#or just stare at you until you get the hint and move

[xpeachy-keenx]

"lending a hand" — g. impact

PAIRING k. alberich × fem!reader

TAGS office sex. oral sex. creampie.

The stack of paperwork teetered at the edge of Jean's desk, and as you stared down at it, you could feel your soul trying to escape your body. Page after page, each report and memo seemed to blur together, a combination of monotonous details related to the Knights of Favonius' day-to-day operations. It was late in the evening, and the thought of spending hours on this task was enough to make your head throb.

Jean, seated behind her desk, studied you with her usual calm, though her eyes held a hint of sympathy.

"I know this isn't the most exciting task," she said, her voice gentle as if to soften the blow, "but keeping everything organized is essential. If you need help, I can—"

"No, no, I've got this!" you cut in, swallowing a groan as you mustered a smile.

You didn't want to add to her burdens—she already had her hands full running the entire ordo. With a determined nod, you swept the pile of papers into your arms, cradling it as you made your way out of her office. You moved carefully, every step a delicate balance to prevent a paper avalanche from scattering through the empty hall.

As you walked up the stairs and rounded the corner, a sudden presence broke your concentration. You stumbled, the stack tilting until steady hands pressed against the sides, saving you from certain disaster.

"Whoa, careful there," Kaeya's soothing voice drawled, his fingers lingering on the edges of the papers as he held them upright.

The Cavalry Captain towered over you, a playful glint in his eye as he smirked. You found yourself mesmerized at his eye, the shade of dusky lavender akin to the sky during twilight, and the mess of navy-blue bangs swept across his forehead as he chuckled and—oh no, you've been staring for too long.

"Thanks, Kaeya. I almost made a mess of everything."

His body language exuded mischief as he looked over the stack, his usual charm at the ready. "What's this? You're actually going to tackle all of that by yourself?"

"It's part of the job. Someone has to do it."

His brow arched, a teasing smile curving his lips as he fell into step beside you. "Oh, come now. I'd hate to see you burn out over a few boring forms."

He then paused, eyeing you with mock concern. "Tell you what—I'll keep you company. It's the least I can do for a friend."

"Oh, um, you really don't have to stay! I figured you were heading out for the night."

As you neared your office's door, a frown tugged at your lips. With your hands full, opening the door seemed a hopeless task. Just as you began calculating how to reach your keys, Kaeya's warm body sidled up beside you. His hand slid into the front pocket of your coat, his fingers brushing against you in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. Before you could object, he'd retrieved your keys, unlocking the door with a knowing look as he gestured for you to enter.

"After you."

You swallowed, slipping past him and into the room, making a point of avoiding brushing against him as you placed the stack on your desk. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him leaning against the door frame, twirling your keys around his finger like a prize.

"And as for your earlier assumption, I was about to leave, but somehow Angel's Share just doesn't feel the same without you around."

"Oh?" you asked, keeping your gaze fixed on the papers as you took the first sheet off the top, skimming over it with feigned interest. "Is that so?"

A missing pet report.

Of course.

You stifle a sigh, but the corners of your mouth twitch at the absurdity of it all.

"See?" Kaeya's voice cuts through your thoughts. "I can already tell you're getting stressed."

You heaved an exaggerated sigh, mimicking his posture as you crossed your arms, lifting your eyes to meet his. You held his gaze, letting a hint of playful challenge cross your features.

"Oh, really? And what exactly do you suggest I do about it?"

Kaeya's lips curled into a wicked smirk that made you break out into goosebumps. Without breaking eye contact, he stepped into your office, his presence filling the space. With deliberate slowness, he reached back to shut the door, and you heard a faint click as he turned the lock.

"I thought you'd never ask."

***

"Several reports c-concerning … the disappearance o-of the merchant … were filed," you managed, though your voice dissolved into a breathy moan as Kaeya's mouth descended once more, hot and insistent against your lower lips.

Each stroke of his tongue against your pussy sent your mind scattering. The wet warmth of his mouth was unrelenting, tracing patterns around your clit that made your thighs shake. His hands gripped the back of your knees, spreading and folding you over the edge of your desk. The cold wood beneath you was a stark contrast to the molten heat pooling low in your stomach, a feeling only he could bring out of you.

The desk groaned under the strain, the stack of paperwork teetering beside you—a reminder of the task you had at hand. But Kaeya's firm hold on your legs denied even the smallest movement, keeping you pinned and at his mercy. The ache in your clit intensified with each calculated flick of his tongue, leaving you yearning for the release he withheld.

"Finish the report, and I'll give you what you want," he'd said earlier.

Now, every tremble in your voice or falter in your focus earned you his low, teasing laugh as he forced you to start over.

"Slacking off, are we?"

His breath ghosted against your heated skin, the vibration of his voice sending shivers through your body.

"K-Kaeya … please."

His response was a deep hum, his lips brushing the inside of your thigh, close to where you ached for him. The sensation left your mind hazy, your hands gripping the edge of the desk to anchor yourself. You swallowed, forcing yourself to hold on to the remaining thread of your sanity as you started over.

It was an incident report. There were missing items of shipments en route to Mondstadt from Liyue.

"Missing shipments, nervous merchants … almost sounds like the start of a bad novel, doesn't it?" His tone was light, conversational, unaffected by the fire consuming you. "But who knows—maybe there's more to it."

You swallowed a moan, the sharp edge of his teasing mingling with the intoxicating pleasure he lavished on you.

"I-I don't know … maybe?"

You struggled to string a coherent response as his tongue resumed its slow, torturous circles around your clit. He pressed a lingering kiss to the crease of your inner thigh. His thumb followed, ghosting over your sweat slick skin with leisure. You bit your lip hard, the pressure of his thumb skimming in lazy patterns pushing you closer to the edge. The paper in your hand almost slipped free as a gasp escaped you, impossible to stifle.

"Dirty girl, are you trying to get caught?"

His smirk widened when he pulled back to lick his lips, his eyes locking with yours in a challenge that left your heart pounding. Without breaking eye contact, he leaned down, his tongue sweeping a slow, deliberate path across your clit. Your moan broke free before you could muffle it, your body arching toward him.

"Ah, not very good at following directions, are you?"

His tone was taunting as it sent a fresh rush of heat through you.

"W-What are you—"

He cut you off as he cupped your cheek and pressed his thumb against your lips, the weight of it silencing your protest.

"Shh. Don't worry," he said, his expression equal parts mischief and sin. "I know how to fix that."

Before you could process his words, Kaeya's hands were on you once more, helping you sit up. Your legs shook, the ache mingling with the pulsing need he left between your thighs. When he guided you to the floor, the cold marble beneath your knees sent a sharp jolt through you. He slouched in his chair, his legs spread before you with his usual swagger evident.

"Well, what are you waiting for?"

You didn't hesitate, your hands moving to undo his belt. The cool metal of the buckle contrasted with the heat radiating from his bulge. You felt the faint twitch of his arousal as you popped the button open and slid the zipper down. The throbbing between your legs remained; a reminder of your own unfulfilled need. But for now, all you could focus on was him—his half-lidded gaze, the sharp curve of his lips, and the low growl that rumbled in his chest as your hand grazed him.

"But what about the reports?" you asked, though your voice betrayed your lack of conviction, your words breathless as your hand wrapped around his length.

Kaeya's low chuckle echoed through the quiet of the room.

"Mm, let's deal with them later. Right now, I need you to show me what you've learned since the last we met."

Heat rushed to your cheeks as his gaze locked onto yours. The intensity made you falter, so you dropped your eyes, focusing instead on the task at hand. Your fingers glided along his cock, the velvety heat under your palm making you chew the inside of your cheek. Slowly, you began to move, your hand tracing a steady rhythm as you rotated your wrist. The slickness of his pre-cum spread easily beneath your thumb, and you swirled it over the sensitive tip, earning a sharp hiss from above.

A surge of satisfaction bloomed in your chest as you leaned in, pressing a soft, teasing kiss to the head of his cock. His eye fluttered shut, his head tipping back to expose the elegant line of his throat. For a moment, you were transfixed by the way his mouth opened on a soft exhale, the sight stirring an ache low in your stomach.

When you parted your lips, taking him into your mouth, a familiar salty taste coated your tongue. Slowly, you worked him deeper, the smooth stretch of him sliding along your palate until he reached the back of your throat. You paused there, swallowing around him as you adjusted, your breathing steady through your nose.

"Ah, I knew you were a good girl," Kaeya said as his hand came to rest against the back of your head.

His words sent a jolt of pleasure straight between your legs, and you rubbed your thighs together to alleviate the ache. Determined to please him, you hollowed your cheeks and began to move, sucking in time with the slow strokes of your hand. Spit gathered at the corners of your lips, dripping down your chin as you bobbed your head faster. Your free hand found its way to his hip, pressing down to keep him from thrusting too deep, even as his cock twitched against your tongue.

The faint creak of the chair beneath him and the soft wet sounds of your mouth broke the silence of your office. Kaeya's low groans filled the air like the sweetest song, punctuated by sharp intakes of breath whenever your tongue ran along the underside of the head of his cock. He moaned your name, his hips jerking as your hand cupped his balls, rolling them gently,

You felt his control slipping as he pressed against your head, his length sliding deeper into your throat. You gasped around him, your eyes watering as he began to move, his hips rolling in deep thrusts. His cock brushed against the back of your throat with each motion, forcing you to concentrate on breathing through your nose, your gag reflex a distant struggle compared to the sticky heat on your inner thighs.

"Fuck! Yeah, take it."

When the pressure became too much, you pulled off with a wet gasp, coughing as you fought to catch your breath. Kaeya's hand was under your arm, pulling you up and bending you over the desk. The rough press of wood against your bare stomach contrasted with the warmth of his body behind you, his movements hurried and desperate as his hands roamed over your body.

The paperwork off to the side sat forgotten as he nudged your thighs apart, his hand steadying your hips as he lined himself up. The head of his cock rubbed against your wetness, sending a shudder through your body. When he sunk into you, the stretch was mind-numbing, the slow, steady pressure making you moan against the back of your hand as you bit down to muffle the sound. The tight grip of his hand on your hip steadied you, anchoring you as he sank deeper, bottoming out completely.

"You're so good at this," he whispered against the shell of your ear.

His lips brushed your skin, the faintest hint of his teeth catching the sensitive spot just below your earlobe. Your walls squeezed around him, drawing a low groan from him. He pulled out slowly, the emptiness making you whimper, before thrusting back in with enough force to make your desk move.

The wet, rhythmic smack of skin against skin filled the room, loud in the stillness of your office, but the intoxicating haze of pleasure left you uncaring. Each thrust sent sparks of ecstasy through your body, the friction perfect as his cock dragged against every sensitive spot inside you.

Kaeya’s hand slid up your back, his fingertips leaving a trail of heat in their wake as he pressed you down, changing the angle of his hips to drive deeper. The way his body draped over yours felt possessive, his movements unrelenting. The world beyond the room faded into nothingness—there was only the feeling of him, the overwhelming pleasure, and the thrill of being caught. That was until the sound of footsteps approached, stopping just outside the door. A sharp knock echoed through the room, freezing you both mid-motion.

"Hey … you can head home for the night, if you'd like," Jean's voice called from the hallway. "Sir Kaeya mentioned you wouldn't mind covering his share of the work, but still …"

Your blood ran cold.

Wide-eyed, you looked over your shoulder, catching his infuriating smirk. His pace never faltered, his thrusts slow as if he relished in your frustration.

"O-Okay, Jean! Good night, then."

The silence that followed was unbearable, broken only by the sound of Jean's retreating footsteps. You turned back to Kaeya, your fiery gaze locking onto his.

"You little—"

Before you could unleash your fury, his hand slipped between your thighs, two fingers finding your swollen clit with a precision that stole the words from your tongue. The tight circles he traced sent a jolt through you, your breath hitching as your body betrayed you, arching into his touch. His laugh was maddening, a low rumble that only spurred your frustration.

"Careful now."

His thrusts quickened, the steady rhythm of his hips driving you toward the edge with relentless intensity. Each movement sent waves of pleasure radiating through you. Your nails scraped against the wood of the desk as you braced yourself.

"Still mad at me?"

Your only answer was a choked moan as your hips jerked, meeting his with desperation. The dual sensation of his cock filling you and his fingers working your clit unraveled you completely. Your muscles tensed as warmth spread in a tidal wave from your pussy.

"Fuck—Kaeya!" you gasped, collapsing onto the desk as your release left you feeling weightless, your vision hazy as you stared blankly at the wall.

Kaeya’s pace didn’t slow, his breath ragged as he chased his own release. With a final, deep thrust, he stilled, his body pressed flush against yours as a sharp breath escaped him. The room was quiet except for the sounds of your heavy breathing. Then, his voice broke through the haze, the amusement in his voice palpable.

"Now, I know what you're thinking," he began, his fingers brushing idly along your waist. "But I never expected Jean to leave you with all the paperwork. That's why I’m here … lending a hand."

XPEACHY-KEENX. 2024. PLEASE DO NOT COPY.

[saioratral]

so there's this professor... - 02 Chalked Hearts masterlist

if you ever had to give a mathematician a gift, a set of hagoromo chalk would be the perfect choice. known as the "rolls royce" of chalks, the "steinway" of writing tools, hagoromo is a luxury that many would go to great lengths to obtain. the same chalks that turn every mastermind into old folks fighting for the last fish. it's feather-smooth writing, even a mathematician transforms into an artist, the blackboard becoming their canvas.

that was exactly what you were planning on buying for your professor. you’d often notice how he relied on the university’s cheap chalk, constantly wiping his hands to rid them of chalk dust. you’d watch his expensive vest get coated by the fine powder, almost resembling a sugar doughnut.

you’d even gone as far as offering to clean the board after class—it just didn’t seem fair for your professor to teach for hours and then clean up the mess. determined to make a change, you resolved to buy him a set of hagoromo chalks. you spent months saving up every bit of your pocket money, but even the smallest set was beyond your budget.

“why are we in the market in this blazing heat?” your best friend alvin leroy groaned

“it will be quick! i just need to buy a nice cloth and some hagoromo chalks!”, you replied, pulling him closer to avoid losing him in the crowd.

“wait hold on- did i hear you say hagoromo chalks? why on earth would you need that?” alvin stopped dead in his tracks.

you looked back at your friend’s confused face. he proceeds to drag you both away from the bustling crowd, into a quieter corner of the market. you looked up to alvin who stood firm as a statue, clearly not planning to move until you confessed. with a sigh, you lowered your head, finding comfort in staring at your shoes.

“i want to buy it for.. professor….. william”, you muttered under your breath 

“professor william?!” alvin nearly shouted before you clapped a hand over his mouth in panic. “Why him??”

“don’t shout it out loud! urgh why did i bring you?”, you retracted back your hand 

“wait... don’t tell me you have a crush on professor william? no way, [name]! you? crushing on professor will- hey, wait up!”

you bolted away, your face flushed as you tried to hide your embarrassment. for the rest of the day, alvin declared himself the “captain” of his newfound ship, teasing you relentlessly until you finally parted ways. the next day, he was waiting for you with a... board?

“alvin what are you doing??”, you shouted as you ran over and pushed the board down.

“i’m having a voting poll on my ship name! i’m debating between will[name] and [name]liam!”, alvin grinned, folding the board back into his bag. 

“i don’t like him that way”, you grumbled, throwing the nastiest side eye on him 

“I hope so too”, alvin mutters to himself 

despite this antics, alvin's smile didn’t hold the same meaning. there was a hint of something else behind it. deep in his heart, resentment began to spread as he let you drag him into the classroom.

even during your maths class, you weren’t left in peace. your professor walked in with his neatly pressed coat draped casually over his arm, which he placed on his chair. he looked around the empty hall, spotting you and alvin seated at the front.

“i never thought i’d see mr. leroy arrive on time," william joked, pulling down the extra blackboard.

“Yeah yeah- oh professor, [name] has something”, alvin nudged you with a not-so-subtle grin

“[last name]? how can i assist you? having trouble with yesterday’s theorem?” william asked, setting his board at last 

he turned to face you both, his expression patient but with a hint of curiosity. he slowly walked closer to your seat, standing not too far from you. alvin gently pulled your chair back and gave you a small pat. you turned over to the boy and wished to slap off the wide smirk he showed 

“professor moriarty... i’ve noticed how you often leave with a rather... dusty coat,” you began softly as you stood up 

“i thought it was unfair for you to put in so much time to teach us- especially alvin”, you snickered remembering his test score 

“hey-” 

“i decided to buy some new chalks for you! it’s pretty popular amongst mathematicians”, you continued 

taking a closer step, you could smell his woody perfume, tinged with a hint of citrus. never in a million years did you expect to stand this close. alvin’s voice died down, watching the subtle tension and nerve you held to yourself 

you presented your professor a neatly wrapped cloth with his name engraved. william’s usually sharp and calculating eyes soften by the gesture. he took the gift from your hand to carefully feel the soft cloth. 

“thank you [last name]. it was rather unexpected but i am flattered”, william’s voice portrayed his genuine gratitude 

the rest of the day went on as normal. students rush into the class feeling dreadful but are left with joy after william promises not to give any homework. later that evening, william walks back to the moriarty estate feeling happier than before 

“you look like you outwitted sherlock holmes” albert welcomed his brother with a sip from his glass 

louis glanced up to see his brother indeed looked in a good mood. he watches william settle his satchel down on a nearby sofa before he sits himself. his lips created a small smile as he looked back at albert. he pulls out the small present he receives, letting it rest on the table in front 

“one of my students gave me a set of chalks as a gift for always coming home like a baker” " william replied with his rare gentle humour 

“that is rather…” 

“considerate. you don’t often see students go out of their way like that” " albert finished louis’s hanging sentence 

louis leaned forward, wanting to see more of the chalk. adding a small comment on the expensive gift, he questioned his brother about the owner. even albert expressed a wide-eyed smile, listening to william refusing to reveal your name 

while on the other hand, alvin stared at the ceiling of his dorm, replaying the events of the day. a heavy heart is what he would describe his feelings. he tried brushing off his obvious feelings of jealousy. he needed to ensure his ‘ship’ wasn’t sailing too fast, even if he was the ‘captain’. 

He prays that moriarty isn’t who he suspects to be 

© saioratral 2024-25 -- do not repost, translate, alter, etc on any platform without permission. Any characters used in my work do not belong to me, they are created by their original creator. all images used are from pinterest

taglist:

@fishii28 @ayaswrld @eliasorchard @onna-musha-mari @dija200

[dayabelle]

His Beautiful Little Secret

Shota Aizawa x Fem! Reader

---

The classroom was unusually quiet, save for the faint sound of scribbling and occasional shuffling as the students awaited Shota Aizawa’s next move. He stood at the front of the room, arms crossed, his usual tired demeanor on full display. But today, there was a noticeable tension in the air. Aizawa had something to say.

“Listen up,” he started, his voice cool but laced with a hint of frustration. “Because of your behavior last week—yes, I’m talking about the party you threw behind my back—you will now be taking on a new responsibility.”

The class shifted uncomfortably. Bakugo scowled, clearly displeased about being reminded of the chaos that had unfolded the previous weekend. Kirishima and Kaminari exchanged nervous glances, unsure of what was coming.

Aizawa paused, allowing the silence to stretch, before revealing the inevitable.

“From now until Sunday evening, you’re all babysitting Miss L/n's daughter for the weekend,” he declared, his voice firm, making it clear that there would be no debate.

The students collectively froze. Miss L/n's daughter? The one with the wild energy, the unnerving raspy voice, and the mischievous grin that seemed to promise endless trouble? No one was prepared for this.

Before anyone could speak, the class erupted.

“No way!” shouted Bakugo, his voice laced with panic. “I’m not babysitting some little demon!”

“Are you serious?” Midoriya stammered, his face pale as he tried to process the situation. “She’s always getting into trouble!”

Aizawa gave them all a pointed look. “You’re all responsible now. She causes trouble, you deal with it. Understand?”

The class’s groans filled the room, but Aizawa continued, unshaken. “You’ll be watching her at all times. And if anything goes wrong—if she gets into trouble—you’ll be the ones to answer for it.”

Todoroki, ever the voice of reason, glanced at Iida, who was already looking somewhat horrified at the prospect. “We… we’re supposed to handle a weekend with her?” Todoroki asked, raising an eyebrow in disbelief.

“Yes,” Aizawa replied simply. “I’ll leave you to it.” He turned to head out of the classroom, adding one last thing over his shoulder. “And don’t even think about throwing another party. If I hear one peep about it, I’ll be taking the entire class’s weekend away.”

The door slammed shut behind him, leaving the students in stunned silence. The weight of their predicament settled in. They had barely survived the last party, and now they were supposed to survive a weekend with her.

“Well, at least she can’t cause more chaos than you guys did last time, right?” Sero joked weakly, but the uneasy chuckles that followed told a different story.

“We’re screwed,” Bakugo muttered, already plotting how to survive the ordeal. “This is gonna be a nightmare.”

And as if on cue, a mischievous little voice echoed from the doorway.

“Did I hear my name?” L/n's daughter, the little bundle of trouble herself, appeared with a grin that was anything but innocent.

The class groaned in unison. The true chaos was just about to begin.

---

Friday Evening – The Chaos Begins

It all started innocently enough. Kishio arrived with a big smile, her tiny hands clutching a stuffed bunny as she bounced into the room, clearly excited. Her big, mischievous eyes scanned the students, already sizing them up as potential partners in crime.

"Hi, everyone!" she chirped in her raspy, high-pitched voice. "Let’s play!"

The students stared, unsure of how to handle this. She was small, she was cute, and she seemed harmless. That was their first mistake.

Within the first 15 minutes, she had already found the box of art supplies. No one had even noticed until they heard the unmistakable sound of crayons tearing across paper. The next thing they knew, Kishio was standing on a table, using the markers like they were paintbrushes, scribbling all over the walls, the windows, and the furniture.

"No! No!" screamed Kaminari as he tried to get to her, but it was already too late. Kishio had already started making “masterpieces” on every surface she could reach. The walls were now a kaleidoscope of neon green, purple, and red.

“I made it pretty!” Kishio giggled, spinning around as the students looked at the damage, horror written all over their faces. But they weren’t prepared for what happened next.

Friday Evening – Destruction at Every Turn

The moment Kishio arrived, the trouble just kept coming. Her infectious enthusiasm spread like wildfire, and it wasn’t long before she found the perfect playthings: the students themselves. She immediately spotted an open bag of chips on the table and, with no hesitation, grabbed it and began crushing it with her tiny hands, sending crumbs everywhere.

“Look! Snowflakes!” she laughed, tossing a handful of crumbs in the air. They floated around like confetti, landing on everyone.

The class groaned as they tried to clean up, but it only got worse. Kishio then grabbed a remote control from the couch and started pressing buttons at random, changing the TV channels and turning up the volume to max. The resulting sound blasted through the room, causing a scene. Every time someone tried to stop her, she darted away, cackling.

“I’m making magic!” she shouted, convinced her control of the television was some sort of wizardry.

Then, she spotted a pencil and began scribbling on the floor, but instead of writing, she drew big circles, arrows, and zigzags all over the furniture, walls, and even the carpet. She worked quickly, creating a chaotic map of her own “kingdom,” marking territory in a way no one could have predicted.

Saturday Morning - The Breakfast Incident

By morning, the chaos was already in full swing. The students had hoped for a quiet breakfast, but Kishio had other plans. She was perched on top of the refrigerator, watching them as they tried to make pancakes.

"Hey, can I help?" she asked sweetly, though there was something about her tone that made everyone uneasy.

Before anyone could protest, she was already rifling through the pantry, tossing ingredients onto the counter like confetti. Flour exploded everywhere, covering the kitchen in a cloud of white powder. Then, with a grin that would make even Bakugo nervous, she grabbed a carton of eggs and threw one at Kaminari, who had been reaching for the milk. The egg hit him square in the face, and that was the beginning of the food fight that would go on for the next fifteen minutes. Flour, eggs, and pancake batter covered everyone in sight, turning the kitchen into a warzone. Midoriya was too nice to yell at her, but his face was a picture of exhaustion as he tried to clean up the mess.

Meanwhile, Kishio was hanging from the ceiling fan, spinning in circles and giggling. No one was sure how she managed to climb up there, but she was already making herself at home.

But as they took their eyes off her for a split second, she had already managed to grab the box of cereal, open it, and dump the entire contents on the floor.

“Snowstorm!” she giggled, making it rain cereal across the kitchen, even throwing handfuls into the air. Then, with a mischievous grin, she decided to pour an entire jug of milk on top of it, causing it to spread all over the floor like a sticky puddle. She slipped around in it, running and sliding on her stomach like a penguin.

“Look at me, I’m a penguin!” Kishio shouted with joy as she rolled around in her own little milk-and-cereal kingdom.

It was pure chaos. The students scrambled to contain the mess, but they weren’t quick enough. She was already jumping from counter to counter, stepping on the cereal in her socks and leaving footprints across the entire kitchen.

Saturday Late Morning – The Petty Destruction

By now, Kishio’s antics were escalating from messy to destructive. She’d gotten her hands on a paint set earlier in the day, and before anyone could stop her, she’d gone on a spree. The class had tried to sit her down to watch TV, but Kishio was determined to create a masterpiece. She dipped her brush in every color and began painting not just the easel and paper, but everything.

First, the table was painted with streaks of yellow and green. Then she spilled the entire jar of black paint on the carpet and started making handprints on the walls. In her frenzy, she knocked over the paint cup, causing it to spill all over the floor, which she promptly began to run through barefoot.

“Oh no, I’m making footprints!” she squealed, giggling as she left a trail of black across the whole room.

Midoriya tried to stop her, but in the process, she grabbed the jar of red paint and splashed it all over his shirt.

“You look like a tomato!” she yelled, as if it was the most hilarious thing ever.

Saturday Afternoon – The Electrical Disaster

It wasn’t just the art supplies that were at risk—now, Kishio had turned her attention to something far more dangerous. The students were busy cleaning up her previous messes when they suddenly heard a loud bang from another room. They rushed to find Kishio, now holding a hairdryer and trying to plug it into every socket she could find.

“Don’t touch that!” Iida shouted, rushing toward her.

But Kishio was faster. She had already shoved the hairdryer plug into a nearby outlet, causing sparks to fly. The electricity buzzed and crackled before the power went out completely.

“Oops!” Kishio said innocently, looking at the darkened room. "I made fireworks!"

The students scrambled to reset the circuit breakers, but the damage had been done. No one had noticed she’d also been pulling wires out of the wall as she “explored” the house, trying to make everything “sparkly.”

Saturday Afternoon – The Swim Mishap

It didn’t stop there. After the electrical disaster, the class thought it was best to take Kishio outside for some fresh air. But Kishio had other plans. She spotted the garden hose near the back of the house, and before anyone could react, she turned it on full blast and began spraying water everywhere—on the flowers, on the students, on the house, and even on the roof.

"Waterfight!" Kishio squealed, laughing maniacally as she soaked everyone. The students scattered, but she chased them around the yard with the hose, trying to get them drenched.

But she wasn’t finished. Seeing the pool in the distance, Kishio darted toward it. She climbed onto the edge, fully clothed, and jumped into the pool with no warning. The students rushed to stop her, but it was too late—Kishio was already happily splashing around.

“I’m a fish! I’m a fish!” she shouted, splashing water out of the pool, getting it all over the patio and inside the house through the open door.

Saturday Afternoon – The Great Escape

With breakfast barely cleaned up, the students tried to distract Kishio by taking her outside, hoping some fresh air would do the trick. But Kishio was far more interested in adventure than playing nice.

She spotted the nearby playground and bolted for it, running so fast the students barely had time to react. Before anyone could stop her, she had scaled the jungle gym, perched at the very top, and was now jumping off the highest platform with reckless abandon.

“No! Kishio, don’t!” screamed Midoriya, but it was too late. Kishio had already leapt from the top, landing in a roll on the grass with the agility of a little acrobat.

Kishio popped up with a grin. “I’m fine! That was fun!” she shouted, as the class stared in horror. Iida immediately ran over, trying to stop her from climbing up again, but she darted past him, heading straight for the swings.

“Hey, no!” yelled Kirishima, but Kishio was already pumping herself higher and higher, pushing the swing higher than it should go. The chains creaked with the strain, and for a moment, it seemed like she was about to fly off the swing entirely.

Finally, Todoroki used his ice to create a barrier around the swing to keep her from going any higher. “That’s enough for today,” he said, trying to sound calm but clearly rattled.

But Kishio was not ready to give up just yet. She darted toward the slide next, running so fast that she didn’t stop to see the massive mud puddle at the bottom. The next thing they knew, she was sliding down the muddy incline, spraying dirt and water everywhere.

“Oh no!” shouted Midoriya, but Kishio was already laughing and splashing in the mud. “This is the best day ever!”

Saturday Afternoon - The Dangerous Antics

The class managed to corral Kishio into the backyard to give them a break from the mayhem inside, but that was a mistake. It didn’t take long for her to find a stash of old training equipment—an assortment of weighted vests, balance beams, and gymnastic ropes.

With a devilish grin, she slipped into one of the vests, but not without first activating the training devices in the corner. The balance beam tilted and rocked dangerously as Kishio ran across it, doing flips and somersaults. She then leaped onto a swing set, taking it as high as it would go before she jumped off, soaring through the air and landing in a pile of mud. The splash sent mud everywhere, and she rolled in it, laughing maniacally as she hurled clumps of it at the students who had foolishly followed her outside.

“That was fun!” she yelled, covered from head to toe in mud. “Who’s next?”

Todoroki and Iida had to rush in to stop her from climbing the neighboring tree, where she was already eyeing a precarious branch that looked like it would snap under her weight.

"She’s... insane," Iida muttered, eyes wide with fear.

“More like a ticking time bomb,” Todoroki said, his usual calm demeanor faltering.

Saturday Evening – The "Bath Time" Battle

After the disaster of the playground, the students tried to get Kishio to clean up for dinner. What followed was a series of events that no one could have anticipated.

“Bath time!” Aizawa had said over the phone. “Make sure she gets cleaned up before bed.”

The students had no idea how challenging that would be. Kishio, covered in mud and syrup, was entirely against the idea of bathing. She ran from the bathroom, dodging every student who tried to catch her. "No, no! I don’t wanna!” she screamed as she zig-zagged through the dorms.

Kaminari and Kirishima tried to corner her, but Kishio slipped under them, darting into the kitchen where she immediately climbed into a cupboard, making it clear she was never going to comply.

"I’m never going to get clean," she said, as she emerged from her hiding spot holding a pan and laughing.

The students finally corralled her into the bathroom, but only after she managed to empty all of the shampoos into the sink, flooding the bathroom. As they managed to get her into the tub, she splashed water everywhere, leaving the floor soaked and the walls dripping.

By the time she was finally clean and in bed, the students were exhausted, but it wasn’t over yet.

Saturday Evening – The Explosive Paintball Surprise

Later in the evening, after what felt like an eternity of nonstop chaos, the students thought they’d finally secured Kishio inside, hoping to settle her down with some toys. But she had a different idea. She found a paintball gun tucked away in one of the rooms from previous training, and before anyone could stop her, she was blasting paintballs at everything—and everyone.

“BOOM!” she yelled, like a little general on the battlefield, as she fired off shots. The paint splattered all over the walls, the floors, and—more distressingly—on the students themselves.

“STOP!” screamed Bakugo, who had been hit right in the face with a paintball.

But Kishio was too quick. She ran circles around the room, hitting every student she could. By the time they managed to disarm her, the entire room looked like a Jackson Pollock painting.

Saturday Evening - The Fireworks Fiasco

Things took an even more dangerous turn as night fell. The students, exhausted and half covered in mud, thought they might have a peaceful evening. But no. Kishio had found a box of unused fireworks in one of the storage rooms—left behind from a previous school event—and she was already scheming.

When the students thought she was simply napping, Kishio had snuck out onto the balcony, preparing a full-scale display. She lit the fuse of a firecracker, and it went off with a deafening bang, sending sparks flying everywhere. The students rushed outside just in time to see her sprinting around with a lit Roman candle in one hand, grinning like she was in a warzone.

"Catch me if you can!" she yelled, as if the dangerous fireworks weren’t enough. She raced around the yard, using the Roman candle like a makeshift flamethrower, and the students scrambled to stop her before she set something—or someone—on fire.

Bakugo was the first to tackle her to the ground, his usual fury replaced with desperation. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he growled, trying to wrest the firework from her grasp.

“Come on, it’s just a little fire,” Kishio responded, her voice still cheerful despite the chaos she was causing. “It’ll be fine!”

Sunday Morning – The Ultimate Destruction

By Sunday, the class was almost ready to give up. But Kishio, ever determined to keep the chaos going, had one last stunt in mind. She had been quietly exploring the halls of the dorms, looking for new things to destroy. No one knew where she had gone, until a loud crash was heard from upstairs.

The students rushed to find her, and when they did, they were met with the most horrifying sight yet: Kishio had found Aizawa’s private room. She had knocked over his entire stack of paperwork, which was now scattered across the floor, and had gone through his personal belongings. She was wearing his shoes and had drawn all over his favorite jacket in permanent marker.

“Look, I made it look pretty!” she said innocently, grinning up at them with a big marker stain on her cheek.

The students could only stand there, defeated. It was clear now that the nightmare was almost over. But there was no escaping the aftermath of two full days of Kishio’s relentless mischief. They were left to clean up the wreckage, silently vowing never to take on babysitting duties again.

When Aizawa finally returned to collect Kishio, he found the entire class disheveled, exhausted, and covered in various stains, burns, and bruises. The students were slumped in every corner of the room, too tired to even glare at him.

Kishio, however, had an innocent grin plastered on her face as she bounced up to him, completely unaware of the carnage she had caused. “That was fun! Can we do it again next time?”

Aizawa sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Never. Again. Ever.”

As the sun finally set on Sunday evening, Kishio’s mother, Miss L/n, arrived to collect her daughter. The students were exhausted, frazzled, and traumatized by the weekend of nonstop chaos. She glanced at Aizawa, biting back a smile as she walked past him.

“Thank you all so much for looking after her!” Miss L/n said cheerfully, oblivious to the wreckage.

Kishio stood by her mother, waving goodbye to the class. “Thanks for the fun!” she shouted, her hair still full of paint and syrup, her clothes a patchwork of dirt, food, and marker stains.

The students could barely speak. They just stared at each other in silence, each of them mentally counting the number of things they needed to clean up—rooms, walls, furniture, pets, and memories.

Aizawa, who had been observing from a distance, simply sighed and rubbed his temples. “I’ll never ask them to babysit again.”

As Miss L/n took Kishio’s hand and led her out, the students collapsed into the nearest chairs, silently vowing never to take on a babysitting duty again.

It had been two days of utter destruction, and they were never going through that again.

Meanwhile, what Aizawa and Miss L/n were doing during the weekend:

Friday –

It had been a long week for Aizawa, dealing with his unruly class and the looming threat of more chaos, but Miss L/n's unexpected proposal had come at the perfect time. They’d agreed to meet up after he finished his evening meeting, but it wasn’t just about talking shop. As soon as Aizawa made his way out of the school, he was already looking forward to a brief escape.

He found her car parked on the outskirts of the school grounds. The engine was warm from her quick getaway, and her car door opened with a subtle creak as he approached. She smiled at him from the driver's seat, her gaze playful but knowing. Before he could even speak, she leaned over, brushing her lips against his. It was a quiet, intimate kiss, just enough to make his pulse quicken after a long day.

Aizawa didn’t hesitate. The kiss deepened, both of them caught in the quiet rush of chemistry that always seemed to ignite when they were together. His fingers brushed against her cheek as he slid into the passenger seat, the car’s interior providing an intimate cocoon where time felt suspended. He held her by the back of her neck, which was warm and burning his fingertips. Her hands were entangled in his hair and the air in the car felt stuffy, the sounds of them kissing was muffled. He wanted more,

But it couldn’t last. Aizawa reluctantly pulled away, glancing at his watch. “I have a meeting,” he muttered, his voice rough.

Miss L/n's smile was soft, but her eyes held a spark of understanding. “Just go, Shota. I’ll be here when you’re done.”

She kissed him once more—brief, but all-encompassing—before he reluctantly exited the car. It was a reminder of the passion that existed between them, even amidst the chaos of their professional lives. She watched him quickly jog away, seemingly about to be late. She felt butterflies in her stomach, noting the fact that he didn't mind ignoring his strict rules and pushing to be with her.

Saturday –

Aizawa’s meeting stretched late into the evening, but as he finally made his way back to the school, he knew he needed another escape. And Miss Emma’s room was always the perfect sanctuary.

By the time he entered her dorm, the atmosphere was more relaxed. She was already there, waiting for him with a glass of wine in hand, her expression soft. She didn’t need to say much. They’d both known this was coming after the chaotic day with the students.

Aizawa closed the door quietly behind him and found her standing near the window, her back to him. When she turned around, she didn’t need to say a word. Her eyes spoke volumes, and he couldn’t resist. He stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her closer until their lips met once again.

This kiss was different—deeper, more urgent. The tension of the day slipped away as their kiss intensified, and the world outside faded into the background. Miss L/n's hands found their way to his hair, tugging him closer. He responded with a quiet growl of approval, his hands roaming to pull her closer still, the lingering touch sparking something more heated between them. She slanted her head upwards for a better angle, allowing his tounge to relish deeper down her throat. He pulled back with a huff as they both caught their breath. Heaving as she looked up at him, her eyes shining from the outside light and a smile on her face.

“Been thinking about this all day,” Aizawa whispered against her lips, his voice raspy and low.

Her smile was warm, her hands tracing the line of his jaw before she kissed him again, mumbling “m glad u’re here.”

They moved together, the kiss becoming even more consuming, as though they couldn’t get enough. There was no rush. The chaos of the world outside was forgotten in the warmth of her room, where the only thing that mattered was the space they shared. He pushed her slightly to sit on the bed, her back soon hitting the surface with him soon on top of her.

Aizawa’s hands were firm on her back, pulling her closer against him as he lowered her onto the soft bed. The sheets were warm, the room lit only by the faint glow of the evening light that filtered through the curtains. His body was pressing her into the mattress, every inch of him caught in the heat of the moment as their lips met with a growing urgency.

The world outside this room, outside this bed, felt like a distant memory. His lips were gentle at first, savoring the taste of her as her hands slid up his arms, tracing the familiar lines of his body. He could feel her breath quicken, could sense the way her pulse was syncing with his own, each kiss pushing them further into a tangled web of desire.

He shifted slightly, more of his weight being pressed on her, his hand resting at the small of her back, fingers pressing against the soft fabric of her shirt. She was pliant beneath him, responding to every shift and every touch, her mouth opening slightly as he deepened the kiss. She tasted like something sweet—her lips, soft and inviting, urging him to push further, closer.

But then, just as the moment seemed to reach its peak, a knock echoed through the door, sharp and unwelcome.

Aizawa froze, his body tensing at the sound. His lips hovered just a breath away from hers, and his expression hardened, the mood suddenly shattered. They made eye contact before looking towards the door. He gritted his teeth, annoyed. There was no mistaking that whoever was on the other side of that door had just ruined the rare, fleeting moment of peace he'd managed to steal.

The knock came again, louder this time.

Frustration welled up in him, his grip on her back tightening just enough to let her feel the edge of his irritation. He closed his eyes for a moment, forcing himself to calm down, but his mind was already buzzing with annoyance. “Who the hell is that?” he muttered, voice low and growling.

She, equally frustrated, let out a soft sigh. “It’s probably one of the students,” she said, her fingers tracing circles on his chest as she tried to steady herself. She looked at him up and down, she didn't want this moment to end but...

Aizawa groaned in exasperation. "I swear to—" he started, but another knock cut him off.

With a frustrated grunt, he pulled away from her just enough to glance at the door. His eyes narrowed. Whoever it was had no idea what kind of disaster they were causing.

“I’ll deal with this,” he said, his tone dark and annoyed as he rose from the bed. His frustration was palpable, his body rigid with the need to resolve whatever idiotic interruption had come his way.

Miss L/n sat up slowly, still breathing a little heavily, her lips parted as she watched him move toward the door. " Wait, your in my dorm remember?"

As Aizawa stood there, the frustration building in his chest, she, ever the professional, pushed herself up from the bed and stood. Her movements were slow but graceful, and she didn’t need to say a word. She had already recognized the knock, the urgent yet polite tone that suggested one of her students needed assistance.

“I’ll handle this real quick,” she said softly, as she stood and walked toward the door, her eyes briefly catching Aizawa’s. She saw the frustration in his face, the tension that still hung in the air between them, and gave him an apologetic glance. Her lips parted, mouthing a quiet “Sorry” before she turned the handle and opened the door. He admired her from the back, he didn't want to seem like a pervert. But he always wondered what she would look like bent over. Hos gaze burned into her, but she ignored it.

There, standing at the threshold, was a student from Class 1-B—his face uncertain but clearly in need of her help. His posture was respectful, but there was an urgency in his expression that told Y/n all she needed to know.

“Miss L/n,” he began, voice polite yet slightly hesitant. “I’m really sorry to interrupt, but I need your assistance with something important.”

She took a small breath, her gaze flicking back to Aizawa, still standing across the room, his frustration evident in the way he leaned against the wall. She gave him another apologetic glance, mouthing an almost imperceptible “I’ll be right back.” The words were soft, but she could sense Aizawa’s patience wearing thin. Yet, she couldn’t leave a student in need.

With a small nod to Aizawa, she turned back to the student. “What seems to be the problem?” she asked, her voice soft and reassuring. She was already moving to gather her things, ready to leave, but she couldn’t ignore the wave of guilt that rolled over her for leaving him like this.

Aizawa watched her as she spoke with the student. He could see the familiar calm professionalism she exuded, the way she seamlessly slipped into the role of a mentor, but it didn’t stop the bitter edge of annoyance from creeping in. He knew how it always went: the students came first, no matter the time or the circumstances.

He sighed heavily, his hand rubbing his forehead as the moment was slipping away. He could feel the heat of their connection, the pull that had been building between them all weekend, and now, just as they’d begun to get close, it was being pulled from under him like a rug.

And he knew this routine. He had seen it play out many times before, watching her slip into work mode and leave him to wait in the quiet aftermath. Over the course of nearly a year of their occasional encounters, Aizawa had learned to read the situation. He could predict the timing—he knew when to stay in the background, when to leave quietly and unobserved, giving her the space to tend to her responsibilities.

As she stepped away from the door, ready to leave, Aizawa silently made his way back to the bed. He didn’t need to make his presence known—he’d learned to disappear in these moments, knowing that she would always return, and the world would shift again when she was back in the room with him.

He turned his back to the door, running his hands through his hair, the heat of frustration still simmering. But as he sat back down on the bed, his posture relaxed, he couldn’t help but feel the familiar pull of patience take over. He’d wait.

It wasn’t ideal. But it was a part of their unspoken agreement. After all, he knew she’d always return to him, even if it meant sacrificing a few moments for the sake of her students.

And as the sound of her footsteps faded down the hallway, Aizawa took a deep breath and settled in. This wasn’t over—not by a long shot. The night was still young, and when she returned, they’d pick up right where they left off.

Sunday –

After a night of stolen moments and quiet passion, Sunday morning arrived. Aizawa woke to the soft light filtering through the curtains of her room. Her breath was steady, her head resting against his chest, as they lay tangled in sheets. The soft rhythm of her breathing was enough to make him linger, though he had obligations to attend to. But for now, in the silence of the room, everything else felt irrelevant. He traced his fingers along her bare back, replaying every moment of it. This was the first time they had gone this far, the thought of her not officially being his didn't play at the back of his mind right now. He always pictured having sex with her, but he always condoned himself for it.

She stirred awake, stretching and glancing up at him with a content smile. “You’re still here,” she said softly, her hand resting gently on his chest.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Aizawa muttered, his fingers brushing through her hair. The simplicity of the moment was one of peace. The weekend had been chaotic in many ways, especially with the students, but in this room, with her, everything was grounded. He could forget about the world, just for a little longer.

She smiled again, leaning up to kiss him, her lips soft and sweet against his. It was a kiss that held the promise of more—of a connection that went deeper than just the physical.

As they shared that quiet moment, the world outside continued to spin, but for Aizawa and Miss Emma, the weekend had become theirs to own—full of moments of passion, understanding, and something unspoken but undeniable.

---

The weekend had come again, and this time, the chaos of babysitting Miss L/n’s daughter, Kishio, was somewhat lessened. Kishio had been absorbed in playing with Eri, the two girls giggling and running around the common room, leaving Aizawa and Miss L/n to slip away from the noise without raising suspicion. Mirio was watching them.

Aizawa had been watching the girls for a while, his usual stern expression softened as he observed them. Though he didn’t show it, the warmth of the moment—the quiet bonding between Eri and Kishio—made him feel a rare sense of peace. It was fleeting, but it was there. And as much as he wanted to remain in the background, he could feel the pull of Miss L/n's presence in the hall.

She had been teasing him with subtle glances all afternoon—nothing overt, just a soft, knowing look whenever their eyes met across the room. Aizawa felt the familiar tug at the edge of his patience. The day was too quiet, too easy, and he knew it wouldn’t last. But for now, it gave him a chance to slip away.

His footsteps were quiet on the wooden floors as he moved toward the hallway. His mind wasn’t on the girls, or on the noise coming from the living room, or even the responsibilities of teaching. It was on Miss L/n. The only person who seemed to have the ability to pull him from his thoughts, to make him forget the pressures of his life. The only person who seemed to make him feel… human again.

He paused at the door to her room, glancing over his shoulder just to make sure the girls were still engrossed in their playtime. Eri’s laughter rang out in the distance, a comforting sound that told him he could steal away for a few moments. The world outside this room felt like a distant memory. What he didn't see was a very confused and skeptical Bakugo Katsuki standing at the elevator door searching for her to ask her a question. He stopped in his tracks, watching as Aizawa reached for the door handle, taking a deep breath before gently pushing it open. He stepped inside, the room bathed in a soft, dim light that immediately brought a sense of calm. The door clicked shut behind him as he let the tension slip from his shoulders.

Miss L/n was standing by the window, looking out at the darkening sky. Her silhouette framed in the light, she turned slightly as she heard him enter, offering him a soft smile. There was a warmth in her gaze, a quiet affection that tugged at him. She didn’t need to say anything; her smile was enough. She knew why he was here.

“I thought you might show up,” she said, her voice light, though there was a hint of something deeper beneath her words. She wasn’t teasing—just knowing.

Aizawa didn’t respond right away. Instead, he moved toward her, his eyes never leaving hers. He stood a few feet away, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. He didn’t have to say anything, not yet. The tension was palpable between them, both of them silently acknowledging the space they shared, the unspoken connection that had built over the past months.

It was Miss L/n who broke the silence. She took a small step forward, her fingers reaching out to trace a line along his arm. The simple touch sent a shiver through Aizawa, the sensation of her skin against his only amplifying the growing desire that had been simmering beneath his calm exterior.

Her fingers lingered for a moment, but she didn’t pull away. She looked up at him, her eyes searching his, almost as if she were asking for permission. It was something Aizawa had come to recognize—her silent understanding of his need for space, his unwillingness to rush things. She would never push him, and that was part of what made being with her so different from everything else.

Aizawa closed the distance between them, his hand coming up to gently cup her face. The contact was gentle at first, his thumb grazing her cheek as he studied her expression. He wasn’t in a hurry. Not now. Not with her. He just needed this moment of calm, of quiet intimacy.

“I don’t know how you do it,” he murmured, his voice rough, the edges of his usual stoicism slipping. “How you make everything else disappear when I’m with you.”

L/n smiled softly, her hand resting over his, guiding it to the back of her neck. “You don’t have to say anything,” she replied, her voice steady, but there was an underlying warmth in her words that seemed to melt whatever walls Aizawa still had up. “I understand.”

And she did. She always did.

Without another word, Aizawa leaned down, his lips brushing against hers in a slow, tender kiss. The kind of kiss that didn’t rush. It was everything that Aizawa wasn’t—a slow, gentle release, a moment where he didn’t have to be anyone other than the man who needed her.

Her arms slid around his neck, pulling him closer as she deepened the kiss. Her lips were warm and soft against his, sending a wave of desire through him. His hands, now free from his pockets, slid around her waist, drawing her closer still. For the briefest of moments, Aizawa allowed himself to get lost in the kiss, in the way she made him feel.

He pulled away just enough to breathe, his forehead resting against hers. The moment was quiet, suspended in time. Outside, the sounds of Kishio and Eri’s laughter were distant, but they were a reminder that, even here, they had to be careful. Their time together was always brief, always stolen from the chaos of the world. But that didn’t make it any less real.

“I shouldn’t stay too long,” Aizawa murmured, his voice low and full of quiet regret. But even as he spoke, he didn’t move. The tension between them still hung thick in the air, and for a moment, it felt like neither of them wanted to break it.

Miss L/n leaned back slightly, her hands running through his hair, fingers gently tugging at the strands as she met his eyes. “It’s okay,” she whispered, her smile soft. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

Aizawa’s lips curled into a small, rare smile. He didn’t speak, just leaned in to kiss her once more, this time with a hint of urgency, but still held with that gentleness only she could elicit from him.

---

[veeluvss]

In her arms

Elle and JJ's first time together 2.3k words

From the moment Elle laid eyes on JJ, she wanted to fuck her. The way JJ grew flustered and threw out all her words just lit a fire in Elle. One that was only growing stronger. JJ wasn’t stupid, she was bashful in a way, young and inexperienced. Elle didn’t even know if she was gay but she still wanted her. She wanted to hear her whimper and beg. It was all she wanted and when Elle wanted something - she got it. 

It took a few weeks to develop the friendship, case after case, jet ride after jet ride. Until one night, they were heading out for drinks as a team. Elle and JJ had grown much closer and Elle was excited for the night. 

She texted her favourite blonde as she got ready: ‘What are you wearing?’ with a winky face. JJ replied almost instantly: ‘Top and pants. You?’ and it made Elle smile, she never got the flirting. It wasn’t even that she ignored it, she just didn’t get it. 

Elle replied: ‘Same. What are you wearing underneath? Do you have cute underwear?’ JJ blushed from the other end of the phone, why did Elle want to know that? Nevertheless, she replied: ‘mhm, a new white set.’ Elle smiled wide: ‘Perfect. I bet you look beautiful.’ JJ felt the heat at the base of her stomach and she blushed for another reason now: ‘Thank you’, she replied. 

The team met outside the bar and Elle couldn't take her eyes off JJ. The way the red top clung to her curves and the grey trousers sat so perfectly on her hips. She wanted them off. 

“You’re staring,” Morgan whispered in her ear and Elle pushed him back. JJ appeared in front of Elle and grabbed her hand quickly. 

“Hey, you,” Elle smiled down at the slightly shorter woman. “Hi,” JJ smiled back. The smile was a wide one, a genuine one which reached her eyes. “You look amazing,” Elle said and JJ blushed before checking out the older woman. She wore skinny jeans and a dark blue top, similar to JJ’s. JJ put a hand on Elle’s chest. “So do you.” 

They sat in the booth as a whole team but Elle and JJ sat beside each other. Elle started with her hand on her own crossed leg before moving it to the seat and then over time, moved it to JJ’s knee. Then higher. She drew soft circles on JJ’s covered thigh with the pad of her thumb. And JJ struggled not to squirm. She had to remain composed. 

“Shall we go dance?” Elle whispered to the blonde after they’d both had a few drinks. “Mhm,” JJ mumbled. She got out of her seat and grabbed Elle’s hand, too scared to be that far away from it after her comforting touch all that time. Elle smiled and followed JJ to the dance floor. Neither of them was too drunk and they didn’t plan on getting too drunk. But JJ knew how to dance. She moved her body in time to the music, into Elle’s body too. Elle kept her hands on JJ, forcing the men to walk away. It was as if only the two existed on the dance floor. No one else. 

Seeing his two teammates dancing and having the time of their lives, Morgan headed over to try and intervene. He wanted what they were on. He bought them both drinks before heading in their direction. JJ’s back was to him and Elle saw him coming. Quickly, she shooed him away with her eyes, sending him glares as he got closer. He looked confused and Elle smirked and looked down at JJ as she continued her dancing, completely in her own world. Morgan got the hint. He sent a sneaky smirk to Elle, nodded in her direction and beelined for the table to pass over their drinks. 

JJ moved herself closer to Elle as the music slowed down slightly, the night coming to an end. Her feet hurt but she didn’t want to let go of the moment, not such a special one with someone so important to her.  JJ stood in front of Elle, her arms around the older woman’s neck. Elle kept her hands on JJ’s hips, they swayed in time to the music. 

JJ put her head on Elle’s chest and let out a mighty groan and more pain was felt in her feet. 

“You okay, love?” Elle asked and moved her hand to JJ’s hair, she moved some from her face and looked down at her. 

“My feet hurt. So bad. I don’t know how people wear these stupid boots.”

Elle couldn’t help but laugh and took JJ’s hand. 

“Let’s go sit down then if they’re that bad,” JJ groaned again, she didn’t want to sit with the rest of the team. She loved them, sure, but she wanted time just for her and Elle. Elle stopped, realising she wasn’t being followed by the blonde. 

“Come on, blondie,” Elle teased and pulled her arm but JJ stayed rooted to the spot. She wanted to go home with Elle and feel her touch more. Let her dreams become reality. Elle laughed and walked over to JJ, ready to lift her up but JJ pulled away. 

“Hey,” Elle said, confused at the sudden change of demeanour. 

“Why don’t we get out of here, Elle?” 

“Get out of here? As in go home?”

“Let’s go to your place. Please?” JJ looked up at Elle and stepped closer to her. She stuck out her bottom lip slightly and gave her best puppy eyes. Elle looked at her and felt the familiar burning in her stomach. How could she say no? 

“Let’s go, love bug,” Elle grabbed her hand and JJ smiled, following to the table ready for them to leave. Elle grabbed the coats. 

“We’re gonna head off, Jay’s feet are hurting and I’m pretty beat from all the dancing.” 

“Let me drive you,” Hotch said and stood up. “It saves you guys money and I need to be getting back to Hayley anyway.” 

JJ sat in the back of the car and Elle sat up front but all each of them could think about was each other. Getting their hands on one another. JJ felt weak at the thought of Elle seeing her naked like that but she wanted nothing more. She felt the shudder come over her and hoped she wouldn’t get the shakes tonight. Elle was horny and hot upfront; thinking about JJ. Seeing her body underneath her, squirming and shaking as she made her feel the best she’d ever felt. 

They got to Elle’s apartment and Elle opened the door for her girl. 

“Thanks, Hotch! Bye, Hotch!” Elle said as she grabbed JJ’s hand and pulled her up the driveway. 

“See you tomorrow!” JJ shouted and waved as she was pulled into the small house. Hotch laughed at their antics, knowing perfectly well what they were up to although he was their boss, he wasn’t going to stop it. 

Instantly, the door was shut and JJ was pushed against it. No longer in the eyes of anyone else, Elle was free to do whatever she pleased- in reason and with consent of course. 

“Elle,” JJ whimpered instantly. Elle held her at the door, her knee between the blonde’s legs. 

“Hm?” Elle smirked. 

“What are you doing?” Where the only words JJ could muster. 

“Hm, getting what I’ve always wanted,” Elle said seductively. She moved JJ’s hair from her neck and lowered her lips to it. She peppered soft kisses across her neck and JJ let out a low moan. She pushed herself into Elle, wanting more. 

“You tell me to stop if we need to, okay?” Elle said, pulling up. 

“Okay,” JJ replied and grabbed Elle’s hair from behind. Elle smirked, wondering if JJ would start the kiss. She didn’t, she stood there, looking between Elle’s eyes and lips, almost asking permission but Elle wanted to tease. 

“Is this your first time with a woman, JJ?” 

JJ only nodded, completely fascinated by Elle’s soft lips moving. 

“Are you going to keep staring or kiss me?” 

“Can I?” JJ’s eyes went wide. 

“Of course you can, here,” Elle let her down from the wall and grabbed JJ’s jaw. JJ still had hold of the back of her head and she slowly moved them together. 

The first kiss was electric. It ignited something animal in them both and suddenly they were two half-naked women, unable to break their lips apart but eager to feel each other more and more. 

“Wait,” Elle said suddenly and broke the kiss. JJ whimpered and felt flushed. Suddenly, Elle picked her up and carried her across to the bedroom. She took off her shoes and pulled down her pants and then began doing the same for JJ. 

“Elle,” JJ moaned, needing to feel her against her again.

“Hold on,” Elle whispered and kissed JJ softly before running to the bathroom. JJ groaned and began taking her top and bra off. She couldn’t help it but the slight brush of her own hands against her nipples sent her crazy. She touched it and rubbed it between her fingers, letting her head fall back and moans escape her. Elle came back and took in the sight before suddenly falling upon the younger blonde. JJ groaned and smiled up at Elle before their lips crashed again. 

“So needy,” Elle said between kisses. She moved from JJ’s lips and down her body, taking in more of her skin with her lips. She bit it and sucked at it, feeling it under her tongue. She left little marks across her whole body, finally marking JJ as hers.

“My god, JJ you’re beautiful,” Elle whispered as she straddled the girl's body. “Like an angel.” 

JJ blushed under Elle and felt her body begin to shake with anticipation. She whimpered and Elle stroked down her waist and across her hips. 

“You okay?” she asked, concerned about the sudden shakes of JJ’s body. 

“I’m okay, just really, really horny,” JJ whimpered. 

“Okay, but tell me if we need to stop,” Elle smiled and leaned down. JJ nodded in response. She took one of JJ’s nipples in her mouth. JJ moaned loudly in pleasure and her back arched upwards. JJ put a hand in Elle’s hair, massaging her scalp in time for Elle’s tongue exploring JJ’s nipple. There was perfect harmony between the women. 

Elle’s hands moved further down the blonde’s body as she investigated JJ below her. She explored every inch of her body, taking in her curves and contours. JJ’s skin was soft and pale, truly like an angel. “Are you doing okay?” Elle asked, looking up at JJ. Her eyes were closed in pure bliss as Elle’s hands roamed her body. She nodded and smiled a genuine smile and Elle continued. She moved down to JJ’s underwear and slowly peeled them off her thin legs. JJ whimpered at the sudden exposure and kept her knees together. “You’re safe,” Elle reassured her and gently pried her legs apart. JJ’s naked body was on full display for Elle to admire and she really did admire it. She licked her lips before going down on her girl. 

JJ’s legs shook with pleasure as Elle worked her tongue. Elle was better than any man JJ had ever been with. The way her tongue worked sent waves of sensations through her small body and JJ was in awe at it all. She weaved her hand into Elle’s auburn hair and they worked together. 

The girls were exhausted by the end of it. JJ lay on the bed, a thin blanket laid over her naked body as she panted and tried to remain calm. Elle drove her crazy. “I’ll be back in a minute, baby,” Elle whispered and planted a soft kiss on JJ’s head before heading out of the room. She had headed to the kitchen to get them both some water and JJ curled into herself. Has she been okay? Did she do it right? Elle had hardly said anything to her… what if she’d done it wrong and she wasn't attracted to her anymore? What if it truly was a one-time thing and they weren’t going to do it again? JJ wanted to do it again. Not right now but some other time. The more she overthought it, the more the tears threatened to spill.  Elle came back with two glasses of water and some biscuits but saw JJ’s shoulders shaking under the blanket. Immediately, she felt bad and put down the snacks and drinks. “Hey,” she whispered and pulled the blanket down. She climbed into the bed beside the younger girl and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “What’s the matter, hm?” Elle asked. JJ shook her head and buried it further into the blanket. “Okay, come here,” Elle said. She rolled onto her back and pulled the smaller girl on top of her. JJ hid her head in Elle’s neck and Elle held her. “I bet that caused a lot of emotions, hm?” JJ nodded and whimpered, bringing one hand up to help hide her face more but Elle held her hand instead, rubbing circles on it with her thumb. “What’s on your mind?” “I’m not good enough,” JJ whimpered. “You are SO good enough. Baby, you did amazing, did it feel bad or not good?” “It felt so good.” “Then you were so good. You did amazing and for your first time! Anyone would think you’re a professional.” Elle joked and JJ let out a slight smile as her tear subsided. There was something so soothing about Elle’s arms. “I’m proud of you, my girl,” Elle whispered and kissed JJ’s cheek. “You are?” “So proud,” Elle whispered. JJ sat up and looked at Elle’s eyes. It was way too early to say it but Elle felt it. Those three little words, looking at JJ now, her glistening blue eyes so full of tenderness and love. It was all Elle felt. She smiled and pulled her girl into a kiss instead. “Why don’t we get showers and then sleep?” she suggested. JJ nodded and climbed off the bed and let the blanket fall. Elle smirked as she watched JJ walk across the room to the bathroom, naked. She could get used to this.

[dailymanners]

Always use "excuse me" if you have to get into someone else's personal space.

Someone at the store is standing in front of the shelf where there's a can you want to grab? Don't just reach into their personal space without warning, say "excuse me" or "pardon my reach" first so that they at least have a warning that someone is about to reach into their personal space, and most importantly, so that they have a chance to move before you get into their space.

Or if someone is standing on a walkway or in a doorway you need to get through, don't just silently shove past them or squeeze past them, say "excuse me" so that they have a warning that a someone is about to squeeze or shove into their personal space, and they have a chance to move out of the way before you do you.

People deserve a fair warning if someone is about to squeeze or shove or reach into their personal space. A lot of people are not okay with having someone, but especially a stranger, randomly shove or squeeze or reach into their personal space without warning. They also deserve a chance to move out of the way first for the sake of their comfort.

Try to avoid just staring at people who are in your way and expecting them to read your mind that you want them to move. Most people cannot, in fact, read minds, so having someone stand in front of them and stare at them often only leads to making them feel uncomfortable and frustrated.

But also more importantly, if you are standing somewhere someone needs to get to, and they say excuse me, you should move aside for them even if just temporarily, so they can avoid the discomfort of having to reach into your personal space or squeeze past you.

If someone is saying "excuse me" it's because they would like you to move because they don't want to have to get into your personal space, whether it's out of respect for you, or just because they themselves are not comfortable getting in your personal space.

All of this goes double for people with trauma and/or people who are neurodivergent. If someone has trauma related to abuse or assault they may find it more upsetting or possibly triggering to suddenly have someone shoving or reaching in their personal space without warning.

Or, many types of neurodivergence can make it especially disturbing and unpleasant to have someone else in your personal space, especially without warning.

You can never be 100% sure who is and isn't traumatized and/or neurodivergent, so always practice respecting other's personal space by giving them a fair warning with "excuse me" or "pardon my reach" before getting in their personal space, and moving aside when you hear those magic words. Or, even if someone isn't traumatized nor neurodivergent, it's still fair to not like someone in your personal space without warning and not being given the opportunity to move first.

[gojosprettyprincess]

BESTFRIEND SATORU HELPING YOU COPE WITH YOUR BREAKUP!!

Degradation n praising, Satoru likes you. Not proofread. I hate this sm and it was rushed but oh well

ଘ ੭ ✩‧₊˚

You made your best effort to compose yourself, attempting to suppress the sobs that threatened to overwhelm you as you gently rapped on the sturdy wooden door looming in front of you. Hastily trying to put yourself together before you were met with Satoru’s familiar, handsome face.

His eyes gleamed with excitement as soon as he caught sight of you, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

"What are you doing here so late babe, Shouldn't you be uhhh—having boring phone sex with your little boyfriend?" he quipped—his playful chuckle hinting with pride and maybe even jealousy laced with it.

His expression quickly changed to concernment when he saw the tears escaping your eye line. Instantly, his face softened and he moved closer, gently gripping your shoulders to get you to look at him.

"Woah, are you okay, sweetheart? Did something happen?", he asked worriedly as warm tears streamed down your face, he gently moved one of his hands to the back of your head, guiding your face into his chest for a tight embrace.

"What happened? C'mon, talk to me" he softly mumbled, feeling your sobs resonating against his chest, you sniffled and finally broke down, "No Satoru, He cheated! he fucking cheated on me—I don’t know what to do”. You gripped onto his shirt tightly as you held onto him.

His mouth gaped in shock and anger as he hugged you impossibly closer, The scent of his minty cologne enveloped you, clouding your thoughts and senses as you continued to cry in his arms.

“What??? I'm so sorry sweetheart, knew that fucking prick didn't deserve you—I'm so fucking sorry. What can I do to make you feel better?"

___

“Ahh, shit gonna lose my fucking mind in this tight pussy.” he lets out a throaty groan that resonated in the air.

Pure sweat glistened from his body, his biceps, his chest, his back—all fucking sticky and damp almost as if he was working out— well it coulddd count as a workout, technically.

“No fucking way, that dumb fucker cheated on this”, he gasped, anger coursing through him as his hand instinctively gripped onto the headboard for stability while he loses himself to the warmth of your soppy pussy compressing the life out of his cock, each squeeze pulling him deeper into your core.

His white bangs stuck to his forehead as the ends tickled his face with dampness. You mewled loudly as your face distorted with unanticipated pleasure—Pleasure that you'd never thought you could ever felt before, until this day.

He had you folded in a fucked-up mating press—insisting that the closer he is to you, the better he'd be able to comfort you.

“Fuckk! Toruu~” you moaned pornographically, your toes involuntarily curling against his toned back as your knees knocked against your bouncing tits.

His beaming blue eyes piercing through you feverishly as he stared down at you—his face just mere inches away from yours. "Fuck yeahh, moan my fucking name just like that sweetheart, that's right. I'm the one pounding this perfect little pussy” he purrs softly, smirking as drool escapes your lips.

Of course, he was unhappy and worried to see his poor best friend miserable because of the breakup. But deep down, a part of him felt…relieved?

It's not like that dumb, immature scrawny bitch could ever give you what he has to offer.

Never, Never never never. You deserved better, way better. Someone like him…

“Mmm Fuckkk, Satoruuu. stretching me s’good” you cried out in pure ecstasy as the tip of his cock rubs against your g-spot so rawly and naturally in a way that felt heavenly —your boyfriend was never able to find it.

“Yeah? You like me splitting open this pretty pussy with my cock? When was the last time you had a good fucking like this, babe?” Satoru laughed breathlessly, his cock throbbing with each thrusts.

The bed sinking as a result from his weight as he bullied his hefty cock into you—fucking you absolutely dumb, deeper into his mattress.

Your glassy eyes were now obscured by a hazy blur, the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your veins as your eyes rolled back—Satoru thought the sight of you like this was so so beautiful. Seeing his precious little best friend whom he loveee so much getting dumbed down from his dick etched something primal in him.

His mouth gaped slightly as he moaned, his eyes full of desire and passion. He brought his face closer, his warm breath brushing against your skin before he smashed his lips onto yours.

His mouth completely devouring you as the both of you moaned in unison, lost in the intensity of the kiss—your tongues tangling together as your tummy fluttered in excitement.

His skin stuck to yours disgustingly as your boobs bounced against his chest, your fingers laced through his hair. The sensation made him groan before he eventually pulled away from the passionate kiss.

He quickly switched positions, hauling your body closer to him so your ass could slowly be arched up—resting against his thighs as he pounded your sloppy, messy cunt at the deeper angle.

A rhythmic series of “Hahhh!” fills the room—almost like a chant of pleasure escaping his lips as his gaze is fixated on where the two of you were connected—his cock completely disappearing inside your warm core at the snap of his hips as his snowy pubic hair lightly nudges against the sensitive bud of your arousal.

“This pussy is taking me in so well, fuck he could never—dunno why you were even with him–nghh! in the first place” he emphasizes on the last word with a deep, hard powerful thrust.

“I could treat ya so much better than he ever did sweetheart, better forget about him—don't ever wanna see you crying that fucker again” he smirks down at fucked out face—so cute and pretty all clumsy from his cock.

Thick balls slapping against your asshole as your slick coats both of them, forming a slippery layer that gradually dripped down onto his sheets.

“Or don't worry, heh—i’ll just fuck you into a brainless little slut, that'll surely make you forget about him” he laughs out. His tongue dragging against his lips as his fingers kneads into the soft flesh of your thighs.

Your eyes rolled back uncontrollably to his words, it was obvious to you that Satoru had a little crush on you for a while now and fucking hated your boyfriend but hearing him actually vocalizing his feelings in such a vulnerable, intimate moment made you lose your mind.

His lengthy cock dug into your pussy in such a mean manner in the new angle—his relentless thrusts hitting your cervix over and over, making your pussy overflowing with juices all over his dick, facilitating to force his dick into you.

You squealed, feeling his finger suddenly rubbing fast circles on your clit—causing your inner walls to flutter around his shaft in a euphoric response to the new wave of pleasure that surged through your body.

“Mmmfp! Yesyesyes! don't stop, s’close” you exclaimed, your fingers tightly clasping onto the sheets to anchor yourself.

“Yeah? Gonna cum on my dick baby?” He inquires with a toothy grin, his bicep muscles prominently bulging, emphasizing his toned physique as his abs flexes because of the angle. Giving you the most delicious view of his body.

“Yes! Ahh, Toruuu” Your eyebrows furrowed together as you felt your orgasm approaching. Your body trembled in ecstasy. The feeling of good sex was so so refreshing to you that you started questioning yourself why you weren’t with Satoru instead in the first place?. He was charming, rich, and funny—despite his annoying personality and teasing, he was almost perfect, but maybe because you two have been best friends for all those years, you just haven’t thought about him like that.

Before you knew it, milky white rings coated his cock—overlaying every inch of his shaft and painting his balls. “Mmmmm!” You breathe heavily, almost losing your mind as you watched Satoru’s eyes roll back at the feeling of you messing up his dick.

“Yessss, that’s it baby—God, fuck, making such a pretty mess all over me” he tried to keep his composure but he miserably failed, he just fucking couldn't, hell he couldn’t even pull out quick enough before spurting his hot cum directly into your womb, making loud squelching noises filling the room as his warm, sticky cum overflowed out of your pussy.

It was so so messy, there’s no way there wasn’t a big wet patch of cum below the two of you.

“So do ya prefer our date being tomorrow or the day after—I’d prefer tomorrow because I’m not working, plus I wanna take you out as soon as possible,” he said in a cheery, out-of-breath tone, managing to catch you off guard as if he wasn’t still balls deep inside of you.

“Seriously Satoru? We can discuss this later” you muttered with a hint of annoyance—causing him to pout in response before picking up your upper body to sit on his lap—cockwarming him.

He pulled you into a sweet, passionate kiss—his hands groping your ass as you tangled your fingers through his hair.

“Fineee” he playfully whispered—you giggled lowly, feeling his smile forming against your lips as he held you close.

[webism]

pornstar!toji who is known for being easy with his scenes. he's there for a good fuck and an even better paycheck: it doesn't matter who, or where, or how... if he's being paid he will do it. he doesn't mind getting nasty, and so he's often booked for more exotic scenes. he fucks good, and he fucks a lot.

pornstar!toji who is strapped for cash one week after an unfortunate loss on the horses, and takes the first scene offered to him. a vanilla fuck with a new-to-the-scene pornstar with potential... at least that's what his agent, shiu, tells him. he's confused on what potential he's hinting at until he rocks up ten minutes late to the shoot and lays eyes on you, already naked and on the stage bed. you have a look to you that makes a man like toji feel obliged to drop to his knees.

pornstar!toji who is already harder than he has been in a long time when shiu clarifies that when he called you 'new to the scene' he meant it: this is your first porn shoot. and though you're not a virgin, toji has the honour of taking your first time on camera... and god does he love the thought.

pornstar!toji who is greeted with a small smile and a soft 'hello' from you, shy beneath his gaze as if you aren't naked and soon to be stuffed full of his cock. he watches your eyes shift, from his piercing eyes to his beautifully scarred lip to the gorgeous tone of his body, all the way down to his awfully large cock. he can tell you're nervous, worried about taking all of him on film.

pornstar!toji who isnt good with gentle comforts, but still wants you to feel at ease with him. so, despite his instructions for a simple fuck scene, toji attacks you with deep kisses first, gets you used to the burning heat of his body against yours. and when you're melted enough against his skin he trails down and eats you out for a long twenty minutes. production would try and stop him, but he's already tipsy on your taste and the moans leaving your lips are, frankly, made for porn.

pornstar!toji who revels in the way your back arches off the mattress—he'd accuse you of putting on a show for the cameras if your hips weren't bucking up against his face in an almost primal need. he can taste it on you, the genuine lust, the way you drip wet on his tongue and still grab at his hair for more. and when he gives you more—when he finally slips his cock into you—he can't help himself from groaning out something needy. he's the silent type, letting his costar take center stage, but god can he not keep quiet feeling your walls wrapped around him.

pornstar!toji who has never had an issue with porn before, but with your legs wrapped around his waist, your eyes locked onto his as he pumps in and out of you with white hot need, he finds he hates the thought of anyone else seeing you like this. he's not a possessive man, he shouldn't feel this way, but he does. even the watchful stares of the cameramen piss him off, and he finds his hips moving faster and his cock nestling deeper inside of you just to show them that he's the one pleasing you.

pornstar!toji who can't help but kiss you as you both cum in unison. he ruins the shot, the cameras cant see your orgasm face when he's swallowing your moans like they're sweet wine. he's surprised his pay doesn't get cut for it.

when pornstar!toji does get paid, it's the first cheque in a very long time that he doesn't blow the same night it comes through. because he doesn't have time to go out and waste his money: he's at home fucking his fist to the film you made together and mentally degrading himself for being so pussy whipped. he strokes himself in time with his own thrusts in the video, and tries so desperately to recall your taste on his tongue, but its fruitless. he's agitated and sexually frustrated and keeps reloading your personal pages to see if you've filmed with anyone since him.

pornstar!toji who becomes so lost in his own mind that he starts turning down shoots with other actors—shoots with good pay. he's done everything under the sun, done all the hardcore porn and weird fetish content but now that he's gotten a fresh taste of plain passion sex with you, he can't stomach anything else. he'd say your name, he knows it—and it doesn't help that he hasn't been able to reach orgasm for a week without thinking of you.

pornstar!toji who, after three weeks of pure misery, decides to make a move. he doesn't do dates or romantic nights on the town. he doesn't do flowers or sweet nothings or eye contact even, but he finds himself contacting shiu and threatening the poor man in hopes of your real name, your address, anything.

and you, late one evening fucking yourself on your fingers to the brink of frustrated tears because they're not his cock. even more disgruntled when theres a pounding knock at your front door, and after cleaning yourself up a little you swing it open to find pornstar!toji stood in the rain outside. and you can only take him in—his heavy build and desperate eyes—before he's crashing his lips against yours, walking you into your own home and kicking the door shut behind him.

[slttygeto]

YOU SAY IT’S BIG, BUT YOU TAKE IT — SUGURU GETO.

જ��➴ content warning: pwp, riding, fem!reader, suguru has a big dick<3, reader struggles to ride him at first, he’s sweet and patient, big dick suguru once again<3, hint of a size kink, spanking, very light nipple play.

જ⁀➴ note: consider this an apology for the gut wrenching angst i posted yesterday. it’s 2am rn and i should be asleep but instead im feeding u guys this v self indulgent smut. enjoy<3

suguru loves when you suggest to ride him. you look eager as you straddle his lap, the love bites he littered all over your thighs giving him a sense of pride as he brushes his thumb over them. his free hand reaches for your ass cheek and kneads the skin before slapping it, and there’s a smile on his face when he sees you jolt in surprise.

taking suguru’s dick was a challenge in itself, he always prepped you with his thick fingers and made sure you were a weeping mess before getting to fuck your brains out. but tonight, you were feeling especially confident. despite his cock sitting on his stomach heavy and leaking pre-cum, the sheer size of it didn’t intimidate you. you can take it.

“think you can take it?” his voice sounds playful, and the grin plastered on his face makes your cheeks flush. the way he was staring at you made your heart skip a beat. so full of love and adoration, as though he wasn’t splitting you open on his cock a few moments ago.

but his loving stare doesn’t last long. both of his hands rest on your ass, and they deliver a harsh smack to the skin which makes you jolt forward. suguru captures one of your breasts in his mouth, and you sigh out when his tongue glides over your hardened nipple. he pulls away with a hum, a string of saliva attached to his lips and your thumb wipes it off.

“c’mon pretty girl, show me what you can do.” the praise is enough to make your pussy flutter. your hand reaches down to grab his cock, and your thighs shake a little as you stand up straight to position the tip of him against your folds.

you quietly hiss when the tip goes past your folds, the intrusion a little painful. suguru takes notice of your struggle and presses a sweet kiss to your shoulder, removing a hand from your ass to gently thumb at your clit.

“there you go—easy, eaaasy,” he whispers, his eyes locked on your face while you’re busy staring down at where your pussy and his cock meet. you don’t notice how his eyes are blown out with lust at the sight of you trying to take his cock, his heart fluttering in his chest because fuck—his dick was big for you, but you were giving it your whole mainly for his pleasure.

and when you finally manage to get the rest of him inside you, suguru is almost sure he just saw heaven. his head is thrown back and his eyes roll to the back of his head. you gasp at the same time, your pussy clenching hard around his cock that he hisses and grips your ass.

“shit— baby, you gotta move.” he sounds out of breath, his forehead is sweaty and the dark strands of his hair are sticking to the flushed skin of his face. he looks absolutely mesmerizing, that your pussy flutters again at the sight.

“fuck—“ you listen to him and lift up your hips, before slamming your ass back down. you repeat the same movement a couple of times, but each time is a little more intense as suguru grabs your face and forces you to keep your eyes on him.

he is manspreading on the couch and you ride him within an inch of your life, the fucked out look on both of your faces looks straight up pornographic. your moans are short but loud, eyebrows furrowed in concentration when you see the way his eyes start to unfocus.

you were fucking geto suguru stupid on your couch.

you lean towards him and wrap your arms around his neck, your pace faltering a little when your lips meet his neck. you think you can bring him to an orgasm first, you’re almost convinced that he was about to let go.

until his hands grip your waist, and you pull away from his neck to stare at him. one of his hands rests on the back of your head and pushes it down so that your foreheads meet, and while you’re a panting mess, suguru still manages to mutter a few words.

“eyes on me, yeah?“ you don’t respond immediately. you can’t, because he plants his feet on the ground and starts to thrust up into you at a brutal pace. you are grateful that his arm was holding you in place, otherwise you would’ve lost complete balance on his lap.

the tip of his cock brushes against that one spot over and over again, and suguru watches as your eyes gloss over with tears and your pretty lips purse—you are so close, suguru felt a sense of pride to be able to make you look this fucked out.

it only takes him a couple of thrusts before you are cumming around him with a loud cry, your body shuddering and shaking against him like a leaf. you moan as you come down from your orgasm, your forehead resting against his shoulder as you completely melt on him. you let him fuck into you for a few more seconds before he’s emptying himself inside you with a loud grunt.

your bodies are sweaty and sticky, but you still manage to kiss each other when you finally catch your breath. the kiss is sweet and you giggle as you pull away.

“that was good.” you say, wiggling a little on suguru’s lap until he hisses and lightly smacks your ass.

“behave.” his tone is playful, and his rubs soothing circles on the skin of your bottom. “but yeah, it was so good.”

↴⤷✮ i am so normal about him.

2023 ; all works belong to @ slttygeto. do not repost my works on any other platofrm.

[parkerslatte]

Different

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: none

Summary: Ever since Feyre arrived at Velaris, they have only ever known Azriel a stoic and mostly serious. But once his wife comes home, she sees a different side to him.

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

•••

Feyre watched as Azriel stood by the window. His shadows moved over his shoulders and around his ear as if whispering something to him. The expression on Azriel’s face was his same neutral one that only ever seemed to change the smallest amount. And only ever in the presence of the Inner Circle and even then there would only be a small hint of a smile. 

It was late at night and everyone was enjoying a relaxing night with a few bottles of Rhys’s expensive alcohol. So far, Azriel hadn’t moved from his place at the window, his back was rigid as if he was expecting something, though that was the only indicator that he was. His face was his usual stoicism, giving nothing away. 

“Az, are you ever going to get away from that window anytime soon?” Cassian complained. 

Azriel turned his attention to Cassian and scowled. “I’m busy.”

“Not busy enough to spend time with the people you love,” Cassian teased. 

“Az, sit down, you won’t miss anything,” Rhys chimed in. 

With a final look through the window, Azriel walked over to the rest of the Inner Circle and sat in the armchair. His back was tense and he was not fully relaxed. Ever since Feyre had known him he had always been somewhat alert to everything. 

While everyone continues with the card game, Feyre couldn’t help but pay more attention to Azriel than to the game. Like Feyre, Azriel didn’t seem to be paying any attention to the game either. Instead he stared at the table in front of him completely lost in thought. 

Elain, who was sitting on the floor beside Mor, looked up to Azriel. “It’s your turn,” she said. 

“Oh,” Azriel said before picking a card out of his hand and placing it on top of the pile. 

“That isn’t a card you can even put on top,” Cassian complained. 

Azriel rolled his eyes. “Does it matter? You change the rules when you’re losing anyway.”

“I do not!” Cassian exclaimed. “I take this game seriously.”

“Until you are losing,” Nesta mumbled under her breath. 

Cassian began to argue back, clearly becoming outnumbered in his argument. Feyre only watched on with amusement. 

However everything was quickly interrupted by a new voice, one Feyre had never heated before, cut through the argument. 

“I leave you all alone for a few years and everything goes to shit?” 

Everything goes silent as everyone stares at the beautiful female who had just entered the room. Before Feyre could even process everything, Azriel threw his cards back down on the table and rushed up to the female.

The female giggled in delight as Azriel’s arms wrapped around her and swung her around. Feyre looked at her two sisters, each of them held the same expression she did. Confusion. 

What shocked Feyre the most about the situation was the bright and wide smile stretching across Azriel’s face. She had only noticed now that he had dimples. 

“I missed you so much,” Azriel mumbled. 

“It has only been a few months for you,” the female replied. 

“That is too long for me. I always wish for you to be next to me,” Azriel replied and pressed his lips against the females. His arms circled her waist, making sure there wasn’t a single gap between their bodies. The female threaded her fingers through his hair, causing Azriel to sigh in delight. Feyre couldn’t help but feel surprised by this display of affection from Azriel. 

Feyre leaned back against Rhys. “Who is that?”

“Azriel’s mate and wife,” Rhys answered.

“What?” Feyre exclaimed. “None of you have ever mentioned her before.”

“That was Azriel’s decision,” Rhys replied, filling up his glass. “You see, Y/N works as a researcher all over the continent for me so she is rarely ever here so none of us can protect her. Azriel has made a lot of enemies over the years and if he were tied to her, she could be put in even more danger.”

“When was the last time they saw each other?” Elain interjected. 

“For Azriel a few months ago,” Rhys answered. “Those two weeks just before Solstice when Azriel wasn’t here, he was on the continent with her.”

Feyre watched as Azriel buried his head into Y/N’s  neck, holding her against him tightly. Feyre smiled at the sight. 

“It has been at least two years since the rest of us have last seen Y/N,” Cassian chimed in. “It would be nice of her to greet the rest of us.”

Y/N pulled away from Azriel to smile at everyone else. “Give me a break, Cass. If you were to go without a hug from your mate in a few months, you wouldn't be jumping to greet everyone else first.”

“She knows about us?” Nesta asked. 

Cassian nodded. “Whenever Azriel meets up with her, she always asks about you all. Apparently she has been excited to meet you all.” 

Feyre watched as Azriel and Y/N walked over to join the group. Azriel’s gaze never left Y/N for a single second. Feyre’s gaze shifted down to their joined hands. She hid her smile behind her glass. 

Y/N quickly greeted Rhys, Cassian and Mor with a hug and she gave a small nod to Amren. 

Azriel sat down on the armchair first and as Y/N was about to sit in the arm of it, Azriel pulled her down so she sat in his lap instead. His arms locked around her waist as his chin rested on her shoulder. Feyre was sure she had never seen him look so happy before, so at ease. The smile on his face was one Feyre had never seen. 

“It is great to finally meet you three,” Y/N said, her gaze flicking between Feyre, Nesta and Elain. “This one here,” she said, reaching to cup Azriel’s cheek, “has told me a lot about you.”

“It is great to meet you,” Feyre said with a smile. 

“So now that introductions have finished,” Cassian begins, “can we get back to the game now? I was about to win.”

“Is that because you changed the rules halfway through the game?” Y/N teased. 

Cassian rolled his eyes. “You know what, Y/N. I don’t think I missed you at all.”

Y/N chuckled. “We both know that’s a lie.”

Azriel laughed along with Y/N and placed a soft kiss to her shoulder. He looked completely different to the stoic and serious shadowsinger Feyre was used to. With Y/N, Azriel seemed like a completely different person. The tension had vanished from his body and his shadows, which were once sliding over his shoulders, were now caressing Y/N legs and arms. One of his hands caressed her thigh while the other threaded with hers. Feyre could see the goosebumps appear on Y/N’s skin wherever he caressed. 

Azriel whispered something into Y/N’s ear which caused her to turn to him, smiling wide, her lips hovering just above his. The glimmer in Azriel’s eyes was prominent as he looked at her. It was as if she hung the stars. There was so much love and tenderness in his eyes that it could only be described as something out of a romance novel. She had never seen him look so at ease before. It was if everything else had melted away and the only thing left was Y/N.

Feyre couldn’t help but feel giddy at the sight. 

“How long have they been mates for?” Feyre asked Rhys. 

“Nearly three hundred years,” Rhys replied, wrapping an arm around Feyre. “They have been married for longer, the bond snapped nearly fifty years after they were married.”

“They seem happy,” Feyre said, her eyes not shifting from where Azriel and Y/N sat. 

Rhys smiled at his two friends, friends he considered family. “They are. Azriel is always his happiest when Y/N is around. He always has been ever since they met.”

“Why does she go away for long periods of time?” Feyre questioned. “It feels like torture when I’m away from you for too long. I cannot imagine being mates to someone for three hundred years and only being able to see them every few months.”

“That is the way it has been through their whole relationship,” Rhys explains. “They both knew what each other did for a job and neither of them wanted the other to give it up.” 

“How long is she back for this time?” Feyre asked. 

“I hadn’t asked,” Rhys said. “But I have a small feeling she will be here for a while this time.”

Feyre frowned. “How so?”

“Because if I know anything about Y/N, it is that she would never decline a glass of my finest wine and so far she has declined every glass Mor has offered her,” Rhys observed. 

Feyre looked at Rhys excitedly. “Does that mean—?”

Rhys smiled. “They haven’t said anything so I assume that they wish to keep the news between them for a little while longer.”

Feyre smiled over at Y/N and Azriel. She caught Y/N’s eye. The beautiful female only sent a wink Feyre’s way, a clear indication that she had overheard her and Rhys’s conversation. 

“Az, it’s your turn,” Nesta said. 

Azriel throws all of his cards onto the table. “I think I am done for the night.”

Cassian groaned . “Really?”

“Really,” Azriel said. “I want to spend time with my gorgeous mate and wife.”

Cassian chuckled. “That is only an excuse because you are losing,” the general teased. 

Azriel rolled his eyes and swooped Y/N up in his arms. Her arms locked around his neck. “If you need us— actually don’t even try to contact us at all.”

Y/N threw her head back and laughed as Azriel carried her out of the room. Feyre could hear them laughing loudly even when the door was firmly closed behind them. Feyre leaned into Rhys and linked her fingers with his.

“I am happy for them,” Feyre said, her eyes staring at the door where Azriel and Y/N had left. 

Rhys kissed the top of Feyre’s head. “Me too.”

[sushiyuzu]

emotional support

warning: fluff + tension — your boobs become soft!sylus’ emotional support 🙈 [ x fem!reader ]

- second acc: @blushpawss

you were relaxing on the bed after a long day, scrolling through your phone absentmindedly, when you heard the door creak open. without looking, you knew it was sylus. you could tell by the way he moved, the quiet confidence in his steps, the aura he carried everywhere he went.

“hey,” you greeted softly, glancing up at him with a small smile. “everything okay?”

he didn’t respond right away. instead, he just stood at the edge of the bed, his usual stoic expression fixed on his face. crimson eyes locked on you, but there was something softer in them, something vulnerable he rarely showed.

before you could ask again, he moved. in one swift motion, he climbed onto the bed, gently pushing you back until you were lying down. his movements were deliberate, yet there was no urgency—just a quiet need.

“sylus?” you asked, your voice holding a hint of confusion as he positioned himself on top of you, his head resting squarely between your boobs.

“don’t,” he murmured against your chest, his voice slightly muffled by your shirt. “just... let me.”

you blinked, caught off guard by how soft his voice sounded. usually, sylus was the picture of control, always so serious and composed. but right now, he was melting into you, his strong arms wrapping around your waist, holding you tight as if you were his lifeline.

“okay,” you whispered, feeling your heart swell with affection. you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer. “you wanna talk about it?”

he shook his head, his face completely buried in your chest now. “no. just need this,” he said, his breath warm against your skin. “need you.”

you couldn’t help but smile at how adorable he was being. despite his tough exterior, sylus always had this soft, clingy side when it came to you. it was a side he didn’t show to anyone else, a side he only let out when he felt safe in your presence.

“rough day?” you asked, your fingers automatically threading through his silver hair, stroking it gently.

“you have no idea,” he muttered, his voice muffled by your chest. “the meetings, the arguments, the constant surveillance... it’s exhausting.”

you chuckled softly. “and i’m your emotional support pillow now?”

“more like emotional support boobs,” he mumbled, pressing his face even deeper between your breasts, his voice filled with that rare, teasing warmth he only used with you. “they’re soft... and they’re mine.”

“oh, they’re yours, huh?” you teased, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

“absolutely, kitten,” he murmured, his lips brushing lightly against your skin as he spoke. “this is the only thing keeping me sane right now.”

you felt a warm flutter in your chest at his words, your hands continuing their gentle path through his hair. “well, if it helps, you can stay like this as long as you need.”

he didn’t reply right away, but the way his arms tightened around you spoke volumes. sylus was never the type to openly ask for affection, but you could always tell when he needed it. and when he did, he clung to you like this, as if you were his anchor in a world that constantly demanded his strength.

“i don’t deserve you,” he whispered after a long moment, his voice low, almost vulnerable.

you frowned, lightly tugging at his hair to get his attention. “hey, don’t say that.”

he finally lifted his head slightly, just enough to look at you with those intense crimson eyes. there was a flicker of something raw in them, something he rarely let anyone see. “i’m serious,” he said quietly. “you’re too good to me. i don’t know how you put up with me.”

you rolled your eyes, though your heart ached a little at how sincere he sounded. “because i love you, you idiot,” you said, smiling softly as you cupped his cheek. “and you’re not half as bad as you think.”

his gaze softened, and for a moment, he just stared at you, like he was memorizing your face. then, without warning, he dropped his head back down, once again burying his face between your boobs.

“whatever,” he muttered, his voice muffled again. “i’m staying here forever.”

you laughed, your chest shaking as you tried to wiggle beneath him. “sylus, you’re heavy!”

“deal with it,” he grumbled, nuzzling further into you. “this is my safe space now.”

“oh my god,” you groaned, though you were smiling the whole time. “you’re ridiculous.”

he didn’t say anything, but you could feel his lips curve into a small smile against your skin. for a man who always had to be serious and strong in front of others, sylus was the clingiest, neediest person when he was with you. and honestly, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“you know,” you said after a moment, “if anyone else saw you like this, they’d never believe it. mr. serious, always-in-control sylus, reduced to a cuddle bug.”

he made a low sound of protest, tightening his hold on you. “don’t care what anyone else thinks,” he mumbled. “this is just for you.”

your heart melted at that. despite all his tough talk, sylus had such a soft spot for you. you were the one person who could break through his walls, the one he trusted with his vulnerable side.

“i’m glad it’s just for me,” you whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head. “i love this side of you.”

he didn’t say anything, but you felt his fingers gently trace the curve of your waist, his touch light and reverent. for a while, you both just lay there in comfortable silence, his body completely relaxed on top of yours, his face still nestled securely in your chest.

“don’t ever let me go,” he whispered after a long while, his voice soft, almost sleepy.

“never,” you promised, your hands still stroking his hair.

he sighed in contentment, his breathing slowing as he settled more comfortably against you. “good,” he muttered, his voice drowsy now. “i’ll always need you.”

you smiled, feeling a warm glow of happiness spread through you. “and i’ll always be here.”

he nuzzled you one last time before drifting off, completely relaxed and at peace in your arms. and as you held him close, you realized just how much you loved this man—the serious, strong protector everyone else saw, and the soft, affectionate, clingy sylus that only you knew.

[of-many-fandomss]

Drinks and Jackets

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: lando comes home drunk and doesn’t recognize you, and you can’t help but swoon at the devotion your boyfriend has for you

warnings: drinking, slight cursing

word count: 0.9k

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

A long sigh left Lando’s lips as he pushed his bedroom door open, stumbling slightly in his steps as he did so, needing to cling onto the door frame for support so he didn’t go flying face first into the carpeted floor of his bedroom.

After inhaling a deep breath from his nose- the man's eyebrows furrowed in concentration- he pushed off of the frame and attempted to shrug his jacket off of his shoulders. Which only ended in him banging into the wall next to his bed with a small, “Ow,”.

“Lan?” A soft voice rang through the darkness of the room after the thud was emitted.

Norris jumped at least a foot into the air with a small, high pitched squeal of surprise, whipping around with wide eyes just in time to see a figure turn on the lamp beside the bed.

You were tiredly rubbing at your eyes, pushed up on one elbow as you looked at him from across the room, imminently taking note of his wide eyes and tousled hair. Not to mention the fact that he only had one arm through the sleeve of his jacket.

Slight amusement crept onto your features when you realized you had startled him, though a hint of guilt kept you from openly laughing as you gently asked, “Are you alright?” Sleep lacing your tone.

The wide eyes of Lando didn’t shrink. In fact, they only seemed to widen as he looked at you as if you had suddenly grown two heads right before his very eyes, “Who are you?” He hissed, panic and confusion seizing his tone.

At his words, all of the exhaust suddenly disappeared from your body and you finally pushed yourself to fully be sitting up, now wide awake and alert, “What-”

You didn’t even get to finish voicing your bewilderment before Lando- literally- stumbled over his own feet to reach the opposite side of the bed you were sitting on, “That’s my girlfriend's spot!” He exclaimed, eyes still wide as he stared at you.

Your eyebrows drew downwards, “I know, it-”

“Listen, I’m warning you lady, you need to get out of here before she gets back.” He was nodding along to his own words. While he clearly thought he was looking very serious- and maybe even threatening- it was difficult to even consider him whilst he looked hilarious. Clearly drunk and jacket half hanging off of him.

And just like that, the mumsnet flickered back inside of you and a slow grin slowly lifted the corners of your lips, “Is that so?” You asked, playing along when you realized just how drunk he was.

Lando nodded again, “Yeah, and she could kick your ass.” He said it so matter of factly with his chin raised, clear pride laying in his words, even as wasted as he currently was.

Unable to hold it back anymore, you let the first chuckle slip out of your lips as you pushed yourself to your knees and made your way over to the other side of the bed until you were in front of him at eye level.

You reached out and hooked your arms around his neck, tilting your head to the side as you gazed at him lovingly, “And what if I wanted to kiss you right now?” You teased.

Just as the brunette man's eyes widened in a panic and he looked as though he was going to move to swat you away, he froze, blinking once. Twice. Three times at you.

“Love?” He looked like a little, lost puppy dog when he tilted his head to the side, the first bit of recognition flaring through his eyes when he finally realized that it was you in front of him, not some random girl sleeping in his bed.

“You had fun with Carlos and Danny, I take it.” You joked, subconsciously toying with his curls.

“Oh, love, I missed you so much.” Lando gushed suddenly, face automatically becoming alight and housing a lovesick expression.

A laugh escaped your lips as the man wrapped his arms around your center and brought you both flying down onto the mattress before holding you close, his eyes already shutting as he let out a hum of content.

You chuckled, watching as he snuggled closer to you, inhaling the scent of your hair with his eyes still squeezed shut.

Gently, you maneuvered the two of you so that his head was resting against your chest and you were the one cradling him. He let you do so without an ounce of argument, the soft smile still sitting on his lips as he held you close.

Despite the fact that his jacket was still only half off of him and he was yet to change out of his clothes that he was in to go out, you knew from past experience that there was nothing on earth that could pull Lando off of you at that moment. Even to get fully ready for bed.

So, instead, you held him close, running your fingers through his hair after flicking off of the lamp light and waited for your boy to fall asleep.

“I love you,” The words were mumbled against your old sleep shirt with the man himself being halfway to sleep.

“I love you too, Lan.” You dipped your head to place a lingering kiss on the man's forehead, “So much.”

[klyette]

" PLEASE, ITS A MATTER OF LIFE AND DEATH "

Hashtags # : dubcon , perverted man/men , handjob , naive ! reader , fem ! reader : you/your prns.reader having boobs mentioned n pussy , mentioned almost dying , boobjob , pervert ! character , multiple x reader , could be seen as an "au" depending on the character (s) !

Notes : ughh<<33 my pussy :x if u know what this smut is kinda inspired by, I love u <3

The Pervert! Who had a crush on you, his face flushing when he sees your tits pressing against your top, squashed against it. How he wishes it was his face between your tits or his hands squeezing them !

The Pervert! Who groans when he gets stabbed his lower stomach, his top teeth gritting against his bottom ones. You being the sweetheart, you are~ you helped him, getting him to safety, your cute hands touching his body and his lewd hands desiring to touch your ass.

The Pervert! Who grins when you aren't looking, he has the perfect plan to get you do what he wants, you of course will do it, you love giving him a helping hand. He does let out a groan of pain, the stab wound making it hard to think for a moment until your tits bring him out of the pain.

The Pervert! Who whine stay he can't fell his legs so you rub his ankle and he tells you more higher, your hands now rubbing his knee and he tells you higher so you go higher. Your hands rubbing near his crotch, he goes hard when he looks at you, your cute face focusing on him.

The Pervert! Who moans and groans, you smile and think that he is getting better when he is just getting harder, he feels bold so he moves your hand and you look in confusion. His hand unzipping his pants, you blink and your mouth opens in shock, your face darkens and you flush in embarrassment. He looks at you and puts on a sad face, pouting.

The Pervert! Who begs and pleas you so that you can save his life by giving him head, which he doesn't say out loud but he said that you will have to use your pretty hand to rub his dick so that he lives.

The Pervert! Who begs you "C'mon {name}... It's matter of life and death... You have to help me.." he said, faking a tear and you agree, being naive, and not understanding that you rubbing one out for him will not make him live.

The Pervert! Who throws his head and closes his eyes, groaning as your hand goes in a slow pace, he takes groans in pain so you can go faster. Your pretty hand wrapped around his dick, he groans some more in pain before he asks you if you suck on his tip.

The Pervert! Who leads how you suck, he says that you have to do it or else he will be in more pain, you suck and your confused still he finds it hot. Your pretty lips wrapped around his tip, your hand still stroking the rest of his cock, he groans in pleasure.

The Pervert! Who looks at your lips and your ass as you're on your knees to suck him off, your dress showing off your ass in great ways. He wants to hold your ass and make you bounce on his dick, his hands touching your pretty bottom as you go wild on him. Oh, so much pre-cum is leaking out~

The Pervert! Who stares at your tits, being more squashed in your top, he grabs your head and shakes you slightly so your moving. Due to that, your tits are slightly jiggling when your body moves, he lets out a growl at the sight.

The Pervert! Who has another idea when he sees your tits, he wants to cum on your perfect breasts. His white painting your tits, he groans in pain(faking) and says that what you are doing isn't enough so you panic and go faster. He finds it cute.

The Pervert! Who makes slight remarks about your tits, and giving hints that he wants them to rub his dick, your mouth forms a "o" when you realize, you bite your finger before you take off your top and bra. Your tits are out and you look away, he pulls you closer, your breast touching his tip and he groans.

The Pervert! Who makes you place your hands on both sides so he can place his dick between them, he grins and slides his dick in. His dick being nicely hugged by your tits, he tells you to move them so you do. He grips at his pants and makes you go faster.

The Pervert! Who doesn't warn you when he cums, shocking you when your face and tits are painted with his seed, some of it landing on your mouth. You blink and you pull away, your legs are trembling and your hands are shaking slightly. You fall back and your legs are spread, good thing you don't wear a short under your skirt because he can see your panties and sure are they damp~

#: CHILDE , shidou , gojo , TOJI , aiku , tengen , sampo , aventurine , kaveh , kaiser , solomon , asmo , dazai , nikolai + your faves + other fandoms !

©klyette : do not claim

[gaypirate420]

Kitty cuddles // Viktor.

S1!Viktor x gn!Vastaya!reader.

Summary: Viktor's emotional support cat-hybrid person.

Fluff.

Your fingers wrapped around a brush, dipping the tip on a little blob of paint on your palette, your eyes focused on the canvas ahead of you then it shifts to the sight you're trying to recreate, the wide window of your balcony. The day is beautiful, perfect clouds and the way the sun hits your plants is simply divine.

Behind you, a tired inventor was struggling. Viktor sighed and threw his body back into his chair, today is his break day but of course he's still working anyways. Your sensitive ears twitch, he's been whining and huffing and mumbling curse words for at least the last half hour, but he brushes off any concern from your part, as usual.

His golden gaze falls on you sitting on your stool, he smiled faintly as he saw your fluffy tail swinging around lazily, almost brushing the floor.

"I think you should lay down for a minute, love." You speak softly, suggesting the idea for the fourth time. Viktor looks down at his make-shift desk. His neck is starting to hurt, and his back and his leg-

The zaunite reaches for his cane and with a small whimper he stands up, his cane clanks for the next couple of steps until he reaches the couch. Your shiny eyes stared at him, making sure he wasn't feeling more than just tired.

A soft grunt leaves him as his body falls down on the couch, taking one of the cushions on his head and the other on the small of his back, shifting around until he is comfortable.

"I meant in our bed, beloved." You speak softly, he shakes his head, his tired eyes meet yours.

"I like seeing you paint, koťátko." Viktor whispers with a hint of a slur to his words. You smiled softly, continuing to place soft strokes on the canvas but you could feel his gaze on you, you would turn your head occasionally, his eyes getting more and more droopy each time you looked.

After cleaning your brush with a cloth and leaving your palette aside, you stood and walked towards the couch, the soft bean pads on your feet making your steps silent.

Viktor looked up at you, with a little pleading gaze. You smirked faintly, leaning down to press a soft kiss on his lips before laying down next to him.

"I wish I could keep you with me in the lab, koťátko." He whispers, his arms wrapping around your body, holding you close. Your body is naturally warm, it feels so comforting in his aching body.

"It would make the long nights much easier to endure." Viktor continued, your hand cupped his face being mindful of your sharp nails as you caressed his pale skin. His right hand moved, his fingers wandered up your spine to the back of your neck and finally resting on the base of your ears, where they began massaging softly.

You immediately react, your eyes close and you nuzzle your head against his cheek, rubbing softly your face against his, your ears twitching gently, you love when he massages your ears, he's so gentle, so careful, he knows how sensitive they are.

"Such a pretty one." He whispers, placing a kiss on the top of your head which leads to a soft mewl from your part. Viktor enjoys this way too much, the weight of you on top of him, the warmth of your body and how your tail sways against his leg, your nose twitching against his cheek.

The Zaunite relaxes against you, feeling like he has a weighted warm and very fuzzy blanket on top of him.

And of course the cherry on top.

The soft vibration of your chest and purrrrr.

Vitkor smiles softly, his amber eyes stare at you, curled up by his side, purring softly. He envies you a little bit, you can fall asleep in minutes. He finds it adorable also.

"I love you so much, koťátko." He whispers softly, your ears twitch, letting him know you heard him loud and clear. He chuckles softly and closes his eyes, holding you close as he lets your soft noises and warmth lull him to sleep.

A/N:(Divider) I saw Lest and I too wanted to be a cat-person who's also a bad bitch and of course I had to throw Viktor into the mix. Probably a Vastaya will become my favorite reader to write but oh well. Hope you liked it! Send requests!

Viktor when Jayce asked to meet his partner:

[envy-of-the-apple]

Sun Eats Moon

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

Word count: 9.1k

Part two: Earth Kills Moon

Part three: Moon Starves Sun

Synopsis: Your boss takes on Gojo Satoru as his newest client. Much to your relief, he doesn't seem to recognize you.

(Warnings: noncon, dubcon, rough sex, oral sex, bullying, harassment, one mention of choking, penetrative sex, afab!reader, coercion, forced relationships, implied baby trapping attempt, hint of pregnancy kink)

You wanted to quit the second you read the name. 

You should have. It would have been so easy to hand in your two weeks, tell your boss that you just couldn't. Or maybe you could have convinced one of the other paralegals to take your place. 

It's pathetic. Almost a decade had passed and you still felt yourself slink into the girl you once were, rolling under his thumb, utterly helpless. You should be better than that. You worked so hard to reach where you are now. 

You were different now, you told yourself over and over again. You were older, smarter. Besides, it'd been a decade, would he even remember you?

It's Higuruma who notices your restless fingers. You shouldn't have underestimated him, despite how exhausted he looks, nothing goes past your boss. He asks about it when you two are seated in a beige room, waiting for the client. 

"Is everything alright?" 

You're still staring out the window. How high were you? 16 stories, maybe even higher. Resentment, you can feel it rise up your throat, build throughout your body. Of course, he has fancy cars, pretty buildings, and limitless money. Men like him will never know what it's like to have nothing. All men were born equal. What a fucking joke. 

Higuruma shifts, and you jolt out of your thoughts. "Yes," you console, "apologies, I'm just tired." 

The lawyer hums, and you're not sure if he believes you or not. Before he can say anything, the frosted doors open. The rest of the legal team comes in, sitting at the long table you and Higuruma inhabited. 

He comes in last. He'd always had a liking for theatrics. 

Not much had changed within a decade. He was taller, bigger. He'd switched out of his high school uniform, opting for something more business-friendly. He still made heads turn. Became the center of attention. 

It's his smile that throws you. Sincere, real. Lingering on his face like extravagant jewelry. Hard not to notice. 

You react better than you anticipated. You don't shake or tremble or cry when he passes you. You just squeeze your fists, bunching your skirt in your palm. It helps. 

He sits down, right at the end, so everyone can see him. One foot elegantly crossed over the other. When he tilts his head, his soft white hair threatens to shift over brilliant blue eyes. 

"Well, I'm sure you don't need me to explain why we're all here." A few chuckles resonate from the small group. "Let's just do our best and hope nothing gets too out of hand."

His eyes slide over to meet yours, and you steel yourself for his eyes to widen. For something wicked and cruel and nasty to sink into his face. 

Nothing. 

Gojo Satoru maintains that same smile. The blaring sun. Painfully innocent. His gaze lasts barely a second before moving to the next face, and the next, and the next. 

"I look forward to working with all of you."                                     

𖤓

If you could describe Gojo Satoru in one word, it would be: celestial. 

He's like a shining star. Brighter than the sun. Everywhere he went, he was bound to attract attention. Much like how the Earth is drawn towards the sun, people are drawn towards Gojo Satoru. It's the natural order. 

But, if an insignificant planet resists the Sun's gravitational force, it'll get crushed. You learned this the hard way. 

Gojo had always been in your class for years. The third year was no different. Despite the commonality, you two never talked to each other. You had no reason to. Until the vending machine gave you two cartons, and you suddenly remembered from an overheard conversation that Gojo liked chocolate milk too. 

"Want it?" You hold it out to him during lunch break. He was in the middle of a boisterous conversation with his friend. They did intimidate you, but you had no reason to be scared. It's not like they were bullies.

Gojo's sunglasses dip down. He eyes what you're holding in your hand, before his gaze drifts back up to you. 

"The machine gave me extra," you supply, "do you want it?" 

"Oh, sure," he says after a moment. Your hands brush. "Thanks." 

You nod, and then you walk back to the cafeteria. It was meaningless. A favor between acquaintances. He was helping you more than you helped him. You didn't want to carry chocolate milk around in your backpack. You forgot about the interaction within a few hours. 

𖤓

The meeting ends hours later. When you stumble home, it's barely evening but you can still feel the stress creeping through your legs and arms. 

You go straight to your laptop. Fumbling through the keyboard, desperate, searching. 

He's famous. Of course, he is. In his mid-twenties, but already a multi-millionaire. The head of an extremely elite family. Your eyes scan picture after picture after picture. Photos of him drinking with models in skimpy bikinis. Fancy cars. Huge houses. Private jets. Gojo Satoru: the man behind Gojo Co., Gojo Satoru and supermodel Menza hinted at relationship, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru. 

You pull away when it starts to burn, when the rage and sorrow become too much. He has everything. Everything he could want. He made you go through hell for months, and yet he never got punished for it. The universe rewards him with lavishness you'd never be able to touch. 

It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fucking fair. 

Through your blinds, the sun happily shines. 

𖤓

You don't notice it until it becomes painfully unbearing.

Gojo calls you by your name now (until that day you bet he didn't even know you existed). He's like a ghost, constantly appearing out of nowhere to sling an arm around your shoulder, eager to chase off any of your friends to talk to you about things that don't matter.

He constantly offers to walk you home (and then Gojo ignores your refusals and does it anyway). It stays like that for a few days, never bordering beyond friendliness. You think he's harmless. Maybe he just hasn't had someone genuinely do a nice favor for him. Besides, you're flattered by the attention. Even you can be swayed by the pull of Gojo Satoru. It feels nice to be wanted. 

You reason it'll just be for another week. A week later, you two will be nothing but acquaintances, sometimes exchanging quick smiles during class. 

It doesn't truly dawn on you as to what he's doing until he comes out and says it. 

"What?" Because you must have misheard him. 

"We should," he says, not even bothering to repeat himself, "I mean, we're practically dating already. Let's just make it official." 

You stare at him. As always, he's utterly beautiful. The light of the setting sun makes his skin glow gold. Whenever he's walking you home is one of the rare times he removes those sunglasses. His eyes are like jewels, pretty things that you wish were yours. 

You laugh. It's high and panicky because you still think he's joking. He doesn't laugh with you. You stop. 

"Oh-oh, I'm sorry Gojo-I wasn't-I didn't think. I'm just not...interested in dating anyone right now. It's not you! I think-I think you're great, but it's just the wrong time, and school is getting so much busier and-" you keep rambling, coming up with excuse after excuse because you're convinced Gojo would cut you off with an awkward laugh, tell you it's fine. 

He doesn't do either, letting your flounderings get more and more pathetic. His smile had dropped. You can't read his expression anymore. 

Eventually, you grow quiet, standing with him in that silence. When that gets too much, you timidly tell him to have a goodnight and walk home. He doesn't follow, staying rooted to the sidewalk where you left him. You're not running away, you tell yourself over and over again. And yet, you can't help but feel relief as soon as you can't feel his eyes. 

Don't resist the Sun. It'll crush you. 

𖤓

It was something minuscule. 

Barely considered legal work. The case would most likely be finished in a couple of weeks. The defendant had nothing on Gojo Satoru, at least from what you and the other paralegals could see. You highly doubted it would even go to court. Higuruma always had a knack for bringing anyone to the table. Gojo would be let off from whatever he did without a hitch. No punishment. Just like always. 

"Word of advice, don't think about what happens in the private sector," Higuruma says, over whiskey. 

The firm was celebrating another victory at a fancy bar. You were still stewing over the face of that young woman's face when the judge ruled in your client's favor. She looked heartbroken. You can still remember the sleazy smile your client had given her. 

"It's a job," he says, "do it. Boost your resume, and get out." 

He takes another dainty sip of his glass. Tonight, the circles underneath his eyes seem even darker. "You're a young kid. Do something else with your life." 

When he offers to buy you a round, you accept. You think about that night sometimes, and you wonder if Higuruma wished someone else would have given him that advice when he was younger. 

Do the job, and get out. Easier said than done. Especially when the job involved Gojo Satoru. 

Associating with him was dangerous, you knew that firsthand, especially when he was interested in something you had. You'd left, but that wouldn't save you. The space of decades would not help. 

Burn Gojo once, he won't forgive you. Burn Gojo twice? You don't think there's anyone alive who did that. 

Over the coming days, you expect something from him. It's a nagging feeling in your stomach. The delayed response to a gunshot. Dread. You expect him to snap. Push. Break. 

He never does. Gojo remains pliant, the same to you as he remains to your boss. There's no additional touching, no disgusting nicknames, no scathing looks. Nothing. 

You don't get the confirmation until a week later, when Gojo stops you near the elevator. 

"Higuruma's...assistant, right? Sorry, never got your name," he says, and you steel yourself because the two of you are alone and here it comes but if you yell loudly enough maybe-

"He asked for some paperwork, and I finally found it for him." Gojo hands you a stack of sheets with a cheery smile. "You won't mind giving that to him, will ya? Thanks!" 

Just as quickly as he arrives, he leaves, shoes clicking down the hall as he goes. You can only stare at his rescinding back, the palpable feeling of relief nearly making your knees buckle. 

The best news you could have possibly received. Gojo Satoru had completely forgotten about you. 

When you got home later that evening, the rain was heavy, and the sun was nowhere to be seen. 

𖤓

You don't have proof it was him. 

It's unjust to accuse people of things they didn't do. You lack any evidence. It could have easily started by itself. You'd always been meek and timid. People were bound to take advantage of that. 

But the timing was just too perfect for it to not be caused by him. 

In the weeks following the incident with Gojo, school went from tolerant to hell. It started small, at first. Tiny. Unoticable. Insignificant. Some people (Gojo's lackeys, you'd later realize), would nudge you as they passed you by the halls. They apologized, mid-laugh, and in the beginning, you truly thought they were sincere. Then, the nudges turned into pushes, then shoves. That's when you knew you had a target on your back. 

At first, you found it kind of hard to believe. Bullying? It sounded so childish. Something reserved for petty middle schoolers. You were in your final year of high school. You were already an adult. You laughed it off, for a bit. Mostly because it was so ridiculous. Only when it starts becoming more severe, more apparent that you were his target, do you start taking things more seriously.

There was no proof, but everyone knew it was Gojo. And being on Gojo's bad side wasn't something people were willing to risk. One by one, your friends started to disappear, reducing their involvement by sending strained smiles during passing period. The more stubborn ones who were more adamant about staying by your side were chased away too. They'd skip school for a few days, before coming back and completely ignoring you.

Teachers and staff were no help either. Why would they? Gojo's family held them in the palm of their hand. The most your homeroom teacher would do was avert his eyes whenever something was thrown at you for the third time in class, and quietly remind students to settle down. 

You fell on the ground with an embarrassing thump. A chorus of laughter, and a mocking 'sorry' is all you hear from the crowd. Other students step over your scattered papers, giving you looks of sympathy but never bothering to help. You'd call them cowards, but you know you'd do the same.

Instead, you focus on collecting your papers. You avoid the lump in your throat. The tears that threaten to break over your waterline. It's humiliating, being stuck on the floor like this. It's only Wednesday, but you already feel like breaking.

Hands, scarred, move past you, collecting the rest of the sheets. His face is carefully blank as Geto Suguru neatly tucks his share all in one piece before handing it to you. You give your thanks. He ignores it. 

“Are you hurt?” Geto asks, his voice barely loud enough to hear.

You think you scrapped your knee during the fall, but other than your pride, you're fine. You shake your head. Geto sighs. It's not out of relief.

“That's good,” he says anyway.

You found it ironic that Gojo's best friend is the only one who bothers to help you these days. It makes sense, in a way. It's not like he'll send his goons to Geto, instead. In this solar system, Geto Suguru is the only person unaffected by Gojo's solar flares. 

You work in relative silence, collecting the mess that fell out of your bag. Geto hands you the last of the supplies, idly watching as you tuck them away.

“Take my advice,” he says just before he leaves, “give in.”

He stands up. Geto Suguru has always been taller than you, but now the difference feels even worse. When he looks down at you, a flicker of pity lingers in his eyes. It's gone before it can mean anything. 

“It'll only get worse from here if you don't.”

Worse, he had said. God, what could be worse? You were already at rock bottom. All you have left is your dignity. Something you intend on gritting your teeth to keep.

You quickly learned something about Geto Suguru: he knew his best friend. 

Friday. The end of the worst week of your life has finally arrived. The week after is break, and then maybe Gojo will move onto some other hyperfixation, and finally leave you alone.

Classes were out. You were done, free to run home and cry the entire week away. And then, you noticed, your locker was open.

Smashed in, was a better term. Completely, irrevocably, destroyed. It looked like someone had taken a wooden bat to repeatedly smash in the metal until it cracked open like an egg. 

You don't want to look, but you have to. The busted door is barely hanging on its hinges when you push it open. 

It's worse than anything you could think of. 

Your books, textbooks, journals, are all torn apart and written on. All the contents of your bag have been thrown around. Your assignments, your notes, your pens and pencils. But it's your laptop that makes your throat stop. Smashed, broken without any hope of being salvageable. Your everything was in there. Why why why would he do this to you? 

This wasn't bullying. 

This was abuse. 

Fuck pride. Fuck dignity.

You were so tired. 

Despite the hell his lackeys put you through. Gojo Satoru himself never bothered you. In fact, you hadn't seen him all week. He doesn't make himself impossible to find. You know where his group hangs out after school. You're barely holding yourself together when you hear his voice. His pretty laugh. You don't care about how you look, close to breaking, your voice high-pitched and shaky. 

"Why?" 

Your voice catches his attention. He falls into silence, just like the rest of the group. Gojo surveys you for a moment. There's a scoff, a hint of amusement before he waves off the rest of the group. 

"Get lost." 

They comply, dispersing in multiple directions. For the first time, in a long while, you and Gojo are left alone. You and Gojo are left, alone. 

"Well?" he tilts his head, completely bored. 

"What do I have to do?" You ask desperately, "What-what do I have to do to make this all stop? Please I'll-I'll do anything, just-just make it-" 

It's all too much. You can't hold your sobs in, bursting into tears as you fumble through your words. He tuts in mock pity. You flinch when you feel his hand against your cheek, but he doesn't let you shy away. 

"Anything?" He asks when your sobs simmer into hushed whimpers, "Really? Anything?" 

You blink, looking up at him with rough teary eyes. He's grinning, wide and manic. Your heart drops when he lowers himself to whisper in your ear. 

"Anything, right?" 

You nod once. He sighs in pure delight. His breath tickles your cheek. 

"Get on your knees." 

You jerk back, but Gojo doesn't let you go far, a hand on your shoulder, keeping you rooted on the spot. At your look of pure panic, he only laughs a little. 

"I-I-Gojo you-" 

"And call me Satoru now. Since we're gonna get to know each other a lot better," he interrupts with a chiding grin, ignoring your wide eyes. "What? I thought you said anything, right?" 

He's asking, but it's clear you don't get a choice anymore. His grip on your shoulder is tight, close to crushing skin and bone. You're trapped. No, you were trapped the moment you talked to Gojo Satoru. 

To think this all started because of two cartons of chocolate milk. 

You relent when his grip gets too painful, sinking down to your knees. The grass is cool, and you know it will leave damp spots on your skirt, letting everyone know what you did for him. 

"Good girl," he coos, and you shudder at his hand petting your hair. Like you're some precious pet. To him, maybe you are. How could anyone think of treating a human like this? You should be grateful he does it for you, instead of demanding you to pull him out. Still, the jiggle of his belt makes you wince. You turn away, not being able to bring yourself to look. Only when the tip of his cock reaches your peripheral, do you look back. It's big. You should have expected it, considering his height. It's already leaking, a bead of precum that makes you shudder. He moves forward and you instinctively grip his thigh. 

"Gojo I-" 

"Nuh-uh. Satoru," he ununciates, "Satoru. You gotta' start listening to me baby, or else we're gonna have problems." 

You look down at the grass. Green, soft. 

"Satoru." 

His eyes flash in satisfaction. 

"Open up, pretty girl." 

The last of your fight disappears, sinks into the soft grass. You swallow, once, before you take him. It's a slow, torturous process. He's too big, your jaw is already starting to ache. Satoru barely notices your discomfort, sighing in contentment when you start to gag on his cock, reaching down to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. 

You make a muffled gurgle and he tilts his head down. His sunglasses fall forward, two pretty eyes stare at you. 

"What? Don't act like this is your first time-" he stops himself, mid-thought. 

"Wait...this can't be your first time, right?" 

If you weren't humiliated enough. You can't even lie, averting your eyes to avoid any further shame. 

"Poor baby," Satoru says, all too delighted, "lemme' walk you through it. Gotta' suck on it, just like a lollipop-that's it-use your tongue," he encourages, still gripping his cock in his hand, like he was feeding it to you. 

You can feel your mouth open wider. Tears stream down your face, not just from your pride, but also from pain. Satoru lets you take him in like this for a few more moments, just enjoying your warm mouth. 

"There we go," he breathes, "take-fuck-take all of me." 

But Satoru isn't known for his patience. You've barely taken all of him in yet before he grabs your hair to fuck your throat properly. You choke, sputtering all over his cock. He barely pays you any mind, his head thrown back as he rams himself down your mouth without a care in the world. 

"Y'know, our first time together could-could have been nicer," he says through gritted teeth, the heat was starting to get to him, "but you just had to go and mess it up, huh?" 

If you were stronger. If you were braver. You would have rejected it. Screamed. Fought. At the very least, you would have denied his delusions. But you weren't strong. You weren't brave. You were weak. Stupid. This was all your fault. Had you just given in the moment he asked, this wouldn't be happening to you. Or maybe, he'd be a bit nicer about it. 

He hisses, gripping the back of your head before something warm and disgusting fills your mouth. Above you, Satoru lets out a shameless groan, a mix of your name as well as a curse. He releases you then, finally letting you sink to the floor. You fall forward, resting on your hands and knees, panting, trying to regain your breath, some semblance of sanity. You can still taste him. It's salty, a sickly tang. You spit as much as you can on the grass. It doesn't help. 

He kneels, getting down to your level. With the way he's silently watching you, you know he's waiting for the right answer this time. 

Don't resist the Sun. It'll crush you. 

So, you drop your gaze down. You take in a deep long stilted breath. 

"Yes, Satoru," you say, voice quiet, pliant, "I'll go out with you." 

His demeanor drops in just a second. He smiles, painfully innocent, like you hadn't spent the last few moments choking on his cock. He cups your face with both hands and you wonder how he could look at you like that, gently, as though you weren't covered in tears and his cum. 

(You still feel it drip down your mouth. Tonight, when he finally lets you go home you'll cry for hours in the shower, hoping the water will wash away all the shame you feel. It won't.)

"Finally!" He exclaims, laughing, light, happy, elated, "I'm so glad you finally came around. I was starting to think I was ugly or something." 

 You stay like that for a while. Underneath him. You let his hands run up and down your body, like he's feeling the space that makes up you. Soon, you'd realize Gojo Satoru liked to touch things that were beneath him. A thought muddles it's way through your numb brain. You bring yourself to look at him. 

"Satoru?" you ask. He sighs in satisfaction, stroking your hair. 

"My laptop...it's broken." 

You didn't know what else to say. It sounded accusatory, even to your ears. Righteous. You wondered if he heard it too, if he'd do something about it. 

Satoru only scoffs.

“that old thing?” You flinch. It was a gift from your aunt, you highly doubted he cared enough about the sentimental. He hugs you closer, almost like a snake, constricting you within its scales before it devours you. 

(You think the worst part is that he didn't even deny it.)

“I'll just get you a new one, baby.”

He walks you home later that evening. When he demands a kiss, you comply, numbly pressing your aching lips to his. 

The sunset is pretty today. 

𖤓

It's not a particularly hard case, but Gojo has a knack for keeping those who work for him busy. Higuruma had asked you to stay behind, once again. The two of you were stuck alone in the office building, a room that Gojo had graciously supplied. 

You were milling through a stack of papers when someone new walked in. You didn't recognize her. She was tall, pretty, sparkling jewelry littered her neck and wrists. Your eyes drifted up and down her outfit, something that definitely wasn't business-appropriate. A part of you wants to ask where she got that lipgloss from. 

"Oh," she tilts her head, surveying the two of you with pretty eyes, "is Sato not here?" 

You inwardly cringe at the nickname, but choose not to show it. Higuruma is the one who saves you, in the end. He speaks on both of your behalf. 

"Mr. Gojo isn't here at the moment," he says, "feel free to wait." 

She does as she's told, plopping down on a seat right next to her. Higuruma goes back to ignoring her, dutiful in everything like he always is. You, on the other hand, don't like the way some of the other associates eye her legs. When you wordlessly hand her your jacket, she gratefully accepts. 

"Thanks. I love your bag, by the way," she cheerily says and a part of you feels bad for her. 

Minutes pass. She crosses her legs and then uncrosses them. When she crosses them again, you have to look up from your paperwork and ask if she's feeling alright. 

"Just nervous," she admits, "I-I haven't seen Sato since our...last meeting." 

Everyone in the vicinity knows this wasn't a casual business meeting, you don't get why she's avoiding the elephant like that. Probably to save face. It's clear from her behavior that she wasn't expecting so many visitors, so perhaps this situation is new for her. You found it strange that a booty call would be called up to an office building, especially when people were clearly watching, but you doubted Mr. Gojo cared about that. He was always shameless in that regard, uncaring about anyone's reputation, even his own. That's why he's in this legal mess in the first place. Besides, you were part of Gojo's Satoru's legal team. Part of your job is to be discreet about his extracurricular affairs. 

Gojo Satoru hadn't changed at all since high school. Why would he? His personality has gotten him this far, after all. The Sun would never change, it's a constant sphere of fire. You wouldn't want him to change. You were banking on his stagnant nature to slip by. You couldn't imagine if he did change, improve himself, and realize how horrible he'd been to you. How would you be able to keep yourself together if he pulled you aside one day and tried to apologize? You'd break. Things are better the way they are now. Let Gojo Satoru indulge himself in all this lavishness, forgetting about the people he's tortured. It's better this way. 

You glance over at the girl. She's young, maybe a couple of years younger than you. You can see the flush on her cheeks. The clear swooning. A part of you wonders what she'd think about that man if you ever told her what he did to you. What a monster he is-

"There you are!" Mr. Gojo strides in, just as silent as always, making himself known when he wants to. 

The girl jumps up, her eyes lighting up in pure excitement as she practically drags herself into Mr. Gojo's arms. He places an arm on the small of her back, scarily close to touching somewhere inappropriate as she chatters away. They disappear off to wherever rich men like him go. 

It's so quick. You must have imagined it because, for a second, you were sure he'd glanced back at you. 

𖤓

By now, everyone knows you're Satoru's. That means, like him, you're untouchable. 

You're not celestial. If Satoru was a star, then you were a stray meteor he'd found hurtling through space, and he couldn't resist forcing it to revolve around him. In exchange for suffering through his solar flares and radiation, he protects you from bigger planets that are all too eager to smash into you. The one relief is that no one seems to bother you anymore. You haven't been shoved around, pushed, or prodded. Sometimes, you receive glares from Satoru's old ex's, but it's more tolerable than burnt homework. 

Satoru has officially chased away all your friends, but he's more than happy to keep you company. You sit next to him in lunch now, quietly listening as he prattles on to the rest of his friends (you recognize some of them, the ones who messed with you, they never seem to hold your gaze for long). You used to study on campus alone, right after school let out. Now, you still do it, but with Satoru watching. It's hard to concentrate with his wandering fingers and wet lips. 

He takes all of your firsts. You don't give them to him, much less, he demanded it of you. The first time he fully takes you is far less romantic than you'd ever hoped. It was on his bed after he'd practically dragged you over to his house that night. You went home the next day covered in marks that took nearly a week to heal. A little while after that, Geto came to talk to you again. For the second time ever. 

"Here." He offers you a packet. Pills. You're confused for a moment until you realize Satoru didn't wear a condom. 

"Thank-" 

"Don't," he cuts you off, "Don't thank me." 

He says it with so much hate that you think it's directed at you. It isn't until years later that you realize the disgust was towards himself. 

There are theories that the Moon once had color. 

It wasn't just white. It was green and blue, and red. 70 million years ago, it could have been much like the Earth. It didn't have a strong atmosphere, however. The gaseous layer was slowly stripped away. The sun didn't help. With no atmosphere, the unfiltered solar radiation slowly began to bleach the once colorful celestial body a dull white. Before long, the sun had created the moon to be its image. Now, the only color the moon has to offer is the sun's reflection. 

When the moon was out, you often stared at it, reveling in its beauty. Now, trapped in between Satoru's arms, you find its skeleton a bit too haunting to look at. 

Three more weeks. Just three more weeks. 

Graduation is coming up soon. You already had your college picked out, far far away from this backward town. From his conversations, Satoru was planning on going to some high-end college in Tokyo. With the way he kept looking back at you, you had a feeling he was planning on dragging you there too. 

You were intelligent enough to keep your mouth shut about your plans. Satoru never asked, so you guessed he assumed you would let him bully you into whatever he wanted. He was right, so far. It's not like you'd ever argued with him. 

Your parents were the only people who knew about your plan. They were excited, albeit for the wrong reasons. 

"I'm so glad to see you're this interested in higher education," your mother beamed, "why the sudden change?" 

You look at your mother's face. People have told you that you share the same smile. You wonder if she'd keep smiling if you ever told her about what Satoru's been doing to you, the bullying, the harassment. 

You can't. You won't, because you can't bear to see her give you the same pitiful look your classmates give-the one Geto gives. You don't want her to see you as something broken. 

"I'm just starting to think I might go into law," you finally say, "definitely need college for that."

On Thursdays, you have to sit inside the gym during Satoru's basketball practice. You wait on the bleachers, reviewing notes, and listening to the squeaking of sneakers. Satoru's good at the sport. You know last year they won a few tournaments. Whenever he scores a point, he gives a cheer, turning back to see if you saw it too. In those moments, you remember he's just a kid. He's your age. You can feel the envy. There, but too insignificant to do anything. He pleasantly lives his childhood, even after he stole yours. 

Practice ends, always a little later than it's officially supposed to. Coach gives the final whistle and then Satoru is jogging back to you. Your things are already neatly packed into your bag. His breath is barely ragged, you can smell the hint of sweat as he kisses you on the lips. You can feel eyes on you, same as always. It's getting easier to ignore the gawking. After all, you're Satoru's now. 

"Miss me?" he asks when he pulls away. He grabs your stuff before you can, hauling your backpack away. To others, it may look like he's being a sweet boyfriend. To you, it's another leash, tugging you to where he wants to go. You're not sure how Satoru sees the action. 

You clamber out of the bleachers, following him without a word. Usually, Satoru would walk you home. You'd share a kiss with him on the front porch. And for the rest of the day, he'd finally leave you alone. 

He grabs your hand, shooting you a wink when you lightly jostle into his body. Instead of heading out the door, Satoru turns his gaze towards the empty locker rooms. The light's automated. It flickers an unsettling white, casting a sick glow along the tiles. You are barely through the door before Satoru's pinning you against the lockers, kissing you as aggressively as he can. 

Your hands immediately find their way to his shoulders, squeezing. It's not enough to hurt him, but it grabs his attention anyway. He lets up a little, relaxing into your touch. 

"Sorry, baby," he says not sounding apologetic at all, "just be good f'me, okay? Need you." 

He's pent up, you realize and you look at the door. School's out. The campus is nearly empty. But people are still around. And the door he just shoved you through doesn't have a lock- 

Oh, wait. Would it even matter if someone came in and saw you? Everyone knew you were Satoru's. 

Three more weeks. Just three more weeks. 

He's trailing down, dropping to his knees. He flips up your skirt, pushing aside your panties, and attaches his hot mouth to your pussy. He's ravenous, today. Sucking on your clit like he can't bear to do anything else. You gasp, immediately assaulted by the shocks of pleasure running up and down your back.

You press against the wall, arching your back, giving him even more to suck on. He hums in approval, his voice getting lost in your wet folds. You're practically dripping now, and Satoru, with all his debauchery, gladly licks it all up as you writhe and whimper above him. Your thighs grow tighter around him, threatening to crush his skull if both his hands weren't carved into the fat of your thighs, squeezing. 

Your initial panic is washed away, crumbled by his insistent tongue and fingers. You whimper out his name again as his tongue circles your clit and two fingers continue to move in and out of your sopping pussy. You're crying now, tears of pleasure and brokenness floating down your cheeks. Despite how blurry your vision is, you can see Satoru looking up at you. 

"Getting close?" he's breathless, but there's still a hint of playfulness in his voice, "gonna sing, pretty girl?" 

He gives a particularly hard suck on your clit and you're gone. You seize, throwing your head back as your legs shake from the force of your orgasm. It's a scream, so loud and shameless. Satoru gives a groaned pant, lapping up your aftertaste, making you jolt from the overstimulation before he finally gets to his feet. You watch as he haphazardly wipes the remnants of you with his sleeve before he's kissing you again. 

"Always so sweet f'me," he purrs, biting at your lips before he fumbles with his belt. His cock is already red and strained. He pants, head shifting to fall at the crook of your neck as he lines himself up and sinks into you with one full thrust. 

You whine a mix of a sob and a hissed moan. He hushes you with a stilted breath, barely keeping himself together as he pumps himself into you. Both of you are sweating now. You can feel the beads draw down your neck. He licks at your clavicle, biting when he starts to get more aggressive. When it's too less, he hikes your thigh over his waist, keeping it there so he can go even deeper. 

"Fuck, I'm crazy for you," he slurs against your skin. You can barely pay attention to his words, barely keeping your own voice in check, "’would do anything for you, pretty girl." 

He raises his head, looking you in the eye. His sunglasses have been tossed on the floor. You can his beautiful eyes, two cosmic galaxies of blue. You could stare at them for hours, discovering each variant of cerulean, naming each one. You bet each day you look, you'll find another shade. They're so pretty.

You wonder how pretty those eyes would look floating in a jar. 

"'Toru-!" you gasp when Satoru rocks himself into again, even faster. The name you accidentally gave him when you're too fucked out to comprehend language makes him laugh in pure delight, his smile uncontrolled, delirious. 

"Right here, baby," he moans into your sweaty skin, hand reaching down to rub your clit, "your ‘Toru's right here. Just where you need him." 

His fingers move under your shirt, squeezing at your tits, exploring, roughly grabbing at your chest. The sensation makes you wince. Your walls draw even tighter, choking his cock. 

"Too-too much, 'Toru, p-please." He growls at your begging, burying his face in your neck again. He nips at your damp skin, you flinch. 

"I gotcha' baby," he breathes, "just-just lemme-" He presses on your clit. It's all you need. 

You come with a sob, your pussy squeezing, milking Satoru for all he's worth. He's not too far behind, hips stuttering before he whines in your ear. Something warm fills your cunt. 

You flounder, sagging against the wall. Satoru's the only thing that keeps you upright as you fight to catch your breath. He isn't in any better shape, panting just as hard as you are. He lifts his head, pressing his damp forehead onto yours. There's a dreamy smile on his lips. A look of absolute adoration. 

"I love you." 

You look at him. There's nowhere else to look.

"I love you," he repeats, leaning forward to kiss the corner of your lips. His lips trail down, caressing your cheek, your jaw, your neck. It would almost feel nice, but you can only stare straight ahead. You can see the dull green lockers in the distance. You can smell the mold in the damp locker room. You can feel Satoru's cum slowly seep out of you, trailing down your thigh. 

Fuck three weeks. 

You needed to get out, now. 

𖤓

The only reason you went is because you were told Gojo Satoru wouldn't be there. 

His assistant had off-handily mentioned that he had a meeting on the other side of town. Very last minute. The building as a whole would be empty, just a skeleton crew and a couple of security guards to keep the place running. It made sense, it was 8 pm- long past any proper business hours. 

Higuruma could have easily gone, but it's clear the sleepless nights have been getting to him, or the stress. His paralegal is more than qualified to act like a middleman between him and Mr.Gojo's associates. It's an easy mission. Just grab a few things, and get out. 

Gojo Satoru wasn't supposed to be there. 

And yet, there he was, leaning against the door, blocking you into the room. 

His assistant had always been a mousey thing. Tonight, however, he'd been extra ansty, looking around the room. Babbling out excuses as to what was taking him so long. Now, when he can barely even look at you, you realize he was just a distraction. 

"You're off the clock, Ijichi," Gojo finally breaks the silence, "take tomorrow off too, okay?" 

His assistant quickly nods, keeping his head down to flit out the door. You can't even bring yourself to be mad at him. Gojo always had a habit of singling out the weakest, crushing them within his fist, unless they bent or broke. 

The door shuts with a click. 

"You know, I didn't even recognize you at first," he starts. He takes a small step forward. 

You take one back. He puts his hands up. 

"Okay, don't be like that," he sighs, exasperated, "It's been what, 10 years? How you've been?" 

He steps around you, barely brushing against your shoulder to get to his desk. He reaches down, grabbing a wine bottle and two glasses from a cabinet, setting both down on mahogany wood. 

"Wanna drink? Technically, it's against company policy to serve alcohol in the building but I won't tell if you don't." He grins. It looks bloody. 

He looks so casual, the man who's haunted your nightmares, leaning against a desk in a building he owns. Your heart's beating in your chest. It's so loud. You wonder if he can hear it too. 

When you don't respond, he rolls his eyes. 

"Figures." He pops the cork. "You were always such a stickler for the rules." 

"What do you want?" You ask, your tone weaker than you'd liked. 

"What? Don't you wanna catch up? I missed you." You flinch at his words, looking away. "A paralegal, huh? Gotta' say, wasn't what I expected, but it fits you." It sounds condescending, but you don't poke the bear, opting to stay silent. 

He seems to take an issue with that, regardless. 

"Are you mad? If anything, I should be the one upset at how you just ran off like that. After all that time we spent together too. I didn't even get a breakup text." 

 His last words, send a chill up your spine. A warning. Staying here any longer would be a mistake. 

You go to move. 

Satoru's faster. 

Your head slams against the wall. Hard. Enough to hurt. You struggle anyway, clawing at the hand that's gripping your throat, the body pinning you down. Above you (he's gotten so much taller now), Gojo tuts in disappointment. 

"I tried to be nice and look where that got me. You tried to run again," he muses, like he's disappointed, "I shouldn't be surprised. You've always needed something with a bit more teeth." At his threat, his hand on your throat tightens. You freeze. 

It's barely choking you, but it's enough of a warning. His other hand is playing with the end of your blouse, feeling the fabric. You can feel the tears start. They're a familiar taste. Only this time, they're twinged with bitterness. 

"Don't do this," you whisper, "Don't-don't-" 

"Yeah, I don't think you're in any position to make demands right now." He's grinning, but when you look into his eyes, you can see the anger. A fire that has burned for a decade. At that moment, you realized Gojo Satoru had changed. Now, he was better at hiding how he truly felt. 

You should have quit the moment Higurama got him as a client. 

Gojo's dragging you over to the desk, haphazardly pushing away the stuff already on it. The computer, the bottle, the wine glasses all fall to the floor with a deafening crash as he shoves you down, splaying you across the table. He follows you down, leaning to meet your lips in a frenzied kiss. It's different than all the other times he'd kissed you. He'd lost all the inexperience, more keen on making you stay put and bleed. When you try to turn your face, pushing at his chest, he only growls. A large hand grabs your chin, keeping you in place for him. 

When he pulls away, there's a hint of blood on his plush lips. It's not his. He licks it up regardless. 

You're full-on sobbing now; barely in sucking air as your body shudders and jolts. You don't expect comfort, least of all from him, but he's cooing, wiping away your tears. 

"Missed this," he purrs, ignoring the way you weakly push at him, "'guess that was my mistake. I was expecting you to be different. Nah, you'll be the same crybaby you always were. That's how you managed to slip under my radar." 

He buries his face into your hair, sighing in contentment as you shiver underneath him. His lips graze the crown of your head, a complete juxtaposition to his words. 

"Scream all you want. No one's here, baby." No one's gonna save you from me.

 Still, you try anyway. Your hands grip his broad shoulders, digging in your nails until he hisses. 

"Fuck maybe you have changed." He rasps, fiddling with his belt. "You're bitchier now." 

"Gojo-Gojo what are you-" He bites on your bare clavicle. You squeal, stilling underneath him again. 

"Satoru," he insists. You slump over the desk as he takes both your hands, wrapping his leather belt around your delicate wrists. You wince when he twists it into a knot. The leather bites into your skin. The fight dissolves just as rapidly as it arrived. He hadn't even lifted a finger against you. You were just that pathetic. 

"Satoru," you breathe, waving your flag of defeat. He hums, licking at the bitemark. You can feel the heat bloom on your skin. They'll be a mark tomorrow, and much like Satoru, it would go away so easily. 

"There's my good girl," he groans, cold hands fiddling with the buttons on your blouse, opening it up until your bra pops out, "I know I should be more mad, but I've always had a soft spot for you. Guess things will never change, hm?" 

His mouth dips down, tracing your collarbone to your breasts. He wiggles down your bra, letting your tits spill out and into his hands. He squeezes one while taking another in his mouth, swirling the bud with his tongue before devouring. His moan is barely muffled by your tits. Yours is clear, high-pitched and breathy. Satoru always had no problem being shameless. And he often dragged it out of you too. 

He's mouthing something against your skin, but you're too distracted by his other hand, slinking down your waist, pushing up your pencil skirt, letting it bunch around your hips. In the moment, you chastised yourself for wearing something so easy to get rid of, but it wasn't like you were expecting for him to be here, to bring you down just like he did when you were in high school. It's not like you were expecting to fall. 

Satoru feels around your pantyhose, running up and down your thigh, searching. He squeezes the sheer fabric, before he rips a hole into it. You gasp, jerking at the action. 

"That's-"

"I'll buy you new ones," he says, voice muffled by your tits. The conversation feels familiar. 

He bypasses your panties immediately, finding your pussy with practiced ease. You're already soaking. At this, he raises to look at you. You can't keep eye contact, timidly looking away. He laughs. It sounds sickenly affectionate. 

"You're so cute." He purrs just as he leaves another mark on your chest. Your tits bounce under his attention as he pushes two fingers into your tight sopping hole. Your back curls, arching off the desk as he starts pumping his fingers in and out of you. Disgust grows within you, not at him, but at yourself, for letting yourself get this low. This desperate. 

It doesn't stay for long. He's cruel like that, moving in a way that makes you forget your humanity. His fingers get even faster, digging into your cunt and curling somewhere deep inside, hitting a spot that makes you gasp. You're reduced to whimpering moans by the time he finally stops, fingers exiting your pussy with a wet noise. He brings them to his mouth, sucking on his fingers, eyes rolling to the back of his head at your taste. 

"Fuckin' sweet," he moans, taking his fingers out with a sickening pop before wiping the drool on your heaving tits. 

Your eyes float to the window. The moon is out, you blearily realize. It's a blood moon, a rusty red. Once every 3 months, it'll lose its heavenly glow. The innocent milky white will get shadowed by the Earth's rusty atmosphere. It'll regain its color eventually. The Sun doesn't like to be overshadowed. 

Something hard and blunt slides between your legs. You're barely given a second to comprehend it before Satoru grabs you by the hips, filling you up with one thrust. You yelp, a semblance of his name on your lips, but it's shrouded by the moan you give out. 

He stays like that for a bit. You should be grateful he is letting you adjust to him. His cock is sickenly familiar to your walls. Satoru's hair brushes your cheek as he leans up to whisper in your ear. 

"How many?" he sounds like he's gritting his teeth, barely in control, "how many guys have you let fuck you since you ran?" 

You blink, wondering if he's seriously asking, but you can hear the seriousness in his tone. Even now, he's concerned with the wrong things. He's always been petty like that. 

"You," you say because there's no point in lying, "it's only ever been you." 

You say it like it's a curse, because to you, Satoru had cursed you. He'd stolen something you'd never be able to enjoy, devouring it, keeping it for himself. A part of you will always hate yourself for letting him do that, just like a part of you will always be his. 

Satoru deflates, as if he's relieved, easing his face into the crook of your neck, placing an almost loving kiss on your shoulder. He starts slow, slowly drawing his cock out, just until his tip is barely still in, before he pushes himself back into your hole. His pace is slow, controlled. It's different than when he was younger, more eager to get himself off more than anything. Now, it's like he's enjoying the intimacy, the feeling of your walls squeezing him. The wet noises. He's barely affected. Unlike you, writhing underneath him, close to falling apart. It's his length that gets you, forcing your pussy to stretch just to fit him. His cock hits everywhere, all at once, an endless torture of pleasure. 

It takes you a while to get your brain back together, to collect the mush, and realize that Gojo isn't wearing a condom. 

"S-Sato-" You try, just when he spreads your thighs apart, pushing them close to your chest so he can get deeper and kiss you at the same time. His hand slips down to your swollen clit, rubbing tight circles and you feel yourself getting even closer. You squeeze your eyes shut at the onslaught. 

"Try again," Satoru huffs, "What's my name? I know you know it, pretty girl." 

"'Toru," you beg because it's all you have left. Your breathless gasps make you sound even more unconvincing but you still manage to stutter out, "I'm-I'm not on anything, so-so please-" 

"That's okay," he mutters, though it's clear he's half-listening, "I'll take care of you and the baby."

"No-I-I-can't-" 

He drops his leisure pace in exchange of shorter, faster thrusts. His cock barely leaves your pussy, grinding in your hole as his breathing starts to get a little less controlled. 

"I'll make sure it takes this time too." 

Your eyes open, and you forget your panic to stare at him. You think back to the pills 18-year-old Geto had handed you. Always discreet. You'd...you'd always thought they were Satoru's idea. 

He hits something inside you, right then. You implode, crashing and burning as you gush around his dick. He's not kind enough to ease you through it, ramming his cock even harder inside your battered pussy until he's hunching over you with a shudder. You can feel his cum settle deep inside your womb. 

You stay like that for a few moments, not saying anything. It feels like hours before Satoru is moving again, drawing his softened cock out of your overstimulated pussy. You can feel the cum drip out of you too, spilling onto the desk, but you don't think Satoru's too mad about that. He flicks your clit a few times, watching your hips jerk and you give an exhausted whine. 

He kisses your breasts. He kisses up your jaw, before finding your lips. Dazed, you find yourself kissing back in reluctant acceptance, your body aching for any semblance of gentleness. 

"I love you." 

You look into his eyes, and you realize he's right. Gojo Satoru loves you, and this is how a man like him loves. He meant it, all those years ago, just like how he does now.

Satoru loves like the Sun. Too bright. With enough heat to burn your soul away. It's why you ran. 

"I love you," he repeats like the phrase doesn't kill you each time he says it, "so you're never leaving me." 

"Not ever again."

There are theories that the Moon once had color. 

It wasn't just white. It was green and blue, and red. 70 million years ago, it could have been much like the Earth. It didn't have a strong atmosphere, however. The gaseous layer was slowly stripped away. The Sun had eaten it. With no atmosphere, the unfiltered solar radiation slowly began to bleach the once colorful celestial body a dull white. Before long, the sun had created the moon to be its image. Now, the only color the moon has to offer is the sun's reflection. 

If Satoru was the Sun, then perhaps, you were the Moon. Stripped of your color. Unable to create light of your own. Reflecting only what you're given. 

How foolish of you to think you could ever escape his radiation. 

[cloudwisp]

Sylus has always been honest and expressive when it comes to you. Even now, when you inform him about your upcoming travels over the weekend for an important assignment dispatched by the Hunters Association. His encircled arm around your waist tightens and he moves his body on top of yours to burrow his face into the curve of your neck and grunts to show his dismay. Of course, you anticipated this reaction when his most cherished part of the day is being together and spending time with you.

Your attempt to bite back a smile fails when he clings to you and breathes in your scent. Dread looms over him as he considers how much he’ll miss you and crave your presence for those two days—he’s already aching at the thought. It’s endearing to know that your preconceived absence is getting to him and he’s making quite the fuss about it while he still can. But you know you’ll miss him just as dearly when you’re miles apart from him, counting down the hours until you’re leaping back into his arms again.

“It’s just two days—you’re acting like I’ll be gone for two weeks or two months. You’ll be completely fine without me.” Your fingers smooth through his silver locks expecting to appease him, but he gently nips at your sensitive skin when you mention an even more undesirable window of time. “Hey, that tickles!”

“Two days is too long being away from my wife.” His warm breath spreads across your collarbone as he pulls back slowly to meet your gaze, and there’s a hint of petulance in his voice. Your hands reach up to hold his face for a moment before bringing him down for a sweet and lingering kiss to dispel the faint pout on his lips. He hums and welcomes the tenderness, melting into the fleeting yet blissful exchange.

“I promise I’ll call you and text you often. I’m certain being Onychinus boss will keep you busy in the meantime, and you won’t even notice I’m gone before the two days are up.” Just when you think you’re making light of the situation, the furrow in Sylus' brow deepens a mere fraction when you paint him out to have so little regard for you.

“Now, that’s not true, kitten.” He shakes his head with a soft sigh and his reluctance to let you go increases tenfold. “I will notice every second that you’re not with me. How can I not when I think the world of you.”

You can feel the weight of his words behind his pensive stare that holds timeless affection and boundless devotion than he knows how to convey. He’s well aware that traveling comes with being a Hunter and the dangers of dealing with and eliminating wanderers. Even though you’re more than capable and can hold your own ground, he still can’t stomach the unsettling feeling that anything could happen to you and you’d be so far away that he couldn’t protect you. “Just promise me you’ll be careful out there. Reach out to me if you ever find yourself in trouble.”

You gleam with a smile and pepper quick kisses on the corners of his mouth followed by a loving and sincere one full and center on his lips as though you’re sealing the promise with your sweet little ritual. “I do have a husband I love coming home to. I wouldn’t do anything that involves risk, and I’ll update you regularly so you’ll know I’m being perfectly safe.”

Sylus finally relents and a glimmer of mirth appears in his deep red hues. He turns over onto his back, pulling you along with him so you’re half-splayed across his broad chest. You feel a chaste kiss brush against your forehead as he holds you close, wanting to savor every moment he can before he’s deprived of your comforting warmth and the privileges of skinship. “If you go quiet for too long, I’ll drop everything and come to you myself.”

[beloveds-embrace]

╰┈➤ A Harbinger’s Claim

Spoilers for 5.1 Archon Quest, yandere capitano x reader

yan!capi x soldier!reader who used to idolize/adore him? 👀

Specifically, you used to be a black serpent knight who worked under him. From the very first day you met him, you could not help but admire him; such a strong, powerful man- worthy of being a commander, worthy of being loved and respected. Your crush on him, your own commander, had been visible to any and all that cared to look. And that included even him, as well. 

Though he never quite returned your feelings. all of your attempts at catching his attention fell flat. Your commander did not care for romance, and did not care for you beyond you being a knight under his command. Still, you persisted and tried your best again and again to earn his praise and affection- through always training, keeping spare food from your own rations for him, willing to do any and all tasks. 

And then, Khaenri'ah falls, and you get injured and cursed to a painful immortality. It's devastating, it's cruel and painful and you end up separating from your group, including your commander- never knowing what happens to him.  

Five hundred years pass in resentment and bitterness, then a bone-deep exhaustion and now... 

The wind howls over the desolate, forgotten battlefield, carrying with it memories of long-lost battles and fallen comrades. You stand among the remnants, staring at the tattered banner of a past era. The centuries have been cruel, not just to the land, but to you. You don't know why you came back here, yet you can't bring yourself to leave just yet. 

Your legs ache- a dull, persistent pain that has been your constant companion for centuries. The curse has worn you down, body and soul, until all that remains is a tired will to survive. You sigh and shift your weight, leaning heavily on the stone slab you were using to remain upright. There’s little left to fight for now. Just a hollow existence.

Then, you feel it- the heavy presence of someone behind you. It’s not the first time you’ve felt a presence like this, and for a brief moment, a flicker of recognition stirs in your chest. You turn slowly, your body heavy with exhaustion, and there he is. Once, he'd been your commander. Now, he is a Fatui Harbinger.

Capitano.

The man you once idolized, the commander you adored. But that was so long ago, so distant it feels like another lifetime. Now, the sight of him- tall, imposing, clad in the black armor- stirs nothing inside you but weariness. His mask is as dark and unreadable as the void, hiding every part of his face, giving no hint of the man beneath. The commander you knew is long gone, replaced by this Harbinger, cold and unrelenting. Even if certain traits still exist within him.

“You’ve come back,” you murmur, your voice barely louder than the wind.

His head tilts ever so slightly, the black mask making it impossible to see his eyes. Yet you can feel his gaze locked on you, weighing you down even more. Once, you would have given everything for such attention.

“I’ve come to claim you.” he replies, his voice deep and resonating from behind the mask. The sound of it is steady, almost indifferent, yet it carries an unsettling weight of finality. 

You don’t move, don’t resist. The fatigue that has plagued you for centuries sinks deeper into your bones. “Claim me?” you echo softly,  chuckling. “What’s left to claim, Capitano? There’s nothing here anymore. I hold no adoration for you anymore."

The mask remains still, impenetrable, yet his presence grows more suffocating as he steps closer. “You were always mine,” he says quiet yet resolute. “And you still are.”

You sigh, not out of fear, but of sheer exhaustion. The energy to fight him, to resist, just isn’t there anymore. “I’m not the same soldier I used to be, commander. That person’s long gone. You should leave me here, where I belong.”

But Capitano doesn’t leave. Instead, his gloved hand reaches out and grips your wrist, firm but not painful. You don’t pull away. You simply look at him, weary and resigned, watching as he brings out a ring, dark as his armor. You don’t ask why—your mind too clouded with fatigue to even care.

He slides the ring onto your finger, his voice low and steady. “This is your place, with me. You’ve wandered for too long.”

You look down at the ring. It's cold. “It’s been centuries, Capitano,” you say, your voice a whisper. “Do you really still think I belong to you?”

He pulls you closer, until you’re pressed against his chestplate, the harsh cold of his armor making you shiver. His masked face hovers above yours, unreadable, but his grip is firm, unyielding. “I never stopped thinking it,” he murmurs, voice deep and possessive. “You admired me once- more than anyone. That devotion is mine to keep.”

You don’t fight him. You can’t. The years have taken too much out of you. “That was a lifetime ago,” you sigh, resting your head lightly against his armor. “I’m not sure I even know who you are anymore.”

“Then I’ll remind you,” he says, his voice soft but filled with dark certainty. “You will stay with me. We will be wed, and you will never be alone again. Your suffering ends with me.”

For a moment, you close your eyes, letting the heavy weariness wash over you. Part of you wants to resist, to push him away. But the truth is, you’re tired- so tired. The centuries of pain and solitude have worn you down to the point where even the idea of fighting feels like too much. Capitano’s grip is cold, but it’s steady, and in that moment, you almost feel… relieved. You don’t want to admit it, but the thought of someone else taking control, of someone else carrying the weight you’ve been shouldering alone, is tempting. Especially if it's him.

“Is this really what you want?” you ask, though you already know his answer.

His arms tighten around you, drawing you in even closer. “It’s not just what I want,” he says, voice low. Unbending. “It’s what will be.”

He lifts you into his arms with ease, your body too tired to struggle, too worn to protest. You glance up at the dark mask once more, seeing nothing but the void where his face should be. And yet, for the first time in what feels like ages, you don’t feel completely alone.

“Where are you taking me?” you ask, your voice barely audible.

“Snezhnaya,” he answers, his tone firm and absolute. “My home. Where you belong.”

You let out a soft sigh, leaning into his chest, your body going limp in his hold. “I’m too tired to fight you, Capitano. I don’t think I care anymore.”

His response is unwavering. “You won’t need to fight. You’ll be with me now. I’ll take care of you.”

As he begins to walk, each step echoing the finality of your fate, you close your eyes, surrendering to the exhaustion. The world around you fades, and all you can feel is his steady, unrelenting presence. The future, dark and uncertain, is no longer your burden to bear. So what if your freedom is to be taken away?

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” you murmur faintly.

“I do,” Capitano replies, his masked face tilting down toward you, his voice calm yet possessive. If he holds you any tighter, the claws of his armor would dig into your skin. “You’re mine. That is all you need.”

And as the cold winds of the battlefield sweep behind you, you let go of whatever fight you had left.

Part 2