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depravitycentral · 5 months ago

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Yandere! Sanemi Shinazugawa General Profile

Yandere! Sanemi Shinazugawa x fem! reader

Tw: kidnapping, violence/mild gore, Sanemi controls your diet/comments on what you eat, mentions of physical and sexual assault (not by Sanemi though because he is Consent King™), my characterization of Sanemi is a little unusual I think but I stand by it, part of that characterization involves him being very sexually frustrated so mentions of masturbation, Stockholm Syndrome, mentions of reader being insecure/having low self esteem, kind of mind-break ish for reader, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

WC: 13K

DARLING PROFILE:

Honest

To Sanemi, there is nothing more worthless than liars - with the exception, possibly, of demons. He doesn’t understand why one would skate around the truth, and in his eyes it’s a sign of weakness, of an unwillingness to face reality and to cheat themselves.

Needless to say, he wouldn’t tolerate a partner who is prone to lying, who lets falsities slip from their lips like it’s nothing. He wants to know that his partner won’t front anything, that each word and phrase that they speak is nothing but how they feel, their honest thoughts and feelings.

Trust means a lot to him, and because it’s so difficult for him to fully open up, to allow himself to becomes vulnerable, he’s quite selective with who he lest see the real Sanemi Shinazugawa, the real man who wants nothing more than for the ones he loves to be safe and happy.

He needs a darling who won’t bullshit him, who can hold his respect and take a slight weight off his shoulders by knowing that they won’t ever lie to him.

It doesn’t mean his paranoia diminishes in any sense of the word, but the sentiment is still nice - it’s pleasing to him that when his darling is finally giving in and telling him in a defeated, resigned voice that they love him too, when he’s forcing out a compliment that sounded wonderful in his head but strange once it passed him that the small smile and soft ‘thanks’ they give is real.

He needs to comfort of knowing that his darling is authentic, that they’re showing their real selves to him, and with each glimpse he sees he only falls more and more in love.

Opinionated

There is no doubt that Sanemi works tirelessly to be as powerful as he can, that it’s his sole drive in life to kill and defeat demons. He’s a man fueled by adrenaline and hate for the man-eating creatures, and he desires a darling who is similarly motivated.

His darling doesn’t need to have a tragic past or anything of the sort, but he appreciates someone who is somewhat of a spitfire.

He likes women who can challenge him, and if his darling is able to keep up with him and even occasionally be better than him at something, it’s a sure fire way for him to grow interested.

He loves the idea of his darling being capable and independent (ironic, considering the way he grows to coddle his darling and let his overprotectiveness convince him that they’re utterly helpless without him), and a darling who’s able to showcase this personality trait gets him ever so slightly flustered.

He likes someone who can stand up to him, who doesn’t let him boss them around, and while he’ll want them to be complacent and listen to him once he has a more solidified role in their life, there’s something so incredibly attractive about them having their own mind and opinion.

He may act like it irritates him at first, butting heads with his darling and even occasionally complaining about how headstrong they are, but it’s one of the very first things that catches Sanemi’s attention and keeps it.

(That and, of course, the color of their eyes, the sway of their hips, the lilt of their voice, and myriad other qualities that make him gape like some lovesick school boy. Pathetic.)

Kind

On the flip side, Sanemi is also wildly attracted to a darling who is a truly kind person.

They can be opinionated, hardheaded, competitive, any number of things that leave them labeled as a strong personality, but it’s in the moments where Sanemi sees how truly compassionate they are that his feelings really become cemented.

He’s had to bury his own compassion and empathy down over the years, hardening his shell and playing into the character so well that it’s become essentially his real self, and to see his darling able to be so kind and loving to the people around them makes him wildly flustered and jealous.

It reminds him of his old self, and while that brings its own heavy baggage, there’s something freeing and so very calming about it, like some long lost puzzle piece is slotting into place because it just feels right.

And when his darling turns that kindness onto him, Sanemi’s genuinely at a loss for words. The first time they scold him for getting injured and help tend to his wounds, he’s already putty in their hands. He’s momentarily struck silent when his darling presents to him a small gift from a nearby market, the gift itself meager and not something Sanemi particularly wants, but there’s something about the gesture that gets his heart racing, flattered and unsure why they’d be giving someone like him something.

It’s a quality that he subconsciously looks for, and though he’d never admit it, it’s difficult for him to not notice just how kind his darling would be in the context of motherhood. They’d be great with children, he’s sure, and while he doesn’t want to bring any children into the world while it's still crawling with demons, he’s nursing the quiet, embarrassed dream of his darling carrying his children and heading a loving, large family.

It’s the stuff of his fantasies, the kind of thing that makes him flush and get irritated at sappy at is, but with each kind gesture and compliment, his darling only makes it harder and harder to not dream of it.

Brave

On many levels, to become a person Sanemi respects you’d have to be brave. He simply doesn’t tolerate those who are weak-willed or meek, and a darling who’s more willing to put themselves out there or stand up for others is extremely attractive to him.

His darling doesn’t need to be a risk-taker, but he appreciates someone is willing to go outside of their comfort zone every once in a while. This is especially true when it comes to interacting with him. His tough demeaner scares most people off, so his darling would need to be willing to tough it out and stand up to him in order to dig past his rough exterior and get at the soft, vulnerable side of him.

It makes him proud, really, when his darling does something that he deems brave or difficult for them. It fills him with a sense of accomplishment, feeling genuinely happy for them because he’s so very proud when they achieve even basic things.

He's extremely observant and picks up on even minute aspects of his darling’s personality, and so he’s very in touch with what’s within his darling’s comfort zone and what isn’t.

This trait is by and large a positive for him, however there are times when it becomes the bane of his existence; if they do something he deems stupid or unnecessary and puts them in danger he becomes very, very angry. He’s paranoid in every sense of the word, terrified that his darling will die or somehow disappear, leaving him behind to be all alone, losing just another person he’s come to love.

(Though, love is perhaps not quite the word for it – needs, maybe, or even adores, just with a sense of finality that scares even Sanemi.) His darling’s braveness is a double-edged sword, and once they’re under his lock and key, he’s trying to cut down on their ability to act on this as much as possible, not only for their safety but also his sanity.

GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS:

Protective

As a general rule, Sanemi’s expression of his feelings towards you is rather indirect. He’ll never outright confess that he’s in love with you until very, very late into his obsession, and by that time you’ll have already been trapped by his side for at least a few months, already uncomfortably aware that he feels something for you, even if he won’t put a name on it.

He’s not traditionally romantic in any sense, and while he does harbor fantasies about being all soft and mushy with you, he can’t seem to allow himself to act on these desires, particularly towards the beginning of his infatuation.

(He’ll spend his nights laying awake, staring at the ceiling while his fingers trace patterns against the scars on his chest, imagining they’re your own softer, prettier hands, that you’re laying beside him and lulling him to sleep with your touch and soft voice, that you’re telling him that you love him and that you feel so safe with you, Sanemi. Idly, he wonders whether you’re put off by the scars – you’ve never mentioned it, sure, but Sanemi isn’t stupid. He knows you’re too nice and perhaps too intimidated by him, but he still bites his lip and wonders whether you wouldn’t mind them, if you’d like them, if you’d be attracted to them, even… And suddenly his fingers feel like fire because now he’s imagining how it would feel to have your lips trail the scarred skin instead and oh god-)

He’s not particularly overt with many aspects of his obsession, with a few stark exceptions – namely, Sanemi is very, very overprotective of you. Call it a result of a traumatic childhood and adult life or perhaps even a coping mechanism, but once his feelings for you begin to fester, your safety becomes his number one priority.

And really, isn’t it understandable?

Seeing humans get slaughtered on a daily basis constantly reminds him that you’re weak. Sure, he’s a Hashira and risks his life with every breath, but you’re you. You’re painfully unprepared to handle a confrontation with a demon, and with each new violent, gory death he sees, Sanemi becomes more and more aware of this.

It’s maddening, really, because he’ll be out on a mission and be just a hair too late to save some poor civilian woman and oh, her hair color is so very similar to yours – from a distance it almost looks like you. Your faces aren’t similar, though, and as Sanemi runs past the fresh corpse in pursuit of the monster, he’s breathing a sigh of relief because for the smallest, briefest moment he was almost convinced that that was you.

And later that night, as he sits down alone in his quiet, empty mansion, every blink of his eyes is flashing an image of you in her position, scarlet blood staining your skin and tears drying against your cheeks. It makes him grit his teeth, pacing around the room and clutching onto his sword hilt, muttering under his breath about how you’re driving him crazy and this shit needs to stop, I have to stop, this has to stop…

But he still finds himself dashing off to the modest room you call home, anger flaring when he notices you’ve left your window open, mentally berating you and promising to sternly remind you tomorrow to not be so careless.

Wide eyes peer into your bedroom to catch sight of you peacefully sleeping, and he sucks in a breath at the sight. You’re just so pretty – all soft and warm in your bed, lips parted ever so slightly, the slope of your nose catching his eye, the slow rise and fall of your chest.

(He’ll stop to match his own breathing with yours, palm pressing against the glass of the window, unable to stop staring even as he calls himself pathetic and a creep for watching you sleep. It’s just calming in a way he can’t describe, and when he finally forces himself to move some thirty minutes later, the cycle only restarts as he steps foot back in his home.)

His anxiety that you’re unable to protect yourself manifests pretty early into his obsession – and you’ll notice, too. He’s unusually concerned with all aspects of your health and safety – he’s always asking when you’ve last eaten, what you had, if you’re still hungry, when you last had protein or a vegetable or drank water. And while he’s trying to be as civil and nonchalant as he can manage, he’s still staring, looming over you and looking at you with an intensity that makes you feel so very small, your answer more of a question than an answer.

And if he doesn’t like the answer, you’re being dragged to his own personal kitchen, all the while he’s grumbling about how you’re so irresponsible, can’t even feed yourself on your own, meanwhile he’s already boiling water and cutting vegetables, having forced you to sit on the most plush cushion he owns.

And you will be eating everything he feeds you – when you seem hesitant, he's threatening with a disturbingly serious I won’t let you leave until that tray is clean, the calmness and sincerity in his voice driving you to immediately pick up your utensils.

Typically, his cooking isn’t bad – perhaps ever so slightly charred, but it’s cooked to your tastes and preferences (though he never explicitly asked about them), and he’s always looking at you while you dine, those wide eyes of his never seeming to blink as he surveys every possible detail about you.

(Really, he’s doing two things – firstly, he’s obsessively checking over every aspect of your eating habits. How many times do you chew before you swallow? Which foods do you start eating first, and do you eat section by section or a little bit of everything? Do you blow on your foods if they’re too hot, your pretty lips puckering into a cute little ‘o’ that makes him suck in a breath? But even aside from that he’s staring, transfixed, because just last night he was dining alone at this table, solemnly chewing at his food while imagining your presence beside him, fantasizing about the day when you’re eating together, perhaps even swapping stories of the day or complimenting him or telling him that you look so handsome today Sanemi, it’s kind of pissing me off… Just the thought makes him sit up straighter, unconsciously puffing out his chest because he wants you to be very, very aware of the muscles lining every inch of his body.)

And even aside from food, his protectiveness is apparent in the way he treats you – he’s always quickly gazing over your body, checking for any signs of cuts, scrapes, bruises, or limps, the surveying genuinely clinical rather than perverse.

(Of course, later that night he’ll remember the details with a slightly lewder twist – wondering how soft your thighs must be and letting his hands flex into a fist in an effort to grab onto something, even though it can’t be you. He’s imagining exactly how those nipples of yours must look like, imagining in detail the way they’d look all pebbled, the skin soft and warm and god, he bets you’d taste sweet, like some sort of heaven.)

He’s refusing to leave your side when you walk into town, always trailing at your arm and constantly glowering at the people around you, his excuse something related to checking for demon activity in the crowd – you don’t mention that it’s daytime.

(He’s always raising a brow when men approach you, rage simmering just below the surface alongside an underlying sense of anxiety and insecurity because while he may be the most capable of protecting you, the kinder, gentler man that calls you beautiful at the small morning market may be more capable of winning your heart. And so, when they get too close, he’s quick to place himself between the two of you, a scowl on his face and his tone a mix of condescension and threatening when he tells him to get lost, one more step and I slice your arm off. It’s protection, sure, because who knows what these men could want from you, but the small, possessive part of him is smug when the man scurries off, his worries momentarily quelled because you’re still next to him, not that stranger.)

He’s pessimistic about people by nature, always assuming the worst, and so Sanemi accompanies you every free moment he possibly can, acting as your shadow and impossible to get away from. It’s irritating, really, because even if you fight and bicker with him about it, requesting that he please leave you alone because it scares you to have him hanging off of you like that, he’ll only resort to following you from a few meters behind, blending in with the crowd but still keeping those eyes on you, hand always tightly clutched around the hilt of his sword just in case your safety is threatened.

He knows it’s stalking, sure, and he reprimands himself for his weakness and inability to control himself, but the moment you’re out of his sight panic is racing through him, his breathing getting shallow and his skin feeling hot because fuck fuck fuck this isn’t happening, you’re not gone you can’t be gone please oh god where are you –

He’s running as quickly as he can to check behind every corner, desperation to find you so potent that it bars him from feeling embarrassed, only calming once he finds you. He’ll grasp onto your shoulders once he does, his grip nearly bruising as he demands to know where you’ve been, practically yelling at you to tell him if you’re hurt, if anyone bothered you, if you’ve been attacked or if you’re scared.

It’s only when you wince or beg him to back off that he does, freezing up and letting his mouth fall open stupidly, before suddenly jumping back as if touching you pains him, clenching his fists and gritting his teeth, disappointment and anger in himself for injuring you rolling through him.

He treats you like you’re delicate, fragile, breakable, and no matter how often you tell him – and prove to him – that you’re not, Sanemi refuses to acknowledge it.

After all, you needing protection gives him purpose. It gives him justification to be around you, to be allowed in your presence – it makes him think he might, just maybe, be worthy of your love. And no matter how pathetic it makes him feel to admit it, Sanemi would do absolutely anything to get you looking at him and needing him like he needs you.

Anything.

Possessive

And it’s palpable. Sanemi is many things, but subtle is not one of them – and while he may be decent at masking many aspects of his obsession with you, his possessive side is certainly not one of them.

He’s easily jealous, always suspecting the worst of people that approach you. The man that comes up to ask you for directions obviously has an ulterior motive, perhaps wanting to ogle you or get just a hair too close to your body for Sanemi’s comfort.

The older man that accidentally bumps into you as he walks with his cane may seem innocent, but Sanemi’s immediately scowling, eyeing the man like a hawk because many old men seem to feel much too entitled and much too confident in bothering younger, attractive women, and he’ll be damned before he lets some old creep harass you.

(A bit hypocritical, all things considered, because while Sanemi may be your age, he’s significantly more of a creep – the way he’s constantly following you, constantly thinking of you, imagining your smile and your laugh and of what he’s sure is a very warm and oh so fucking wet place between those plush thighs of yours. The old man would probably only touch you – Sanemi wants to do much, much more.)

And so, a large portion of his possessiveness stems from his own protectiveness. He firmly believes that no one else is capable of protecting you to the level and degree that he can. He’s a Hashira, unafraid to throw himself into danger for a cause he fully believes in, so why should he be afraid to put himself on the line in order to keep you safe and sound?

Slaughtering demons is still his life’s mission, sure, but somehow you’ve wormed your way in, too, and Sanemi finds it increasingly difficult to simply ignore how much of an effect you have on him. And even as much as he tries to deny his feelings in the beginning, praying and hoping that they’re simply temporary, it becomes very, very difficult to force himself to not care when he sees anyone else speaking to you.

And honestly, a lot of the anger comes from the fact that you have never been this familiar and carefree when conversing with Sanemi – you never smile at him like you do with this new man, all teeth and rounded cheeks and glowing eyes. It’s cute, adorable, beautiful even, but it’s also infuriating, making Sanemi’s blood boil and something ugly and uncomfortable press against his ribs.

Other men always seem to be able to more easily speak with you – they’re wittier, better at complimenting you, managing to make you laugh and smile in a way that hurts Sanemi to see. It’s painful, more than anything, and early into his obsession it’s moments like these that show him that no matter how he tries to convince himself that his feelings for you aren’t as strong or potent as he thinks, he’s wrong.

He needs you in a way that simultaneously frustrates and terrifies him. He hasn’t felt a connection and genuine desire in such a long time that he doesn’t even recognize the feeling at first – it takes him seeing you interact with men over a prolonged period of time to even understand the nature of his infatuation, realizing that instead of mere irritation he’s feeling, it’s something deeper, harsher, more personal.

It’s something that makes it hard to breath, his fists clenching and his legs feeling like lead, dread settling deep in his chest because oh god, what does he do?

He tends to act before thinking when it comes to you, his body seeming to react before he even has a moment to process what he’s seeing, and this is certainly no exception when another man approaches you. He’ll be quick to step in, but as Sanemi’s obsession continues on, he becomes more and more torn about his possessive tendencies.

By and large, he’s lucid about the nature of his feelings for you. He knows what he’s doing is wrong, and as time passes and his love for you only seems to grow exponentially, he begins to wonder whether interfering with potential lovers of yours is really the correct move. He’s horribly jealous, of course, barely able to keep himself from hurling the moment he sees you interacting with anyone else, but there’s something else there, sitting just below the surface and giving him ever so slight pause.

It’s guilt, the idea that he’s becoming unreasonably possessive and territorial over you when he really has no right to. After all, thinking of you as his woman makes him feel good, his chest feeling all tingly and his cheeks going hot, but it’s not really true, is it?

You’re not his – he’s just an admirer, a stalker who desperately wishes he could call out to you and have you smile at him, look at him, let him wrap you in his arms and even press a kiss or two against his trembling lips. But you’re not – and it’s difficult for Sanemi to rationalize that the longer his obsession goes on.

And so, by the times that he’s a few months into accepting his feelings for you, Sanemi tries to limit his interventions into your interactions with others to only situations where you’re uncomfortable or in danger. And it’s noble, truly – but the problem arises from the fact that Sanemi is the one judging when this occurs, deciding when someone is bothering you.

His mood plays a huge role in this judgement decision, his moodiness and however long he's been away from you or gone without interacting with you swaying his decision. If he’s been particularly absent from your life for the last few days or weeks, Sanemi is believing that everyone has ill intentions with you – every man that glances at you, even every elderly woman that compliments your eyes or your figure.

They all want you, and it makes him panic, growing anxious and terrified that someone will snatch you away from him, that he’ll lose you and with you every bit of happiness and calm you make him feel. It’s a panic response, more than anything, and he’ll immediately rush in, sometimes not even caring how you grow irritated and frustrated that he always seems to just appear, despite the fact that you have the situation under control.

It’s a mixture of genuine worry for your safety and selfish desire to keep you all to himself that motivates him, and you’ll notice a stark difference in his behavior once he’s got you stolen away in his estate. He won’t directly reveal his feelings to you, but his sense of ownership over you will become much more apparent with the way he’s always providing for you, giving you all sorts of expensive gifts and getting only the best foods for you, doing anything and everything to get you to like him, to get you to become willingly his and to show you that no one else could treat you as well or love you as wholly.

He’s a prideful man, sure, but when it comes to you everything flies out the window – he’s barely able to conceal his desperation for you, and the defense is so weak that you’ll spot the cracks immediately. You’ll be able to tell just how badly he needs you to admit that you’re his, his control over your life worsening with every day that passes because he simply can’t stand knowing that you aren’t utterly, completely his.

And really, would it be so bad to give in? There’s something romantic about a man who wants you so badly that he’s so hyper fixated on keeping you his and only his, isn’t there? Something exciting, something flattering, something raw?

Sanemi sure hopes you think so, but at the end of the day it doesn’t really matter – he can’t stop himself, and you will become his at the end of the day.

Shy

But in an extremely specific way – he doesn’t shy away from interacting with you per say, but it’s very, very difficult for him to become completely open and vulnerable with you.

He’s simply too closed off – he’s entirely unused to having anyone close in his life, his few relationships held quietly close to his heart and rocky, to say the least. (His love for Genya, for example, or even the comradery he feels for Obanai and his fellow Hashira, though he’s much more expressive than he realizes.)

He’s simply not good with words, often finding himself saying things he doesn’t mean or speaking with a tone entirely unreflective of what he feels. And as a result, he struggles with the idea of opening himself up to you. You’re simply too important to him – you’re his everything now, the woman he wants to protect and keep safe above all else.

And while he’s not deluded enough to believe that you can understand him simply by looking at him, Sanemi hopes and prays that his actions are enough to convey the depth and nature of his feelings.

(Though, he’s often unsure of whether he wants you to really understand just how strong his dependence on you really is. Perhaps it would be better if you didn’t know that he can’t spend a single hour without passing thoughts of you sifting through his mind – a simple glance at a cloud has him thinking it vaguely looks like your hair, the shape making the corner of his lip turn up ever so slightly, his fingers subconsciously rubbing together and imagining the texture against his skin. He doesn’t want you to know that sometimes, when he’s sitting alone and eating the rather bare-bones, plain meal he’s cooked for himself, he’ll set a second plate, biting back his pride and quietly speaking into the air, pretending that you’re sitting there and entertaining him, nodding along to his words and encouraging him after a particularly difficult mission or seeing you getting just a tad too friendly with another man.)

Really, a lot of the fear of opening himself up comes down to Sanemi’s lucidity about his feelings for you. He has no romantic experience, true, but he’s not stupid – he’s aware that it’s unusual to be this attached when the two of you are really only platonically involved, even as much as he yearns to take things further.

He understands that it’s not normal to be so hyper fixated and concerned on your health and safety, always having a moment of clarity as he scolds you for wearing shoes that are worn down enough to hurt the soles of your shoes, or for not drinking water all day.

He’s very aware that it’s wrong of him to be following you home and keeping an eye on you without your knowledge or consent, and truthfully he’s afraid to see your reaction when you realize just how truly depraved he’s become for you. He's sure that you’ll find him repulsive – maybe you’ll curse him out, calling him a freak and a creep and even a monster for invading your personal privacy and space on such a regular basis.

(You’d be mortified, he’s sure, to find out that he often lets himself into your apartment during the day, knowing you’ll be at a friend’s place for the next few hours and wandering back after following you there, the familiar scent of you calming him immediately once he steps inside. He’s sure you’d be angry to know that he’s thumbing at each and every item of clothing you own, memorizing the feel of the fabric, running his fingers along the inside just to pretend to feel your skin, finding that this is the closest thing he can get to touching you. He’s sure you’d be mad to know that he’s picked up your pillow, hugging it to his chest and pressing his face against it, deeply inhaling and even planting a few unsure, rather stiff kisses against the material, wishing with a sort of boyish hope that tonight you’ll happen to press your face against that specific spot as you sleep.)

He’s naively nursing the hope that you’d by some miracle be okay with his more covert behaviors, wishing that you secretly feel as strongly for him as he does you. But even then Sanemi doesn’t let himself slide too deeply into that thinking, aware that it’s dangerous to become so detached from reality. You will be horrified, and he will be absolutely shattered to see the way you’ll flinch away from him, how you’ll look at him with fear and disgust in your eyes.

(And really, the pathetic thing is that while Sanemi will be ashamed of your newfound perception of him, he can’t deny that he’d be absolutely giddy to have you looking at him, your attention entirely on him even if it’s negative. And that only serves to fill him with more self-loathing, something ugly and heavy settling against his chest at the thought because it really is awfully pitiful that simply your attention is enough to have his knees feeling weak, his cheeks tingling and his palms growing sweaty because oh, you see him.)

And so, Sanemi does his best to avoid broaching the subject of how he feels about you. Instead, he tries every possible method he can think of to express himself through actions.

He doesn’t have much as a reference point, both his career and his comrades not exactly ideal sources of healthy, loving relationships, but at a certain point Sanemi becomes too desperate to ignore his few resources. He needs you to see him, to smile at him and acknowledge him, and so he bites his pride and awkwardly approaches Kanroji about it.

He’s not exactly overjoyed to be asking for her advice, but she’s the only one he feels has any sort of idea what you could possibly be looking for in terms of romantic gestures. (He’d also considered asking Shinobu, but he’d immediately crossed that idea out upon realizing that not only would Shinobu likely tease him in the moment, she’d very likely never let it go, constantly holding it over his head that the Sanemi Shinazugawa needed advice on how to woo a woman. At least Kanroji would be kind about it.)

He’s approaching her and asking as nonchalantly as he can manage whether women like men to give them flowers, escort them from location to location, cook for them, where women like to be touched (with a very, very quick clarification of not in a weird way immediately following the question), or any number of other things. And Kanroji, while suspicious of his intentions, is more than happy to gush about the small things that make women swoon. And Sanemi is hanging onto every word – pressing for details about what specific compliments to shower you with, what small gifts he should consider picking up on his missions to bring home to you, what tone of voice he should be using instead of his usual gruff, irritated lilt.

Sanemi is quick to try and instill some of these ideas into his ‘relationship’ with you – he spends easily an hour biting his lip and diligently searching through every single flower at the shop, his hands slightly trembling when he hands you the small bouquet, struggling to make eye contact as he quietly – and with something almost akin to a tremor in his voice – tells you that your kimono is beautiful, the statement almost phrased like a question.

It’s the closest Sanemi is willing to get to admitting his feelings in times like these, and up until the point where he steals you away into his own abode, these sporadic bursts of confidence and nerves will leave you with whiplash because mere moments later he’ll be growling at a drunk man approaching you, threats slipping from his lips and his aura suddenly switching from bashful, almost schoolboy-esque to deadly serious.

And once he’s been forced you kidnap you, this behavior mostly continues. He still doesn’t want to fully confess everything, but he’s trying his absolute hardest to make you as happy as possible – going out of his way to keep you comfortable and satisfied, guilt eating away at him and making him overcompensate by treating you like you’re royalty.

With time, he’ll slowly become more open to you – that mask will slip ever so slightly, bits of his true feelings shining through. He’ll accidentally let it slip that he knows something about you that he shouldn’t, cluing you into his behaviors revolving around the stalking and rifling through your things.

It’ll be the middle of the night and he’s suddenly jolted awake after a particularly graphic nightmare, half asleep as he rushes out of his bed and practically runs to find you. He’s frantic to check that you’re still in the bed he’s set up for you, his breathing only calming down when he sees your still form, a declaration of love, adoration, and relief slipping from his lips that you happen to hear and wonder at how he can be so sappy and whipped.

It’s embarrassing, more than anything, but Sanemi simply struggles to be vulnerable – eventually you’ll become uncomfortably aware of just how badly he needs you, what with his growing need for your affirmations and physical touch, but the process is slow going, frustrating, confusing, even. But please be patient with him – he’s trying his best for you, really, and with every rejection and laugh when he’s attempting to open up, the less likely he becomes to completely and fully trust that you could love him, too.

DEALING WITH RIVALS:

Sanemi has always been a bit more on the aggressive side; between slaughtering demons for a living and being a bit brash in his words in his personal life, he’s never been one for handling problems with delicacy, or even really diplomacy – when he gets angry, it’s a bit all consuming.

And when you get thrown into the equation? Well, Sanemi is a lost cause – his emotions regarding you are so complex, so overwhelming and deep that the moment he feels your relationship is being threatened, he’s immediately shutting it down, attacking the threat mercilessly with everything he has because fuck, he can’t let you leave him.

When it comes to romance and love, he’s honestly quite insecure; he knows that there’s no way he’s your first choice, that someone as harsh and rude and demanding could ever possibly be the one you desire. Not to mention the fact that he’s constantly putting his life on the line, the gamble he’s playing on whether he’ll live to see the light of day every night. And he’s not sure about the scars the job produces, too, because while he normally wears them as a badge of pride to signal his toughness and battle experience, he’s not so sure you’d share the same positive response to them.

(It’s such a constant worry for him that the moment you’re in his vicinity, he’s torn between leaving his uniform wide open to show off his sculpted pectorals and abs and simultaneously wanting to cover up, terrified that you’ll find his scarred and calloused body upsetting, repulsive.)

He knows he’s not the ideal man, but there’s a part of him that’s desperately clinging onto the idea that maybe, just maybe you love him too, that you’re just as happy being with him, that you need him as badly as he needs you. It’s unrealistic, though, and in his heart of hearts he knows it and berates himself for even entertaining the idea that you see him as anything more than an acquaintance (or a friend at most).

And yet, the moment that he sees another man – one that’s arguably more similar to what he’s sure your type must be - all reason gets thrown out the door. He’s gritting his teeth as he sees another man approaching you, talking to you, even so much as looking at you – it’s a threat to the relationship he’s precariously building between the two of you, a possibility for something to drive you away from him, the mere idea scaring the absolute shit out of him.

You’re his everything, the reason he lives to see another day, and the moment your safety is compromised (because Sanemi is absolutely fucking sure that that man approaching you with a flush on his face and wide eyes has intentions that are only bad, desires racing through his heart to hurt you, leave you crying and violated and so very scared) he’s immediately wanting to interfere, to break you away from whatever son of a bitch decided to come between what’s rightfully his, what he’s devoted so much of his time and energy to – you.

And even as he realizes that this mindset is detrimental, unhealthy, potentially irreparably damaging your perception of him, Sanemi can’t find it in himself to stop. He’s just too paranoid, too terrified that you’ll be so cruelly ripped away from him.

And of course, it’s also a matter of paranoia where your safety is concerned, too – he has no faith in your ability to fight, and he’s confident that if a bigger, stronger man were to assault you in some way, you’d be hard pressed to fight him off.

(A notion that makes him sick, immediately clutching at his sword and furrowing his eyebrows, the need to see you immediately making him spring to life, already sprinting to where he knows you typically are this time of day.)

And so, Sanemi will often step in between the stranger and you, regardless of the context. And while it pisses you off when it’s a friend of yours or even a simple stranger with innocent intentions, Sanemi manages to redeem himself because every time a creep approaches you, he’s always, always there to swoop in and save you just as the weight of your situation begins washing over you.

(And Sanemi is more than happy to play your savior – just the look you give him, so full of admiration and gratitude and, dare he say, awe, is enough to make him flustered for the next week, finding himself unable to fall asleep and instead imagining your face, clutching at his pillow and squeezing his eyes shut, small whispers of your name falling past his lips.)

In retrospect, you really shouldn’t have gone out for groceries this late. It was winter time, when everything goes dark much too quickly. Before you’d known it the sun was setting and you had yet to stock up on food for the week, making you quickly race out the door and trying to catch the last few minutes of vendors. The market was just barely open, the entire town feeling oddly deserted considering how early it still was.

As nightfall descended, the sun slipping past the horizon, you find yourself carrying a bag of heavy groceries and padding back home, grunting occasionally at the heavy weight in your arms. Your home wasn’t in the best of neighborhoods, the area always feeling just slightly ominous at night, but the rather depressing sight of your empty cupboards had forced you to venture at a time you’d normally avoid leaving your front door.

Biting your lip, you let the groceries in your hand shift slightly, letting the weight shift from one arm to another. Your attention is so focused on the cloth bags in your arms that you fail to notice the figure standing at the side of the road, lounging in front of a small family-owned restaurant that was closed for the evening. His robes are a dark green color, stained with something along the front that left it dark and greasy, a bottle of something strong-smelling in his clutched fist.

You hadn’t noticed him at first, but you suddenly go stiff as he whistles, the bottle crashing to the ground and shattering. Freezing only momentarily, you quickly keep moving, trying to ignore the way the man is calling after you.

Hey, get back here, woman, he’d slurred, even audibly sounding drunk.

The rather weak torches stationed every few meters along the street make it difficult to see behind you, but you can clearly hear his footsteps getting closer.

You can also hear the distinct lack of others’ footsteps, meaning you’re totally alone with a drunk man seemingly intent on bothering you.

Gulping, you keep your shoulders low, trying to curl into yourself but keeping the same pace, hoping by some stroke of luck the man would lose interest or give up on following you. Your home was only a few blocks away, if you could just push a little further maybe you’d be able to close him off at the door, and surely he’d stop then, right? He’d be too bored waiting outside for you, surely.

Hey bitch, turn around! His hand is suddenly on your shoulder, fingertips digging tightly against your clothed skin and making you wince slightly. He’s taller than you’d thought, something that becomes frighteningly obvious as he turns you to face him.

He’s sneering, lips curling up into something ugly that makes your gut twist. His breath reeksof the same sour, alcohol-baked scent, and as he leans in, you try your best to step away, leaning away from his approach.

Please leave me alone, you try, your voice sounding pathetically weak even to your own ears. He’s strong, you can tell – the dingy clothing hid his physique, but it’s not hard to feel the way his grip tightens, the way he makes an unpleasant noise that has fear prickling up your spine.

What did you just say to me? He asks, baring his teeth and moving to cup your jaw between his fingers, pressing his thumb against your lips and pressing hard enough to make you squirm, the pressure against your teeth making your panic only grow worse. He cocks a brow at your struggling, his smile creeping up again as his free hand came up to rest at your hip, moving down and towards your middle, barely passing over your clothed navel and making you open your mouth to scream. The groceries are dropped, your fear overweighing your despair at losing your week’s salary on a single grocery run.

You’re barely able to vocalize your fear before a sudden flash of white fills your peripheral, the pressure against your mouth suddenly lessening. Your body slumps down, falling to your knees on the ground as your eyes grow wide, your breaths heavy and labored as you look upon the scene before you.

The man – your savior, is standing before you, five fingers wrapped around the man’s throat and shoving him up against the wall of the nearest shop, Sanemi’s teeth bared and his own chest rising and falling rapidly.

He’s got his free hand clutched onto the hilt of his sword, and for a brief, terrifying moment you’re sure he’ll whip his blade out, perhaps slicing into the man’s guts and leaving him a bloody, mutilated pile of bones. Some sick, malevolent part of you finds a sick sort of pleasure in the idea, but your body is moving before you can even think, struggling to your feet and moving to rush forward and stop Sanemi from acting on what you’re very aware is a quick-trigger temper.

But before you can take more than a few steps, the sound of the Hashira’s voice is ringing in your ears. It’s low, gravelly, sounding as if it’s taking every bit of his concentration and self-control to not be screaming and yelling, nasally and gravely, the words clipped and uneven as his fingers tighten.

You piece of shit, touching women without their consent, you’re fucking disgusting, rot in hell –

It’s like a mantra, Sanemi sounding so very genuine and forceful, and as you stand frozen at the intensity in his voice, his words only become darker, more sinister.

Don’t touch her, don’t you fucking dare or I swear I’ll slice your head clean off and dismember your every limb. He grins, eyes going wide. I’ll slice off your cock, too, that’d be good, huh? Can’t bother any innocent women when you’re not even a man.

He punctuates this point with a kick to man’s groin, the pained groan he lets out only making Sanemi’s smile widen. You take a small step back, but Sanemi doesn’t even seem to notice.

Anyone who touches her is dead. You hear me? You’re fucking dead.

The harasser is clawing at his hand, whimpering and wheezing as his air supply grows smaller and smaller. It’s at this point that you audibly gasp, covering your mouth with your hand and staring at him with shock, your fingers trembling and your heart racing.

That noise seems to snap Sanemi out of his trance, his muscles going rigid and his head snapping to you. His eyes widen and his lips part, the airiest whisper of your name falling from his lips, and then he’s suddenly letting go of the stranger, backing away and staring at his own hand in shock, as if he’s horrified by what his own body has done.

The man falls to the ground, curled up and coughing, but neither you nor Sanemi pay him any mind. He’s still looking at you, mouth opening and closing like a fish, mind racing as he tries to think of something to say – anything to say, really, because the way you’re looking at him right now is making his heart break, panic engulfing him because no no no now you must think he’s a violent killer and oh god you must hate him now –

He breaks the trance by rushing forward, hands immediately coming out to clutch at your shoulders, his grip noticeably softer than how he’d been choking the man. His eyes are searching over your face, glancing over every inch of your body, his breaths still coming out uneven and ragged, and Sanemi’s quickly swallowing, unsure of what to say but practically blurting out the words.

That wasn’t – I don’t – I’m not going to hurt him, I promise –

You blink at him, body stiff and unsure, but the longer he babbles on the more your muscles relax.

I wouldn’t hurt a human, I’m not a monster, I just – he was harassing you and I don’t even know what happened, I just started moving and –

You shut him up by carefully, hesitantly placing a hand over one of his, the skin contact making him suck in a sharp breath, gaze immediately zeroing in on the sight.

Your smile is only half-genuine, fear and adrenaline coursing through you, but now that the man has crawled away, cursing Sanemi out, you’re starting to calm down. You’ve spent enough time with the Hashira to know he won’t hurt you, and seeing him this worked up, this flustered and desperate to get you to believe him is proof enough that he’s telling the truth.

Stop Sanemi, I know. I understand. At that he visibly relaxes, his jaw tensing and clenching as he swallows. Thank you for saving me.

He pauses, eyebrows rising ever so slightly, before he lets out a deep, shaky exhale, nodding his head and stepping back, releasing his grip on you.

Good is all he says, still looking at you, before his grip rests once more on the hilt of his sword. He glances towards your groceries, before scowling. Are you stupid? Why the hell are you out at this hour to get groceries?

You bristle at this, familiar behavior making you shoot him a glare. Don’t judge me, not all of us can afford to have private servants cook us meals.

Sanemi scoffs. I don’t have private servants, you’re making shit up again.

You continue to bicker, still shaking slightly as you gather the groceries that fell out of the bag upon impact with the ground. Sanemi begrudgingly helps you, forcing you to let him carry both bags while he escorts you home, berating you for being out at this time the entire way.

It’s only later that night that you really truly think about what had happened, his words ringing through your mind because why had Sanemi said that? How had he even known where you were, much less that you were in danger?

You’re not sure, but as you slip under your covers and bury your face against your pillow, you find yourself brushing aside the odd coincidental nature of the encounter, instead finding yourself thankful that Sanemi was there to intervene before things got truly bad.

(Meanwhile, Sanemi is staying true to his promise of not killing any humans – though he’s quick to track down the drunk man, scoffing at the state of him. He’d fallen asleep, evidently, laying on the dirty streetcorner a ways away from your home. Rage overcomes him as he recalls the way this man had touched you, even going so far as to grope your most intimate region without your permission, anger and even a small bit of jealousy overwhelming Sanemi.

He'll certainly not kill the man, but he wasn’t lying when he promised to slice off the man’s cock – he wouldn’t miss it, would he? Besides, he tells himself as he cuts clean and quick lines, it’s for you. This way, the creep might not feel the need to harass you again, and might keep his filthy hands to himself.

And when Sanemi drops him off unceremoniously outside the doors of the nearest medical house, he can only scoff, turning his back on the bleeding man and listening as the medics immediately begin swarming him.

He doesn’t like hurting humans, sure, but for you? Well, the walk back to your home is short, and as he slips inside, standing at the foot of your bed and swallowing at the sight of your sleeping form, he feels himself visibly relax. You’re just too perfect – and as he inhales the smell of you, he knows he’d do it again if it meant keeping you safe, keeping you his.)

TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY:

Though Sanemi can’t deny the allure of domesticity with you, kidnapping you is actually something he is very strongly against. It’s a combination of factors that leave him hesitant to steal you away – he’s worried that it would permanently alter your personality, and he doesn’t want you to fear him.

He’s lucid enough to know that his feelings for you border and delve into creep territory, his penchant for following you and compulsively checking on you making it difficult to see himself as anything other than a pathetically obsessed man chasing and lusting after an innocent civilian woman.

And yet, he can’t stop himself from wanting you, needing you so badly that it physically hurts, and so Sanemi gives into his more disturbing urges with the clear, resolute promise to himself that he’ll never do anything truly drastic.

And of course, kidnapping you falls into this category. It’s the only way he can justify following you around, fantasizing about holding you and touching you and hearing you say his name. It’s the only way he can calm himself down when moments of lucidity and clarity come rushing at him, guilt clawing at his throat because why the fuck is he hovering over your sleeping figure and reaching into his trousers right now?

He doesn’t trust himself around you, and that’s only another deterrent to keeping you locked up and away with him. It’s like he’s not in control of his body when you’re present – he’s always looking at you, sneaking glances even when he explicitly tells himself not to.

(Even when he instigates a sort of punishment system for himself – he clenches his fist hard enough to draw blood or pinches himself too tightly every time he catches himself doing it, trying to break the habit. Instead, however, he finds himself littered in bruises and all sorts of crescent-shaped marks on his palms, his will-power no match for the way he needs to be looking at you constantly.)

He’s always gravitating towards you, keeping his body facing in your direction, just so that if you do something or say something he’ll be able to immediately respond, every fiber of his being hoping that you’ll reach out, that you’ll speak to him, that you’ll acknowledge him.

(Hell, he’s even lost control subconsciously – he’s puffing his chest out without thinking about it when you’re around him, subtly trying to make the deep slit in his uniform go wider so that you can see more of his corded muscles, clenching his abs tightly enough to make the definition impossible to ignore. He’s running his hands through his hair the moment someone mentions your name, swiping his bangs out of his eyes just to look presentable, just so that if you see him you’ll maybe, just maybe find him attractive and appealing.)

It’s pathetic, he thinks, and he’s terrified that once you’re stolen away by his side, trapped with him as your sole companionship and provider (an idea that does, of course, make something pleasurable and good roll up his spine), these behaviors will only get worse. If he can’t control himself when he’s still physically distant from you, who knows what he’ll feel at liberty to do once you have nowhere else to run.

He’ll never hurt you, he’s sure of it, but he really, really doubts that you’ll be comfortable with all of the things that his subconscious wants to do to you. He’s sure you don’t particularly want to be encaged in his arms while he squeezes and squeezes and squeezes, trying to get you as close as physically possible because he’s still irritated that he can’t live inside of your skin.

(But what if he crushes you, or somehow breaks your bones with the strength of his affection? It’s enough to get him biting his lip, staring down at his open palms and scowling, frustrated at himself because he knows the euphoria of touching you will make him stupid.)

He’s sure you don’t want him to hand-feed you, bringing the chopsticks up to your mouth, watching your pretty, soft lips open up and letting him place the home-cooked food against your tongue.

(And seeing you looking at him with your mouth open, taking something that he’s made and given to you against your tongue will have him flushing, swallowing heavily and having to look away because fuck he’s such a pervert and he’s ruining a sweet moment by growing unbearably hard in his trousers, and oh god – what if there’s a wet spot when he stands up? Will you notice? Fuck fuck fuck!)

It’s a recipe for disaster, not to mention the fact that your fear and hesitance would likely force you to become a shell of your former self. You’d be reduced to nothing but a skeleton of your personality, and that’s the absolute last thing Sanemi wants. He wants you – authentically, fully, as you are when you’re free and independent. And stealing you away would change that, he’s sure – and he’d never forgive himself for diminishing even a flicker of your light.

But of course, misfortune seems to follow Sanemi like some sort of sick joke – it’s only a matter of time before something terrible happens.

It’s a demon attack, likely. Perhaps some demon has noticed that a Hashira seems to hold a penchant for a particular human, and with his marechi blood they’re very, very eager to lure him out and feast on him. And in the process, you get caught in the crossfire – it’s rare that Sanemi leaves you completely and truly alone, but when he’s been summoned for a mission, he can’t exactly decline.

And so, he rushes through the job, quickly finding the demon and slaughtering it in the quickest, fastest way possible before immediately returning back to you, falling into the shadows so that he can continue to keep an eye on you, letting out a rather harsh breath when he finally spots you again, in tact and unharmed.

Except one night, as he sprints through the dark forest, he sees the very faint outline of your home and immediately his eyes go wide.

Your front door is wide open.

He generally thinks you’re rather careless about your safety, sure, but even you aren’t that bad – something is wrong. He pushes himself to run faster, harder, his breaths sounding more like wheezing as he descend on your house, immediately rushing inside and drawing his sword. The adrenaline coursing through his veins only makes him falter for a moment upon seeing his absolute worst nightmare – you’re on the ground, eyes slowly blinking and your body crumpled up, most of your visible skin covered with blood.

His nostrils flare, the sight of the demon crouching over you making his grip on the sword hilt so tight his knuckles turn white, something akin to a genuine growl coming from him.

Get the hell away from her!

He’s yelling and charging, immediately activating his breathing technique and beheading the creature before it can even react. His chest is still heaving, and despite the black mist that begins to appear on the creature’s neck, he’s immediately settling down, straddling the creature and throwing punch after punch. It’s bloody – it’s spraying all over his uniform, staining the white as his fists dig into flesh, denting and tearing and destroying, all the while Sanemi is yelling at it, cursing and calling it a vile, disgusting creature, claiming it’s trying to hurt and kill his woman.

It’s terrifying, really, and as you slowly lose consciousness you’ll find yourself feeling even more terrified, unsure of what’s happening.

And as the demon disappears, Sanemi slowly calms down, gathering his senses and immediately grabbing you, carrying you to the Butterfly Mansion as quickly as his legs can carry him. He doesn’t want to bring you home (or at least, he knows he shouldn’t), but once Shinobu has you patched up and he returns to your now blood-stained abode, Sanemi’s biting his lip, wavering.

He can’t let you come back here – not with the knowledge that you could be attacked again, not when you’re out of his sight and protection, not when you’re so very vulnerable. And so, he begrudgingly brings you back to his estate, settling you into the bedroom as far away from his own as possible.

(He’d refrained from keeping you in the room he’s spent the last few months pretending was your own, too – outfitted with all of the items he’s bought for you but been too afraid to give to you: all sorts of hairpins, beautiful weavings, flowers, even small, curtly written notes he’d been crazed enough to write in the dead of night when he just could not stop thinking of you. No, that’d be too much – he doesn’t want to overwhelm you, so he locks that room up, praying that you never, ever find out about it.)

When you awake, you’ll find yourself changed into fresh, clean clothing (soft clothing, too, the kind that you could never afford), tucked into a bed in a room you don’t recognize. The futon is soft, the sheets warm and decorated with a pattern and color that you distinctly note is a favorite of yours. Your entire body hurts, wincing as you sit up.

It’s only then that the door slides open, a tuft of white hair greeting you as Sanemi clears his throat, wide eyes glancing at every visible part of your body. He’s rather curt when he explains where you are, glossing over the why and instead cryptically reiterating that you’re safe now, so drop it.

As a captor, Sanemi is surprisingly attentive – you’d known each other before your kidnapping, of course, though he’d always seemed like a rather hot-headed, difficult man.

And those mannerisms certainly don’t change when he’s got you trapped with him – except now you can see that there’s something deeper under the surface, something vulnerable and raw and real. You’ll see it in the way that he touches you like you’re made of glass – shying away and retracting his hands just moments before they touch your skin, acting almost as if the idea of touching you repulses him.

(God, nothing could be less true – he so desperately wishes to brush his fingertips against the smooth skin of your thighs, to cup your cheeks in his palms, to press his lips against yours – softly, slowly, as if he can’t quite believe that you’re real.)

You’ll see it in the way that he has every meal cooked and prepared for you, the Wind Estate quiet and empty except for the two of you. It’s always your favorite foods, cooked with every idiosyncrasy and taste of yours in mind, with a level and degree of accuracy that will terrify you at first.

And frankly, you will be terrified at first – he’s reluctant to admit his feelings to you, sure that if you were to know the truth of the situation you’d immediately reject him, and as stupid as it is Sanemi doesn’t think he could handle your rejection. It would break him, emotionally, physically, and mentally, leaving him a shell of a man and still just as desperately, pathetically in love with you if not more so.

But the reason you’ll be terrified isn’t because of his demeanor or the way you think he feels – rather, it will become obvious very quickly that Sanemi knows much more about you than you thought. You know you’ve never told him your preferred menstrual supplies, and yet the bathroom he’s assigned to you is stocked full of the exact model and heaviness you prefer.

(It’s your own bathroom, thankfully, though when you’re asleep sometimes Sanemi will sneak in, picking up your toothbrush and letting it sit against his lips, suckling at the bristles and rifling through your trash just to find a pad or two when he knows you’re menstruating. He’d rather slice off his own hand than admit it to you, of course, but just being in a space that you regularly use makes him feel special, connected to you in a way that makes his knees weak and the smallest, faintest of smiles cross his lips.)

You’re sure you’ve never mentioned what clothing size you wear, and yet there’s a slew of brand new, beautifully made kimonos and lounging wear perfectly tailored to your body, all in a range of colors and designs that are your favorites.

(There’s also a few in a lime green material and a single, pure white one, both of which were guilty pleasures that Sanemi felt compelled to include in his orders from the local seamstresses. And if you were to wear one, willingly, during a shared meal with him? Well, don’t comment on the pink color of his cheeks, nor the way he ever so slightly stutters when he tells you that you look nice.)

Frankly, he’s a pretty good captor to have – he gives you space, and forces himself to stay away from you for most of the day in an effort to not overwhelm you. At least, at the beginning. He tells himself it’s enough to know that you’re locked up in the Wind Estate, safe and sound and perfectly removed from the danger of the outside world, but his paranoia and yearning for your company eventually drive him to spend just a hair more time with you.

Instead of giving you privacy during meals, he’ll instead knock at your door, entering with his own plate and sitting down as far away from you as possible within the room, silently eating and trying not to make his staring too obvious.

(He mentally justifies it as making sure that you don’t choke on your food, but really it’s more about seeing you enjoy what he’s made for you and knowing that you’ve eaten today. Good. He'll sharply inhale, biting back a smile as he slowly eats his own food, trying to prolong the moment.)

He spoils you with all sorts of gifts and supplies for any hobbies you may have, and while he initially doesn’t interact with you as you knit or draw or read, eventually he’ll gather the courage to ask you a question, trying (and failing) to sound nonchalant as he asks what it is that you’re drawing, how to knit, or what your favorite book is.

It’s a slow but steady process, and as time passes and you grow more and more complacent with your situation, you’ll find yourself coming to enjoy the rough, oddly charming presence of Sanemi. Even if his stalking and feelings for you become an unspoken truth, his fondness for you difficult to ignore (with the way he treats you so gently, spoils you, and very poorly hides the way his cock springs to life each time you say his name).

And so really, Sanemi feels guilty enough for being in love with you, and even more guilty for forcing you into a life of complacency – the least you could do is compliment him, right? You could at least invite him to join you for meals and walks around the modest garden of his estate. You could at least intertwine your fingers with his and pretend to not notice the way he gasps, mumbling something incoherent that sounds vaguely like your name.

Really, it’s the least you could do – and with every action, Sanemi only falls for you harder, deeper, his resolve to keep you safe, happy and his only growing.

PUNISHMENTS:

While his obsession with you alters certain parts of his personality, some characteristics remain absolutely true regardless of his feelings for you. And unfortunately, one of them is his quick-trigger temper.

You calm him, the mere sound of your voice making the tension in his muscle relax, the clenching of his jaw lessening slightly, the tensing of his shoulders becoming less pronounced. The feeling of your hand pressing against his chest makes him freeze in place, the anger simmering in his gut becoming more diluted, the rage slowly leaving him because god, you’re standing right in front of him and he can see every fine detail of your face and he can smell you and god…

You have a physical effect on him that calms him ever so slightly, but he still finds himself remarkably susceptible to rage, even with you in his vicinity.

Of course, rarely ever is he actually mad at you – early into his infatuation he’d found himself constantly irritated and enraged at you, convinced that you’d somehow purposefully made him into the lovesick fool that he is, unable and unwilling to admit to himself that it’s entirely his own doing leading to his spiral into dependence on you. He’d even tried to hate you, consciously filling his head with lies and telling himself that you were weak, a burden, only something that would slow him down. And yet, the anger was never quite real, never quite honest.

(Never directed at you, really, but more directed at himself for being so weak as to form such strong, dependent feelings on you.)

And so, Sanemi’s anger more often than not revolves around someone else – often, someone around you. Men that get too close, friends that meddle when they notice that you have Sanemi as an unwanted admirer, your boss when they treat you poorly, even strangers that are even the slightest bit rude to you.

He’ll never go far enough as to injure another human to point of death, if only because he’s still guided by morals that yearn to save humans, but Sanemi is absolutely committed to making sure that you’re treated like the royalty that he perceives you as.

(Often, any men that feel bold enough to approach you, or god forbid touch you meet a bloody, painful altercation with the Hashira, unable to do anything but be pounded into a pulp as he swings and punches, leaving them a bloody semi-conscious mess on the ground, even spitting onto them as he mutters something about being a fuckin’ monster, assaulting women like it’s nothing…)

But all that said, there are a few very specific things that can get Sanemi angry at you, too. He can forgive you lashing out at him and calling him terrible names, even openly welcoming it sometimes because he knows it’s true.

He’s mostly worried when you attempt to escape rather than angry, terrified that you’ll somehow hurt yourself or be eaten by a demon if you manage to get through the patch of wisteria trees surrounding the perimeter of his estate. Instead, his main triggers are when you injure yourself, or when you say something negative or degrading about yourself.

He’s so paranoid about your safety and health that the mere idea of you injuring yourself gets him borderline panicking, his breathing getting heavier and his hands starting to tremble as panic engulfs him because he absolutely cannot lose you, too.

He’s always quick to reprimand you, yelling at you but dressing your wounds as gently as possible, treating you as if you’re made of glass and cleaning everything perfectly to prevent any further harm. But really, what truly angers Sanemi is when you display a lack of self-respect, though he’ll never explicitly punish you.

He loves you – so much so that it physically hurts, his chest aching when he’s away from you, every muscle growing restless and anxiety settling in his gut because he needs to see you right now. He’s a worshipper in every sense of the word, and to have you disrespecting yourself and talking down to yourself in any capacity is enough to get his blood boiling. It’s two-fold, really, because not only is it an assault on your character, but it’s an assault on his, too. It’s a remark against him for thinking of you so highly, for revering you and kissing the ground you walk on. It bruises his pride and makes him defensive of you, even if it’s you yourself making the remark.

And so, Sanemi tends to grow angry, unable to comprehend how you can possibly see yourself as something less-than when he’s so utterly enraptured with every fiber of your being.

Being trapped with him means long expanses of time where you’re alone, Sanemi out on a mission or pulled away begrudgingly, and as time passes this will slowly start to affect you.

Too much alone time equates to an awful lot of staring in the mirror, fingers prodding at the skin of your cheeks or arranging your hair this way or that, furrowing your brow and trying to understand exactly what it is about you that makes Sanemi so enthralled. You can’t put your finger on it – you’re just you, and while he’s never come right out and said it, you’re very aware that Sanemi finds you beautiful.

(You’ve overheard him, after all, late at night when he’s muffling his groans and the wet schlock schlock noise is audible even through the wall separating you. It’s difficult to not hear it, after all, when he’s moaning your name as he gets close, stuttered curses and little gasps of s-so beautiful, fuck and all sorts of other praises slipping out of him as his orgasm approaches.)

It’s too much time for you to be alone and overanalyze. And even now that you’ve been with him for well over a year, now that your whole world has become Sanemi Shinazugawa, it’s too easy to let the insecurities get the best of you.

And really, you shouldn’t have ever mentioned it – later that night, when Sanemi returns home from his latest mission, he can immediately tell that something is wrong. He closes and locks the multitude of locks on the front door, glancing at you with skepticism and worry, before placing his hands on your hips and pulling you close, leaving a single long kiss against your forehead as he asks you what’s wrong. Your small mumble of nothing doesn’t convince him, but Sanemi just pushes it aside, deciding to revisit the subject after you’ve both eaten.

Dinner is quiet, and it’s halfway through that he decides enough is enough.

What the hell’s the matter with you? He’s asking, setting down his chopsticks and staring pointedly at you.

You’re not too terribly afraid of your captor by this point, but the intensity of his stare still makes you fold in on yourself slightly, embarrassment and self-consciousness eating away at you. Sanemi continues the staring, unwilling to back down, eventually scoffing and telling you to just spit it out, I’ll wait as long as it takes.

And that you believe, enough to get you blurting out a quick I’m not good enough for you to be so in love with.

It’s slurred and difficult to understand even to your own ears, but it gets Sanemi’s face twisting up, a mixture of shock and confusion making his brows knit together and that familiar scowl sit on his lips.

What the fuck? It’s all he can ask, really, because this is so out of left field and unexpected that he genuinely has no clue how to respond.

At his pointed confusion and silence, you play with your thumbs, hunger totally gone as the words start falling out of you like some sort of nervous word vomit. It’s just that I don’t really get why you’re so – so fixated on me. I’m nothing special, and before you get angry at me just know that it’s okay and I’m not trying to get away I just –

Sanemi cuts you off by rising to his feet before you can even blink, a hand snapping out to wrap around your wrist. Before you know it you’re being dragged down a series of long hallways until you come face to face with a door you’ve never set foot passed – Sanemi’s personal, private room.

Normally, when the two of you share a bed (something that has only recently begun happening, after Sanemi gathered the courage and you’ve become so touch-starved that you welcomed his presence), you sleep in the room he's had made up for you, Sanemi allowing you to stay in the quasi-comfort of your ‘own’ room rather than force you into yet another unfamiliar situation.

But you hardly have any time to gawk at the room before he’s shoving you in front of his modest mirror, the reflection of yourself making you blink twice. He's angry – you can see his face in the mirror now, and his cheeks area bright red and a few veins are standing out against his neck, a sure sign that he’s livid and is only barely able to hold himself back from acting on it.

It makes you shrink slightly, though you’re confident at this point that he won’t hurt you, at least not purposefully.

Look at yourself, he tells you, voice strained. He’s standing behind you, gripping onto your shoulders and forcing you to face yourself in the mirror.

You do as you’re told, but it doesn’t seem to satisfy Sanemi.

He groans, resting his forehead against the slope of your shoulder. Look at yourself.

A pause, then: Please.

Swallowing, you search each and every feature of your familiar face. Your eyes, nose, lips, cheeks, eyebrows, jaw, anything and everything you can think of. After a few moments, Sanemi looks at you in the mirror again, his eyebrows furrowed tightly.

Do you really not see it? He asks, and you merely shake your head.

He bares his teeth. Dammit, how can you not? How can you be so fucking blind?

It’s harsh, his words making you wince slightly, but they’re loaded with something unlike his usual rage – there’s something sweeter to it, something that feels different and gets you meeting his gaze in the mirror. The look on his face is almost pleading, and you’re struck with the realization that he’s not angry, he’s frustrated. Genuinely frustrated that you don’t seem to understand just what he sees in you.

Slowly, you bring your fingers up to your cheeks, fingertips pressing against the soft skin. Sanemi watches you with bated breath, his grip on you still tight.

Compliment yourself, he instructs, the words sounding strained. You blink at him, swallowing heavily.

You mutter out a small comment of how your eyes aren’t too terrible, and Sanemi groans at that. His hand moves from your shoulder to your chin, pinching at it and bringing you closer to the mirror. Give yourself a real compliment, or I’ll stand here all fucking day until you do.

You tell him that you have pretty eyes, and it seems to please him. He nods, almost subconsciously, keeping his grip on your chin. Damn right you do. Pretty eyes and a pretty smile. Tell me more.

He keeps you in this position for nearly an hour, forcing you to list off each and every possible compliment about your looks and personality that you can think, his gaze never wavering in intensity or sincerity as he grunts and nods at each and every one.

It’s only as your jaw starts to ache and you start to grow restless that Sanemi eventually lets go, turning you gently to face him. A finger lightly traces over the shape of your lips as he exhales, the softness of his actions and the moment making you feel light.

Don’t undersell yourself. His voice is firm, his lips set in a thin line. You’re perfect, and you need to accept that.

He covers your mouth with his hand as you part your lips to respond, shaking his head. No, none of that shit. We’re doing this every day until you decide that you’re good enough for me – until you prove to me that you respect yourself the way you should. New compliments every day, and I don’t care how hard it is for you. When you run out, I’ll step in, but you’re elaborating on everything I say. Got it?

You nod, a strange sort of tenderness welling up inside of you that only makes tears prick at the corner of your eyes because oh god, how wrong is this? Your captor, the man who stole you away and keeps you trapped inside his him, is complimenting you and it’s making you feel more loved and wanted and appreciated than you’ve felt in your whole life. There’s just something so sincere about his push for you to understand just how wonderful he thinks you are that makes your lower lip wobble, the way he’s actually genuinely enraged by your insecurities and the absurdness of them making your nose tingle.

It's sweet, something your captor really shouldn’t be, and as tears slip down your cheeks Sanemi awkwardly presses you against his chest, silent as his grip grows progressively tighter. He’s no stranger to insecurity, and as he drags you to the mirror the next day and the next after that, you’ll slowly find yourself believing him when he says that you’re kind, that you’re beautiful, that he wants you more than he’s ever wanted anything else in his life.

It's strange and you may hate yourself for it, but as the days pass you’ll find yourself growing more and more fond of Sanemi, his commitment to improving your self-esteem feeling like the more intimate thing anyone has every done for you, and slowly you’ll find yourself seeing him in more and more of a romantic light. Sure, he’s stolen you away and stalked you extensively, but when he holds you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear and calls you beautiful in a voice so raw that it cracks, how can you not fall for him? Maybe you’re sick in the head, depraved, any number of terrible things, but with each compliment he forces from your lips, you’ll find yourself caring less.

He just really, really loves you, doesn’t he?

OVERALL DANGER:

4/10

By and large, Sanemi is akin to a large, possessive guard dog. The mere thought of hurting you makes him sick to his stomach, and he’ll go to any possible length to ensure your health and safety.

(He’s had literal nightmares about leaving you bloody and bruised, and he’s actually woken up and immediately hurled, breathing hard and nearly in tears because it felt so real and it’s almost like your blood is actually on his hands.)

He’s paranoid, terrified that you’ll somehow be killed and stolen away from him, your presence the only thing that seems to calm him, growing to become the only thing that motivates him to wake up every morning.

He’s overprotective, letting his fear for your safety bleed into every aspect of his relationship with you – he’s following you around like a lovesick puppy, constantly vigilant for threats to your safety. He’s obsessively tracking your meals, fussing over making sure that you’re getting balanced, nutritious foods, constantly asking you if you’ve drunk water on any particular day.

And he’s possessive – refusing to allow you to interact with most men, skeptical of your friends, entirely untrusting of each and every person in your life. He won’t try to manipulate you into isolating yourself, but Sanemi really, really wants to, only holding back for the sake of your mental wellbeing. And really, that’s a large factor in Sanemi’s behavior towards you – he loves you, or at least in his own deranged, too-intense way, and he’s willing to kill himself physically and emotionally just to make sure that you never frown, that you’re never sad or angry or afraid.

His first priority is you, always, and it’s only after that that he considers getting you to love him back. It’s of course the goal – he wants you so badly that you have no fucking clue, because how could you? How could you possibly understand just how deeply his dependence on you has become, just how intertwined a mere scrap of your attention becomes for his self-confidence, his happiness, his sanity in his day-to-day life?

He’s well and truly whipped for you, his every waking thought revolving around you, but you’ll that your life will be relatively good with him. He’ll treat you like a queen, spoiling you and doing everything in his power to keep you happy, and can you really hate it as much as you claim to?

Can you really, honestly say that Sanemi is a monster when he keeps you well cared for and respects you despite the way you know he wants to ravage you and keep you all for himself?

Can you honestly say that you don’t want him just as badly, that you’ve become so accustomed to him that you’re well and truly his?

Sanemi sure hopes not, and as time passes, you’ll slowly give into the small, desperately and pathetically hopeful looks of his, reaching out to touch him when he’s too hesitant to initiate, even whispering those lovely, sacred three little words. And once you do, he’ll only work harder to adore you, only falling deeper and deeper into obsession with every passing day.

With every passing second, really.

#yandere kny #yandere kimetsu no yaiba #yandere demon slayer #yandere ds #yandere sanemi #yandere sanemi shinazugawa #_kny #_lee's profiles #_sanemi shinazugawa #sanemi shinazugawa x reader #kny x reader

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nanaluvssevi · 3 months ago

Text

MEN AND MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

University Professor Sevika x Fem reader. ₊⟡.⋆☕ ᝰ.ᐟ

Hi! this is the main story of this au. You can find the masterlist here! This story would continue, in the form of drabbles, short stories and headcanons.

I worked really hard in this so I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did writing it!!.

Kind of slow burn, but not really, they just take their time. No yearning or doubting

TW: Suggestive talk, talking about nudity, cursing, a little bit of angst, not too much tho, family issues, drug addiction, consumption of alcohol and weed, shotgunning, suggestive talk again, nudity, making out, they have sex. Fingering and Cunnilingus !reader receiving. Groping. Humping.

Also feet?? LOL. nothing sexual or suggestive but just fyi.

WC: 15.2K

Professor!Sevika, who could teach about every subject but wouldn't she just be so good at social studies and political science?.

Professor!Sevika, who was known for her sassy tone and remarks to make the lectures manageables but also for her impressive knowledge about what she teached.

Professor!Sevika, who didn’t tolerate any type of disrespect in her class, and when someone dared to disrespect her she would be the roughest and meanest professor in the whole building.

Professor!Sevika, who noticed you on the first day of the new semester, she didn’t know why at the moment but you just stood out from the rest.

Professor!Sevika, who despite her relatively young age for a professor she had forged a great and known career path. She had started teaching as soon as she could, and you could notice that in her expertise. Someone who had collected degrees like they were easy to get, expanding her knowledge every time she could. Knowledge and expertise you could notice only by looking at the way she moved around the lecture hall, how her low, deep and raspy voice for too many cigarettes captured the attention of every person who put a foot in her class. With the days you started noticing that special glimpse of pride that made her grey eyes sparkle when she got elbow deep on the class topic of that day.

Professor!Sevika, who doesn’t talk much about her but more about what she knows. Who is excited to help the moment she sees your name as the remittent of an email asking for papers or articles to read about the matter she talked about in that day's class.

Professor!Sevika, who always dressed similarly, a button up in darker colors, sometimes in a deep red or an eggplant color when she got tired of the most neutral ones, that usually got tighter around her bust and arms, with the first two buttons always loose and the sleeves usually rolled to mid forearm letting you see part of her tattooed right arm and the black color of her prosthetic left arm. Her eyes are always half covered with her glasses that rested in that beautiful nose. You never saw her haircut change; it was always in that sharp cut that went from short in the nape of her neck, leaving a beautiful undercut behind, to longer closer to her cheeks. Her slacks were always black or dark gray. Combat boots were her staple and even if she owned different pairs the dark purple shoelaces were present in each of them.

Professor!Sevika, who always was capable of keeping you hooked at her words, at the side smirk that covered her plump and dark colored lips while talking. How could you not put all of your attention to what she was talking about? There was an inexplicable energy that she radiated that made you want to wrap yourself around her and listen to her talk about anything for hours without an obvious end.

Professor!Sevika, who got used to paying attention to you, you intrigued her to an enigmatic level. Firstly, you weren’t close in age to the rest of her students. It wasn’t hard for her to notice your experience when reading your work, watching the way you took notes, and the attention to detail in every essay you sent. It made sense that you excelled in her course.

Secondly you weren’t hard to miss, at least in her eyes, without fail you were 5 minutes earlier than the rest, with the same coffee cup every time, consistently dressing in just a style that screamed ‘you’.

And lastly because of the amount of attention you put on everything she says, sevika was used to capture everyone's attention but yours just felt… different.

₊⟡.

Professor!Sevika, who was the strictest professor you had encountered in university. It wasn’t hard to imagine how hard she could be as an outsider, after all what she wanted was the best for her students, she wanted to make them excel, she was not going to permit unfit people to pass her course.

For the same reason professor!Sevika normally wasn’t kind to the idea of befriending or being close to her students. A self imposed rule of just keeping all of her relationship with students strictly professional. She knew people would tend to get close to her with the idea that being friendly would make them gain something from her, a few points here and there, or any type of advantage… She would just laugh inside at seeing the poor job some students did at the end of a semester to try and get anything she was noble enough to give them (she wasn’t noble at all, at least not with those who didn’t put in the work. After all her heart wasn’t made of stone as you could imagine, she would help the people she knew did their part during the school year.)

But… there could always be an exception, right?

₊⟡.

Professor!Sevika, who didn’t want to be surprised when you approached her before class started, but she was anyway. You were earlier than ever before, your hands occupied and your voice sounded as soft as always with a hint of something she couldn’t decipher in that moment. She never had the chance to hear you talking only to her, she was accostumbrated to listening to you talk with your classmates or when you always so cleverly answered a question in class, but directly and only to her? never had the chance to hear more than a few words, until today. Maybe what has been stopping you was her gaze, that gaze that seemed to be the only one that could make your knees tremble, and it wasn’t because you weren’t confident, you were, but it was sevika after all. The only times you directed your voice to her and her only was just as you entered her sacred place of teaching, a small cordial greeting when you entered the class and a soft nod accompanied by a “goodbye” after classes ended. A small paper bag was gripped by your perfectly manicured nails and a drink carrier that sported two cups that rested in your open hand when you entered the hall this late afternoon.

She didn’t know how you got stuck with this class schedule that was normally the least desired one, after all… who wanted to take a lecture on a friday at 4pm?, but today she was pleased with it. This class normally has the least amount of students so it tends to be more relaxed, although at the same time this is the one where the tiredness that she accumulated during the week usually gets to her.

A surprised look appeared on her face when she saw you, with a small rise of her eyebrow. She was willing to be the one who started a conversation, until you got ahead of her.

“Good afternoon, professor” The words left your lips slenderly while a soft and shy smile appeared on your lips. This might be the first time she heard your voice clearly with no other sound to interfere, now that she had heard it loud and clear she found it enticing, a sudden spark of curiosity arose in her. Only a greeting wasn’t good enough, she wanted to hear you talk more.

“Good afternoon,” your name left her lips like it was covered by slick honey. “you are earlier today” Her usual smirk now plastered on her lips. Her thin metal frame glasses were lower on her gorgeous nose than usual, letting her eyes peek from the top of them. A soft blush appeared on your cheeks, she said ‘earlier’ which only could mean she had noticed that you were here before your usual time.

“Oh! Well… I was on my usual coffee run, it’s been a rough week for all so i thought it would be kind to bring one for you. I hope this isn’t an overstep.” She didn’t know where you kept all of these words before, but she wasn’t going to complain about it. This sudden rush of confidence from your side and the detail of thinking of her made a smile appear on her lips, suddenly her tooth gap was on display only for you to see.

“It isn’t an overstep, don’t sweat about it. And thank you for this, I was almost on my way to grab a cup from those vending machines.” A short chuckle left your lips. Sevika was never used to kindness, at the end of the day her background wasn’t colourful. Everything she had made of herself was thanks to her effort, unthinkable hours spent on working and studying at the same time, sleeping when and where she could, having to endure men thinking and telling her she would always be ‘a no one’. She was used to always thinking the worst, especially coming from students, and although this time it felt different the little voice in her head told her to not let her guard down. While her mind was quickly filled with information you occupied yourself taking the cup from the holder with only one free hand. She thought about what could have driven you to do this; you didn’t need extra points on your assignments, your work was basically perfect, you weren’t failing for the same reason, so then why?.

“But those suck!” You quickly interrupted her train of thought. She blinked slowly, focusing on you. “I didn’t know what you would like so I chose just a latte, I also asked for sugar and sweetener in case you preferred that”. You said as you put everything you just mentioned in front of her.

“They indeed suck. And I don't really mind the way the coffee is made. Coffee, it's coffee after all.” Confused was how she was feeling, she couldn’t really understand it, again why?. Before she could stop herself she asked “Can I ask you a question?”

“You already did” a soft laugh escaped your lips. Ah! now you’re toying with her, her own smile grew a little bit more making her gaze look gentler. “but yes, of course”

“Why?” Now you were the one surprised.

“Why?” This time you were the one asking the question.

“Yes, why?” A look of confusion appeared on your face.

“The coffee?” A small nod came from her side, a hot tingling sensation took over you, you could feel it on your naked shoulders and the back of your neck. You could feel it in your face too, probably a soft blush appeared on these areas as you stumbled with your words, she still made you nervous after all. You were grateful that you weren’t that young anymore, if you were still in your early twenties your hands would sweat and your whole body would start to tremble. After a soft sigh left you, you answered. “I don’t think there is just a specific ‘why’, you are probably my favorite professor and your lectures always leave me with this sensation of wanting to know more. I thought making a move to be closer would be great, after all I am really interested in what you teach and would love to have someone to talk about all of this and who is better for that than an academic that teaches about it.”

Her gaze softened the more you talked, her left mechanical hand held the cardboard cup close to her mouth to take a sip. After she was confident that you were done talking it was her turn. After she cleared her throat she talked in her characteristic deep voice. “That’s fine by me, after all I'm the one who reads what you write. You are different from the rest of the people in this course, I can notice your actual interest in everything I teach.”

She had also noticed your slim fingers taking notes, and the smile that appeared on your face when you where learning something new, she also notice the furrow on your brows when you were focused, and the way you bit the corner of your lips at the same time, but she wasn’t going to tell you that, it was dangerous, at least for now. What was that about a rule?.

₊⟡.⋆☕ ᝰ.ᐟ

It never felt easier for sevika to get comfortable with someone, after a few minutes talking the hour of the actual class was about to start. You went to your usual seat, third row and in the exact center of the room, in her eyes you were glowing like a beautiful firefly in the middle of a forest of faces that blended in one dark mass. Before the class started she directed a smile just for you.

You have classes with her two times a week, Fridays and Wednesdays. A weekend and two days separating the times she would be able to see your face. Days that for some reason never felt longer to Sevika, you have grown like a vine around her thoughts.

She wasn’t dumb in the slightest, she started noticing how she felt about you on a sunday morning while her usual coffee started pouring in a cup, she was preparing her big girl to go on a run. Jaan, her blue merle australian shepherd, her little baby, the only animal that saw her softest side. When the black coffee was ready the smell brought her back to last Friday, to that softest smile and the smallest portion of shyness that had escaped from your lips while you talked. She noticed the smile that adorned her face in the reflection of the microwave door. After just a shrug of her shoulders and a sip of the piping hot cup she went with her day. She wasn’t a child anymore and neither were you, so, why would it be a problem to have a little crush?.

Yeah… it wasn’t just a little crush. Every single time she smelled a coffee she was transported to that day, every single time remembering something different about that few minutes you talked… and about the duration of the lecture and how you looked while listening to her talk… and at that disgustingly sweet smirk that you gifted her before waving goodbye. And it was going to begin being a problem if she didn’t do anything about it.

Sevika was never someone to wait for things to happen, if she needed to take the initiative she would do it, and this time it would not be different. When Wednesday rolled around you appeared in the class ten minutes before it started. A white top with a square neckline that did a really bad job at covering your chest while a black flowy skirt that would be touching the ground if you weren’t using platform shoes covered your legs. While you walked closer to her, a small slit made its presence, the slit going up the right side of your leg until mid thigh, the sight of your soft skin made her swallow hard. Before she could keep on detailing every part of you she heard your voice snapping her back to reality. “Good morning professor!” Oh she was one hundred percent going to lose her mind if you kept smiling like that.

“Good morni-” she got interrupted when a soft combination of chuckles erupted from your throat, one of her eyebrows went up with curiosity while she saw how you covered your mouth to try to stop them from coming up. “Something happened?” Genuinely preoccupation started seeping from her. You started shaking your head ‘no’ while signaling her chest.

“You… Your overshirt, you put it inside out.” The blood drained from her face quicker than ever before. She looked at her arms, noticing that the seams were showing up.

Trying to feel less awkward now was her time to chuckle, her left hand going to the right cuff to start pulling from it. She started talking while completing the work of taking the overshirt off so she could put it on correctly. “At least it was the overshirt and not the actual shirt. I don’t think it would be a good idea to undress in front of someone before a first date” Your eyes were fixed on the flex of the muscles on her right arm that looked like if she forced them a little more the shirt would rip in half while trying really hard to focus on the words that leave her lips.

“Well, you are still undressing in front of me before a first date, sadly not completely.” you crossed your arms under your chest making your breast more pronounced, her eyes this time stopped there for less than a second, but you noticed, your smirk growing every passing second.

“We should change that, don’t you think?” She copied your actions, both can play the same game, she thought. Your throat felt dry for a moment, with your eyes fixating on her biceps. Oh how good would her arms both flesh and metal feel around your waist, and her tall and broad figure towering you from behind. FOCUS!

After a few seconds you talked. “Are you inviting me to a date professor?” with a faked severe expression you looked at her. Your eyes attempting to send daggers to the stormy ones that were looking at you.

“I was talking about undressing completely actually, but a date sounds like a better first step.” Laughter erupted from both of you at the same time, she watched in awe as you tilted back giving space to your lungs to breathe so you wouldn’t choke. In her eyes you looked ethereal, like a nymph. With your hair cascading behind you and hands resting on your stomach for a little bit. She noticed in that second again that she was too deep, she was into you and it felt good to think about it. After you relaxed yourself your eyes sparkling with the wetness of tears that formed from the force of your laughing and a big smile covering your face you talked.

“I'm free for the rest of the day after this class and on the weekends, professor.”

“Today works perfectly, and please, call me Sevika.”

₊⟡.⋆☕ ᝰ.ᐟ

The weeks went by quickly, every wednesday like clock work after class you two walked together to some place close to campus to eat something, sometimes it was your favorite café when she made you know that her favorite type of coffee was just plain black coffee. Every so often you eat at that pizza place that looked like just a door from the outside but once inside you felt in another country where you talked about the love you had for any type of bread. Sometimes one of the two made something to share and went to a nearby park to eat sitting on a bench under a gazebo observing the people walking while conversations just flew by.

You talked a lot, not only in person. You had also interchanged numbers, normally talking by messages but sometimes a call would happen in the middle of the week, the days passing without her voice felt like a torture for you. Even if you enjoyed her voice in a cell phone you would always prefer those conversations face to face more. You learned more things about her in those, like that time you noticed she was only a softie, even if she didn’t accept she was, you saw it in her eyes while she showed you pictures next to Jaan, also when she also explained her name ‘soul’ and ‘life’ were the most usual connotations for it, but it was also ‘darling’. She explained to you how her grandparents came from india and that she felt the necessity of connecting to her roots, also told you about her favorite food, which to no one surprise was a indian dish her mother made when she was a child ‘Rogan josh’ she grew up with the one that wasn’t spicy but now that aspect was the one she enjoyed the most today apart from the tender lamb meat.

You also made a habit of getting half an hour earlier to class every Friday with her favorite coffee, an unsweetened black coffee, and your usual, a deep long macchiato, and an assortment of different types of pastries each week. You two made a bet, she told you that you couldn’t guess her favorite dessert after you said she was a basic woman for sticking to just plain coffee, until this moment you have failed; donuts, cupcakes, typical desserts, brownies, cookies, croissants, cakes, lemon pie, pound cake, tiramisu, every each of them was just not it. The bet was that she was going to buy for you whatever you asked (under a price limit of course), and you were a woman on a mission.

One day you saw at the bakery a beautiful bunch of just cream puffs covered with a dark chocolate, you only picked those that day, your bank account could not support you paying for 5 different desserts each friday. When you made it to the classroom with a smile on your face she was focusing on organizing something that looked like sheets of paper.

“Are those last week's tests?” You said dropping the bag softly in front of her while walking to peek from behind her.

“FUCK!” She did a small jump on her seat for the surprise before reincorporating looking at you. “why are you so silent when you enter, you scared me to death”

“Uhhh professor I don’t think it’s very professional for you to curse in the classroom.” That was probably the best trait from you in her eyes. You weren’t scared to play with her. In your eyes she wasn’t this strict monster that noticed every detail and graded accordingly, she was just another pair.

“Oh shush, yes they are, you got a 98%. What did you bring this time?” She said opening the bag while she received the cup you were handing to her.

“It’s a surprise, something basic for a basic woman.” You watched from your seat a few feet away from her as she rolled her eyes taking the red box from the paper bag, opening without much care put into it. Her eyes that before denoted false annoyance were known bright while a grin grew on her face.

“What was that thing you wanted?” Now you were on your feet with your arms raised above your head with a smile that shined proudly.

“We can discuss that lately, Sevi.” You receive an eyebrow raised while she takes a bite of one of the pastries and offers one to you.

“Sevi?” she asked, her forehead relaxing and her face looking softest as ever.

“It’s that alright?” a delicate pink covered your cheeks while taking the pastry to your mouth.

“Yes, it is… smarty pants.” Laughter arises from her while watching your face contorn on exasperation.

“Oh my god, you have to be kidding me.”

“I am indeed kidding you. What should I call you then?”

“I don’t know, you have full autonomy, just anything that isn’t smarty pants.” Another bite was made to the sweet dessert that was picked between your fingers, a little of the crem from the inside smearing in the corner of your lips. The world seems to stop when you feel her calloused hand grip your chin softly when her thumb cleaned up said cream carefully. Your cheeks tinted red watching how she took the finger to her plump lips, liking it clean.

“I think I like sugar, is it fine… sugar?” She tested it on her tongue with a grin as watching you crumble a little bit, for surprise, for confusion, for excitement, for appreciation, for shyness.

“It is fine.” When your smile accompanied hers everything felt right. She didn’t need to know you were going to scream on your pillow when you made it to your apartment and run in circles in the living room. You were just keeping your calm right now. You were going to act like the look in her eyes didn’t affect you in the slightest, like you didn’t feel your knees trembling when you heard the nickname with her gruff voice that you had grown accustomed to listening to on a daily basis. Like your heart isn't beating with all of its force in your chest. Like you weren’t falling in love with her each passing second you spent next to her.

“And just so you know, the same with black coffee, they may look simple but to perfect them you need to master the recipe.”

₊⟡.⋆☕ ᝰ.ᐟ

One day talking on a voice call you let slip that you wanted to start moving more, just to help your muscles take a little shape. She almost instantly asked if you wanted to accompany her and Jaan on their sunday runs, in an act of foolishment from your side you accepted.

So that’s why you are here, in the slight heat that spring brought. Dressed with some running shorts, the comfiest shoes you could find and a fitted long sleeve shirt with a zipper that runs in the middle of it. Sevika was helping you stretch correctly while Jaan waited expectantly watching every movement her momma did.

“Just because you’re new here we are going to go slower, but Jaan gets anxious and would want to run at some point. So we are going to stay close to the park so I can let her roam free when she gets bored of us.” She stretched her back lifting both of her arms over her head leaving in sight a little of the skin on her waist with a patch of dark hair that went from her navel down and disappeared on the inside of her shorts.

“Does she run much?” You tied your hair carefully to not let your ponytail neither too tight nor too loose.

“You are going to see yourself, don’t worry.” She took the strap attached to the collar of her dog before signaling with her head to start walking.

₊⟡.⋆

She was trying to kill you, you didn’t have any doubt of it. First she looked extremely hot in this moment: sweating with her back damp from said fluids, the muscles on her legs looking like she was an ancient Greek statue by how sculpted they looked.

And secondly and probably worst: acting like this was just light work while you struggled to keep her pace.

“THIS ISN’T SLOW, YOU LIED.” You barely screamed at her while you stopped in your tracks flexing your lower body and putting your hands on your knees trying to catch those breaths that you felt like were escaping away from you every second you runned next to her. The first twenty minutes weren’t hard, it was enjoyable until she started incrementing the pace and you started to fall behind.

A few seconds passed between your stop and a comforting hand roaming up and down on your back and a softly cooing that accompanied it. “You should have told me to go slower, sugar. Sorry, I didn’t notice you were struggling.” You straightened yourself letting her hand rest on the small of your back, a smile plastered on your lips for the feeling of warmth on your body.

Although you have grown closer day by day it was hard to get her to touch you, at least in more intimate areas. And your insides were screaming for her touch. To be able to sense the feeling of her hands on your body. The feeling of skin on skin. To be able to take her hand in yours, to observe the scars in her human one and the details on her prosthetic.

Neither of you have brought up the talk about your evident flourishing relationship, you two knew you weren’t just friends but felt scared to bring the subject even though it was obvious that you both wanted the same.

“I’m okay now. I also didn't want to make Jaan stop, she looked happy.” After you said her name you started looking for the dog watching her run across the field in front of you with her mouth open and her tongue sticking out. Carefully and without thinking about it you leaned into Sevika’s touch, making her hand move slowly to your hips sitting there comfortably, no one said anything about it. You two just stayed there and enjoyed the feeling of just staying close for a little while.

“I brought some fruit and snacks, should we go look for them?.” Your voice came out dovelike while your eyes went to focus on her face this time, a small ‘hmm’ left her lips while her eyes stayed focused on the dog.

“Yeah, but let’s just…” Her grey eyes, light like the smoke coming from an ongoing fire and glowing like a pair of diamonds, went to meet yours in an instant with her velvety and husky voice she continued. “stay a little longer.”

“Let’s go, we can walk like this, and I also brought a picnic blanket.” a small chuck left your lips when immediately after you were done talking her eyes narrowed, her characteristic smirk coming to her lips followed by a strong and loud whistle that made Jaan come back to you two in a few seconds.

“Did you say something about a Picnic blanket?”

“I did, indeed.”

₊⟡.⋆

The food was already eaten, the dog laid with her back on the grass while Sevika herself rested her head on your bare thighs, one of your hands tangled in her short hair while the other worked as a support for your weight. You three rested under the shadow of a big maple tree enjoying the chirping of the birds, the gasp of the wind, but most importantly the closeness. The calm went interrupted when Sevika's phone started ringing, a confused look appeared on her face while taking the device from her crossbody bag, a smile appearing on her lips immediately, one different from whatever smile you have seen from her before. She picked up the call quickly.

“Hi sweetie” your hand stopped moving instantly after hearing the nickname. Why is she referring to this someone with such a lovely name? Did she have a girlfriend she forgot to mention?, you didn’t even ask if you remember correctly, after all who would be flirting and going on biweekly dates if they were in a relationship, you at least wouldn’t. “Could you pass the phone? Thank you.” Was there more than one person on the other side? A crawling feeling went up on your spine, the trickling sensation making you stiffen up. “Hi. No, I’m not home right now… Yes, Jaan it’s with me… Who else?” Her eyes went to your face, you can’t imagine what was your expression right now. You surely were trying really hard to appear normal, to don’t show on your face the sensation of pressure that grew on your neck and the weight that had found place inside your chest that was making it so fucking hard to breathe.

Your hand slowly withdrew from her hair without looking at her face trying to focus on something you could see, hear or smell. You wanted to escape, to go running but as far from her as you could, you wanted to scream and cry in the loneliness of your own space without some of the most beautiful eyes you ever seen watching you. But the space you created didn’t last much longer, she changed her phone to her left hand while her right went to catch yours to keep it in between her fingers squeezing softly as a way of reassurance. “I’m with a… friend, yes Jinx a friend. No she isn’t going to steal from us don’t worry. Yes, she is pretty. No… maybe, I can’t answer that right now. Yes, tell Isha I will be there in a couple of hours. Buy some pizza if you want, save me a few slices.”

Confused was short to describe how you were feeling right now. Your mind felt hazy, you didn’t notice in the moment the call had ended or the gruff she left out while sitting normally.

“Sugar?.” You heard her voice and your eyes flew directly to her face, your hand still trapped in hers.

Before talking you cleared your throat. “Can I ask who it was?.” A nod came from her side at the same time she reincorporated. A specific expression crossed her face, it was easily recognizable it was the one she made while preparing to start lecturing. She was organizing her way to dive in the conversation.

“Will you listen and not interrupt?” You let out a doubting nod while still focusing on her. “Alright, it’s a long story, before everything, I’m sorry for not telling you before” Oh that’s it, you are breaking up before even being something. Like she could read your mind she kept on talking. “I’m not in a relationship. I will not be flirting with someone if I was taken. Loyalty it’s the bare minimum for me.” She took a break passing one of her hands through her hair. “I was the godmother of this kid, Jinx, when her father died I was the only person available to take care of her. Her older sister was… not available at that moment. I took care of her from when she was 11 until today. She is 21 now. She is not living with me anymore, at least not full time.” Her eyes focused on the look of your hands between hers.

“When she was 16 I was going back to the apartment when a little child started following me. I was completely alone on the street, no one around us. She had the softest smile of all the world, and the cutest gap tooth you could imagine. With all the heaviness of my heart I took her to a police station. Isha is her name, and she was an orphan. They tried to take her away, but I don't trust those assholes and I also couldn’t leave her with them and let her go into an orphanage. Jinx's sister it’s called Vi, it took a long time for me to grow kind to her. Her girlfriend was a student of Social Work and she was also at Law School at the time. She also comes from this big rich family. After a few calls I was taking her as a foster child. I was already able to take on foster kids, for all of what happened with Jinx.”

She took a break to look at you, she was expecting you to go up and run away with a quick ‘Sorry, I can��t make this.’, after all you were still younger than her and probably would probably prefer to be with someone who didn’t already have two children. She wasn’t expecting you to have the most understanding eyes and a comforting smile plastered on your face, no pity, just pure sympathy and understandment. So she continued. “She was almost four years old at the moment, no one knows how or why she was on the streets alone that day, but I'm glad I was the one that she decided to follow. She is now nine, she doesn’t like to talk much, she has selective mutism, only talks when she is really happy and when you answer a call, she finds joy when you say ‘Hi’ to her on the phone.”

You don’t know at what moment your whole body relaxed and both of your hands were on hers admiring her profusely with a grin on your face. You also don’t know what possessed you in that second to say what you said. “Can I kiss you?.” The pure shock on Sevika’s face lasted less than a second before both of her hands were on the side of your face pulling you in a kiss. It was all you could wish from a first kiss with her, the movement of her plump lips on yours made you gasped, your hands resting on her thighs while you rearranged your position to till yourself closer to her, the softness of her touch made you feel hazy, the warm of her lips and the daintiness of her touch make you feel like you could crumble at any second on her hands. Your brain went quiet the second her lips touched yours all preoccupation you had before had already dissipated in the air. The soft scent that was so her covering all of your senses, woody tones that mixed wonderfully with a rich jasmine and a little touch of what you read as pomegranate. After what felt like just measly seconds but probably were a few minutes you two let go of each other, one of her hands lingered on your face while the other stayed put on your waist, and yours remained on her shoulders, you didn’t even remember how they made it there. Soft giggles escaped both of your lips almost in unison.

“You are so beautiful.” Her thumb brushed your cheek with care while you closed your eyes and tilted your head to feel her closer.

“I can say the same thing about you.” humming came from her side before her lips left a chaste kiss on your forehead. “I don’t think today it’s the moment because it’s a lot of information to explain, but I understand you. My two younger sisters are like my own children. I think all of this just makes me fall even deeper for you.

“Are you falling for me? It isn’t so professional of me to let a student fall for me, sweetheart.” Your eyes opened again with an inquiring look on your face, meeting a mischievous smile on her face that made you roll your eyes.

“You exasperate me, you know that?.”

“Oh I know, but now I also know you are falling for me while I already fell for you.” An affectionate grin came from you this time while you closed the distance between the two of you once again.

₊⟡.⋆☕ ᝰ.ᐟ

You were officially dating now. It came up naturally during lunch together at her house, the conversation went so easy that you almost got undressed in front of her of how hot she sounded. There isn’t a label yet, but everything has worked beautifully.

Although you were dating your actual professor in class she would still treat you like what you were in that second: her student. She still graded you like each one of her students, your tests weren’t easier just because you two spent hours making out on your couch, or because you have spent a few nights just sleeping over at her place. In class you answered the question as always, and did your research how you would before dating her. And it felt nice, it felt nice to have someone you could count on, someone to kiss, to spend time with, but also to care for someone that was such a good teacher, to see her do what she loved and appreciate every constructive critic to your work, because being with her felt like she was making you a better person.

And she felt the same. She felt safe around you, she started to understand herself more being by your side. She understood she was able to give love and to receive it, she was able to be given kindness, and softness. She learned that she could talk about her little family, and that it shouldn’t be a turn off or a reason to stop caring about her. She would say that with you it went the other way around, you were interested in how good Jinx did in her last project in Art School, or how Isha was doing in her first year at elementary, if Jaan paw had healed correctly or when her next vet appointment was. But she also had a great student, someone who was always willing to learn more and to investigate even more of what she taught you. Someone to talk to for hours about this new perspective, or someone to consult when she didn’t know how to get a point across. You too were making her a better person.

Today you were at our usual Friday lecture, you two shared some sweets before class and you were still sipping in your coffee when all of your attention was on her. She was given away the last arrangements and fixes to be made on next week's paper, when she got to your seat she talked.

“Here is yours, I just put the grade on it. There aren't any arrangements to be made. You still can make changes and send it my way before the deadline and I would grade those accordingly.” You took the paper gracefully with a smile on your face. Before you could answer her a grumble was heard from a few seats back, an inquiring look was painted on her face, her usual eyebrow raised, her sharp eyes looking at the person where this sound came from.

“I’m sorry, is there anything any of you want to complain about how I manage MY class?.” Her arms crossed in her chest when her face transformed in that robust expression that could make the legs of every person in this room crumble. Yours didn’t crumble, they just got a little wet.

“We all know you two are fucking, of course she is going to get a 100% in everything.” An audible gasp came from your mouth and apparently from everyone else in the class. You were starting to stand up when she signaled with her hand that she was the one who was going to talk. ‘Hot’ you thought while sitting back down again, rage either way sipping through your pores.

“First of all, whatever goes between her and I in our private lives it’s none of your business.” She was never known as someone with a big patience and even less if it was directed to a man. The steps got louder by the second until she was standing in front of him. “Secondly, I don’t let whatever happens in my private life numb my thoughts and my knowledge, and for that same reason it doesn’t change the way I grade.” Her human hand now was in front of his face with her index and middle finger extended to be pointing at his chest. “But you know what does? disrespect. So I hope you know that you fucked your way out of this course, if you want to pass it you would have to give 200% extra of what your pairs are doing. And that I would be the strictest I have ever been in my more than 15 years of career, so you better toughen up little boy.” The furrow of her brows accentuating the harshness of her eyes. You were pretty sure that if looks could kill you he would be 10 feet under the soil. “Now get out of here for today your class it’s over, and I hope that you ask for forgiveness from your colleague before you step foot inside of my class again.” The guy who probably was less than 25 now looked like a child, trembling and pure fear plastered on his face. He also appeared to have lost every single drop of blood from his face, looking as pale as a ghost. He stumbled while taking his stuff and almost fell running outside of the room.

After he was out she talked. “Everyone can go home, today class is over. You all will get an email with today's topic and content to visit it on the time we would have been in here. To those who didn’t get their paper, you will receive the corrections between today and saturday in another mail, and the amount of time it takes for these corrections to get to you will be added to the deadline so it is fair for all. Hope you all have a great day and a great weekend.” In a matter of minutes every person in the class picked their stuff up and started getting out of the class, except you.

When the only people occupying the space were you two she walked to where you were still sitting. “Everything okay? Did whatever that asshole said affect you?. Promise to Janna I wanted to slap his face so fu-.” Before she could keep talking you took her face in your hands closing the distance between your lips. Her prosthetic arm immediately grabbed your waist while her human one went to the nape of your neck, grasping into you like you were trying to escape from her. The kissing part was nothing too new for the two of you. What was new was the force that you both were applying to it, the feeling of her hand gripping you with possessiveness, and the constant fight of your tongues for dominance. A small moan quickly got away from you, getting trapped inside of her mouth. Her teeth bit your lower lip when you separated from her.

“Fuck you looked so hot talking to him like that. Wanted to kiss you since you told me to sit down.” A chuckle escaped her when your confession touched the air, she leaned in to leave a quick kiss on your lips once again.

“Did I now? good to know you like when I get angry.” You started picking your stuff up when she started walking to her desk. She continued talking while stuffing the paper sheets on her usual folder. “Wanted to go eat with you after this, but now thanks to that son of a bitch I have extra work to do.”

You were in front of her with your bag on your shoulder. “We can go eat dinner and drink something in the night. It’s friday after all and my hot professor that it’s supposedly fucking me so hard and giving me a 100% in each of my assignments without of me putting any effort on them already left me free for this weekend.” A strong laugh came out from her and now you were being sad that what he said wasn’t real, you still were putting your energy and knowledge in your assignments and she still wasn’t fucking you.

“Well your hot professor did leave you free of anything to do, so she would accept this proposition happily. I know a place. Can I pick you up? I think nine it’s a good hour.”

“Yes you can, and it’s perfect. I have to go to the library now, so, see you in a few hours?.”

“Oh you will see me sweetheart.” A chasté kiss was left on your lips while her hand traveled to the small of your back to start walking out of the room.

₊⟡.⋆☕ ᝰ.ᐟ

Night has come, after you left the library you ran home, and started getting ready. A bubble bath was the first step, while lounging in the bathtub you took the time to see your body. You propped your leg on the lip of the tub. You appreciated the feeling of your skin, checking the scars of years behind, of little falls and accidents of a younger you. You watched the hairs sticking down, will it be ok if you shave them? You didn’t think Sev would care much about that, it would make you feel more confident though, so you did. You went to your arms next, they felt a little dry so a little scrubbing was made and a soothing butter came after. Your hair was washed after you stepped up, a deep conditioning applied on it as you went out of the shower. Your skin was moisturized with a body butter that smelled like strawberries.

Standing on your feet you looked at your toes, they maybe would look pretty painted. While letting your hair air dry after rinsing the conditioner off you started painting your nails, hands and toes, all in black. After they wew dry and your hair done in a simple hairstyle that puts your hair up in a relaxed look with two delicate curls framing your face, you start looking for clothes. Your closet wasn’t huge, and there wasn’t so much information of where you were going, picking your cellphone up you texted her, receiving an immediate answer.

₊⟡.⋆

You 19:58

Are we going to a fancy place?

Sevi 💌 19:58

Sort of.

But no need to dress too formally, doll.

There was a small break after her last message with the bubble with three dots started blinking.

Sevi 💌 20:00

One of your usual skirts should be good enough ;).

You 20:00

OK. Thank uuu.

Sevi 💌 20:00

See you in an hour. xx

₊⟡.⋆

A small blush covers your cheeks, a skirt will be it then. You picked a black one, a little bit higher than middle thigh length, with a few pleats. For the top a deep red blouse with long sleeves and a deep neckline that exposes your cleavage beautifully. Although it was still the start of spring the nights were still chilly, when you went to pick a leather jacket you stopped in your tracks imagining the chance of her just giving you hers, she was always running hot after all. For shoes, black knee high boots with a few inches of platform, paired with some cream high socks under them.

You looked at the clock after you were done dressing, less than thirty minutes on the clock for her to show up. You took a seat on your desk taking everything out of your makeup bag, it has to be something simple. A dark brownish red went on your lower eyelid curving up in the corner to create the appearance of an eyeliner, blush on the higher parts of your cheeks, mascara coating your long eyelashes, and a dark cherry lipstick went on your lips. You packed the last item on your shoulder bag next to your keys, phone and your wallet.

When you were walking to apply on perfume your cellphone ringed with the special tone you have picked for her. You quickly applied your favorite perfume before answering your phone. “I’m closing the door right noooow.” You extended the last vocal while doing said action after hanging up. You took the elevator down, walking at a quicker pace to find her.

When you saw her you could hear a soft curse in the silence of the night, you felt her eyes ogling after your appearance while you walked towards her. When you come to a stop in front of her a grin emerges on her lips.

“Hi beautiful.” her right hand went to yours taking it to her lips leaving a soft kiss. The sensation of it lingering on your skin. You took the chance to get a good look at her. It wasn’t uncommon to see her in formal clothes, and you have grown to watch her in more casual outfits. Today she was wearing dark washed jeans and a deep red shirt styled the same as always, two buttons open and sleeves rolled up. Her usual combat boots are also on her feet. ‘We are matching.’ you thought to yourself. Her brown leather jacket that she took out when she saw you walking without your own was now being offered to you.

“Hi handsome. Thank you.” You said while she helped you out said jacket on.

“You look amazing today.”

“Well I followed the advice of someone who always has good styling choices.”

“Is that right?.” A slight chuckle left you while she walked you to the passenger seat of her car, she opened the door, let you slip in, and then quickly returned to her side.

“It is, she said she loooved how I looked in skirts.” Now was her time to chuckle, she helped you to put your seatbelt on and put hers after.

“Hey, I didn’t say that.”

“Oh!, you don’t love how I look on skirts?” She started the car and began to drive to the restaurant.

“I also didn’t say that. Because that would be a lie, and I hate lying.” A soft laugh erupted from you as you dedicated the time on the road to watch her. You would never get tired of doing that, of using your time to observe her, at the little furrow of her brows, at the look of both of her hands gripping on the steering wheel, just at her.

₊⟡.⋆☕ ᝰ.ᐟ

You two made it to the restaurant fairly quickly, it wasn’t that long of a ride. It felt expensive but cozy at the same time. You were sitting next to each other, both decided to take a booth that gave the chance to stay right by the other. The menus came and went easily, in the end she decided for both because you haven’t any idea of what could taste good, two different plates with the idea of sharing. You asked for a mojito and she asked for just water.

It wasn’t long when you were a few mojitos deep, the food already eaten and probably the best slice of cheesecake you have ever tried was already half eaten. You were tipsy, it wasn't hard to miss, a smile that seemed to never want to leave your lips, glittering eyes thanks to the alcohol. Your right hand on her shoulder while you were leaning into her, exposing without noticing everything under your shirt. She looked at you with an expression that if you didn’t know better would have thought was one making fun of you. Her hand rested comfortably on one of your thighs, the roughness of it making contact with the soft plump skin of your leg.

“Mmmm, you haven’t drank anything, that’s unfair.” a pout formed in your lips while your slightly teary eyes softened making you look like a poor puppy.

“Mmm, you are right, but I'm the one driving, sugar.” You stopped for a second thinking about what she said giggling after realizing the point she made.

“But that’s unfair!! I want to see you drunk!.” She took a quick look at her wrist looking at the hour, it was close to eleven, time had as always flown around you.

“We can go to my place. I have drinks there if you really want to see me drunk.” You clapped happily while drinking the rest of your third mojito and raising your hand looking for the server.

“I would love that. I think you are a sappy drunk, and I have never seen you being sappy!!.” She already knew for this first instant that you transformed into a bubbly creature when tipsy. If you asked her she would probably say you were either a horny or a screaming drunk.

₊⟡.⋆☕ ᝰ.ᐟ

Back in the car you were singing to the songs that blasted the speakers, she has let you put your phone on the aux. You said this was like a free concert and she wouldn’t think otherwise.

“Sugar.” a humming sound came from your side asking her to continue. “Do you mind the use of recreational weed?.” You shake your head ‘no’ while sitting even more incorrectly than before, fully facing her.

“It’s only allowed if you share.” An approving smile appeared on her face as she started to park her car outside of the house she lived in.

“That’s ok by me, let’s go, we are here.”

₊⟡.⋆☕ ᝰ.ᐟ

You love her home, everything screams ‘her’, the leather and dark wood furniture, the faint smell of tobacco and incense, the toys of Jaan are always in the same corner of the house. The dog slept in her own house in the backyard, being able to go in and out whenever she liked. But at the same time it was full of things that reminded you of her children. Pens, pencils, paint over a tray in the island of her kitchen. Toys and children's books on a big bookshelf reserved for them. Pictures of a smaller Jinx and Isha graduation pics of High School and Kindergarten. Drawings put against her fridge and a big painting that occupied almost a full wall. Said children sleep at the house at least three times a week, sometimes the full week. Jinx had her own apartment closer to university and to Isha school for when they wanted more alone time. After all Isha also felt Jinx as her own mom, and also her best friend, they were inseparable. Sometimes they would crash at Vi’s apartment when they felt like they needed to bother someone who wasn’t Sevika. Her voice took you back to reality.

“Ok, we have bourbon, wine, rum, and some beer. What does the princess want?” She asked while she prepared her own glass with bourbon and ice.

“If you have coke then a rum and coke. If not just straight rum.” She laughed slightly at your words while preparing the first option. You have already taken a seat on her couch sitting with bent knees making sure your shoes didn’t touch any furniture. You are still dressed in her jacket hiding your nose behind the garment to soak all of the smell.

She took the place next to you offering your glass, in the kitchen she had already drunk half of her glass and refilled it to be in a similar condition than yours. “Aren’t your shoes bothering you?” She said with genuine interest while letting her glass on the coffee table. You nodded at her question. With a few slaps on her thighs she signaled to extend your legs to her so she can help you, something you of course did. With extreme delicacy she takes them off slowly and lets them next to the couch.

“Do you want to smoke right now?.” She asked going to the small tin box that rested on the table opening it to take a pre roll from there. After you nodded again you got closer to her, leaving your glass on the table exchanging it with hers to take it close to her lips. She took a long sip from it before you put it on when it rested before. Her hand went to your lips placing the blunt between them, with a quick movement of her fingers she lightened up letting you take the first puff.

The cigar went back and forward in her lips and yours, on and off, the taste of it felt amazing mixed with the liquor and the kisses exchanged in between. At a point in the middle you ended up sitting straddling her legs. When the pre roll was close to and end Sevika’s hand went up to your chin taking a good grip of it that made your lips part. Smoking a big part of what rested slowly she let the smoke that came from her mouth curl its way inside of yours. A low moan came from you while your eyes instinctively closed.

“Mmh you shouldn’t do that doll.” Her free hand rested on your hips making sure you didn’t move. “We are both intoxicated, we can make out all of what you want but nothing else, yes?.” A pout formed in your lips before nodding, starting a kiss quickly after.

₊⟡.⋆☕ ᝰ.ᐟ

What you think was about two hours or more passed easily, in between kisses, a few refills to her glass and a few normal cigarettes. You still were on top of her, your hands interlocking in the back of her head, your face resting on the crook of her neck leaving a trail of soft and wet kisses from the sharp line of her jaw to where the shirt interrupted your path. Her human hand rested on your thigh, her fingers about half way up your skirt, leaving designs of soft circles. Her head tilted to the side leaving you enough space to be comfortable.

In a few seconds you stiffened up while you took your time to appreciate the smells that mixed in the air, the most notorious one being the one of the cigarettes she had lightened up. A soft laugh found its way out of your throat. Laugh that quickly turned into broken sobs. The second sevika noticed she put off the cylinder to take a grip on your face.

Her velvety voice was lower than ever. “Everything alright sweetheart?.” Humming came as an answer while her inquiry continued .

“It’s just, the smell reminded me of home, of my grandma. She used to smoke like a fucking chimney, I told her it was goin to kill her one day, and it did.” Her hands went up to clean your tears. You let her for a few seconds until you went forward rubbing your face on her, her skin, her shirt, her face trying to get that smell all over you. If you were a cat you would be purring right now. Light kisses were left on the top of your head while she pulled you into an embrace.

“Are you ready to talk about it?.” After a few minutes you took a deep breath nodding.

“Well, you know that I'm not the common age that someone ‘should’ have in the 3rd year of a career. I entered university at 18, I had an important scholarship that covered almost all of my expenses. I had to break myself apart studying to maintain it, but it was all worth it. I always enjoyed learning. Who would have thought I would end up with an actual professor that I spend hours talking about what I learn, right?.” A humorless chuckle left your lips.

“There were five children in my home. I’m the middle one, two younger sisters and two older brothers. When I entered my second year everything was going right, or at least that’s what I thought. My two older brothers already lived on the other side of the country, they didn’t have the same luck as me to be able to study.” Your hands traced senseless patterns on her skin. “My dad died when my younger sister was 2, so I was around 12. Mom always grieved his dead, for what I can remember they were deeply in love.” You left a soft sigh before continuing. “She was on antidepressants the biggest part of my teen years. I grew up seeing her as this emotionless person, so different from the one I remembered from my childhood. The antidepressants worked until they just didn’t have such a strong effect to numb all of her feelings anymore, and she decided to take on something stronger.”

“I don’t know specifically what she was in but I know that she started when I left for that semester, and when I was in the middle of it, she was already wrecked. I remember it was finals week, my grandma called telling me she was gone out and hadn't come back. My mom left my two poor babies alone for at least two days before she could go check on them, 9 and 13 years old, feeding themselves on whatever scraps of food there were in the fridge, without notifying any of us.” Your hands had transformed into fists that gripped the cloth of her shirt. She didn’t appear to mind. “I had to leave as soon as I could. Lost my scholarship for skipping a final. When I arrived home I noticed she wouldn’t come back. The only thing she left apart from wrecked stuff in her room was her wedding ring, with a note where she didn’t even ask for forgiveness.” Tears were streaming down your face at this point.

Sevika tried comforting you slowly, cooing and cleaning your tears as best as she could. After a deep breath you continued. “We moved into my grandmother’s house because we couldn’t afford rent anymore. She didn’t only leave us but also the mess she created. I started working in everything I could while also being a mom for my sisters. My brothers helped when they could, they had their own families now. Grandma was old so she only could just do much, cooking, maybe washing some clothes, everything else was dropped on my shoulder the moment she stepped out. I did my best, I promise I did. Went to every recital of their school, helped with their homework and projects, went to football games, all while maintaining two jobs at the same time. I didn’t sleep much, or eat much, well, I didn’t live much. I didn't have time for it. Got really sick at some point but I didn’t stop, I was the only thing they had, I had to be there for them.” You took a break downing whatever was left on the two glasses before continuing.

“When I was 22 she died, found dead somewhere. I didn’t investigate much more. I-” your voice cracked mid sentence, the furrow in your brows was deep and your eyes lost in the background without focusing on anything, doing your best to not cry. “I didn’t go to the funeral, or the burial. Didn’t let any tears spill in her name, I couldn’t give it to her. She didn’t deserve them.” Her hand cupped your face slowly, when your eyes catched hers you felt clarity coming from the cloudiness on them causing the dam to break. “And I hate her, and what she did. But at the same time I cared so much, so deeply. Spent nights without sleeping thinking if she was ok. I didn’t go looking for her, I abandoned her, like she did with us. It could even be my fault that she is dead.” Breaking sobs left your lips while her comforting arms wrapped around you in the most warm way possible. You don’t remember the last time you felt so cared for, where someone cuddled you instead of you to them.

“Nothing of what happened to her it’s your fault darling. You can keep thinking it is, maybe you couldn’t even change anything if you did reach out, but we will never know. You are safe now, and so are your babies. You are the strongest person I know, I don’t think a lot of us could have survived like you did.” Your head rested in the crock of her neck while her hand moved soothingly on your back.

“I miss her sometimes, like a little kid. I never cared to admit it because I was so busy hating her. I miss the way she laughed, and her smell. I still haven’t been able to find her perfume. I miss the way she looked at dad. And how she was before everything happened. But I still have troubles thanks to everything, I have this crippling feeling on my body always that I feel something for someone, like I was 19 again and would be left alone in this big world. I don’t know if I forgive her, but maybe accepting that I do care for what she was will make me feel better.” An understanding sound came from Sevika while she made you look at her.

“It’s probably the best first step, baby.” A smile formed in your lips when you noticed the freeing sensation that stood in your chest. Then a loud yawn made its presence. A soft chuckle came from her side. “We should go to bed.”

“Mmmhm. Can I ask you to do something for me?” You crossed your arms behind her neck while her strong hands went under your legs keeping you raised while she started walking to her room.

“Maybe.”

“Can you be the one to change my clothes?. I think that if I stand on my feet I will fall to the ground.” A laugh came from her while she nodded.

“Yes I can do that for you, sugar.”

₊⟡.⋆☕ ᝰ.ᐟ

You were already on her bed sitting with your legs on the border of the mattress. “I didn’t think the first time I would be undressing you was to dress you again.” A drunk giggle came from you.

“What a waste hmm?.” You put your arms above your head while both of her hands got busy lifting your blouse up. Revealing a lacy black bra that cupped your tits perfectly. A side smirk came to her lips while she took the time to pass her fingers over the border of the clothing item, you felt the sensation of her cold metal hand and the roughness and heat of her human one.

“Hello to you two.” maybe it was the alcohol but you felt bubbly letting her appreciate and care for your body. Your hands went to the mattress slightly behind you so you can extend back letting her eyes roam over you. “Foot up darling.” Softly she took your socks giving a short massage to your feet followed by a little kiss, she did the same on the other one. “Hmm, how should I take your skirt off darling.” She asked more to herself while her fingers fumble with the zipper, slowly letting it go. “Rise your hips baby.” You followed her order without saying a word . The cloth left your legs leaving you only in the matching set you have put in case something else happened. And although it wasn’t what you expected you were still enjoying it. She took a step back to be able to observe every detail of your body. The softness on your skin, the stretch marks that cover your hips and part of your tummy. The freckles on your chest, and whatever birthmark she could pick up. “You are so pretty.” She came closer to leave a kiss on your lips before busying with her own clothes.

“Wait! Can... Can I help you?.” A grin made its presence while you rearranged in the bed, flexing your knees to be sitting on top of your calves. When she agreed your nails went to her shirt, un-bottoming it with care. When it was open you left a small gasp out, your hand touching her abdomen after asking for permission silently and being answered with a nod. Slowly your slender fingers went up, passing over her bust to her shoulders where you helped the shirt for it to roll down her arms, taking the chance of letting your hands linger in both of her biceps. Her left arm was the one with a prosthetic. She still haven’t told you much how it happened, apart of that it was a chemical burn that went to deep fucking the nerves and muscle of her forearm. The prosthetic initiated in the middle of her arm, being articulated on her elbow.

Your hands went to her belt, opening it giving you access to her jeans. You easily let it open letting it fall to her feet hearing the clanking it did when touching the wood floor, you haven’t noticed she didn’t have shoes or socks on. Your eyes went up all the way from her legs to her eyes, watching a little bit sober than before how big she was and the towering she did to your figure. Her body was now only covered by her underwear, a pair of short boxers and a gym bra. “You don’t sleep with a bra if I remember correctly.” The same way as before you asked for permission and she granted it to you. Your hand slipped to the lower elastic of the item. Your finger going under it feeling the lower margin of her boobs enjoying the sensation. In a few seconds the item was discarded on the floor next to the rest of her clothes. Your mouth was slightly open as you drank in her figure, noticing the two bars that went through her nipples, you could feel your mouth watering. “You are so beautiful Sev.”. You felt a soft kiss in the center of her chest and one over each one of her nipples, laughing when you saw them erecting.

“You are a menace.” She laughed cupping your jaw before walking to her closet to take some stuff so you can both sleep comfortably. You stare at her ass all the time her back was turned to you. She came back with a t-shirt for you and a few makeup wipes that she used to clean your face.

“Maybe. You know I sleep without underwear so you still have work to do.” A raise of her eyebrows followed by her characteristic smirk occurred while she got closer to you after throwing away the wipes.

“It’s my pleasure to do so.” Her human hand went to your back easily opening your bra in mere seconds, letting it flop out of your chest exposing it to her eyes to see. She also couldn’t keep her hands to herself and cupped both of them with the smile of a child looking at a candy shop. “Fuck you are going to make me go crazy.” You giggled while putting the t-shirt over your head.

“You still have to take my panties off.” An acknowledgment sound came from here while she help you stand up, her hands starting it’s way down in your bust taking in the shape of your waist and hips while slipping under the cloth to grab the elastic of the underwear sliding it off your legs letting them fall to the floor with the obvious shiny spot in the middle of them.

“Time to sleep, my girl.” The possessive tone of her voice made you smile while you climbed into bed again. She following you quickly after.

“Good night Sev.” Your hands rested under the side of your face.

One of her hands took place around your waist. Her chest making contact with your back and her nose buried in your hair. “Good night Doll.”

₊⟡.⋆☕ ᝰ.ᐟ

The place was extremely silent, no shower running, no clacking in the kitchen, not even footsteps were heard. You stood up walking to the bathroom, Sevika had never left you alone in her home before, so it felt strange to be habiting her space but without her presence there. She wasn’t in the bathroom as you expected for the lack of signals, you took your time to do the usual stuff you did in the morning, including a shower. After leaving that room dressed in one of her clean t-shirts and nothing else you went to the kitchen passing through the living room, still not signal of her presence anywhere in the house. If you were in your home you are sure you would start to panic at this point, but you weren’t so you tried your best to make your heartbeat go back to normal. The girls weren’t coming today for what she had told you yesterday.

You took the chance of being in her kitchen to drink a few glasses of water to help with the dehydration that the alcohol had left in your body. You were thankful for never having to live with headaches after a night out, and today wouldn’t change that. You tried to recall where your phone was, probably dead so it wouldn’t be helpful. You remembered what she said yesterday in class about sending the mails. You took a look at the electric clock that marked that it was in fact saturday. That’s it, she is in her office.

You stretched your back while walking slowly to her work place. You have been inside just two times. The first time you only stayed in the door calling for her to go eat. And the second one you helped her to organize it after she couldn’t find one specific document. When you got there you use your fist to knock two times. A ‘come here’ was heard so you did as you were told.

You opened the door slowly entering the room. It was only lightened by her desk lamp and whatever entered from her semi opened blinds. Both of these lights made her look effortlessly gorgeous, even as she was dressed in just some pants and a grey tank top and only accessorized by the cigarette that rested in between her teeths. Your eyes focused on her face. Her glasses were on and her fingers tapped relatively slowly on her keyboard. Next to her computer there were two small piles of paper sheets, one that looked like it only had a few pages clipped together while the other one was much bigger and taller.

“Working early, I see.” You walked slowly to where she was sitting standing next to her while looking at the screen.

“I’m going to make that asshole fail the class, I assure you.” Her right hand went to her face rubbing with disdain over her skin. A humming came from your lips as your hands went to her shoulders massaging them slowly. A sound of enjoyment came from her lips while she moved in the chair separating herself from the desk. “I had to leave my gorgeous girlfriend alone in bed at 8 in the morning just to do this shit because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.”

A soft blush climbed your cheeks while you walked to accommodate yourself in between her legs taking the cigarette from her lips putting it off on her ashtray. “Am I your girlfriend?, since when?.”

Her hands went to your hips pulling you closer to her. Her face finding a place in between your breasts. “Since this exact moment, if you accept obviously.”

Her chin was now the only thing touching your chest while her bright and full of emotion eyes were fixated on yours “You can’t look at me like that and expect me to deny that offer.” A soft chuckle came from her as her hands bringed you to sit on her lap. “The only thing I am going to say it’s that I’m still naked under this and bothered from last night.” A knowing smirk appeared on her face as her flesh hand went up one of your legs to the back of your thigh up to the plump of your ass confirming the information. Where she groped strongly while the ashy color of her irises disappeared under the expansion of her pupil.

“Then we should celebrate the start of our relationship. Don’t you think, dear?.” Your hands went to the nape of her neck, going upwards to feel the softness of her short hair tangling your finger in the longer strands.

“Hmm. I don’t know…” A mischievous giggle came from you as you pulled her hair while shortening the distance between you two. You talked softly on top of her lips making them brush against each other. “Show me how you would do it, baby. Show me how you would celebrate it.”

Before you could react her bold lips took contact with yours, the bitter taste of smoke and black coffee mixing with the bright and clean of the toothpaste. Her free hand flew to your hips accommodating you on her lap, making you straddle her. Same hand that followed rapidly the movements of the robotic one going to your free asscheek squeezing the plumpness of the skin. A soft moan escaped your lips giving her enough space for her tongue to slip in. Without thinking much apart from the feeling of her lips and the growing warm sensation in between your legs you fixed yourself on her lap, getting as close to her as humanly possible. A low groan came from her when she put pressure on your skin making you slightly grind against her.

“Sevi… mmghm.” Carefully she broke the kiss leaving you room to talk, taking the chance to appreciate your looks, the dampness of your hair, your dazed eyes, the redness of your cheeks and the pink that colored your lips for the action a few seconds ago. “Please.”

“Please what, sugar.” You heard the smirk on her lips before you saw it going into another feverish kiss that lasted the same or more than the first one.

“I need you, I need you so much, please.” You talked over her lips before kissing her again. With an insane amount of care and show of strength she stood up with you in her arms, acting like you weighed nothing. Without breaking the kiss she walked into her room. You didn't notice that you were there until your back touched the fluffiness of the bedding.

“Fuck you look so pretty begging, my love.” Her human hand went to your face caressing your skin, making its way to your chin and then your bottom lip. As an instinct you opened your mouth slightly. She took the chance you were giving her, in a few seconds your lips were around the digit, your tongue flat against the surface for her to rub on, before you circled it over the tip. Eyes dizzy on hers succumbing to the slightest pressure of her dominance. Your cheeks were hollowed sucking at the length, a string of saliva started coming from the corner of your mouth dripping to your chin. “Look at you, so eager to please. Fucking drooling for only taking my finger.” A needy moan came from you while your eyes rolled back in your head.

You couldn’t focus on anything, your head was empty. Only occupied by the feeling of her thumb inside your mouth, the filthy sounds that it made when she moved it in and out of your mouth and the growl in her voice when she talked. Your legs were now open giving her a semi covered view of your sex, already covered in slick, not like it was hard around her, just looking at her could make you go wet. After a few seconds she took her finger out of your mouth leaving you empty, as an instinct you tried to take it again when she gripped your chin to make you look at her. “Tell me what you need, doll.”

“You.” Her smirk intensified while her robotic had busied herself by slowly taking your t-shirt off.

“You should be more specific.” A pout formed in your face while you lifted your arms for the clothing to fly to the floor of the room. Her hands started rubbing your shoulders going slowly down your chest until making it to your boobs. “So perfect.” She murmured to herself.

“I just need you, I need to be yours in any way you want me, I want you to do with me everything you pleased. Sevi, please.” The neediness in your voice was palpable and it made her brain short circuit. Her mouth went to your neck attacking it. Her humid tongue danced over your pressure points and her teeth slowly took the chance to bite. Her lips apart for the kissing was being used to suck on the skin to mark what now was hers.

“You are going to look so beautiful, full of bruises and hickeys. I need you so bad.” Her voice was so deep it sounded more like a constant growling, one that made all of your skin tingle. She made its way to your bust taking the chance to appreciate them before indulging in taking one of them in her mouth, lapping her tongue over your erect nipple and putting the smallest amount of pressure with her teeth, making your breath get caught in your throat coming up as a shaky whine. With a loud ‘pop’ she let it free going to the other side to do the exact same thing. “I don’t understand why I waited so much to make you mine. What a dumb fucker.”

Her words made you chuckle. Your head went back slightly as another moan made its way to fill the room. “Baby, please.” A gruff came from her as you went to lay on your back.

“Stop being so eager.”

“But sevi.” Your legs rub together without thinking about it, seeking a release for your neediness. A disapproving sound was heard before the noise of a slap was made when her hand touched your legs, making your whole body shake opening your legs once again.

“If you keep squirming I would not give you what you need, sugar.” Pouting lips and puppy eyes looked with her darkened ones. “Fuck you look so sexy acting like a begging pup.” Your mouth opens slightly to let a shaky breathe out. “You like that huh?, being called out for what you really are?. My needy baby.” Her hands went to your legs, opening them completely, giving herself a full view of yourself. You were covered in a glistening slick that made your dark curls look delicious in her eyes. “Mmhmm. That’s what I’m talking about. I should fuck you in front of a mirror so you can see how wet and needy you are for me.” You threw your head back once again while your hand gripped the bedsheets.

Even when lust was swallowing all of her facial features you could notice all the love behind it. Before you could beg again she gave you mercy, touching you where you most needed her, an immediate high pitch moan was heard as her long and thick fingers rubbed your slits. Going from your entrance to your bundle of nerves, taking with them all the slick they could possibly carry. Same fingers left you quickly to go to her mouth, when this time it was her that moaned. In that moment you were sure you could come only from hearing her moan. “You are like a drug.” Before you could say anything you were startled, her mouth went to your sex and suddenly you were floating.

“Oh my fucki-, fuck sev.” Your hand went to her hair in a second while your back arched trying to get even closer to her face. You were a mess immediately, moans coming from you like you were singing while she ate you like a starved woman. “Baby. Oh mmhgm. fuckfuckfuck.” Your lips were open completely letting everything that came from your throat touch the air. Her wet and warm muscles move with such an experience over yourself that you felt jealous of the people that could and had gotten this before you. Her lips went around your clitoris, taking it inside of her mouth, sucking at it with strength. You haven’t even noticed the cord that laid tight in your lower abdomen before it snapped, releasing yourself in her mouth.

“So delicious baby. That’s it, give it all to me.” She talked while continuing with the back and forward with her tongue.

“You should know it’s bad education to talk with your mouth full.” A laugh was heard muffled for your own skin that covered her mouth. You haven’t completely ridden your orgasm when you felt the coil tightening again. “Fuck baby just like that.” Her two point fingers went to your entrance, introducing themselves easily for the abundance of wetness that your orgasm had left behind. They started pumping and curling inside of you getting to that specific point with the ease only someone like her could have found it. Your fingers tightened her grip while the combination of her mouth and digits took you to your limit once again. “I’m gonna cum baby.” You said so quickly that she probably could only understand the ‘cum’ part.

You put your body weight in your elbows just so you can see her better. Your legs still trembling and she without even trying to stop, not like you were even going to ask. You saw the movements of her hips grinding against what she could find. You readjusted yourself so she could have access to the first part of your leg, thanking the added pressure she moaned with her mouth still stuffed with your cunt. Her moans were enough to keep you going for more as she added a new finger inside of you. “Cum for me Sev, please. You treat me so right. Fuck if only you could look at yourself right n- Aaahgg.” You couldn’t complete what you were saying before a whine interrupted you when you came once again.

You heard the noises of pleasure that escaped her and also the panting. You felt the eagerness of her hips before a growling moan surged with her as she made you sit up to take your face in her hands kissing you. You tasted yourself in her lips as you felt her own slick covering part of your skin as she came for rubbing on you.

₊⟡.⋆

You two laughed softly going limp on the bed trying to recover your senses to start breathing normally again. She rested on top of your chest with your hands in her back, a thin layer of sweat covered your body and probably hers too.

“Who would have thought that the severe professor Sevika would have such a filthy mouth in bed, huh?” A gruff came from her as she made herself look firm.

“Are you trying to mess with me? After you came three times? Only thanks to my mouth and fingers in less than what? 10 minutes?.” A blush covered your face as you laughed loudly.

“I am. And I have no shame in admitting that my girlfriend made me cum so hard and so good more than once in less than ten minutes.” Now it was her time to laugh as she sprinkled kisses on your skin. “You should be proud of it, some people date men that doesn’t made them cum in a fucking lifetime.”

“Oh I’m proud baby. How couldn’t I when you looked so good screaming my name.”

“Shut it.” A fist of giggles left both of you as you took her face in your hands kissing her freely. “I hope you know that now I would want to have sex on every surface and moment possible.”

“Well, I hope you know that I would be happy to please every desire you have.” Her human hand was resting in the plump of your ass.

“Sevi…”

“What happened baby?.” Your eyes locked on her reflecting all of the emotions of the last few months vibrated through your body. Your hands intertwining in the back of her neck.

“I love you.” A smile that showed her beautiful tooth gap made her eyes look softer. After leaving a short kiss on your lips she talked over them.

“I love you more, sugar.”

Please do not repost my work.

I hope you all enjoyed this, my dms are requests are open in case you want to drop something about this au <333.

#sevika #arcane #sevika x female reader #sevika x reader #sevika x fem reader #no y/n #university professor!sevika #professor!sevika #university professor!sevika x reader #nana!writes

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fairestwriting · 3 months ago

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hellloooooo! hope you're having a good day :) i love your blog so i wanted to rq something if that's ok <3 could i request headcanons of riddle with a s/o (platonic or romantic whichever u prefer) that had a similar childhood to him and actually agreed with his strictness pre-OB? and now has to struggle through the same journey as him? tysmmm :D

𐙚 Riddle Rosehearts

You really felt understood when you first met each other, didn’t you? Being this strict can really put a barrier between you and others. He’s been trying to whip his dorm into shape by himself for almost a year now, and you might have never had this exact experience, but it’s not difficult to relate it to the times you’ve been in charge of a group.

He’s lonely, without a doubt, despite having people like Trey around, and you can likely understand that too. It’s a tragic thing, really— He actually feels happy if you’re there to back him up when people aren’t listening. No matter how much they complain about it, or how much they start gossiping about you two, or how much they try to distance themselves. It can be easy to get stuck in your own little world where the both of you are right and that’s final.

Then Ace from goes through with his idea of dueling him for the position, despite you heavily discouraging him, the overblot happens, and everything pretty much comes crashing down. You’ve been feeding into each other’s strictness for this whole time, so the truth is harder on both of you than it would be if you had never met. There’s more denial involved, ”If I was so wrong, then why would they have supported me?“ is the sort of thing going through Riddle’s mind. He almost feels betrayed when he first tries to process everything, including the reality of his upbringing that he’s tried so hard not to acknowledge. Soon the pieces of the puzzle fully come together, either by him rememberinf things you’ve said about your family life before, or you opening up to him after the incident, and your misguided support makes sense. You’re the same as him, in more than just the strictness.

You’re the same as him, too, in the way that deep down, you do know the truth. It doesn’t feel great to be that way, it never did, it didn’t even feel natural— it was just the voices that filled both your upbringings replaying in the back of your minds all along. How many times has he looked at others and wanted to be just like them? How many times have you done the same? Getting closer to that reality used to feel so impossible, so much that the pangs of jealousy would turn to disdain. And it still felt far away right now, sure, but it suddenly wasn’t unreachable anymore.

It’s awkward to talk about it, but as much as your mutual understanding may have been negative at first, when it’s time to admit that it’d be better to change, you can rely on each other. And you can do it in a way you wouldn’t be able to do with anybody else. Regardless of how off putting your beliefs may be to other people — even the well intentioned ones who want you to get better, you could always feel them judging you — you know there won’t be any judgement between the two of you.

It might take a long time to heal, even with that support, but the awareness you can grow together, that there’s no need to just suffer in silence anymore, will form a stronger bond between him and you than that previous blind agreement could have ever formed. Whether it’s a romance or a close friendship, you know you have each other’s backs in ways no other people could.

if you like my work you can support me by commissioning me or tipping me on ko-fi ── ᵎᵎ ✦

#been a while since weve done some proper angst adjacent stuff huh #twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x reader #twst imagines #twst headcanons #lis writing

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theonottsbxtch · 7 months ago

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SET FIRE TO THE RAIN | LN4

an: i'd like to preface this by saying this is purely fictional and i don't believe lando would behave like this, i've been in many situations like this or where i've watched goregous girls be brought down, if you ever find yourself in a situation like this, talk to someone and if you're too scared to do that. my inbox, my messages are open to talk, i know how difficult it is and i'll always be there for you, every step of the way. love you all <3

summary: based off of this request , the story of a girl who manages to set fire to the rain by finally cutting off a pattern.

wc: 2.6k

warnings: toxic relationship

She had sworn off men.

The last one had hollowed her out in ways she hadn’t thought possible. They’d met at university, and from the start, there was an intensity that made her feel alive, as if the world had cracked open just for them. He was charming, magnetic—a rare kind of brilliance that pulled people in without effort. But beneath the surface, there had been something darker. She’d noticed it in small moments at first, like the way he’d make her doubt her own memories or twist her words into knots she couldn’t untangle.

With him, everything good came with a price. A beautiful night could end with his cutting silence, or an ordinary conversation could spiral into accusations and resentment. He knew exactly how to keep her on edge, to keep her second-guessing herself, until she wasn’t sure where her own thoughts ended and his began.

By the time she realised how deeply he’d tangled her sense of self, it felt too late. She was trapped in a constant push and pull, desperate to hold onto the parts of him that had once felt like home, even as they chipped away at her sanity. She left university more bruised and broken than she’d ever been, feeling like a stranger to herself.

For months after, she found herself replaying conversations, picking apart moments, wondering if somehow she had been the problem. She promised herself she’d never let anyone pull her back into that place—she was done with love, or whatever twisted version of it she’d believed in.

But then she met Lando.

And he was different, at the start at least. There were no telltale signs, or maybe there were and she'd missed them all. But with Lando, she felt like a whole new woman.

Meeting him felt like something out of a story she’d stopped believing in. He was bright, alive, a force of nature. She’d been swept up almost instantly, drawn not just to his charm but to the way he seemed to move through the world. Lando was a Formula One driver—a rising star with an infectious grin and the kind of life that felt thrillingly out of reach. He wore his confidence like a second skin, turning heads everywhere he went, and somehow, for reasons she still didn’t fully understand, he’d turned his gaze toward her.

Their first days together were a whirlwind. He flew her out to races, their weekends a blur of city lights, roaring engines, and late-night conversations where he shared his dreams with a vulnerability she hadn’t expected. She felt as if she was breathing for the first time in years. Lando seemed genuinely interested in her—not just in her beauty or her laughter, but in the way she thought, the things that kept her up at night. He listened in a way her ex never had, his attention a gentle but steady presence that quieted the shadows of her past.

With Lando, she was lighter, bolder. She found herself laughing more, breaking free from the cautious habits she'd formed to protect herself. Even the constant travel, the media attention, the risks that came with his career—none of it scared her. If anything, she was excited by it, captivated by his life at full throttle. She told herself that this was what real love must feel like: exhilarating and limitless.

And yet, as the months slipped by, small things began to nag at her—a flicker of irritation in his eyes when she questioned him, a quiet possessiveness in the way he’d tug her closer when others looked her way. They were tiny cracks, the kind of things she could overlook. But her instincts, dulled as they were by the thrill of his attention, began to stir, whispering that all wasn’t as perfect as it seemed.

She brushed off those whispers. She had promised herself she wouldn’t let fear drive her life, wouldn’t let a good thing slip away just because of shadows in her past. Lando was different, after all. He had shown her sides of herself she thought she’d lost forever.

But sometimes, late at night, she couldn’t ignore the familiar tightening in her chest, a flicker of unease she couldn’t explain. It was nothing—just a bad memory she needed to bury, she told herself.

She was safe, she was happy.

And that was all that mattered.

Until it didn’t.

It started in the small, invisible ways. A slight edge to his voice when she couldn’t make it to a race. The way his grip on her hand tightened a fraction too much when she was talking to someone else, even just a friend. She told herself these things were normal, the quirks of a man under constant pressure. Lando’s world was built on speed, danger, and fierce competition. It made sense that he’d be intense, that he might sometimes hold her a little too tightly.

Then came the nights when he’d disappear after races, unreachable, only to return hours later with excuses she could barely piece together. She’d lie in bed, watching the clock, her mind twisting in circles she’d thought she’d left behind. When he finally came back, he’d laugh off her questions, brushing them aside with an easy charm that was starting to feel a bit too practised.

“You worry too much, baby,” he’d say, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear with a smile that was all show and no substance.

She wanted to believe him. She’d fought so hard to let her guard down, to believe that love didn’t have to mean hurt. And for a while, she’d manage to push the doubt aside. After all, wasn’t it better to be with him, flaws and all, than to be haunted by ghosts she couldn’t let go of?

But the cracks widened. One evening, after a long dinner with friends, he pulled her aside, his voice low and edged with irritation. “I don’t like how you were looking at Oscar tonight,” he murmured, his eyes narrowing.

She blinked, caught off guard. “Oscar? He’s your teammate, Lando. We were just talking about your race.”

“I don’t care what you were talking about. You don’t need to give him that much attention.” The words were soft, but there was an edge beneath them that sent a chill through her.

It was like something inside her split open, letting old fears seep through the walls she’d so carefully built. She tried to laugh it off, to remind herself that Lando was nothing like the man from her past, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was slipping, that she was losing her footing on familiar, dangerous ground.

The excuses she made for him started to feel heavier, harder to carry. She was left questioning herself, wondering if maybe she was the problem, if somehow, her history had left her too damaged to hold onto happiness.

But deep down, beneath the doubt and the fear, she knew something was wrong. It wasn’t just her past haunting her this time; it was Lando. The way he seemed to light up her world only to cast shadows over it moments later. The way he made her feel seen and invisible all at once. She could feel herself changing again, growing cautious, careful.

And with each passing day, the Lando she’d once trusted felt more and more like a stranger.

But leaving? That felt impossible.

After all, who else would love her like he did?

No one would.

At least, that’s what her ex had said. It was what Lando insinuated, so it had to be true.

The words echoed in her mind on the quietest nights, when she lay beside him, his arm heavy over her waist, pinning her down in more ways than one. She’d stare at the ceiling, tracing the same lines over and over, feeling trapped in a strange in-between—a place where she was too afraid to stay but too afraid to leave.

When she’d first heard those words from her ex, they’d cut deep, etching a truth she carried like a scar: No one else will love you. No one will understand you the way I do. She’d almost forgotten how it felt to hear them again, subtle and soft, woven into Lando’s comments, his sideways glances, the way he’d sometimes pull her close and murmur, “You’re lucky I put up with you, you know.”

And, to her shame, she’d nod, a small part of her believing it. Maybe she was lucky, she thought, to be wanted by someone as thrilling as him. Who else would have taken her on whirlwind weekends, whisked her away to foreign cities, painted her life in colours she’d only dreamed of? Who else could make her feel this alive and desired? Surely, she should be grateful.

So she stayed, clinging to that fragile, half-real world they’d built together. She ignored the voices of her friends, who’d started to ask if she was okay, if she was happy. She brushed off their concerns with a laugh, told them Lando was just “passionate,” that he had a fire in him, that life with him was thrilling, intense. But the truth was that he didn’t bring just fire; he brought a burn that left her raw, exhausted, a shadow of the woman she’d thought she’d become.

The turning point came one rainy night, it hardly rained in Monaco, after an argument that had started small but escalated, Lando’s anger flaring as she’d barely managed to keep herself from shrinking under his words. He’d stormed out, slamming the door behind him, leaving her alone in the dim light, the sound of rain pattering against the window like a quiet reminder of everything she was losing.

As she sat there, a familiar sense of dread settled in her chest, mingling with the weight of words she’d heard too many times before. You’re lucky I’m here. No one else would deal with you. No one else would want you.

But this time, she felt something else—a flicker of defiance, an anger that had long been smothered by fear and doubt. She realised, with a clarity that shook her, that these words weren’t truths but weapons. Weapons used to keep her in place, to make her question herself until she couldn’t see straight.

Maybe she was more than what he saw in her. Maybe she was more than the broken woman her ex had left behind.

The rain outside was pouring harder now, pounding against the window, drowning out everything but her own heartbeat. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, feeling the weight lift, even if only slightly. She didn’t know if she had the strength to leave, but she knew she couldn’t stay—not like this.

Being with Lando felt like trying to set fire to rain.

Every time she reached for warmth, for comfort, her hands came away empty. Every promise he made seemed to evaporate just as quickly, leaving her cold and reaching for something that was never really there. Loving him was an exercise in futility, like trying to hold a flame in a storm, only to be drenched by the downpour of his moods, his shifting affections, his quiet, calculated disapproval.

He came home that night, soaked from the rain, his eyes darker than usual, his expression unreadable. She could smell the sharp tang of whiskey on him, the subtle tremor in his hands as he reached for her. She took a step back, though, bracing herself.

“Where were you?” she asked softly, not even expecting a real answer. She’d stopped expecting those a while ago.

He shrugged, a hint of a smirk tugging at his mouth. “Out,” he said, as if that was explanation enough. He glanced at her, his eyes sweeping over her with a mix of amusement and something colder, something she couldn’t place. “Why? Did you miss me?”

There was a time when she’d have laughed, played along, swallowed her doubts and insecurities just to keep things smooth between them. But that time was gone. Now, she felt nothing but a quiet emptiness where her laughter used to be.

“Maybe I did,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “But not anymore.”

A flicker of something crossed his face—surprise, maybe, or the sting of wounded pride. He scoffed, leaning back, crossing his arms as he studied her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She swallowed, steadying herself. “It means I don’t want to be kept in the dark anymore. It means I’m done waiting for you to be someone you’ll never be. You talk about how lucky I am, Lando, but the truth is, I think I deserve better than… than this.” Her voice cracked, and she felt her face flush with both fear and defiance.

He laughed, a low, mocking sound that sent a chill through her. “You think you can do better than me?”

She met his gaze, her hands trembling as she fought to keep her voice steady. “Yes. I think I can.”

It was a small, simple statement, but as the words left her mouth, she felt something shift inside her, like a flame catching despite the rain. She knew he’d try to reel her back in, try to make her doubt herself, to make her think she’d never be enough for anyone else.

But she’d felt enough of the fire and the rain, the illusion of warmth that left her soaked and freezing. She was done waiting for him to change, done trying to be enough for someone who would never be satisfied.

He watched her for a long, silent moment, his face unreadable. Then, with a harsh, humourless laugh, he turned and walked away into his gaming room, leaving her standing alone in the dim light, the rain pounding against the windows like a heartbeat.

And as she stood there, she realised she’d already begun to let go. For the first time, she wasn’t afraid of the emptiness, the quiet. She was ready to face it, to feel the cold and the rain, knowing that someday she’d find her own warmth again.

This time, she wouldn’t look back.

She packed her bags, and unlike with her ex, she didn’t cry. She didn’t find an excuse to stay.

With each item she folded and placed into her suitcase, a sense of liberation washed over her. Clothes, books, the little mementos she’d collected during their whirlwind romance—all of it felt heavy, like anchors that had dragged her down into a darkness she no longer wished to inhabit. This time, she didn’t hesitate to let go.

The silence in the apartment felt almost deafening, but it was a comforting kind of silence, the kind that echoed with possibilities rather than the suffocating weight of past memories. She moved methodically, her hands steady and sure, and each zip of the suitcase felt like another step toward reclaiming herself.

When she finished, she stood in the middle of the living room, looking around at the remnants of their life together. It felt surreal, like a movie set she’d walked onto without ever really belonging. There were the photos of them at races, beaming smiles and happy moments frozen in time, and the framed poster of him in his racing gear, his helmet in hand, looking ready to conquer the world. But now, instead of warmth, those images filled her with a sense of finality. They were remnants of a story that had come to an end.

Her heart raced as she glanced toward the room he was in, half-expecting Lando to return and confront her, to wrap her in his familiar embrace and whisper sweet words that would lure her back into his web. But she shook the thought away. She wouldn’t fall for that crap again. This was her moment, the beginning of something new, and she refused to let fear creep back in.

Because she loved herself.

And in order to love herself, she had to choose herself.

So she did.

the end.

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yanderes-galore · 11 months ago

Note

hey can I request a yandere alastor (platonic - friend or family) with another deer demon reader

I feel the idea that you're related would be interesting to mess around with. Especially since your similar demon types.

Yandere! Platonic! Alastor with Deer Demon! Darling

Pairing: Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Overprotective behavior, Murder, Blood, Violence, Cannibalism, Gore, Possessive behavior, Dark/Mature themes, Forced companionship.

Oh you bet I have a backstory for this one.

Alastor's demon form is no doubt based on folklore more than an actual deer.

So here's the thing, when I think of deer darling for his obsession... I think you'd be different from him.

I feel you'd take on more deer characteristics rather than folklore, a much more "innocent" take on a deer compared to Alastor.

For this concept I imagine when you were alive you were related.

You were either siblings or a kid he had, up to you, but you're most likely siblings based on his canon sexuality.

In terms of backstory, I imagine Alastor manipulated you into going along with what he does.

He taught you how to kill, he made you commit to cannibalism, he made you his accomplice.

Due to being manipulated into committing sin, your demon form is a much more innocent form compared to Alastor.

While Alastor takes the form of and acts like a hunter... you look like a fawn compared to him.

When you died, it was with Alastor.

In fact, imagine if he was always protective of you.

Always jealous... always possessive to the point his targets were often those of your friends.

By the end of your life he was insistent you die together.

You could barely react before your blood trickled onto the ground.

Truthfully, in a different environment, you could've gone to Heaven.

But sins never go unpunished, bringing you here with Alastor.

You're an accomplice, that's reflected in your appearance and behavior.

For example, perhaps you were still forced into compliance when Alastor began killing Overlords.

Despite the violent nature he displays, he's always been fond of you.

Poor you, younger than him yet still a young adult.

So easily threatened and manipulated, always kept isolated even now so the radio demon can keep you in his grasp.

Imagine when Alastor disappears for a bit he doesn't take you.

He wants to, in fact, he dreads you not being around him.

But... orders are orders, right?

That's how deals work....

Yet you know he's racing back to track you once he's summoned to help the Hotel.

Another idea could be Alastor already has your soul due to your past together.

Intimidated by him, you gave him your soul, binding you to him indefinitely.

The first soul under his belt.

If that's the case, you're just summoned to the Hotel instead of him searching for you.

Other Sinners and demons no doubt fear you by association.

Alastor keeps you dressed in similar attire to himself, yet with some differences that reflect how you used to dress.

People fear the radio demon and his fawn.

You're not as bad as Alastor, but demons know if they're too close... it pisses off the radio demon to put it in simple terms.

Alastor is affectionate with you due to your bond.

He has your soul and you're family.

He towers over you and never feels the need to pull your chain too tight.

After all, you're used to listening to him.

Always the adorable and obedient fawn for him....

Alastor is naturally fierce when it comes to his behavior.

You're barely able to make conversation with other demons and Sinners without Alastor lurking behind you.

He always acts so charming around those you talk to, just like how he did when you were both human.

The only people he doesn't monitor you too heavily with are those in the Hotel.

Charlie always seems so invested in you, you're one of the better candidates to be redeemed.

But as we all know, Alastor won't let you be redeemed.

Husk originally keeps his distance, but can't help but feel a sense of companionship due to you both being owned by Alastor.

Angel Dust no doubt is flirty with you, commenting how odd it is how someone so small and "cute" can be related to the radio demon.

In reality, you're not fully innocent, but no sadist either. You got to Hell somehow, after all.

Alastor really does hate it when Angel flirts with you.

Vaggie pities you for being dragged into Alastor's crimes.

Meanwhile Nifty is obsessive with the fact Alastor even has a relative down here.

Alastor is patient when it comes to the Hotel STAFF speaking with you.

You're definitely kept away from The Vees, not that you'd want to be near them anyways.

You are important to the radio demon, someone he can't lose.

You two have been beside one another since being alive.

Now you two are Sinners, even if you shouldn't belong.

Alastor no doubt still influences you, offering you more cannibalism as though he's showing the power he has over you.

The taste is still nauseating, the blood too familiar in your mind.

Yet Alastor only coos, speaking about what you two would do together as though it was nostalgic.

All while your lips are tainted in blood.

Alastor finds joy in killing other Sinners who get too close.

All so he can pick you up and drag you around.

You two have always been an infamous duo.

While you may want redemption... Alastor will always drag you back to him.

There's no saving you... ever since he made you commit your first crime, there was no chance of saving you...

You were always meant to be Alastor's darling little fawn....

#yandere hazbin hotel #yandere hazbin hotel x reader #yandere alastor #platonic yandere

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gainercontent · 3 months ago

Text

Max's Body Transformation Part 2

Check out my blog for Part 1

It didn’t take long for Max to hit 200 pounds. His progress was swift, the result of late-night binges, extra meals, and the voice urging him on at every turn. Every time he stood in front of the mirror, he saw the change—a fuller face, a rounder stomach, clothes that fit differently, a weightier feeling in his body. He had crossed the threshold, and the number on the scale was exactly what the voice had promised.

At first, Max was exhilarated. The number felt like an achievement, a victory that validated everything the voice had whispered to him over the past weeks. You did it. You’re finally where you belong, the voice told him, its tone soothing, almost celebratory. It felt right in some way, a return to something familiar, something comfortable.

But as the days passed, Max began to feel something else—a heaviness that wasn’t just physical. It wasn’t just about the scale. It was about the way his body moved now, the way he felt when he tried to do simple things, like walking up a flight of stairs or even tying his shoes. He felt the strain, the burden of the weight he had been so eager to gain. There were no longer moments of carefree indulgence. Every step felt like an effort, every breath just a little bit harder to take.

Max tried to ignore it. He continued to eat, continued to indulge, convinced that he was doing the right thing. The voice was still there, still pushing him, still telling him that more was better—that this was what he needed to truly feel good about himself. But the cracks in the façade were starting to show.

One evening, Max sat in front of his mirror again. This time, he wasn’t looking at himself with pride. His reflection was different, more like a stranger. He traced his fingers along the curve of his stomach, feeling the weight that had accumulated. He couldn’t ignore the dull ache in his back or the constant feeling of being sluggish, like his body was trying to carry too much. His mind buzzed with questions, but the voice was there, louder than ever.

“You’re at 200 now,” it said, almost triumphant. “This is where you belong. You’re in control. Look at how strong you’ve become.”

Max’s gaze hardened. He looked down at his body, no longer feeling the same sense of satisfaction he had in the beginning. The thrill had started to fade, replaced by an uncomfortable sense of loss. Was this really what I wanted? he wondered. Is this the person I wanted to become?

The voice didn’t stop. It was insistent, pushing him to go further, to keep indulging, to keep feeding the hunger inside him. But Max wasn’t sure anymore. His mind was a swirling mix of doubt and desire. The food didn’t taste the same anymore. The act of gaining didn’t feel like a victory—it felt like a trap, a chain he had willingly placed on himself.

The next day, Max stepped onto the scale again, staring at the numbers, wondering if he had gone too far. His heart pounded as the digits flickered in front of him.

200. Still there.

But this time, it wasn’t a celebration. It wasn’t an achievement. It felt like an inevitability—a number that had come too easily, without the reward he thought it would bring.

He stared at himself in the mirror again, a mixture of frustration and sadness filling him. He wasn’t sure who he had become, or how to fix it. The voice had always promised that the next meal, the next indulgence, would bring fulfillment. But now, Max felt empty, despite all the food he had consumed, despite the number on the scale.

And in that moment, something shifted. The fight inside him wasn’t over—it had just started. The voice was still there, tempting him, urging him to keep going. But Max knew, deep down, that this wasn’t the end of the road. It was just a stop. He could still make a change, if he wanted to.

For the first time in a long while, Max didn’t listen to the voice. He didn’t indulge. He simply sat with the discomfort, the reality of where he was, and tried to find a way forward that wasn’t driven by the pursuit of bigger numbers or fleeting pleasures.

The road ahead would be hard. The voice would always be there, persistent and tempting. But Max knew one thing for certain: he wasn’t going to let it define him anymore. He was more than the number on the scale, more than the food he consumed, more than the voice that whispered in his ear.

Max took a deep breath, looked at himself one last time in the mirror, and made a promise to himself: he would find a way back to balance.

*****

Max sat in front of his phone, staring at the screen. He’d been feeling conflicted for days about sharing his progress, but part of him still wanted to put it out there—wanted to see what kind of reaction he would get. His body had definitely changed, and while the scale read 200 pounds, the changes weren’t what he had imagined when he first started his journey. The muscle definition he had hoped for was barely visible beneath the layer of fat that had accumulated.

Max sighed, his fingers hovering over the screen. He snapped a picture in the gym mirror, his face flushed, his stomach slightly protruding. He wasn’t exactly proud of what he saw, but it was the reality of where he was now. His once-tight clothes now clung to him in a way that felt uncomfortable, and there was a noticeable softness to his body that had replaced the lean muscle he’d once worked so hard for.

He captioned the post simply: “Progress”—trying to convince himself that the word still fit, despite the fact that the progress had been more about fat than muscle.

The comments came rolling in quickly.

“Looking huge, man!” “You’ve definitely put on some mass, keep it up!” “Solid gains! Proud of you!”

The praise felt bittersweet. He didn’t feel like he was at his best, but the compliments were coming in, and that old thrill of validation was creeping back in, making him feel a little better about the situation.

Then came the comment that caught his eye—Tyler, his old friend from the gym days. Tyler had always been the kind of guy who knew how to play the game. Always at the gym, always gaining, always giving Max that sense of competition. It was no surprise that Tyler had something to say about Max’s post.

“Damn, Max! Looking solid, man! You’re really putting in work. I can tell you’ve been putting in the calories. Keep it up, you’re killing it!”

Max felt his chest tighten. Tyler had always been encouraging in that way—always pushing Max to be more, to lift more, to eat more. There was a comfort in Tyler’s words, like an old security blanket.

Then Tyler’s next comment came in. “Hey, if you want, I’ve got a few extra 24-packs of Boost VHC. High-calorie drink, perfect for packing on the pounds. If you’re looking to keep up the momentum, let me know and I’ll send you a few. On the house. You’ve earned it.”

Max stared at the words. The Boost VHC drink was practically a cheat code in the world of weight gain. It was packed with calories—liquid meals that were easy to drink and could quickly push him past any plateaus. He knew it would make the next few weeks of gaining easier, and if he was honest with himself, he knew he wanted to go further. The idea of adding more weight, more mass, was tempting. It felt like the next step.

And the voice was there immediately, like it always was. You’ve been feeling hungry lately. You’ve been wanting to pack on more. This is your chance. Just a few more pounds won’t hurt. It’s what you’ve been working for.

Max swallowed hard, his pulse quickening. The voice was getting louder, more insistent, and Tyler’s offer was the perfect excuse. One more push, and you’ll finally feel like you’ve reached the potential you’ve been chasing, the voice whispered.

He stared at the message, a knot in his stomach. A part of him remembered the promises he had made to himself—about balance, about taking control. But another part of him felt that pull, that hunger for more. Tyler wasn’t just offering a gift; he was offering a shortcut, an easy way to keep gaining, to keep moving forward without thinking about the consequences.

Max typed out a response, his fingers moving on their own.

“Thanks, man. I think I’ll take you up on that offer. Could use the extra calories.”

He hit send before he could second-guess himself. The decision was made. The voice was right—this was the next step. He would go further. He would keep gaining. There was no turning back now.

Tyler replied almost instantly. “Awesome! I’ll get those shipped out to you. Keep pushing, bro. You’ve got this.”

Max set his phone down and ran a hand through his hair, the mix of excitement and anxiety settling in his chest. He knew he had given in, but the thrill of the decision was undeniable. The Boost VHC would make it easier. He would keep moving forward, keep gaining, and finally reach the size that had always been just out of his reach.

The next few days passed in a blur of anticipation. The moment the package arrived, Max couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement. The tall boxes of Boost VHC sat on his kitchen counter like a promise. It was the easiest, quickest way to put on the weight he wanted. He cracked open a bottle and drank it in one go, the thick, sweet liquid sliding down his throat with ease. It tasted like victory.

The voice cheered him on, Yes, this is what you wanted. Drink it all. Let yourself go. The calories are yours to take. You deserve it. Keep pushing—this is who you are now.

Each day after that, Max drank at least one or two bottles of Boost VHC, his body growing heavier and softer with each passing day. His clothes became tighter, and the soft bulge of his stomach grew more prominent. He could feel the changes—not in the strength of his muscles, but in the weight, the softness, the fullness.

When he looked at himself in the mirror now, he didn’t see the lean, muscular body he had once worked so hard for. He saw a larger, rounder version of himself, someone who had let go of all the restrictions and embraced the indulgence. The voice was always there, reassuring him that this was the right choice, that this was the path to fulfillment.

And deep down, Max couldn’t help but feel a sense of thrill—a rush of pleasure in watching his body change, in giving in to the urge to grow bigger, no matter the cost.

He was no longer just gaining weight. He was becoming something else, something new, something that felt powerful in its own way. And in that moment, Max knew: there was no turning back.

*****

As the days passed, the weight Max had gained began to feel more like a burden, but it wasn’t enough to stop him. The voice was always there, always coaxing him into the next step, the next phase. It never let up. It was his constant companion, his guiding force. And tonight, it spoke again.

“Two Boosts tonight,” the voice whispered. “You know you want it. Drink them both. It’ll keep you on track, keep the gains coming. You’ve come this far. Don’t stop now.”

Max’s hand trembled slightly as he opened the fridge, grabbing two cold bottles of Boost VHC. The thick, creamy drink slid down his throat with ease, one after the other. His stomach swelled slightly, and for a moment, he could feel that familiar sense of satisfaction. He was feeding the hunger inside him. He was growing.

But the voice wasn’t satisfied with just that. It wanted more.

“That’s right, keep drinking,” it encouraged, its tone smooth and persuasive. “But it’s not enough. You need to push harder. You need to take advantage of every opportunity to grow.”

Max set the empty bottles aside, a slight sense of discomfort building in his stomach. But the voice was relentless.

“There are eating challenges out there, Max. You know about them. You’ve seen the YouTube videos, the guys eating entire pizzas, giant burgers, stacks of pancakes. You could do it too. Why not?”

The idea hit him like a spark. He had seen those videos before—the ones where guys devoured massive quantities of food, sometimes eating enough in one sitting to make him dizzy just watching it. It always looked like such a challenge, but Max couldn’t deny that part of him had always wondered what it would be like to try it for himself. And now the voice was planting the seed.

“You could win those challenges. You could eat those ridiculous amounts of food. The more you eat, the bigger you’ll get. You’re in control. You’re stronger than you think. It’ll feel good to give in to this. It’ll be a rush.”

Max felt a thrill course through him as the thought sank in. The idea of eating until he couldn’t take another bite—it sounded impossible, but it also sounded exciting. He could do it. He could push his body to the limit, make it grow even bigger. There was a certain power in that. The thought of conquering those challenges, showing off the amount of food he could consume, felt like a victory.

The voice, sensing his wavering resolve, kept pushing. “There’s more, Max. There’s an app for everything. You can download apps for fast food deals. Take advantage of those. Get those meals delivered, get discounts, make sure you’re eating all the time. It’s the perfect system.”

Max grabbed his phone, curiosity piqued. He opened the app store and searched for fast food apps. It didn’t take long to find them—McDonald's, Taco Bell, Five Guys, all with their own reward systems, deals, and offers for free delivery. The voice guided him through every step, telling him which ones to download, which deals were the best, which restaurants had the largest portions. Every meal could be bigger, every snack could be more indulgent. The voice promised that it was all part of the plan.

“Don’t worry about the money, Max. You’re getting rewards. You’re getting the calories. You’ll be able to handle it. You deserve it.”

Max felt a rush of excitement. It wasn’t just about eating anymore; it was about gamifying the process. The discounts, the rewards, the apps that made it easier to binge—everything felt like a system he could master. He could feel his stomach stirring in anticipation of the next meal, the next indulgence. Each app, each fast-food deal, felt like an opportunity to keep the cycle going, to keep feeding the hunger.

That night, Max ordered his first meal through the app: a large pizza, wings, fries, and a milkshake. The food arrived in record time, and Max couldn’t help but feel that familiar sense of excitement as he opened the boxes. He dug in with abandon, feeling the weight of each bite, each calorie sliding down, building him up.

“More,” the voice urged. “You can always eat more. Don’t stop now. You’re only just getting started.”

Max stuffed himself, feeling the fullness creep up, but the voice was louder than the discomfort. “You can do it. This is just the beginning. Keep pushing. Keep growing.”

By the end of the night, the pizza was gone, the wings and fries devoured. Max leaned back on his couch, his stomach distended, a feeling of fullness unlike any other pressing against his skin. His body felt heavy, swollen, but the thrill of the indulgence kept him going.

The next day, he ordered again. And the day after that. The eating challenges, the fast-food apps, the constant calorie-packed meals—it all began to feel like a game he couldn’t stop playing. Every meal was a step closer to something bigger, something that made him feel powerful, unstoppable.

The scale tipped higher each time Max checked. 205 pounds. 210. His clothes grew tighter, his stomach softer, and yet, the voice was always there, pushing him further.

“Look at you, Max. You’re becoming something else. You’re getting bigger, stronger, more powerful with every bite. You’ve earned this. You deserve it.”

Max no longer saw his reflection as a place of doubt. He saw it as a reminder of what he was capable of. The man who could push beyond his limits, who could consume more than anyone else. The man who was growing. And as the pounds piled on, Max couldn’t help but wonder how much further he could go.

The game was on. The voice had him now, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to stop.

*****

As the days rolled on, the voice grew louder, more commanding, its influence growing stronger with each passing meal, each fast food deal, each indulgent bite. Max's body continued to swell. His clothes strained to accommodate the new mass, his face rounder, his stomach softer, and yet, the voice wasn’t satisfied. It pushed him harder, coaxing him into believing that he needed to go even further.

“You’ve come this far, Max,” the voice whispered one night as Max finished his usual late-night binge. “Look at your progress. You’re nearly at 220 pounds. You’ve already crossed so many lines—why stop now? You want more. You can feel it. You deserve it.”

Max sat back, his stomach full, his body exhausted from the constant eating. He looked in the mirror. The reflection was no longer the lean, muscular version of himself. Instead, his face was rounder, his neck thicker, his arms puffier, and his waist had expanded beyond what he had ever anticipated. But the thrill—the excitement of pushing past his limits, of filling his body beyond what it could handle—still tugged at him.

“220 pounds,” the voice urged, the words seeping into his thoughts, “That’s the next milestone. You’re almost there. You’re close. You know you can do it. It’ll feel incredible. Don’t let the discomfort hold you back. This is who you are now.”

Max’s pulse quickened. The idea of hitting 220 pounds felt both exhilarating and terrifying. But deep down, he knew the voice was right. The more he ate, the more his body changed, and the more power he felt in his choices. The sensation of indulgence, of letting go, was unlike anything else. It was thrilling, it was intoxicating, and he didn’t want to stop.

The next morning, Max stepped on the scale. His eyes widened as the numbers flickered, settling at 220 pounds. He had done it. He had pushed himself—no, allowed himself—to go further, and it had paid off.

“See?” the voice whispered. “220 pounds. You did it. And now the world will see. They’ll know what you’ve accomplished.”

Max’s heart raced as he grabbed his phone and snapped another picture. This one was different. His face was fuller, his body rounder, but there was something about it that made him feel powerful. He stood in front of the mirror, flexing his arms, the soft, bloated mass of his body now on full display. He saw the changes, the weight, and yet, he felt a strange sense of pride.

He posted the picture with a new caption: “220. Another milestone. #Gains”

The comments poured in almost immediately. His followers, those who had been with him from the beginning, some who had followed for the transformation and others who were just along for the ride, all offered their praise.

“Dude, you look massive! #Goals” “Bro, you’re a beast! Keep it going!” “Man, you’re killing it. Proud of you!”

And then, Tyler’s comment appeared, just as it had the last time.

“Looking amazing, Max! That’s some serious mass. Keep pushing, you’re on fire!”

Max smiled at the words, the validation flooding him. He was proud of how far he had come, of what he had achieved. The voice inside him was practically roaring with satisfaction.

“See? You’re on top now. You’ve hit 220. You’ve taken control of your body. Keep going. Keep feeding it. Keep growing. Don’t stop now, Max. You’re unstoppable.”

Max leaned back against the wall, feeling the weight of his body against the surface. He thought about the next steps. He could keep going—why not? The number on the scale, the comments from his followers, Tyler’s support—it was all building into something bigger, something that made him feel like he was finally seen.

But even as he basked in the achievement, part of him couldn’t help but feel a flicker of unease deep down. He knew the path he was walking. He knew the pull of the voice was becoming stronger, the line between indulgence and obsession blurring. But in that moment, the thrill of hitting 220, of seeing the scale tip higher, drowned out the doubts.

The voice was right. There was no turning back now.

Part 2 will be posted next Wednesday.

#gaining kink #belly gainer #max #male gaining #gaining weight on purpose

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