delulu for the soulu (*^▽^*)

It is, the cat, not a shadow~ ⁺˳✧༚ lvl24 |ENFP| a shy mess. / Yandere, Genshin, Star rail and random debauchery. Minors DNI pls

[me0w0em]

Hello everyone *^^* Welcome to a random blog about this and that. I am a degenerate that enjoys games, black cats, dragons, art and reading. Think of this blog as little findings you stumble upon as you follow a black that that suddenly appeared on your way home at night.

For the tags so far #meokjut - for emotional boost #meoread - good fanfics I found #meomeows - chitchat Hopefully, what you behold on you journey is a treasure. ˚✧₊⁎⁺˳✧༚

[meo-eiru]

White Carnation

[fumbledevil]

Whatcha doin'

[danijaci]

my husband suddenly became love"sick"?! (memes)

contains spoilers

Phainon when LS! Y/N (they are just doing their duty):

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

LS! Y/N whenever grandpa coughs:

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

LS! Y/N overhearing rumors about their relationship:

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

LS! Phainon after realizing his feelings:

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

LS! Phainon always returning to the time where Y/N is already dead after so many experimental regressions:

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

LS! Phainon after LS! Y/N made a "what if i die lol" joke:

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

LS! Y/N when their father died, leaving them to fend for their own in that godforsaken mansion:

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

LS! Y/N after their passive aggressiveness almost slipped out:

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

LS! Y/N after discovering a hazardous piece of information:

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

LS! Mydei everytime LS! Phainon comes up with an excuse to flirt with LS! Y/N:

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

LS! Y/N noticing LS! Phainon has been hovering around for some reason:

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

[meo-eiru]

Dinner🍼

The uncensored version is here on my Patreon!

[fumbledevil]

While I'm posting old art, figured I'd dump my Homicipher fanart here as well

[festeredhearts]

[gemiisyuu]

𝕴 𝕷𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝕾𝖔 𝕸𝖚𝖈𝖍 𝖎𝖙'𝖘 𝕶𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝕸𝖊

.⋆♱ ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။|||| |⋆｡° ✮ Now Playing: Over and Over Again - Nathan Sykes | ⩇⩇:⩇⩇

The moon may fade, the stars may die, and the sun itself may fail to rise, but non of it matter so long as she still walks this earth. She is my heart, my soul, the axis upon which my world turns. Without her, existence is an empty echo.

༝༝༝༝༝༝༝

If fate demanded my damnation so that she may know eternal peace, I would embrace the flames without hesitation. Let Heaven close its gates to me. Let Hell claim my name. I would endure an eternity with a smile if it meant she would never know suffering.

༝༝༝༝༝༝༝

And should Death itself dare stand between us, then It will know fear. I will claw my way out of the abyss, tear through the heavens, and shatter the gates of Hell, and burn the world to ash if that were the price of reaching her again. No law of Heaven, no decree of man, no force of life or death will ever keep me from the woman that I love.

༝༝༝༝༝༝༝

She is my beginning. She is my end. And if the universe demands a war to take her from me, then let it have one.

༝Edited༝

-gemi yaps: well it’s time we get a taste of dark Phaichan do we not? ;) Iron Tomb x Reina he did sounded a bit yandere-ush mb but we ball

[tyuoui]

Yan!Phairontomb

[gothcowboyz]

Khaslana and anger issues

[luminaur]

The phailings are plotting something ft.Phailings

A little late for Phaiversary so we gonna have three of them (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

[smutbutoutofnowhere]

shoutout to all my fellow smut enjoyers

[chimera-dreams]

inhuman[E]

4/5 - Shattered Stars

s: You slip into a world where androids rule the Earth and humans have fled to the moon. Despite your constant requests to go home, you have a feeling the androids aren’t too keen on helping you.

cw: SMUT, rape/non-con, yandere oc x reader, dddne, captivity, isekai, dark content ahead, f oral, fingering, piv (pls lmk if I missed a tag)

wc: 10.8k (holy shit what did I do)

co-written with @envy-of-the-apple ♥ read on ao3 here

(reminder to put your age in your bio/pinned before you follow me or I will block you)

[NieR masterlist]

[prev] - [next]

               “Why are you so eager to leave? Can’t this be home, too?”

His words echoed in your mind as you hugged your knees to your chest, staring out the window while you traced aimless patterns into your bland bedsheets, giving them something at least a little more interesting than pure, blank white.

The sun held the same spot it always had; gentle rays hugged the horizon, a never-ending cascade of oranges and reds painting the streets of the city. If you leaned forward a bit more, you’d be able to see the ever-present crowd of androids that hung onto every spare glimpse of you they could get.

Frankly, they were the last thing you wanted to see right now. 

Ever since the meal you ‘shared’ with Nier, you felt less and less flattered by the sheer attention all the androids gave you, and more like a bug pinned on display for them to gawk at. They watched you closer, bored their gazes deeper into your psyche, hung on every word and movement and thought you had. You wouldn’t be surprised if they literally kissed the ground you walked on, if they were allowed within proximity of you.

Nier made sure they weren’t, though. He kept a tight leash on his people, maintaining much needed space between you and them. For that, you were immensely grateful.

And yet, as the clock ticked on, the castle seemed less like a sanctuary and more like a prison. Beyond keeping the androids outside the gate, sending them on missions, he didn’t do much to shoo them away. There was no ‘the show is over’, no ‘move on’, nothing about how you weren’t a prop to be ogled.

Your room felt like the only safe space you had now, and even that was tentative. You only had so much time to yourself before 34DE and 34PO came to start your day for you. Feed you, attempt to bathe you (again), and choose your clothing for you, autonomy stripped from your very fingertips. While it was nice at first, getting the royalty treatment, it became grating and demeaning overtime. Eventually, the excuse of they mean well twisted into something closer to dread whenever that knock sounded on your door.

“The King wants to see you,” 34PO informed you one morning as she combed through your damp locks oh so gently. 

Your stomach twisted. 

You’d been avoiding him as much as you could, asking to stay in your room, or a walk through the garden, needing time to think. Think about everything – the time you spent here, how each day seemed further from home, your real home. Nier told you that Earth wasn’t a priority for the humans on the moon, but it didn’t make sense to you. How could it not be? 

Confrontation was inevitable, you knew this well. You had questions, you needed answers, and Nier was the only one who could give them to you. You just really hated conflict, and hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

Just talk to him. It couldn’t be that hard. He was a reasonable man, proved himself to be logical, accommodating, and caring. When you asked to leave after having to eat in front of hundreds of pairs of inhuman eyes, he easily let you escape their piercing eyes without a fight. Ask him. All you had to do was ask him.

All your bravado fled out the window when you saw him sitting at the head of the endlessly long dining table the dining hall hosted. It had only two seating spots, two empty plates – his, and the seat to his left.

Nier stood as you approached, smiling warmly at you, not a worry in the world to be found in his calm disposition. Like the gentleman he was, he pulled out your chair and guided you to sit in it, gently nudging you forward until you were tucked comfortably at the table.

“It’s good to see you again,” he said as he took his spot again, his gaze never once leaving you.

You swallowed dryly, and mourned the lack of a glass of water for you to nervously sip at. “You, too,” you replied stiffly.

“Hungry?”

Flashes of memories resurfaced, the last meal you shared with him coming to mind. You gave him a thin, forced smile. “Uh, yeah, kinda.”

The android grinned wide. “Good. They should be finished preparing breakfast for you soon.”

You didn’t miss how he only mentioned you, as opposed to himself, too. Was his plate just for show, then? To comfort you?

Your mouth opened, thoughts ready to spill out – only for them to get stuck. Your teeth clacked as you shut your mouth and pointedly looked away from him, choosing to clear your throat instead. So much for talking to him.

“Did you sleep well?” He questioned next, never once missing a beat, despite your stiffness.

You didn’t. You tossed and turned all night long, but it would be rude to tell your host that. So, you smiled thinly, and nodded. “Yes, thank you.”

He smiled back, so warm, so polite. Nier had always been so kind to you, so caring. He welcomed you with open arms, promised to help you. Guilt ached in your chest as you reminded yourself that he was a busy man, a king. Of course it was going to take a while to aid you. You were a guest, and all he was asking for from you was your patience. 

Still, you couldn’t fully ignore the discomfort in your gut, the whispers in the back of your mind that something was wrong.

A door in the wall behind him slid open, and a few androids came in, carrying steaming platters of food. Honeyed boar, roasted vegetables, things that resembled a dinner feast more than any sort of breakfast you were used to. Their delicious scents wafted in the air, prompting your mouth to water and your stomach to growl.

Nier chuckled fondly, murmuring about how he found the human body truly fascinating. 

The glint in his eye spoke of something you couldn’t put a finger on.

You barely had any time to process all that was spread out on the table before the androids were piling food into your plate. It was way too much, damn near spilling off the edges, but they didn’t stop until you frantically insisted for them to. They left Nier’s plate alone, exiting as quickly as they arrived.

Your plate was a bit of a mess, but it still looked tasty. It was the thought that counted, right? They were just doing their best. So, ignoring the comfort that being the only one to eat, especially while being observed (again), brought you, you dug in, sating the rumbling in your stomach while you mulled over everything.

The silence unnerved you, his stare even more so, but it didn’t last long.

“The Council of Humanity wants to meet with you,” Nier told you out of nowhere. 

You nearly dropped your fork, food halfway to your mouth as you processed what he said. “The what?”

“The humans on the moon,” he clarified. “They finally got back to me.”

It took a moment, then you lit up with excitement, a bright smile stretching across your face. “Really?” You asked, fingertips buzzing so much that you had to put the utensil down.

You held a flicker of suspicion, wondering if he was pulling your leg. He’d been so edgy about the topic, always avoiding or redirecting when you asked. It was one of the things you wanted to mention, to confront him about, but maybe you wouldn’t have to anymore. 

He nodded, smiling contently. “Really.”

You exhaled in relief, sighing as an invisible weight rose off your shoulders. Your heart fluttered, half in joy, and half in guilt; guilt for doubting Nier and his intentions.

“That’s amazing.” You perked up. “When do they want to meet?”

“As soon as you’re ready.”

Was your chance to go home finally here? Hell, even if not, it’d be amazing to talk to humans again. The androids were kind, yes, but they lacked the innate understanding that being human came with. Ashamed as you were to admit it, you sorely missed having someone to chat with that wouldn’t be trying to pry you apart, asking invasive questions and prodding at your skin the entire time.

“I’m ready now,” you said, pushing your chair back.

He raised a brow at you and motioned toward your still very full plate. “You should finish your food first.”

You glanced down at it, fingers gripping the table to steady yourself. Earlier, you were resistant to eating because of your discomfort. Now, you were too excited, too anxious to meet with the Council to think about finishing the mountain of nutrition you were given.

“I’m full,” you told him, shaking your head.

He exhaled through his nose as if exasperated with you, but didn’t argue further, taking his sweet time rising to his full height. “Let’s not keep them waiting, then.”

A simple tilt of his head, and you were scurrying to follow him, hardly noticing the hand he placed between your shoulder blades as he guided you through winding halls, up spiraling stairs, and through endless doors. You never realized how big the castle truly was until you were struggling to keep track of how many left and right turns you’d taken, all of it culminating into a set of massive double doors. They hid something that had your heart doing flips, nervous and eager all at once.

It was really happening. Whether or not the people on the moon could help you get home, they’d at least have some answers, and… and you’d have someone to talk to. Someone normal – by your human standards.

“Ready?” He questioned. You nodded firmly.

With ease, he pushed open the doors; the material creaked under its own weight, yet he seemed wholly unbothered, easily displaying his strength. Were you not on the tips of your toes, the edge of your seat, you would have found it frightening. Instead, it was mesmerizing.

His hand returned to its spot on your back and he lightly nudged you into a massive, circular auditorium. It was dark inside, and the floor clicked under your feet, the metal of the raised platform a stark contrast to the singular material that the rest of the castle seemed to be made of. You looked around, searching for this ‘Council of Humanity’. Were they here? Or–

You flinched and squeezed your eyes shut when a massive screen ignited, illuminating the space faster than you were prepared for.

It took you a minute to adjust to the brightness, but when you looked towards the screen that spanned almost the entire back wall of the auditorium, expecting a face, all you saw was a strange logo; A full moon with a crescent sliver taken from its top right edge. There was quiet, then a deep, booming voice filled the space.

“The Council of Humanity welcomes you,” the person said, authority heavy in their tone. “We have heard your plight, and wish to aid you.”

Startled, you looked up at Nier, who smiled and nodded at you in approval. Encouragement.

Stepping forward, you gulped and waved, cringing when you realized that whoever was on the other end probably couldn’t see you. “Um, h-hi?” When you got no response, your stomach sank. “You can help me get home?”

“We can,” they responded. “It’s our duty to ensure the survival of humanity continues.”

Relief settled deep in your bones. Home, you can finally go home.

“Thank you,” you breathed out, shoulders dropping, muscles loosening. 

This world was amazing, beautiful, and the people that resided on it were so kind, but… you missed home, as shitty as it was sometimes. You missed your friends, the internet, humans. 

You shifted in place, ready to ask how exactly they were planning to send you home, when the other person beat you to it. “Your presence on Earth has been greatly appreciated,” they said. “Before we send you home, we would like to ask… are you sure you would not like to stay here?”

Brows furrowing, you briefly glanced back at Nier, but his expression – or lack thereof – gave nothing away. Rolling your lips together, you carefully considered your words, your response. Your nerves and paranoia whispered that something wasn’t right, so you wanted to tread carefully.

“...I’m grateful, truly,” you said slowly. “The androids are so nice. Everything is. But I’m sure my family is worried, and I am, too. I miss them.”

“The kingdom has benefitted from being able to see a human in person for the first time in many centuries. Morale has increased, and the tides of our war against the machine lifeforms have turned. You could do so much here.”

Your enthusiasm was starting to dwindle. It felt good to know you’d helped simply by existing, letting the androids see you, but you didn’t want to stay here. Not forever.

You swallowed, wrapping your arms around yourself. “With all due respect, I just want to go home.”

“This could be your home.”

Can’t this be home, too?

“I–”

The voice interrupted you. “All would be taken care of. You wouldn’t need to lift a finger, would want for nothing.” 

Stomach twisting under your ribs, you dug your nails into your arms, confusion ebbing into stress. “Thank you for the offer, but please–”

“Our repopulation efforts could start with you.”

Your eyes widened and you instinctively stepped back, away from the looming screen. “No,” you snapped, then softened your tone, worried about offending them. “Sorry, but I’m not interested. Please, just send me back.”

You had a lovely vacation, but you drew the line at being treated like breeding stock. 

There was a brief respite, the only noise being a distant hum in the walls, then– 

“We’d be happy to send you home, but wouldn’t you like for this to be your home?”

…Didn’t– didn’t they already say that?

“Um,” you hesitated, your paranoia bubbling closer to the edge of the pot. “No, I just told you. I want to go home. My real home.”

“You could do so much here,” the voice continued. “The kingdom has benefitted from being able to see a human in person for the first time in many centuries. Morale has increased, and the tides of our war against the machine lifeforms have turned.” 

You didn’t respond. It kept repeating the same lines over and over. No change in inflection. No drop in tone. 

What you were talking to wasn’t human. 

Something burned inside your chest. Hot enough to scorch at your lungs as you turned to face the King. 

“Are you fucking with me?”

For a moment, you stared at one another. The silence pressed on your eardrums, making them ring. Nier was stock-still, unshifting as stone. Uncanny.

An unexpected noise startled you, and that was when you saw it.

The mask dropped. 

Nier was hunched over, his shoulders shaking. He was laughing at you. 

“Sorry,” he said, but his smile betrayed his truth. “You seemed so excited to talk with other humans. I only wanted to give you a taste. Lift up your spirits.” 

A lie. You knew that now. Every word that fell from his lips was a complete and utter lie. 

He did all of this just to humiliate you. 

“You were never planning on helping me, were you?” More and more pieces clicked together. “You– you kept stringing me along, pretending you actually cared about helping me when all you wanted to do was play these sick fucking mind games.” 

Why did you leave Pascal? Why did you leave the forest? Why couldn’t you have stayed put for Accord to find you instead of trusting these–these monsters? Why did you listen to them? 

You were so, so stupid. 

“The humans up there probably don’t know I exist.” You mumbled to yourself, feeling your eyes sting. You stumbled back, grasping at the rail behind you for support. “You never even contacted them.” 

He approached you, closing in on your space. A hand lifted your chin so he could see you, fingers oh-so gentle. Immediately, you slapped it away, side-stepping him. Neir barely flinched. 

“If humans were on the Moon, I probably wouldn’t have gone this far,” he revealed. 

Your scowl softened, heart dropping to your stomach. 

“What does that mean?” You asked, your voice a crackling whisper.

He smiled. It lacked mirth. 

“Humans have been extinct for millennia,” he told you. “They never made it to the Moon. All of them perished on Earth.”

The world was spiraling around you, but he kept going, tearing down your world more and more–one that he personally contacted with paper mache walls. 

“The aliens invaded after they disappeared. For so many centuries, androids warred against the machine lifeforms for Earth. At one point, aliens had taken over 80% of Earth. Androids were losing the war. We needed to fight for something. We needed to fight for someone.” 

He walked to the control panel and tapped on a key. Instantly, the soulless voice stopped. The room was quiet, humming gone dead, your ears ringing in its absence. 

“My predecessors decided to fabricate a story. Something that could motivate androids to keep fighting.” 

He didn’t need to elaborate. The story of humanity still surviving on the Moon was all a lie. Just like everything else. 

“All that's up there is a bunker.” Neir shrugged, too nonchalant, as if he wasn’t part of a massive cover-up. One he was dragging you into. “Nothing else.” 

He went silent on the matter. So did you. What else was there to say? 

“So now what?” It’s the first time you’ve heard so much venom from your voice. Harsh, angered. 

Terrified. 

“Are you planning on keeping me like a puppet? Force me to perform to the other androids? Was that the plan? To keep me as some sort of freakshow?” 

He laughed again, shaking his head. His features warmed, eyes drawing into crescents under the smile you once found so charming.

“No, I’m afraid I’m not that creative.” He admitted, surveying you. “I’m planning on marrying you.” 

That was the last response you expected from him. 

“Really, you have no idea how grateful I am to you,” Neir confessed. “The idea of humans being up on the Moon was starting to get harder and harder to maintain. My people wanted evidence. Something tangible.” 

His eyes bored into your own. 

“And then you came along.” 

You felt your heart beat. Fast. Your head felt light. You thought you were about to pass out. 

“I always thought of myself as a generous leader,” Neir continued. “If I have just the tiniest confirmation that, yes, the numerous android deaths, the suffering, all of it was worth it, should I not take it?” 

He smiled at you. His tone was frighteningly happy. 

“A human bride who came down to Earth to be with an android. It’s a story that has the potential to bolster our armies for centuries.” 

No. No, you couldn’t. This was all so much. 

“Neir.” You begged. “Please. Don’t do this.” 

You hadn’t realized you were crying until tears dripped down your cheeks. Your legs barely held up your weight, knees close to buckling. You were trembling so badly you thought you’d drop at any moment. 

Neir’s eyes mellowed, cerulean irises melting into puddles of deep blue. He reached for you, stroking your cheek. Unlike before, you don’t have the strength to turn him away. His eyes shifted from amusement to affection. It looked so sincere. 

It made you want to vomit. 

“You’ll want for nothing,” his voice was sickenly genuine, repeating what the AI told you. Soft, sweet. “You’ll be cared for by hundreds– thousands, who want nothing more than to see you smile. You will be the most cherished human in Earth’s history. You’ll be a queen–my Queen.” 

You shook your head, pulling away from Neir’s grasp. “But I don’t want that.” 

“We can’t always get what we want.” 

His patronizing tone struck a chord within you. Your fear burned into something brighter. Violent. 

You didn’t think, you just acted.

Your curled fists slammed against his chest, hands beating at him until they began to hurt. Nier himself didn’t react to the assault, not beyond cocking his head like he was curious about what you were doing. He didn’t defend himself or fight back, no. He sighed, and took your wrists in his light, unbreakable grip.

“I thought we could speak like adult humans,” he murmured, disappointed. Or maybe he was pretending to be. The condescending curl at the corner of his mouth made you feel like the child he was accusing you of being. “I see that’s not the case.”

“Let me go!” You shrieked at him, trying to yank yourself free. His grip didn’t even tighten.

Behind you, the massive doors opened, flooding the auditorium with new light as people rushed in. With dawning horror, you realized you recognized them – 73H, 5G, and 18D, the very same androids that had initially escorted you to the city. To him.

“Your Majesty,” 18D quickly acknowledged him. Stoicism overwrote her features, alongside those of 73H and 5G. None of them spared you a glance, despite the way you squirmed and tried futilely to kick against Nier.

“Take her to the tower,” he said dully, bored, “and give her space. Poor thing is overwhelmed. The Council of Humanity delivered bad news, I’m afraid.”

You hissed like a feral cat. “He’s lying! Let me go already!”

18D nodded, completely ignoring your spitting. From her sides, 73H and 5G advanced, replacing Nier in restraining you.

Nier frowned, putting on the perfect performance of distraught caretaker as he bent down to be eye-to-eye with you, hands cupping your cheeks. You jerked your head back, but couldn’t escape far, not like this.

“There, there, it’ll be alright,” he cooed in faux sympathy. “We’ll figure something out, I promise.”

Desperate, you looked to 18D, hoping beyond hope that she’d believe you. “He’s lying to you, he’s been lying to you this whole time! There are no humans on the moon, there’s nobody up there!”

Her features twitched, and your heart skipped a beat–

Then, she looked to her King, who bowed his head as if to appear just as heartbroken as you. “They said they couldn’t help her home. In her distress, she began acting out, claiming they’re all dead to her.”

“Poor thing,” 18D echoed his earlier sentiment, and your lower lip trembled, body slowly going slack in defeat. “Don’t worry, your Majesty. We’ll get her settled.”

“Thank you,” he smiled in mellow gratitude. You wanted to tear it off his face. “Have the girls know I’ll take over tending to her for now, until she’s feeling better.”

“34PO and 34DE, sir?”

“Yes, I’m sure they’ll be beyond worried.”

Her head bobbed in agreement. “I’ll inform them.” With that, she turned, and 73H and 5G followed suit, dragging you along.

Your heels dug into the ground, but your strength was nothing compared to that of androids. 73H talked to you in low tones she probably thought were comforting, but all they did was aggravate you further, her words going in one ear and out the other. On your other side, 5G was completely silent, staring dead ahead.

Down endless hallways and twisting turns, you were dragged kicking and screaming. It didn’t matter, not to them. The winding staircase you were taken up at some point ended in a short hallway that had only one door. Beyond it, your prison.

Surprisingly, it didn’t look like a prison. If anything, it looked like your room, if a bit smaller and more sparse. A bed, a bathroom.

No window.

And in the corner, aimed to see everything, a camera sat attached to the ceiling. The red blinking on its front mocked you. He was watching you, and he wanted you to know he was watching. 

The moment the girls let go, you stumbled towards the bed and collapsed on it, hyperventilating. From your peripheral, you saw 73H reach out towards you, only for 18D to push her arm back down with a shake of the head. The same way you came, they retreated, leaving you alone in a hollow room with a hollow heart. 

The moment the lock clicked, you broke down.

Your sobs bounced off the walls and echoed back into your ears, hysteria twisting your thoughts until, between one blink and the next, you were tearing the sheets off the bed and throwing them across the room. Another blink, and the chair tucked under the desk was thrown into a wall. Nightstand flipped over. Shower curtain ripped from the track.

You blinked again, and found yourself in the tub, holding your head as you cried. When you crawled out, energy nearly fully sapped, you threw yourself at one last thing. The camera.

Dragging the toppled chair over, you climbed onto it and reached up, hands wrapping around the black device to the best of your ability. Using all your strength, you pulled, pushed, and screamed. As immoveable as its owner, though, it remained, a stain of ink on the pure white of everything else.

You lumbered back down, nearly tripping, and threw the chair again.

You weren’t one to pray, but that night, you prayed.

To whomever or whatever would listen, you prayed and begged and pleaded. Any deity, any God that would bother to hear your cries. You wished, both silently and aloud, that Accord would finally show up and save you from this mess. You hoped it was all a dream, and when you passed out from exhaustion and woke to find that it was all too real, you began praying again.

You yelled a lot, too. Screamed. Banged on the door, threw your shoes at the camera, demanding to be released. All you got back was silence.

The space was too still. The only time there was something different, movement not caused by you, was when a hidden slot under the door opened and a tray of food was shoved inside. It always closed too fast for you to catch it, but that didn’t stop you from trying to pry it open, crying into the white blockade, forehead pressed to it. Nobody answered your pleas, nobody was there to let you out. You weren’t even sure if it was an android bringing you food, or one of those pods you’d seen around.

By the third day, you understood that Accord wasn’t coming.

It was long overdue, probably. Delusional, too, for you to have held onto hope for so long. You really should have known and accepted that you were completely on your own the second day you arrived here. Accord’s streak was perfect, she never, never lost anyone. At most, they were gone for a few hours, then found themselves home again, safe and sound with a fun story to tell.

You lost track of time on how long you’d been here. Two months? Three? Or maybe only a few weeks, a couple years. In the endless white of the castle, with a sun that forever clung to the horizon, it was easy for time to lose meaning. And now, in a windowless cube, no access to the outside world, a clock, people, it was impossible to tell.

It didn’t take long for you to crack. Your composure was frayed bit by bit by each day that showed no signs of Accord, no signs of a way home. It wasn’t hard for your will to crumble like dried sand. It all came tumbling down, eventually. 

“I’ll do it, I’ll do whatever you want, just let me out of here,” you caved, voice cracking. You swore you wouldn’t, but you couldn’t take the quiet anymore.

The door slid open soon after, as if he’d been waiting on the other side this entire time, ready to receive your surrender.

Your captor stepped in casually, unphased by the mess between you and him. He stepped over it all, your previous efforts to escape nothing more than discarded junk for him to nudge out of the way with his foot. The distance shrunk, and with it the air you needed. Seeing him again, being reminded of everything he had over you, from height to power to stance, made you regret giving in.

But not enough to take back your words. You’d do anything to be taken out of this godsforsaken room.

Even if it meant marrying the very man who put you in it in the first place.

He knelt down before you, took your face in his hands like he might actually care for you. His thumbs glided over your cheeks, drawing away the tears that carved invisible scars into them.

“You mean it, darling?” He asked, a hush. 

You gazed up at him, peered into his eyes. The world outside ceased to exist, crumbling away until all that remained was the floor underneath, holding the last human on Earth. Your kin, and the one who wished to take said kin for himself, dug his hands under your skin until he could crawl into it. Were you someone else, you might have called it romantic.

You knew better.

But what was left, if not him?

A nod, and your fate was sealed.

His arms enveloped you, cradling you like you were something precious. Fingers tangled in your hair, stroked down your back, and held you as if you meant everything to him.

“Sweet girl,” he cooed. “Knew you were smart enough to make the right decision.”

The illusion of free will.

All paths would inevitably lead back to him.

You wilted into his shoulder.

Through the ceremony preparations, you dissociated. Androids flooded into the castle, and those that couldn’t fit inside the chapel sat on the outside of the arching windows, faces pressed to the glass to watch. Their hyper chattering was deafening, even three rooms down and behind a closed door.

34PO did one final pass over your face with the cotton puff, then stepped back to examine you with a hum. She must have been satisfied with her work, seeing as she stepped back and smiled at you. Similarly, 34DE finished doing up your hair, patting your shoulder to indicate so.

“You’re so pretty,” 34PO sighed dreamily. “His Majesty will absolutely love you.”

Love. What a joke. None of this was being done out of love.

“He’d be crazy not to,” 34DE agreed. 

Her twin model giggled. Your morbid, empty stare mellowed her out. “It’s such a joyous day! You mustn’t let your nerves get to you.” She lightly cupped your cheeks, her hands barely grazing your skin. “The King won’t let anything go wrong. He planned everything thoroughly.”

It wasn’t nerves that had you gripping the fabric of the dress you were stuffed into, though those certainly didn’t help. It was frustration, anger, fear, despondency. When you initially woke up in this world, you never imagined you’d stay past sunset. You’d explore for a while, enjoy a break from the mundane life you led, then Accord would take you home.

But then, the sun never set, never once moved from the sky.

Her words were meant for comfort, but they only made you withdraw into yourself. Fuck, you really were a fool. How long had he been planning this? Since you arrived? Before you ended up in this world?

How could you have been blind to his intentions for all this time?

Oblivious or willfully ignorant, it didn’t matter. The twins merely urged you to your feet, muttering assurances and encouragement. They spent so much time taking care of you, meeting your every need (whether you wanted them to or not), that it shouldn’t have been surprising to see 34PO tearing up. You didn’t know that androids could cry. Or that they would need to.

“You’re crying,” you stated dully.

She sniffled and giggled, swiping at her eyes with her fingers. “I’m just so happy for you.”

You believed her. If nobody else was honest, you knew that at least 34PO and 34DE were true to themselves and you.

You felt like you were in your own bubble. Outside its fragile barrier, the world moved at hyperspeed; faces blurred past, passageways and rooms blended into one, all while you remained as a slow, impassive witness. Each step you took seemed like both an instant in time and a thousand years. You let 34PO and 34DE lead you, knowing it’d be pointless to throw a fit and fight back now. Wedding jitters, cold feet (“are they actually cold?”), nerves. They’d come up with any excuse.

But when those grandiose doors split wide open to reveal an aisle – the aisle you were meant to walk down – you realized that maybe you should have tried to fight.

A long rug, colorless as everything else, spanned out between you and the end of the crowded benches occupied by dozens, hundreds, of androids. And, at the very end, he stood there, waiting patiently as a saint.

Nier. Your groom. 

Your husband.

The twins must have decided that you trying to step back wasn’t reluctance, a useless escape attempt, but stage fright in front of hundreds of eyes. “Just pretend they aren’t there,” one of them whispered. You couldn’t tell who.

Before, you felt suffocated under their care, unable to lift a finger for yourself. Now, you desperately clung to them, wishing they’d just take you far away from here. Anywhere, so long as Nier wasn’t there.

34PO squeezed your hand lightly, then the two nudged you forward, and you were all on your own again.

What other choice do you have? 

Meeting Nier’s gaze, you knew you never had one in the first place.

Heart in your throat, you began walking down the aisle, hands trembling at your sides. If you had a bouquet, all the flower stems would have been crushed beneath your knuckle-thinning grip. You would have killed to have something, someone, to hold onto, but there was nothing. Only you, him, and the infinite eyes that hung onto your every step and word.

The aisle was miles long, seconds dragging eternally until you blinked and found yourself standing across from Nier, trapped under his towering command. He smiled at you, and thankfully made no comment when you didn’t – couldn’t – smile back. His hands slid down your forearms to your fists and he gently lifted them, coaxing them out of the tight balls you wound them up into to intertwine your fingers together.

It wasn’t a surprise to you that very little of human wedding tradition had survived the many thousands of years that they were gone. There was no pastor to officiate your union, no rings to be worn, glass to be broken. 

Just you, and him.

Nothing needed to be said. You both knew what this really was. When he leaned into your space, you only hesitated for a moment, throwing a glance to the end of the aisle. 34PO and 34DE still stood there, holding each other’s hands and looking at you with such pride and joy in their eyes, waiting expectantly.

Your eyes squeezed shut, blocking them and everyone else out. A solitary tear slipped down your cheek, ignored as you stood on your toes and brushed your lips against Nier’s, barely making any contact in favor of keeping it as short as possible. You felt him huff through his nose, breath on your cheek – then a hand was tangling in your hair and pulling you forward. 

Nier kissed you properly, the connection deep and intentful, actions pulling a surprised gasp from you. His lips felt cold, yet soft, plush. They parted to deepen the kiss, and the way your heartbeat pounded in your ears drowned out the uproar of cheers that filled the space all the way up to the chapel’s vaulted ceiling.

He didn’t let you pull away until you were struggling for breath, chest heaving, blood rushing. Androids were celebrating, jumping and cheering, weeping, hugging. You saw none of it, not with the way Nier shifted his hand to cup your cheek and subtly block your vision of all but him.

Only him. It’ll only ever be him.

“We’re bound,” he told you, lips on the shell of your ear, his white hair tickling your cheeks. “Forever.”

Forever.

Your hand was trapped in his, forcing you to take his lead, follow after him like the stray pup he found and put on a leash. Hands reached for you from each side of the aisle, desiring to graze the god they so worshipped. Instinctively, you tucked closer to Nier, and immediately regretted it when you felt his arm curl around your waist and his chest rumble with softened laughter.

“Relax,” he grinned down at you. “Won’t let any of them touch you.”

It wasn’t just them you were worried about, but you couldn’t put your fear, hatred, disdain, defeat, into words. It all got stuck in your throat, tongue sticky from your undoing, from still being able to taste his synthetic flavor left behind by his kiss.

34DE and 34PO were in the hallway, waiting beyond the doors of the chapel for your arrival. They were both teary-eyed, grinning from ear to ear as they rushed to say their congratulations. Nier received them with a serene smile, the one you now recognized as a mask, him pretending to be kind and thankful.

“I’ll be taking her to our chambers,” he told them. “We wish to not be disturbed.”

“Of course!” 34PO nodded obediently. “We won’t let anyone bother you.”

“Glory to mankind,” 34DE declared, fist to her chest, which her sister mimicked. 

You wanted to talk to them, stay with them as long as possible to delay whatever Nier had planned for you, but by the time you opened your mouth, he was already sweeping you away from them. Your last salvation stripped away from you.

You lost track of how many steps you took, needing to lengthen your gait to keep up with Nier’s excitement. There was a click, and you were in a large, dimly-lit room. 

It’d been so long since you’d seen color besides the white of the castle, green of the city, and eternally setting sun, that the burst of red you saw felt oversaturated. It was on the bed’s duvet, the rug underneath the frame, the curtains of the four-poster, the tapestries on the walls. The plush armchairs placed in front of the glowing, crackling fireplace, too. 

It all looked like blood. Freshly spilled, drained, used as divine paint. All for you.

A hand on your lower back startled you, causing you to tear your eyes away from the gory scene. Nier was already smiling at you, like he knew exactly how it looked to you. “Go make yourself comfortable, dear. I’ll be just a moment.”

The kiss he laid to your temple felt more like a threat than reassurance. 

He moved away from you afterwards, stalking over to the low bookshelf set up by one of the walls. Left to your own devices, you turned away from him and took in your surroundings, trying to ground the rising panic trying to bubble free. What was he planning to do to you? He couldn’t possibly want to…

You threw the thought out as soon as it popped up, hoping beyond hope that Nier didn’t have the necessary… equipment to take this whole marriage thing that far. Instead, you chose to walk to the full-length mirror propped up in the corner of the room.

You stared at your reflection. The dress was simple; off-white with ruffled, short sleeves, the hem reaching your knees. Not quite a wedding dress, but the closest they could get to one, you supposed. 34PO did a good job on your makeup, 34DE with your hair. If this had been a day you wanted, a wedding you willingly participated in, you would have appreciated it more. As it stood, you felt like a stranger in your own body.

Soft music began to play, likely what your husband had been messing with.

Fuck. Husband.

It felt surreal. Sure, nothing about the ceremony resembled anything legally binding, but the way he looked at you, held you, kissed you– 

You were never escaping his clutches. 

Nier’s arms looped around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest as his chin settled on your crown. In the silvered reflection, his eyes glowed a vibrant cerulean.

“Beautiful,” he breathed reverently. “Absolutely beautiful. My human wife.”

“What do you want?” You asked, voice cracking minutely. “Is this all? Just to marry me?”

The question had swirled in your mind a lot, but no matter which way you sliced it, it didn’t fully add up. Could he want more power? Possible, but he already had a kingdom, hundreds of loyal androids. A chance to feel closer to the humanity they lost so long ago? Seemed closer to the truth, but that couldn’t be all. Not with how insistent he was on keeping you by his side.

You felt his chuckle more than you heard it, a distant rumble of thunder against your fragile spine. “Of course not,” he denied. “I have a responsibility to protect humanity.”

“But they’re gone,” you said. 

“Correct. Which means now, my responsibility is to restore it.”

Your heart sank to your toes. No. No no no. “What do you mean?”

Nier tilted his head to the side, lips grazing your cheek, leaving fluttering kisses in his wake as he drifted down your jaw and to your neck. “See, I can’t do this with the other androids. While they may possess the, ah, anatomy, they do not possess the needed structures to support life.”

“...What do you mean?”

You regretted asking as soon as the words, half-whispered as they were, left your mouth.

His lips stretched into a wide grin, teeth almost sharp enough to bite into you and leave a mark. A permanent scar, one that let everyone know who you belonged to.

“We androids, we’re not meant to make life, no,” he explained. “But we can aid in it. I can aid in it. I can’t create sperm myself, but I can most certainly act as a host. A medium for… transfer, if you will.”

Breath stuttering in your chest, you tensed up, fingers growing cold, adrenaline spiking. “Nier.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you. You’ll want for nothing, need nothing, and all you have to do…”

His hand shifted, sliding down your front, over your breast, settling on your stomach to solidify your worst fear. 

“Is carry humanity’s child.”

You tore yourself out of his grip, distinctly aware that he let you. He had more than enough strength to lock you in place if he wanted to.

“No!” You shouted, backing away. He watched with a small smile, and you didn’t know if that unsettled you more than if he had been completely neutral. “I won’t. I don’t want that.”

He took a step forward, and you matched him in reverse, edging further back. Unperturbed by his retreat, he closed in on you until the backs of your knees were bumping into the edge of the plush bed. Balance lost, you tumbled back onto the duvet, heart hammering inside your rib cage.

Judge, jury, executioner. Warden.

There was nowhere you could go to flee from him, a fact he reinforced by planting his hands on either side of your head. 

“It’s your responsibility, too, you know,” Nier murmured, snowy locks falling around the sides of his face. His damned, beautiful face. “As the last human on Earth, it’s up to you, to us, to bring them back.” Then, quieter, he said, “I won’t fail to protect them this time, not again.”

“Nier–”

“Shh,” his thumb rested on your bottom lip, effectively silencing you. “I won’t simply use you. You are my wife, after all. As your husband, I will ensure you feel nothing but pleasure.”

Tears pricked the backs of your eyes, spilling into your waterline. “Please,” you choked. “Please, don’t.”

All he did was kiss your forehead, so tender. You’d almost prefer it if he wasn’t.

A hand slid up your thigh, inching beneath the skirt of your dress. Somewhere in your hindbrain, you knew it was pointless to fight back. A battle already lost, a war that was projected to completely decimate your lands. A plague, famine, devastation. Give in, and he’d water your soils, keep your plains fertile. Just give in.

With nothing and everything left to lose, you gave in.

And your loving husband rewarded you for it; he cooed in your ear, gave you sweet promises of a bright future, one where you would be lauded as a hero, the one that brought back humanity when it was on the brink of complete extinction. As he did, his hand worked its way between your thighs, palm cupping the heat of your sex through your panties. 

Experimentally, his middle finger nudged against the outline of your slit, featherlight tracing making you squirm. It wasn’t a bad feeling, per se. Rather, you can only describe it as faintly ticklish. 

He hooked it around the band of the gusset, and you were mortified to find that you were wet. His skin made contact with your sex, and his digit easily glided between your folds, coasting up and down the length of your vulva. 

“So warm,” he commented idly. “Are all humans this hot?”

You didn’t know how to respond. He didn’t seem to mind. Entranced, he explored, familiarizing your core with touch first. Curious. It’s such a harmless, yet horrifying, thought. 

It didn’t hit you that he’d drawn your panties down until cool air was brushing against your cunt. Startled, you reached down in an attempt to stop him, but it was too late, as he’d already pulled them off from around your ankles. Reverent and careful, he folded them and set them on the foot of the bed beside you, causing you to flush with embarrassment.

You felt painfully exposed, even with the dress still technically covering you. Another barrier, another boundary, scraped from your person.

Nier lowered himself to his knees, hands on your thighs to keep them apart. You writhed in discomfort, white-hot humiliation dancing up your spine. “Don’t– don’t look at me.” 

Blue eyes glanced up at you. “Can a husband not see his wife?”

You tried to swallow around the lump in your throat. “I… please, just… don’t.”

He angled his head to the left. “Ah. I see, now. You’re embarrassed.” The fact that he read through you like thin paper made the heat in your chest and cheeks bloom hotter. Worse, it made the heat in your stomach grow, too. “You don’t need to be embarrassed. There’s no part of you I wouldn’t find beautiful.”

You breathed in to disagree, insist that wasn’t the case, even if it was – but you were cut off by a mouth making contact with your cunt. Your hips jumped, body reacting faster than your mind could. He acted in kind, grabbing your hips to hold you down, unable to escape the tentative tongue that licked you from hole to clit. 

The gasp you drew in was completely drowned out by the downright euphoric groan he let out. He attacked again, deeper this time, harder, licking at you feverishly to take in every drop of your slick.

“This must be the ambrosia I read in those human books,” he sounded gutted. “Healing nectar from the gods. I thought it must have been their blood, but I was wrong. It’s this.” 

Unfortunately, you were too stunned to correct him.

He dove back in, his method aimless, circuits clearly focused more on drinking you down than pleasuring you. At least, until his teeth barely skimmed against your clit. Your moan was quiet, but you failed to choke it down. And, of course, Nier noticed.

“Oh?” He hummed, the vibrations traveling through your nerves to the swirling, loose mess of tangles in your stomach. Intrigued, he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked.

You couldn’t hide your whine of pleasure this time, even if you wanted to.

It rattled free from your chest as your hands shot down to dig through his tresses, torn between pushing him away and drawing him closer. Your hips yearned to move, to grind against his face and take what you wanted, what you needed, but the damned android kept them pinned in place. Anything you received was something he gave.

The tip of a finger prodded at the part of your cunt he wasn’t suckling the soul out of, tracing up and down through your wet folds. It encouraged your body to produce more slick, to his great delight. His ministrations gained confidence, interest growing the more you reacted and wriggled. It still surprised you, though, when his finger slid into you without resistance. 

His fingers were slim, but long. It easily reached the back of your pussy, petting around the ring of your cervix. The sensation was odd, albeit not unpleasant. Just weird. 

Nier seemed to like it, like your warmth. He sought more of it, the appendage moving around to map the space within you, learn all he could. There were only so many things you could hide from him, and you were positive he was determined to make sure this wasn’t one of them. 

While the stretch around one finger wasn’t too noticeable, two had your back arching and toes curling. It worked its way in with the first, parting your walls to make room. You’d never admit it, but it felt good.

“Fuck,” you groaned, teeth gritting as he carefully massaged the inside of your pussy. He was methodical, almost clinical, like he was inspecting you. Twist, press, spread, scissoring both your entrance and deep inside. 

Then, his digits crooked up, and you inhaled sharply as he hit your sweet spot dead on. Nier grinned, smug and self-satisfied, a cat that got the cream.

He focused on that spot, repeating the motion and watching your reaction with fascination. Each stroke spur your body into motion against your will, heat building in your center from the rising pleasure. It was slow, a gradual rise, kept on a low simmer. His fingers felt very different, unique, the lack of calluses and fingerprints giving them a smooth texture. It was delicious. They rubbed eagerly, petting until the coil winding inside you creaked and–

Snap.

A startled moan burst out from you as an unexpectedly strong orgasm crashed into your body. It passed through you in waves, the sound of Nier humming in fascination as you clenched around him drowned out by the ringing in your ears.

It didn’t occur to you that he wouldn’t stop until pleasure bled into overstimulation. The heels of your hands shoved against his forehead, sweaty fingers tangling into his pristine hair, but he didn’t budge.

“Nier,” you wheezed, straining against his unbreakable clutch. “Stop, s’too much.”

He gave you mercy, drawing back an inch to give you a crazed, dazed stare. “More. Need you to give me more.”

You celebrated too soon. He sank back down, lapping more urgently. His tongue lacked the texture a human’s did, preventing friction burn, but you were sensitive. Clit swollen, walls still pulsing, nerves on fire. 

For the next two orgasms, Nier’s mouth and fingers were all you knew. They assaulted your leaking, aching pussy, scraping out and swigging down every drop of slick he wanted. Like your body heard his unsaid pleas, you didn’t stop producing the heavenly liquid he became addicted to in mere moments. 

It took you threatening to call for help for him to finally, at long fucking last, release your poor bundle of nerves from his bottomless maw. He released it with a squelching pop, his fingers following shortly after. Where you expected to feel nothing but relief, a hint of sorrow lingered with the sense of emptiness inside you. You smothered it.

His plush lips pressed to your inner thigh, his face absolutely drenched from the chin down. Had you not felt like a wrung out cloth, you would have felt beyond humiliated to see him in that state. 

Compared to you, though, he hardly looked mussed at all. Where you were covered in a sheen of sweat, only his hair was slightly askew, ruffled by your hands that tried to claw him both closer and away from you. Your makeup was undoubtedly smudged, but he looked as put-together as he usually did. He didn’t even have the courtesy to pretend to be out of breath after drowning himself between your thighs for the better part of fifteen or so minutes.

“Sweet girl,” he cooed, crawling over your body. “If you wanted me, you should have just said so.”

You weakly glared at him. “I don’t want–”

Digits slinked into your mouth, and you gagged around the unexpected intrusion. A tangy flavor spread across your tastebuds, and it took you a moment to identify that it was you. 

The very fingers he’d used to finger you raw now massaged the squirming muscle behind your teeth, spreading the slick that had yet to dry onto it. 

“Shh, shh, no need to act shy,” he smiled disarmingly, charmingly, horribly. His hips slotted between your spread thighs, the rough fabric of his pants scraping against the undersides of your legs. Weak and exhausted, you didn’t bother trying to lift your calves from where they were draped by his iliac crests. “I know what you need.”

His free hand worked its way under the waist of your dress, the cloth drawn up, up, up by his arm as he explored your stomach, the bottom of your ribs, over your left tit.

His palm fit so comfortably around your throat.

A collar made just for you.

When your chest was exposed, he freed your neck, the cool touch of synthetic skin around it retreating to instead find home on your breast. He squeezed the flesh, watched it spill through the gaps in between his digits. They spread out, pressed closer, pinched your nipple between them. You hissed, the twinge teetering on painful. 

It wasn’t horrible when the man – android – actually listened to your tells, silent or verbal. His tweaking gentled, curious exploration softened into tender interest. It lulled you into a false sense of security, the sense that he was running out of energy (was that even possible for him?). If you were lucky, his inquisitiveness would burn off soon and he’d leave you alone.

How could you forget that your luck ran out the moment you woke up in this lonely world, where you were surrounded by so many, yet never felt more isolated?

Your eyes shot open at a touch to your core, gaze drawn to the absolute behemoth he’d freed from his pants. 

Fuck. So he did have the needed parts, after all.

Panic resurfaced, surging forth in a tsunami of adrenaline. Any peace you found was stripped away faster than you could wrap around yourself, the lack of its cozy warmth leaving a vicious chill that prickled your skin in goosebumps.

Predicting your escape attempt, his iron vise took your hips and forced them down, keeping you exposed and vulnerable to him and the monster he kept in his pants. Your kicking legs did nothing to aid you, nor harm him. Spread so wide to fit his oversized stature, they could do little more than uselessly kick at the blanket beneath you, ruffling the fabric. You clawed at it, him, anything you could, all fruitless. It wasn’t working, but you had to keep trying, the animal part of your brain screaming to get away, get away, get away.

His position adjusted, the tip of his cock sliding through your folds to notch against your entrance. Your heart beat harder, barely beating at all. Your lungs strained, breath catching at the increasing pressure, your body fighting against letting him in. 

“No, no, get off me, get o–ah!”

Nier pulled a choked yelp from you when he unceremoniously sank two inches into your core, stuck from the lack of slick on his cock. He hadn’t bothered to rub himself against your soaked cunt, and while the thought of him doing so made you blanch, you would have preferred it now if he had.

A pinch formed in his brow, confusion evident as he tried to nudge further forward. You hissed and shoved at his chest, failing to move him at all. Damned android strength.

“Ow, ow, stop, you’re hurting me!” You cried out. Unexpectedly, he listened, stopping what he was doing to look up at you with worried eyes. So much like the sky – colder the deeper you went.

He drew back minutely, a hand leaving your hip to delicately cup your cheek. The pad of his thumb, forever soft by his very nature, smoothed away a tear that slipped free. Maybe, if he hadn’t been so eager to shove his dick into you, you would have believed the concern he wore like a second skin.

“Did I not prepare you enough?” He questioned quietly, lips barely parting to let the words pass. You wondered if he even needed to shape the words, or if he had a voice box that could do it for him.

It was less so the lack of preparation (god knows he gave you a lot of that), and more so his enthusiasm, him forgetting that his size downstairs remained proportional to his freakish height.

You shook your head, eyes squeezed shut. “No, that’s not – fuck – not it. You’re– too big.”

Just like that, he was relaxing, shoulders slumping in relief. “Goodness, dear, you should have said so.”

Like he gave you time to object. Like he gave you a chance to see and decide for yourself.

The stretch burned, discomfort making you twist and struggle pointlessly. It was subconscious more than anything else, a mindless desire to flee the pain.

Nier himself stayed as still as a statue, unsettling eyes locked onto your movement. The chance to become accustomed to his girth, the bizarre sensation of something not human attached to something that looked very human being inside of you, was a small blessing. It took ages, your muscles wound up with stress, but given no other option, you started to settle.

When your breath evened out, pulse steadying, Nier took that as his sign to continue his pursuit. He went much slower this time, afraid of hurting you again, and while a tiny sting remained, the slide was much smoother. He focused on your face, hyperanalyzing your every expression. 

Minutes felt like hours before he finally bottomed out, his pelvis flush with yours. You let out a sharp exhale and slumped against the bed, sweat clinging to every inch of your skin as you tried (and failed) to ignore the fullness in your core. His size stretched you to what felt like your limit, pulled thin around him, forced to accommodate something you were never made to take.

But what he spoke into your hairline in reverence replayed in your mind as his thrusts grew more confident and his circuits shorted.

“Yours, all for you, all for our god. For humanity. Made for you.”

He was made for you.

As man was made in the image of some long lost god, androids were made in the image of man.

Who were you to say you weren’t their god? Nier certainly worshipped you, your body, like you were. He held you as gently as he could without the fear that you’d slip through his fingers, hips canting to find the angle that had you jolting and gasping through your teeth. He kissed and laved at your warm flesh like it was salvation and damnation all in one. 

You melted further into his touch each time, your will chipped away at ‘til he could dip his hands into your pliant chest, spread your ribs, and draw out your still-beating heart.

The twinge in your stomach soon faded into pleasure, eased by his unfaltering, unchanging pace. You didn’t want to fight anymore, worn out by all your earlier struggles. You didn’t want to lie anymore and say you’d rather take the pain over the pleasure, in spite of the guilt that made your gut churn from the admission. You were only human, at the end.

It was because of that fact that you were here, married to an obsessive, doting, man-made creation. 

For the glory of humanity.

You came to that thought, to the knowledge that it was you alone in this world that could do this, that could have this.

Only you.

Your walls bore down on him, spine curving upwards as your orgasm crested. Stars bloomed behind your lids, exploding into beautiful supernovae, each fizzling away in a rain of glitter.

Nier groaned in response, muttering things you couldn’t understand. His voice strained, turning metallic and distorted in some places. Whatever brain cells you had left noted that he could feel pleasure, too. He, too, could be strung thin by bliss to the point that his components had difficulty maintaining normal function.

Through the sensory overload, past the weakness in your arms, your own curiosity led you to cup his cheek, wanting to feel if he would get warm from exertion the same way you would. However, it seemed the touch made his system flow over. He hunched over your body, deathly still as his hips pressed into yours as far as they could go. There was nothing initially, and you worried you accidentally caused him to shut off – then you felt liquid trickle out of your entrance.

A bolt of lightning. Dreaded realization.

He came inside you.

Yet, as much as you wanted to, you no longer had the strength to fight him off.

“Beautiful,” he hailed, thrusts starting anew. “Our savior of humanity.”

All you could do was lay there and take it. Accept this was your fate, what would become of you. Neither servant nor master; an idol placed on a pedestal, sat on the lap of the very one who put you there. Crown adhered to your scalp, glimmering steel locked around your ring finger, and a dress that shimmered and twinkled in gold and silver. 

What more could you do but succumb to the pleasure he so desired to give you, wear the gown and let him call you his queen, and him your king?

What was left for you? What remained in your control?

Did you ever have any to begin with?

You didn’t know what round it happened on, only that it happened.

Between the zero breaks and various position changes, angles he wanted to test out to get the biggest reaction out of you, you reached a breaking point. Your body had been pushed too far, the overwhelming pleasure too much to handle.

Nier had you on his lap, back to his chest with one knee hooked over his arm while his free hand danced over your clit, rubbing precise, unfaltering circles into it, making sure to swipe the underside on every pass. You were too far out of it, mind lost somewhere in the ether, to warn him. Hell, your body didn’t even warn you. All you knew was that one second, there was pressure.

And the next, you were squirting.

Hard.

It splattered onto the bed, soaking into the sheets. It coated both your thighs and his, body trembling from the sheer strength of your release. 

That seemed to be his last straw.

With two more brutal thrusts, he hilted himself inside you and pumped whatever fluid into your cunt, plugging you up to the best of his ability. There was a sputter, a shudder in his body, then nothing.

He was finally empty. Everything he had was given to you, filled beyond full. His mission was complete.

The world was a hazy blur from there. Your aching body was moved around, sore muscles cramping. A cloth to your fragile skin, the cold rim of a glass to your lips, heaven in the form of water on your tongue.

When you came to properly, you were laid on your back, a blanket pulled up to your waist. The fireplace was sparking with dying embers, but the room remained warm. A pleasant sensation buzzed under your skin, keeping you loose and unwilling to move.

Exhausted. You were exhausted, utterly spent, wrung out like an old rag. Beside you, Nier breathed easily, his thumb stroking slowly over your stomach. Not for the first time, you wondered how something so distinctly inhuman could be so human.

You looked up, and found him already peering at you, gazing like he was capable of feeling love.

It hurt too much to wonder if it was possible at all. Burying your face into his collarbone, you chose to fade into your imagination, pretending that everything was normal and okay. You fantasized that this was wanted, that he was truly as loving as he portrayed himself to be, that he wasn’t made of metal and wires.

Maybe, if you pretended hard enough, it would all be okay.

divider by cafekitsune ♥

(reminder to put your age in your bio/pinned before you follow me or I will block you)

[NieR masterlist]

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[danijaci]

the bucket tool when there's a small gap:

[seijorhi]

Gorge

Monster Geto Suguru x female reader

tw: blood and gore, hard vore (not reader), implied non con, mentions of breeding, yandere-ish as always

Fairy & Rhi’s Big Bad Valentines Event ~ Here there be monsters

Days of silence, waiting, calling fruitlessly into the vast nothing that surrounds you, and the sudden crackle on the other end of the radio sends your heart leaping to your throat. 

“Mayday, mayday, this is the S.S. Sarugami, requesting emergency assistance. I repeat, this is S.S. Sarugami, requesting emergency assistance, we’ve taken heavy damage with multiple fatalities, requesting emergency assistance, do you read me?”

Please.

You don’t so much as breathe, fingers poised over the transponder as you wait. They might not pick up the signal, they might not care enough to stop and help. It could be pirates, unfriendlies. Scavengers or reavers. You’d close your eyes and pray if it hadn’t been made perfectly clear that any higher power turned their back to your plight a long, long time ago. 

“Don’t you feel the teeniest bit of guilt?” a smooth purr snakes through your head.

You don’t bother hiding the shiver that trickles down your spine like ice. “No,” you snip. It’s somewhere between a truth and a lie. You don’t relish what you’ll be unleashing on them if they arrive to offer the aid you begged for, but if it gets you out of here, away from him–

Self preservation will always win out.

You’re not a bad person for this. They wouldn’t come if they knew. They wouldn’t help you.

“No?” Amused. Always fucking amused. You bite your tongue so hard you taste blood. The near soundless shudder, breathy and excited, that reverberates through the cabin wrenches at you like a knife. 

Seconds crawl past, and then–

“Copy, Sarugami, this is the Admiral Fleet, I.C. Justice Prime. Report.” A flare of panic sparks at the identification, the brash, no-nonsense tone at the other end of the transponder. The Admiral Fleet isn’t your first choice here, they’re assholes of the highest order, bound by the code and, some might say, a little too eager to sniff out violations and injustices they can throw the book at. 

If one of them escapes, if they report you–

“You think I’d leave one alive? My, such little faith in me, I thought we’d dispelled such notions.”

Ignoring It, you say to Justice Prime, “We were attacked by reavers four days past with heavy casualties. The Captain and his command are dead. The med-team is dead. Our core was disabled and stripped and our life support systems are running low. Requesting emergency assistance, please.”

More lies, sprinkled in truth. Reavers would’ve left by now. Reavers aren’t nearly as dangerous as the threat you’re luring them to. Your hands tremble, heart trilling like a hummingbird and sweat beads at your temple. From the corner of your eye, you spy a flash of dark hair and pale skin, an all too familiar aroma of thick, smoky incense washing over you.

Lie, lie, lie. 

You squeeze your eyes close and breathe deep, fighting the urge not to flinch when something too cold, too soft, too formless to pass for human pets at your cheek. Like you’re a pet. A pretty doll. “I think I like this side of you. Vicious, bloodthirsty little mate,” It croons.

“… Copy, Sarugami. We’ll send a boarding party to assess the situation and advise next steps.”

No promises of help, but you suppose that’s too much to expect from the likes of the Admiral Fleet. It doesn’t matter. Once the airlock opens, none of that will matter. “Copy.”

The moment your finger leaves the transponder, you swing into action. You shoulder the blaster (almost drained) and the backpack (stuffed with as many rations and water packs as you could carry) and bolt from the control board out onto the main deck. There’s no telltale hiss of slithering behind you, no artificial footfalls sounding at your heels. It’s following you, though. Even if you weren’t trying to escape, It never strays far, firm in the belief of Its possession. 

Navigating through the ship isn’t as easy as you imagined, your pace unwieldy and slow with the extra weight on your back, but you can’t afford to stop or be seen. They’ll be suspicious when you aren’t there to greet them, but so long as they venture in – and don’t catch you slipping past behind them – it’ll be okay.

You just have to get past them before It starts eating or– 

Well, that’s the only option. Get on the Prime and convince them to shut the airlock and leave. 

“Such a lovely little mate, bringing me feast after feast. When you fail, will you finally accept that this is inevitable?”

The visage in the corner of your eyes flickers, pulsing, warping, too much of a substance in a container too small, and the tiny hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. You push forward, ducking out of sight, the back routes, the underbelly of the ship. Your breath comes in and ragged pants and your legs shake, more from the growing sense of dread twisting you up in knots than exertion.

“I’ll take the I.C Justice Prime,” It whispers in your head, far too sure of itself. “I’ll make a nest there to breed you in, keep you full and content. Such a good mate. Such a perfect, perfect monkey for me.”

Self-righteous assholes though the Admiral Fleet may be, you’re condemning them. Part of you knows it, even as It slips away from behind you, spilling from the tall, dark haired facade it adopts to soothe your nerves. Growing, black and slick, tendrils writhing, it slips through the grate like oil and forms itself on the other side.

“There’s other humans,” you hiss under your breath. “You can find another pet, I’m getting out of here.”

“None like you.”

The screams start before you resurface on deck. Your timing is off. There’s yelling and burst after burst of blaster fire, the sickening wrenching of limbs being ripped from bodies. Justice Prime sent seven soldiers and a single medic, and they’re being torn apart. Consumed in bloody chunks, still alive. Still screaming. 

Run, you think, skittering to your feet when they slip through a puddle, warm blood coating your hands, up your wrists and forearms, your knees. It’s everywhere, horrible trails of it leaking across the floor. Run. Run. Run, and for fuck’s sake don’t look back. 

“I shall have to reward you for this. Both my appetites sated, how you spoil me.”

Tears well in your eyes, shoulders shaking, heaving with the force of the sobs you choke back. The airlock is mere feet away – you’ve come too far to turn back. You cannot just submit to this, to It. 

There’s a difference, though, between the crew of the S.S. Sarugami and the I.C. Justice Prime. Your crew were explorers, scientists. Your best friend was a botanist studying alien flora, her wife a cartographer. They were taken unawares. The Prime are soldiers, first and foremost. Comms suddenly cut out on a suspicious mayday call, and they don’t wait to see if it’s a jammed frequency or miscommunication.

When you stumble through the airlock, the muzzles of six blasters greets you.

“We have to go!” you cry out, throwing your blood slicked hands up in front of you to show you’re not a threat, begging them to just listen. “Please, we have to go now!”

You feel It before you see It, the cold chill at your back. 

In one cruel sweep, It rips the blasters from their grips, sending them clattering uselessly to the wall. “I’m sorry,” you gasp, though it’s more a plea for forgiveness as you watch their eyes widen in terror, taking in the monstrous creature behind you. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t watch, sweet mate. I know how this sort of thing upsets you.”

But closing your eyes doesn’t stop the screams, or the warm, wet spray of blood that drips down through your hair from the toothy maw above.

[seijorhi]

To the Wolves

my (first) entry for the Deal With the Devil collab, because i couldn’t resist writing for Yakuza Getou <33

Getou Suguru x Female Reader

TW Extremely dubious consent, coercion, manipulation, threats, implied murder, smut, nsfw

“No. I- I won’t.”

Sitting comfortably on the old, worn couch in your cramped little apartment, Getou raises a single eyebrow, “Oh? Is that so?”

His voice is perfectly pleasant, the smile on his face a touch amused, but you’re not so naive as to believe that the question is anything but a generous offer for you to rethink your reply. A smart person would take it – since the day you’d first arrived home to find him waiting for you, Getou hadn’t so much as laid a finger on you. He had no need for guns or knives, never shouted or bullied you, his reputation more than enough to cow you into submission before he’d even opened his mouth.

Of course, once he had, the simple threats to your friends and family’s lives had made certain that you were more than amenable to his request.

A mutually beneficial arrangement, he’d called it, as if there hadn’t been tears silently streaming down your face, your whole body stiff with fear. 

Keep reading

[seijorhi]

Sanctuary

for @iwaasfairy's Cherry Velvet organised crime collab shh it's only a few weeks late Yakuza Okkotsu Yuuta x female reader w.c. 4.2k tw: yandere themes, extreme dubcon, attempted assault, non-character death, mentions of blood, arson, nsfw, smut, implied stalking, this one's a doozy i think

His is not the first dead body you’ve seen.

The glassy eyes, neck bent at an unnatural angle, even the blood pooling beneath the gash on the back of his head, you hadn’t bothered to check for a sluggish, thready pulse. The fact that he hadn’t so much as twitched in the twenty minutes you’ve sat staring at him further solidifies your assessment.

Deader than dead. 

On your living room floor. Because you shoved him.

Mid-thirties with slicked back hair and a cheap looking designer suit, everything about him from the thick gold chain around his neck to the equally tacky watch on his wrist screamed wanna-be gangster, dime a dozen ‘round here. Thugs with their first taste of money and power thinking they rule the damn world when in reality they’re a step above the gutters, on a fast track to ending up face down in a dumpster with the next asshole in line sweeping in to take their place before their body’s even cold.

From your few brief and extremely unpleasant interactions with this particular asshole, you doubt anyone’s gonna miss him too much. 

Unfortunately for you, that isn’t the saving grace it should be.

Your fingers drum anxiously against your thigh, your gaze flickering from the dead body on your floor to the message typed up on your phone, ready to send.

I need your help, it’s an emergency. Please. 

The last part was added somewhat begrudgingly. Deleted. Typed again. Calling him would be easier and would probably get him here faster, but despite the looming inevitability of it, the thought of actually speaking to him makes you want to shrivel up inside. If your back wasn’t against the wall–

But it is. 

There’s no point stomping your feet and bemoaning your lack of a choice. You have choices and none of them are any good. With this one, maybe you’ll make it out of this mess in one piece. 

Send.

You exhale in a gust and exactly none of the tension holding your body captive eases. 

The text is a hail Mary at best, one that hinges on too many variables. You haven’t laid eyes on the man for three years – for all you know he’s holed up in prison. Besotted with one of the sultry singers from Gojo’s classier joints or some idiot heiress. Dead. Alive and too entrenched in the festering rot of your leaving to bother lifting a finger to help.

You’d like to think that even if he still bore a grudge, Yuuta wouldn’t abandon you if you begged, but any faith you have in the man you knew is wishful thinking at best. Three years is an aching chasm between you. 

The clock ticks. Your leg bounces. 

Should you try Gojo if Yuuta doesn’t answer? Would it be worth the pound of flesh he’d delight in watching you carve for him?

Tears sting at your eyes and furiously you blink them back.

The corner of your coffee table shines with blood, more of it seeping into the fibres of the blush flatweave rug you’d salvaged at a flea market years ago – one of the few pieces of home you’d brought with you when you ran.

Your phone vibrates and you snap to attention, holding your breath. Beneath your message, a tiny red heart appears, and then–

Where?

The relief that hits you feels like a gut punch. You fold in on yourself, forehead resting on your arms, and shudder out another breath. Texting back your address takes a minute because your hand won’t stop shaking and the stupid thing keeps autocorrecting the wrong words, but eventually you manage. 

This time, the reply comes through in seconds. 

Be there soon x

—

The quiet knock at the door shatters your already fragile nerves.

Much like with the shaking text message, it takes a moment or two for your muscles to move how you will them, unfolding and rising to your feet. 

The dead body lies between you and the door, you give it a wide berth, skirting around the walls to reach the doorway. Peering through the peephole, you’re relieved to see the familiar face of your ex-boyfriend smiling back at you.

Relieved and a little unnerved, if you’re being totally honest. 

Yuuta smiles with boyish innocence, a sweet natured soul incapable of causing harm. The sort of guy who walks old ladies across the street and helps lost, crying kids find their parents. He smiles and you’re twenty years old again, thinking your roommate was so full of shit, because there was no way this guy with puppy-dog eyes who blushed and stammered through introducing himself could possibly run in the same circles as her girlfriend Maki did.

You can’t even call it an act. Yuuta was kind and gentle and sweet when he came home to you with blood flecked over his shirt, the acrid bite of gunpowder still clinging to the fingers he’d trace over your lips. 

But it could flip like a switch. Never around you, not if he could help it. You’d be out, settled in Yuuta’s lap at one of their clubs or restaurants when Gojo would come calling. Your sweet boyfriend would extricate you with a kiss, promise not to be too long, and nine times out of ten, his driver would end up taking you back to the penthouse, playing dumb to your requests he drive you home instead.

Just once, you decided to follow. 

Yuuta knocks again, calling out your name, and you – clutching the door handle – you hesitate. Your hand refuses to move. 

The door isn’t locked. The dead asshole on your rug hadn’t seemed all that concerned with security when he’d shouldered his way into your apartment, kicking it shut behind him. You’re the one who begged Yuuta to come, but the sight of him on your doorstep sends you back to that night, and the startling absence of humanity in your sweet, kind, gentle boyfriend as he sliced another guy’s hand off with a fucking katana.

You invited him, and now he’s here. 

To help. 

Lesser evils, you remind yourself. Yuuta never laid a finger on you you didn’t want. Against your better instincts, perhaps, you crack the door. “Hi.” 

A pathetically inadequate greeting considering the circumstances, but Yuuta breaks into a relieved laugh, pushing the door wider to swallow you up in a near crushing embrace. “Hi, baby.”

While you don’t return the hug, you can’t exactly rebuff him either. You end up in an awkward middle ground – nestled stiffly against his chest with your hands curled into loose fists, hanging by your side. Yuuta doesn’t care. You get the sense that your tiny apartment could spontaneously combust, dead body included, and it wouldn’t drag him away from this. 

“You should’ve called me sooner,” he mumbles into your hair, making your stomach flip uncomfortably.

It would’ve been easier if he’d come to you cold, you think. Ridden to the rescue begrudgingly, because he thought he owed it to you – one last favour to put the flaming disaster of your relationship to bed. You could’ve swallowed snide jibes and frustration far easier than the intimacy he’s trying to inspire with the hugs and the pet names.  

“I… need your help.”

Finally, Yuuta draws back. Hands on your hips, thumbs working smooth circles into the sliver of bare skin between your skirt and the bottom of your top. Gunmetal eyes appraise you, narrowing at the tear in the neckline of your shirt, the bruise blooming on your cheek. For the first time since stepping foot in your apartment, Yuuta sees you. 

The tension inside the room ratchets, violence crackling in the air. 

“Yuuta–”

“Who is he?” Yuuta’s voice is level, but there’s no mistaking the lethal edge behind his dead-eyed expression.

“One of Naoya’s underlings. I don’t know his name,” you admit in a small voice. Delivering threats and roughing up women didn’t usually require a formal introduction. “There’s probably an ID in his wallet if you’re up for frisking a dead guy.” 

Yuuta doesn’t laugh. “And why the hell would one of Zen’in’s cockroaches be at your apartment in the first place?’

Yuuta hadn’t laughed, but there’s no holding back the strained, bitter chuckle that escapes you. 

“I didn’t run to him if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m not stupid; Naoya’s the last person I’d ever get into bed with.” Second last, actually. “It started with mum after she got sick. Dad couldn’t keep a job, he was drinking a lot, gambling too, I think. It got worse after she died. When I went back I thought I could help him, but–” but he wasn’t interested in seeing his tainted daughter, much less accepting your help. Ironic, considering that he was the one who ended up entangled with Naoya. “I didn’t know he owed the Zen’ins. Not until that asshole,” your chin juts towards the dead guy, “showed up at his funeral a couple of months back to tell me I needed to settle his debts.” You shrug, “I ran a few days later, came here. I didn’t think they’d follow me back to Tokyo.” A small part of you hoped that hiding within Gojo’s territory would’ve afforded you some level of protection from Naoya and his thugs.

And maybe that might’ve been the case, had you not picked a run-down dump at the very edges of it. 

Yuuta’s quiet for a beat. “I heard about your dad. DUI, right?”

It takes a few seconds for the words to sink in, and your stomach sinks with it. It’s funny how you don’t realise you’re clinging to the last vestiges of hope ‘til they slip clean from your grasp entirely and you’re in freefall. You’re tired, so damn tired of this. All the fear and the paranoia, the running and hiding, scraping by through the skin of your fucking teeth and for what? What was the point of it all when you never truly walked away? When you’ve ended up right back where you started, only this time you knew better, and it’s entirely your own fault. 

“You’ve been keeping tabs,” you surmise, closing your eyes.

 The warm palm that cups your jaw has you flinching, but Yuuta is nothing but gentle when his lips brush your cheek. “C’mon, we should go. I’ll get someone to take care of this, you don’t have to worry about a thing, okay? I’ve got you.”

He takes your hand then, lacing his fingers with your own. You pause long enough to snatch up your purse and then he’s leading you from the apartment, the quiet thud of the door closing behind you echoing in your head.

The gleaming black SUV waiting out front looks shockingly out of place in this neighbourhood, as does the suited driver who smoothly exits the vehicle to open the door for you both to slide in. Yuuta’s the one to pull your seatbelt across your chest and buckle you in, a safety precaution he doesn’t bother with for himself. The moment he’s settled, though, he reaches across the seat to steal your hand once more. You let him.

The engine purrs to life beneath you, the rhythmic clicking of the indicator filling the empty space between you as the driver wordlessly pulls out onto the road. “Where are we going?” you ask.

If it’s the club, or any of Gojo’s businesses for that matter, you think you’ll burst into actual tears. There’s nothing left inside of you to deal with Yuuta’s boss, or the uncomfortable, knowing looks from Maki and the others. All you really want right now is a long, hot shower with a comfortable bed to crawl into after.

“Home,” he promises. 

The words should bring some modicum of relief, but they don’t. You can’t feel much of anything right now, weighed down by exhaustion, grief. While Yuuta flicks out his phone and begins to type a one-handed message, you allow your head to fall against the window, closing your eyes as the streetlights spin past you in a blur.

Home.

—

Laid out on Yuuta’s bed, a silk camisole and short set, baby blue and edged in lace greet you when you emerge from the ensuite bathroom at his new apartment.

The clothes you’d come in with are long gone, unceremoniously shoved into a trash bag for Yuuta to get rid of while you showered off the night’s events. When he’d said he’d find you something to sleep in, you were expecting an oversized tee, maybe, not lace covered sleepwear. 

Mindlessly you slip them on, exhaustion quashing the noise in your head, and drag yourself back to the living room where Yuuta waits, splayed on the couch, thumbing through his phone. 

Unlike you, he’s still dressed in the suit he showed up in, although he’s shed the jacket and his shirt’s now unbuttoned to his sternum, allowing a glimpse of the sprawling traditional japanese tattoos inked across his chest. The knot in the pit stomach tightens when he glances up at your arrival and his jaw goes slack. 

Yuuta never used to frighten you, but there’s a dark, fervid gleam in his eyes as he drinks you and the teensy little pyjamas down that makes you feel hunted. 

You’d run if you could. If you thought it might actually save you from this.

“Feel better?” he rasps.

Soundlessly, you nod. 

He swallows. Licks his lips and clears his throat. “Good. Do you uh, want a drink?”

What you want more than anything is to crawl into bed and sleep for a week. For this to be a nightmare you can shrug off in the morning. To wake up twenty years old again, before you ever heard the name Zen’in Maki roll off your roommate’s tongue. 

In the absence of that, alcohol will suffice.  

“Yeah, sure.”

Sitting yourself gingerly on the edge of the couch, you watch as he first fixes a whiskey for himself and then retrieves a new bottle of sake to pour a glass for you. 

“Thanks.”

Sake should be sipped, but as Yuuta settles onto the couch – not in the seat he’d previously vacated, but with his thigh pressing up against yours, his arm stretched over the back of the couch behind you – you knock it back in two mouthfuls, shuddering at the warm burn of alcohol sliding down your throat. 

“Easy, baby,” he says, taking the glass from your fingers and setting it down on the coffee table. “You just need to relax a bit, huh? You won’t sleep when you’re all wound up like this, let me take care of you.”

Like a pretty little doll, you’re shifted and easily repositioned on his lap, your back to his chest, knees hooked over his own spread thighs. “I missed you. Every day, I missed you.” He draws back a few locks of your towel dried hair to lay a kiss, petal-soft, on your thrumming pulse. “I’m glad you called me tonight.” He chuckles sheepishly, buries his grin by hiding it in the crook of your neck, “Thought I was dreaming at first, seeing your message. Felt like a dream anyway.”

Your breath shutters at the heavy palm that cups your breast and gives a slow, considering squeeze, the other trailing tortuously down the silk front of your camisole to your shorts. 

Another kiss, this time on the curve of your jaw. 

Your participation in this act isn’t required, merely your silent acquiescence. You don’t have to do anything. 

Tomorrow when the dust is settled and the body in your living room gone, you’ll set about putting some boundaries – distance – in place. Helping you isn’t an act of benevolence no matter how sweetly Yuuta sighs, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of your tiny, silk shorts. Sex is a given, the rest; cohabitation, enduring the whims of his boss, sinking any further into the rot of that lifestyle (your hands are bloodied enough), doesn’t have to be. 

There needs to be separation, somehow. You cannot give him everything. 

But it’s a problem for tomorrow, when the edges of your nerves are not quite so raw. For now, the noise in your head eddies, the tempest raging beneath your skin tuned out.

Why fight against the inevitable?

Yuuta’s touch doesn’t hurt.

Your head lolls back on his broad shoulder, a shift of your hips more easily allowing his hand access to the warmth of your pussy. Though you aren’t wet – how could you be? – it hardly matters. Yuuta’s in familiar territory. No one’s spent the hours learning every inch of you the way Yuuta has. No one ever held that zealotry.

And he forgets none of it.

The slow heat he draws out, working his fingers over your sex, quickly remedies the situation. He always pays good attention to your clit, and when his middle finger slides into you, the walls of your pussy grip and shudder while he groans at the sensation. The slick sound it makes when he draws back has you cringing, but if he hears it, feels it, he gives no indication. 

There’s no hiding your little gasp when his ring finger joins, crooking up inside of you, all the while the heel of his palm grinds against your throbbing clit. You buck. Bite down on your bottom lip. He tweaks at your nipple, pebbled into a bud, and you jerk in his grasp. 

Through his pants, his hardening cock twitches insistently against the cleft of your ass, reminding you, in case you’d at all forgotten, exactly where this is heading. 

His mouth is on your neck again, teeth flirting with the idea of sinking into soft, delicate skin, marking you as his, offering yet another taste of you. His thumb strokes your thigh. 

“Take them off– good girl,” Yuuta pants as you lift your hips obediently, his fingers still notched inside you, and tug at the silk shorts, letting them slide down your legs and fall gracelessly to the floor. 

Slick dribbles down his fingers from your cunt. The way Yuuta moans your name and curses at the sight of it would be enough for shame to swallow you whole, if not for the liquid surge of heat that floods through you when those wickedly clever fingers of his find your g-spot.

“Yuuta!” you cry out–

–and whatever self control he’s left shatters into a thousand pieces. 

You hear the hiss of his zipper and another curse – all the warning you’re given before he’s manhandling you once more, this time to turn you around on his lap. Twin flushes of colour burn high on his cheekbones, a glassy, feverish look in his eyes as familiar to you as it is foreign. As terrifying as it is visceral. 

Your stomach swoops. 

There’s a moment, a brief space in time you’re afforded to collect yourself, before his hips jerk upwards at the same time wet fingers sink into the plush of your middle and drag you down. Your breath’s robbed of you, knocked clean from your lungs at the sudden fullness within, his cock stretching you open and filling you deep.

“Fuck!” you gasp, your nails clawing at his back.

With your knees now settled onto the couch on either side of him, riding him would be easy if that’s what he wanted. He doesn’t. You could be a ragdoll, soft and pliable in his grip for the way he sets about bouncing you on his cock, only you’re meeting each punch of his hips with a roll of your own, chasing the delicious heat sparking from the friction against your clit. A hand splayed over your asscheek squeezes and urges you on. Yuuta leans forward to capture your lips in a sloppy, demanding kiss. 

The sex is messy, jagged edges and discordance. Tenderness swiftly devolves into desperation. 

You’re stretched around him, panting and sweaty, clinging to the fabric of his shirt, and it isn’t enough. There’s an edge of pain that creeps in, his treatment just a little too rough as he fights to fuck you deeper, to carve himself a place within you you can’t overwrite. 

Your thighs shake. Yuuta’s grip flexes at the mere hint of rejection. Come morning you’ll be an artwork of mottled fingerprints, but you won’t shy away from him here.

The savage, needy noises that spill from him between kisses, the lewd squelching of his cock rabbiting into you from below, they feed the hot puddle of shame burning in your belly. And yet through the bite of his cock dragging through you, the roiling beneath your skin, hot pleasure snakes through your veins, undeniable. Inescapable. 

You can’t remember the last release brought about by another person. Some drunken hookup, probably, a faceless one night stand that slipped from your mind the moment you crept out the door. You ache for this as much as you dread it. 

He knows it, too. 

“I need you,” Yuuta’s ragged plea becomes a chant. “I need you, I need you, fuck, I–”

Hips surging, the maddening angle of his length driving into you, and the silken heat of your own cunt fluttering and squeezing around every intrusion, it drives you both to a frantic crescendo. Pleasure spools in your gut, a sweet agony that winds tighter and tighter.

Your back arches, toes curling against his thighs. A soundless cry tears its way free as your orgasm crashes over you, blind pleasure rippling through you like the waves of an aftershock. You clamp down on Yuuta’s cock and his whole body shudders in turn, collapsing against your heaving chest as hot spurts of cum flood your quivering, aching pussy. 

When Yuuta falls back to the cushions of the couch, he drags you with him. Beads of sweat slide down his tattooed chest, disappearing beneath his shirt he hadn’t bothered to shed. Yuuta doesn’t care about his disheveled state, much less your own, settling you back into his chest, cock still stuffed inside of you, to press a lingering kiss to your temple. “Feel better?”

“Yeah,” you lie. And then, after a beat, “Thank you for showing up tonight.”

Slow knuckles trail up and down the length of your spine as Yuuta leans forward to retrieve his forgotten glass of whiskey. “For you, I’ll always come running.”

—

Yuuta’s in the shower when you wake late in the morning.

He mentioned last night – or early today, you suppose – something about getting you clothes for the day. You can see a bundle of fabric waiting for you at the foot of the bed, what looks like a dress and some underwear, but you’re in no rush to rise and play dress up.

Not until the shower’s free at least. Your thighs are still tacky with his cum.

Besides, whatever plans Yuuta has for the day, first stop on your list is going back to your apartment. Even that thought sits unpleasantly; the desire nonexistent to return to the home you were assaulted in, to walk over the blank space on the floor where your favourite rug used to lie and remember the blood that spilled there.

You can’t stay here, though. You know that much.

Reaching blindly for the nightstand, you fumble for the phone Yuuta plugged in to charge last night. There’s no messages or missed calls, which is hardly surprising. The friendships were fleeting when you bounced from place to place and god knows your extended family won’t speak to you anymore. 

There’s a news alert in your stack of useless app notifications and you almost, out of habit, swipe it away without a second thought, until your eye catches the headline.

Fourteen dead, three hospitalised in Tokyo apartment blaze. 

Every drop of your blood turns to ice.

There’s probably hundreds of thousands of apartment blocks within the city. Millions, even. Your hand trembles as you click on the link to the article. The seconds that pass waiting for the story to load crawl, compounded by the off-kilter thudding of your heart.

It can’t be. 

He wouldn’t, he–

The video at the top of the page begins to play; firefighters dousing the burnt out, smoldering husk of a building with huge hoses amidst flashing blue and red lights of emergency vehicles. 

The same building you drove away from last night, after Yuuta promised he’d take care of things.

You watch in open mouthed horror as the video switches to the inside of a newsroom, the grim faced anchor speaking soundlessly as pictures of the victims flash on the screen. Hot tears spring to your eyes as you take them in, one after another, each new victim another knife twisting in your chest. When a photo of a mother and her two young boys appears, you clamp a hand over your mouth to muffle a choked sob.

Hot tears stream down your face, your whole body shaking like a leaf. You want to throw up. The sound of your heart pounding fills your ears, deafening you to all else.

And then–

You. An old picture; you in your graduation gown, beaming behind a gorgeous bouquet of peonies. Happy and carefree in a way you haven’t been for years.

A victim, burned up in the fire with all the others. Dead. 

The phone drops from limp fingers at the same time the bathroom door cracks and Yuuta’s voice floats out.

“Baby, you up yet?”