him. The fact that he did indeed want to keep his hand meant that it dropped from her almost immediately.

"Are you fucking kidding me right now?" Did she think he was an idiot? Now was not the time to ask her that question, Will already knew what her response would be. And maybe he was an idiot for thinking that she wanted him to make a move back there.

She was so ceaselessly frustrating, but he was more annoyed at himself. At that random woman. At this whole fucked up situation they were in. But he'd fight for this, because maybe he was right. "Who gives a shit what some random bird says?" Was someone thinking they were together such a bad thing that she felt the need to flee? "You don't need to run away because of what someone else thinks, you know. It doesn't mean anything."

Lemie: She had somehow cornered her own damn self with her stupid excuses and dramatic exit, making glaringly obvious that she had left because of what the woman had said. Because she was scared that someone else had seen what she had seen that first night in the garden and every night after that. The possibility of something more, a pull between them that was literally visible to an innocent bystander. One she had almost attacked for giving it life.

“I’m not kidding, not everything is about you,” she argued, her arguments weak because she knew she didn’t have the upper hand here. She had given too much away by storming off dramatically. In an attempt to avoid all this, she had made it glaringly obvious that she cared a whole lot more than she said.

Her lips parted and then closed again, at a complete loss for words for once in her life. She closed her fist, squeezing her fingers tightly against her palms and attempting the breathing exercises her therapist had shown her. They weren’t working. “I didn’t run away, I walked away,” she said weakly, the words so pathetic they only made her angrier. “If it doesn’t mean anything, why couldn’t you just let me walk away? God, you’re such a fucking giant douchebag.”

Will: He was unconvinced. Everything about what she said would have been plausible weeks ago, but not now. "No, you're right. This isn't about me. This is about us." What were they doing here? This weird dance around the bigger problem. He thought he'd known where they were headed in that moment before that stupid woman opened her mouth but Clementine's reaction had thrown him for a loop.

"Oh, well, I'm sorry I didn't get the fucking specifics down pact. My apologies—" he retorted sarcastically, like the speed at which she moved away from him was the important part here. He scoffed at her insult. It was weak one and they both knew it. "And you're a fucking liar." She was lying to him and to herself, Will was sure of it and he was willing to bet on it too.

Will took a step towards her, a deep breath as he closed the distance between them. His eyes searched hers, looking for something. "I'll let you walk away if you can look me in the eyes right now and tell me that you felt nothing back there." It came out more as a plead than a challenge. This was the only time he'd ask her this. Whatever friendship they'd cultivated, all the secrets they'd shared, it would end if she wanted it to. But he'd have to believe it first.

Lemie: Maybe she had walked (quickly), but it occurred to her that she should’ve fucking run given the turn this conversation was taking. This has never happened to her. Her thoughts were so disorganized, she couldn’t come up with a half decent insult, and she felt like everything she felt was written all over her face, for everyone to see. For Will to see. “Now you’re being ridiculous. Us? There is no us. We’re screaming at each other in between booths at a flower festival. Does ‘us’ sound like a good idea?” It didn’t escape her that the reason they were in this predicament was her inability to deal with the fact that there might actually be an us.

“I am not,” she retorted with an offended gasp, having to actually stop herself from stomping her feet like a child. She was out of control and it was driving her insane. He held all the fucking cards in this moment and she was scrambling to save face. She was lying. Her mind was still on the way he had looked at her back there, on the almost kiss they’d shared.

She held her breath as he stepped into her space, but somehow managed to hold her ground even if she just wanted to turn around and actually run away this time. Lemie braced herself, trying to force her face into looking completely neutral and uncaring. She failed miserably. “I felt nothing.” It was a lie, an obvious one at that—her statement coming out more like a question. She exhaled, her shoulders dropping as she was forced to drop the facade. She wasn’t about to win any Oscars for this performance. “What do you want from me? Don’t you see the way I am?”

Will: There might not have been an official us but there was something. Of that, he was sure now. The sheer amount of defensiveness radiated off her, but she knew it too. It's why when Lemie said she felt nothing between them, his head gave a small, slow shake. "I don't believe you." The tension between them broke and Will heart sank a little at her body language shifted. She looked defeated, and he wasn't feeling triumphant. He may have won the argument but there was no glory in this.

"I see the way you are," Will acknowledged. He bowed his head to try and get her to look up at him, he wanted her to see he that this wasn't a game. "It's not this big, bad thing that you seem to think it is. You push people away because you're scared to get hurt, I get it. Life's fucked us all up." It was an oversimplification, but it seemed fitting for what they'd mostly talked about today. "I just want to know if I'm alone in feeling this way."

He wasn't always usually the type of blurt out his feelings like this, usually more a man of action. So, he lowered his head, bringing his lips to hers.

Lemie: Lemie could tell Will was hurt by her reaction and it made her heart sink deeper. He was trying so hard, fighting for whatever this was when she kept putting up wall after wall up to stop him. It wasn’t even a question of getting in her pants or snagging something unattainable, she could tell. He actually liked her. He saw her the way she is and liked her regardless. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t trying very hard,” she muttered, trying to save face.

“It’s a little bit that, but its also me, Will. I’m not a good girlfriend or partner or even friend. I’m gonna disappoint you, I already am,” she told him with a sigh, looking up at him finally when he leaned down closer. It was beyond her that he was trying this hard when she had shown such ugly parts of herself to him. “This is so cheesy and I hate you. But, no, I guess you’re not alone.”

This time, when he leaned down, she didn’t freak out or run the other way. She let it happen because she wanted it to happen—no matter what she said. She tilted her head up and stood up a little straighter, her hand moving up to his cheek as their lips met. As much as she had hoped the kiss would be this big let down and that they’d never talk about it again, it wasn’t. Far from it. It was so nice that she didn’t pull away, her fist gripping his shirt to pull him closer.

Will: “You’ve never disappointed me,” he replied honestly. Will wasn’t asking her to change, to be anything other than what she was. Where was the fun in that? She wouldn’t be her without all the sharp edges.

Will wasn’t a saint either, there was no denying that. He’d done things, horrible and selfish things, but he was trying to be better and that’s all they could ever do. Maybe it wouldn’t work out, maybe they were a disaster waiting to happen and they would explode like a powder keg, destroying each other in the process. They’d go back to saying spiteful things to each other, or worse, become strangers again. But what if they didn’t? That was a risk he was willing to take.

He couldn’t tear himself away from her, his hands moved into her hair, cradling her neck as he deepened the kiss. Instinct drove him to bring her closer, body on body. Her hands clung to his shirt indicating that she felt the same. As the kisses turned from slow and curious to more frenzied and wild, his hands moved down her neck, resting on her back, feeling the flowery lace at her sides. “I do really like this dress,” he murmured into her lips, lazily.

Lemie: It was hard to believe he had never been disappointed by her after everything she’d said and what she just pulled not even five minutes ago. Boy was she glad to hear it, though. Being around him made her feel both like herself and like not so much of a monster. He thought she was funny and pretty and she felt like the lead of some romantic comedy instead of the bitchy side-character. “I might, though. Eventually."

It didn’t escape her that they had the potential to be both great and terrible. The tension and intensity between them could go both ways and it already had. Yes, she was scared of getting hurt, but she was also scared of herself him. With her callousness or her occasional lack of empathy. She hadn’t been lying when she said she was a terrible partner.

Lemie forgot momentarily that they were out in public, somewhere all the other employees could see them. Honestly, she didn’t care. Her fingers were buried in his hair when he backed away, leaving her a little bit breathless and hazy. “It’s a terrible dress,” she said with a lazy smile, her fingers tugging at his shirt. “You’re a terrible kisser, we’re gonna need to work on that.”

Will: She was already thinking of all the ways they could fail. Not a glass half full person, indeed. Truly, if anything, Will was most likely to disappoint her given his own track record with successful relationships was slim to none but he didn’t say it, not wanting to ruin the moment. Besides, this was only the beginning of whatever this was. It was still undefined but at least it was something.

They managed to pull away from each other long enough to catch their breath, but Will’s arms still remained around her, holding her close. He chuckled lowly at her insult. There she is, he thought to himself. “You’re a terrible fucking liar,” he began, ducking his head lowly again, words on her lips. “But practice does make perfect.” He pulled her in for another breathless kiss.

Eventually the sounds of the crowd came back into his peripheral, reality demanding to return them. The nearby crowd gave an audible gasp as lights flickered on and lit up the gardens, illuminating them out of the shadows. “I think we missed the big reveal,” he looked over his shoulder for a moment before glancing back at her.

Lemie: It had been a long time since Lemie had made out with a boy in the dark while other people were enjoying a party nearby. This felt very high school-y, but maybe that was how it was supposed to feel. Maybe she was suppose to feel giddy and a little bit out of sorts. It didn’t feel bad, just a little scary. Again, maybe that was a good thing.

“I’m a great liar, I’m just trying to be helpful,” she said with a chuckle as he leaned down again, the two of them lost to the world once more as they kissed.

She couldn’t imagine what she looked like by the time they were done. Her hair probably looked like a mess. “I don’t really give a fuck. Do you?”

Will: Whatever interest he had in seeing the gardens were well and truly forgotten. His mind was thinking of other things. All of which involved her.

Will shook his head, a grin still painted across his features. “Couldn’t give a shit,” he replied a little too quickly. “But if we stay here and keep doing this, I can’t guarantee it’s going to stay family friendly. I'll walk you home.”

FIN.

#∘₊✧────── will meyers. ( interactions ) #( clementine lewis. ) #aurorabay.event #aurorabay.event04 #tw: power dynamics #?? technically #tw: abuse mention #this is a v v long post so reader beware #i blame ellie

[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

[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

[crisiscutie]

A Flirt with Death

Pairing: Reader/KH Sephiroth. Reader is AFAB.

Summary: You've always loved a dance with death when it came to Sephiroth. Your recent conflict with him has taken a twist you never expected.

Word Count: 832

Ratings: Slight NSFW, Fighting, Power dynamics. Sadist Sephiroth and Masochist Reader. 

Don’t fool yourself, you’re not fighting Sephiroth to become better or to prove something. All you wanted was to be close to him, to savor the invigorating energy of his presence. And Sephiroth wanted to kill time while he waited for Cloud. Best of both worlds. You giggled as you felt the vibrations from his Masamune as it nearly cut your hair. If he landed that move, it would’ve made a bloody scene. You used your Keyblade to block another attack from him. A chill ran through the air as you sent out a Blizzaga spell to restrain his movement. He shrugged off the attack and fired off a series of dark orbs at you.

You were not tempting fate; you were courting disaster. He was toying with you and you knew it. He had the power to end this charade here and now. You had to keep him amused. An overwhelming sense of joy and excitement filled your heart. Is this the darkness your master warned you about? You gracefully dodged each orb thrown at you, executing the precise evasive techniques your master taught you. 

 It makes sense. You engaged in a blood sport just to interact with an alluring and mysterious man who can end you in seconds. When he first appeared, you were terrified. He almost killed you. Your dread weighed your body down and prevented you from moving initially... But you’ve grown so much since then. Gradually, you found yourself drawn back to him. Was it the way his lips curled whenever he smirked at you? That always sent shivers down your back. The pain he caused you was a strange combination of agony and ecstasy, too. Taking risks was never your style, but here you stood, flirting with danger. Damn your teenage wiles. Whenever he wasn't around, his absence was like a gaping hole in your heart, it left you feeling hollow.

You were so lost in your thoughts; you didn't notice your grave mistake. You stumbled on icy rubble, created from your failed Blizzaga spell earlier. This provided him the opportunity to swoop in and overpower you, sending you crashing to the ground. An involuntary gasp escaped your lips as your eyes widened. The Masamune was dangerously close to your left abdomen. It glinted menacingly in the light, a warning of the peril you were in. The ripple effect from his blade caused the fabric of your minidress to rip, exposing the delicate skin of your left abdomen.

Masamune was so close that you could feel your heart pounding in your chest, even though the blade never touched your skin. His icy blue eyes pierced your soul as you looked up and met his gaze. His trademark cool smirk was unmistakable. Then he curled his lips into a devilish grin, slightly different from what he normally gave you. You were so enchanted by him you didn’t even realize his vast, single black wing was enshrouding you. As you felt a powerful heat emanating from his long blade, a black feather rested on your chest. 

 With a sudden jolt, you kicked him up into the air and flew towards him with a battle cry. Both of your blades clashed, causing a metallic chorus to reverberate through the air. You didn’t know what happened, but it gave you the psyche boost you needed. The show must go on. The surviving fabric of your minidress threatened to rip if you kept this farce up, but you didn't care. You kept swinging your Keyblade at him, as your life depended on it. This was the most exhilarating experience you'd had. You'd do whatever it took, even risking death, to keep feeling this exhilarating rush. Even if the only emotion he held for you was a deep, sinister satisfaction in your plight. You were nothing but a source of wry amusement to him. As you went in for a hard blow, he summoned a shining wall of energy that effortlessly blocked your attack. 

 “That’s enough,” he said. He spoke with a gentle, yet authoritative voice. He casually brushed the dust and debris off him as you both descended into the stadium. You take a hasty step back. The wind blew through your hair as you shuffled your feet against the ground. Your Keyblade dissipated as you glared at him, pouting at the abrupt ending to your fight. He always pulled out at the best times, leaving you with a deep longing. His eyes sparkled with amusement as he softly chuckled.

The ethereal energy that summoned him is now calling him back as its aura surrounds him. As you watched him depart, you reflected on what happened. You had an incredibly close call today. Just like when you first crossed paths, he was close to ending it all. Though, you wonder if that was just him teasing, or if he really was warning you of his diminishing interest. Regardless, he granted you another day to live...

Maybe next time will be better? 

#Sephiroth #Kingdom hearts x reader #Sephiroth x reader #Reader is NOT Sora #set sometime during khux #reader has... issues. #Reader is in late teens #Sephy is a fightaholic #kh sephiroth x reader #kh x reader #FF7 X reader #Final fantasy x reader #tw: fighting #tw: power dynamics #Crisis Cutie writes #sephiroth fanfiction #reader insert

[ncafterdark]

Kinktober 2023

Day 27: Hiro/Dagger/Ivarr--S&M, Double Penetration

*****

The warehouse hadn’t been used in some time, except perhaps by rodents nesting in the corners. Dusty shafts of moonlight are the only illumination, grime caking the windows, keeping the neon at bay. The usual murmur of the city is muted to a dull hum, save for the faint, occasional roar of an AV flying overhead. It’s of little consequence, and even less significance to him, distracted as he is. 

“You sure picked a weird fucking place for a date.”

His scoff covers up nervousness. While he knows they wouldn’t really hurt him, not in a way he hadn’t asked for, he can’t deny it’s the sort of spot that someone would never find him.

“Or you’ve just skipped the date, and I’m getting sacrificed to a cult instead.”

Ivarr’s laugh is cruel, a mocking echo in the cavernous space. “Don’t want an interruption this time.” 

The words settle strangely and he turns to look, a lurch as he catches himself hard, palms aching where they’ve hit the ground, tugged completely off balance, the bulk of the man an insistent pressure against his spine. Stubble scrapes at his neck, a parody of a kiss before the man digs in teeth, hard enough to make him hiss. 

His brain hardly has the time to resister the sensation, a hand threading through his hair and yanking, enough that he can’t hold back a yelp. “Eyes on me, Kitten.” 

It’s instinct that guides him, eyes meeting Dagger’s, frigid blue in the dim light.

“See, wasn’t so hard.”

His voice is laced with affection, a knife’s edge of coldness beneath it. “Still too loud, though.” 

Dagger tugs him forward, enough that his cheek is pushed against the man’s bulge, zipper digging painfully into his skin, eyes indecisive about where they’d rather settle. 

“You know what to do.” 

It would normally be instinct to argue, see how far he can push before the other snaps, but he wants this just as badly as the man does, taking him eagerly, a soft noise around him that has Dagger’s hips twitching. It’s enough that he’s almost lost track of the other man, despite the bruising grip on his hips, cry muffled as the man slips his fingers inside, stretching him roughly. It’s scarcely enough but none of them are patient enough to wait, first thrust has him taking more of the man than he can handle, wishing he could see either of them—feeling as much as seeing Dagger shudder against him. 

“That’s it brat, just like that.”

—

(Ft. @dreamskug's Ivarr, and @wraithsoutlaws's Dagger 🔪🖤)

#oc: hiro oda #nsft #cyberpunk ocs #my writing #mutuals ocs: ivarr #mutuals ocs: dagger #ship: trouble comes in threes #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #tw: power dynamics #tw: cruelty #tw: pain

[emiradursun]

( closed starter for: @axel-mathis ) location: the office

It had been a busy day of work for the both of them and while the two usually were done working at a decent time, they both stayed a little longer in the night to finish things up. Closing her laptop and running her fingers through her hair with a sigh, she got up from her desk to walk into Axel's office. "Hey," she said softly, leaning against the doorframe with a soft smile. "Want me to order takeout or are you thinking you'll be finished soon?"

#axel convo #( emira x axel ) #tw: age difference #tw: power dynamics

[axel-mathis]

Who? @emiradursun

Where? Emira's house

Axel pulled up to the familiar home and knocked on the door, waiting somewhat impatiently for her to open up. Once the door swung open Axel gestured into her home. "Hey why don't you pack a bag and come stay at my place until things in the city calm down a bit?" He said, indicating that she absolutely should do that and he was here to pick her up. "Just in case there actually is some insane arsonist out there.. my place would be the safer place to stay."

#emiraxaxel #aurorabay.fire #tw: power dynamics #tw age difference

[feralhornyposting]

I covered a little bit of this in a previous post but something that really turns me on is people acting out of character when they're having sex, like entirely different compared to how they are in everyday life. And I don't just mean the shy one being a dom when in private, I mean the nice and popular one that wouldn't hurt a fly getting off on teasing and ravaging you animalistically, I mean the tall intimidating one with the ability to fight off like a crowd of people in one go being such a subby, needy and obedient little fucktoy as soon as you say the word, I mean the rowdy party animal that wears revealing clothes and flirts with everyone going quiet and getting all nervous and horny just from your dirty talk, doing whatever you ask because they want to please you and only you. Don't get me wrong I also like when people have apparent dom or sub or switch energy but I also love the little twist of finding out their true inner workings, only when with you. It's hot as fuck.

#nb nsft #queer nsft #trans nsft #tw nsft #t4t nsft #tw smut #power dynamics

[mhathotfic]

Mmm older stepbrother! Touya who’s such a bad influence on his new stepsister. She could have tried to bond with any of the other three Todoroki siblings, but she’s just 18 and still in her bad boy phase and so transfixed on the tall punk with more piercings than redeeming qualities.

He’s fully aware too, and ooh does he love that naive little angel’s attention. It’s fun playing with them when they don’t know any better yet.

He tells them how pretty girls like her shouldn’t be held up at home only to study things they already know. That she should let him teach how to have some real fun. He sneaks her out to parties, pretends he doesn’t notice them stealing his drinks or the clumsy way she tried to grind on him.

He teaches her hair to do all those naughty little things good girls like her don’t do and promised to keep it between them if she does.

#bnha dabi #mha dabi #tw toxic relationship #tw unhealthy power dynamic #tw manipulation #tw pseudocest #thirst post