Hear ye! I have a request my liege, how about a fem reader trying to win over viktor multiple times but fails all attempts until it is revealed he does in fact reciprocate🤭
✰⍣..𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬-𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧 𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠. 𝐀𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞, 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧.
𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐨 𝐦𝐥 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐱𝐱
You were nothing if not persistent.
Viktor was sharp, focused, and hopelessly oblivious to the fact that you were doing everything in your power to win him over. It wasn’t that he was cold—far from it. He was kind in that absentminded, half-listening way of a man too buried in his work to notice the very obvious signs of affection right in front of him.
And so, you tried. Again. And again.
Attempt #1: The Lunch Offer
Your first plan was simple: food.
You had spent hours preparing something special, something homemade, something that you knew he’d like. You weren’t the best cook, but you had carefully followed every step of the recipe, determined to impress him.
Approaching his workspace, you cleared your throat, balancing the carefully wrapped meal in your hands.
“Viktor?”
He didn’t look up. His fingers twitched slightly as he adjusted the mechanism he was working on, the dim light of the laboratory casting sharp shadows along his face. His brow was furrowed in thought, lips parted slightly as if he were mid-calculation.
You tried again.
“Viktor, I made lunch for you.”
That got his attention. He blinked, finally shifting his gaze toward you. His golden eyes flickered between you and the carefully packed meal in your hands.
“You did?”
You nodded enthusiastically, setting it down on his cluttered desk. “Yeah! I figured you probably haven’t eaten much today, so I thought I’d bring you something homemade.”
A pause. Viktor regarded the meal with mild curiosity before offering you a small, appreciative smile. “That’s thoughtful of you, thank you.”
Your heart skipped a beat. Progress.
But then— Without hesitation, Viktor picked up his fork, poked at the food once, then twice, before taking a single bite. He chewed slowly, his expression unreadable.
Your fingers curled anxiously. “So? What do you think?”
“…It’s interesting,” he said diplomatically.
Your stomach dropped. “Interesting?”
He hesitated, as if searching for the right words. “I appreciate the effort.”
You deflated.
“I might have miscalculated the salt,” you admitted sheepishly.
Viktor, ever the gentleman, coughed lightly. “Ah, yes. A bit… potent.”
You buried your face in your hands. “Okay, okay, I get it! It’s bad, isn’t it?”
He chuckled, nudging the plate slightly away but still offering you a kind smile. “Not bad. Just… an acquired taste.”
You groaned. First attempt: failure.
Attempt #2: The Book Gift
You knew Viktor loved books. It was one of the few things that could pull his attention away from his work—albeit briefly.
So, you found a rare book on Hextech theories and wrapped it neatly, tying a ribbon around it for good measure.
You waited until he was in a rare moment of relaxation—well, as close to relaxation as Viktor ever got. He was seated at his desk, flipping through his notes with a cup of tea beside him.
Perfect timing.
“Viktor,” you called softly, holding out the book.
He turned, glancing at you before his gaze landed on the package in your hands. “What’s this?”
“A gift,” you said, smiling. “I thought you might like it.”
His brow furrowed slightly, curiosity shining in his eyes as he reached for the book. He unwrapped it carefully, the ribbon slipping off with ease. When he saw the title, his lips parted in surprise.
“You found this?”
You grinned. “I did! It took some effort, but I figured you’d love it.”
For a moment, he seemed genuinely touched. His fingers traced the spine of the book as he flipped through the first few pages, skimming the text.
“Oh, this is the outdated version.”
Your smile froze. “…What?”
Viktor tilted his head slightly, scanning the pages. “This edition was published before Heimerdinger updated his findings on Hextech decay rates. The later editions corrected a few errors in the theory, particularly in chapters three and five.”
You stared.
He looked up, noticing your expression. “…Not that I don’t appreciate it!” he added quickly. “It’s a thoughtful gift, truly. I will still read it.”
You sighed dramatically. “I was trying to impress you, you know.”
Viktor blinked. “Impress me?”
“Yes! And instead, I gave you an outdated book!”
He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “It’s not about the edition. It’s the effort that counts.”
You folded your arms. “So I failed, huh?”
His lips quirked up. “Not at all. You are very persistent.”
Not exactly the answer you wanted, but you supposed it wasn’t a complete loss.
Attempt #3: The Stargazing Invitation
This time, you were going for romance.
You had set up a small spot on the Academy’s rooftop, a cozy little corner with blankets, pillows, and even a small lantern to give off a warm glow. The sky was clear, the stars bright. It was the perfect atmosphere.
Now all you needed was Viktor.
Dragging him away from his work had been no easy task. He had resisted at first, insisting he had equations to finish and calibrations to check, but you had practically pulled him by the arm, determined.
When you finally reached the rooftop, you gestured grandly. “Tada!”
Viktor looked around, brow raised. “…You brought me here to sit on the ground?”
You huffed. “Not just sit—stargaze. Relax. Take a break.”
He hesitated before carefully lowering himself onto the blankets. His cane rested beside him as he leaned back, gaze flickering toward the night sky.
You watched him closely. “What do you think?”
He was quiet for a long moment, then finally spoke. “…It’s peaceful.”
Success!
Encouraged, you scooted closer. “I thought you could use a moment to breathe. You work too hard.”
Viktor hummed, seemingly considering your words. “Perhaps you are right.”
You turned your head to look at him, the glow of the lantern casting soft shadows along his sharp features. He looked beautiful like this—lost in thought, his golden eyes reflecting the starlight.
Heart pounding, you gathered your courage. “Viktor… can I ask you something?”
He glanced at you, intrigued. “Of course.”
You swallowed. “Have you ever… thought about taking a break? Not just from work, but from everything. Spending time with someone. Maybe… me?”
Viktor blinked.
Then, with all the grace of a man absolutely oblivious—
“Oh, I wouldn’t want to burden you with that,” he said sincerely.
You stared.
He continued, oblivious to the weight of your question. “My work is demanding, and I would not want you to feel neglected. Relationships require time and attention, and I would hate for you to be disappointed.”
You nearly groaned out loud.
For a man as brilliant as Viktor, he could be painfully clueless.
With a resigned sigh, you flopped back onto the blanket, staring up at the stars. Another attempt, another failure.
—
You weren’t expecting much when you walked into the lab that evening.
In fact, you were expecting nothing at all.
After weeks of trying—pouring your heart into homemade meals, thoughtful gifts, and starry rooftop nights—you had resigned yourself to the truth: Viktor either didn’t notice your feelings, or he didn’t want to notice them.
And honestly? You were tired.
You had been visiting him less and less, not completely avoiding him, but pulling back just enough to protect yourself. You still cared—you would always care—but unrequited love wasn’t something you could keep torturing yourself with.
So when you stepped into the lab that night, you told yourself you were just here for work. Nothing else.
Jayce and Viktor were deep in conversation when you entered. Jayce stood by Viktor’s desk, arms crossed, an amused smirk playing on his lips. Viktor, seated, was scribbling something furiously in his notebook, barely acknowledging his friend’s presence.
They both turned when they saw you.
“Oh, hey!” Jayce greeted, his usual easy-going grin in place. “Haven’t seen you around much lately.”
Viktor’s head snapped up so fast you almost thought he hurt himself. His eyes flickered to you, studying your expression for a fraction of a second before returning to his notes.
You forced a small smile, holding up a stack of reports. “Just dropping these off.”
You moved to place them on Viktor’s desk, careful not to linger, but Jayce’s next words stopped you in your tracks.
“You know,” he mused, voice dripping with playful amusement, “for someone who constantly complains when she’s not around, you sure don’t act like it, Vik.”
Silence.
The kind of silence that immediately thickened the air, made it heavy, charged.
Your brain took a full three seconds to register what Jayce had just said.
You blinked. “Wait. What?”
Viktor froze.
His pen, mid-stroke, halted against the page. His entire body went rigid, his fingers tightening around the notebook in his lap.
Jayce, bless his completely oblivious soul, continued without a care in the world. “Yeah, seriously. Every time you’re not here, he—”
“Jayce.”
Viktor’s voice cut through the air like a knife. Low. Sharp. Warning.
Jayce finally seemed to sense the weight of the situation. He looked at Viktor, then at you, then back at Viktor, realization dawning like a slow-motion catastrophe.
“Oh,” he said, blinking. “Ohhh.”
You barely heard him. Your entire focus was on Viktor, who was currently staring a hole into his notebook as if he could will the conversation out of existence. His grip on his pen was so tight you thought it might snap in half.
You took a step closer. “Viktor,” you started carefully, “is that true?”
He didn’t answer. Your stomach twisted.
Jayce shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh—”
“Leave.”
It was barely more than a breath, but Jayce immediately straightened. “Yeah. Yep. That’s my cue. I am—definitely—leaving.”
And then, with the speed of a man fleeing imminent death, he was gone.
The door shut behind him, leaving you alone with Viktor.
And still—he didn’t look at you.
You took a slow breath, willing your voice to stay steady. “Viktor.”
Nothing.
So you took another step closer, moving carefully, deliberately, until you were standing directly beside him. Close enough to see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw was clenched just a little too tight.
“…Is it true?” you asked again, quieter this time.
A long, heavy pause.
Then—finally—he exhaled. A slow, controlled breath, like he was preparing for something.
“…Yes.”
Your heart stuttered.
He still didn’t look at you. His eyes remained fixed on the desk, his fingers tapping a restless rhythm against his notebook.
You swallowed, trying to ignore the way your pulse was hammering in your ears. “Then why—?”
“Because it is irrelevant.”
That caught you off guard. “What?”
Viktor let out a quiet, humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “You deserve someone who is not married to his work. Someone who can give you their full attention, not just stolen moments between projects.”
Your chest ached. “You don’t get to decide that for me.”
He went still.
Slowly—hesitantly—he finally turned to look at you.
His golden eyes, usually so sharp and calculating, were guarded. Careful. But beneath that, beneath the walls he so carefully constructed, there was something else.
Something hesitant. Something fragile.
Something real.
“…You would grow tired of me,” he said quietly. “Of the late nights. Of the exhaustion. Of the way I forget to eat unless someone reminds me.”
You stared at him, barely able to breathe. “Viktor—”
“I am not good at this,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “I do not know how to—” He stopped, inhaled sharply, then exhaled again. “I do not know how to be what you need.”
Something in your chest cracked open.
You reached for his hand before he could pull away. Your fingers brushed against his—warm, steady, certain.
“You don’t have to be perfect,” you said softly. “You just have to be you.”
Viktor stared at your intertwined fingers like they were some kind of impossible equation.
Like he wanted to believe you, but didn’t quite know how.
“…And if I disappoint you?” he asked, his voice barely more than a breath.
You squeezed his hand. “Then I’ll let you know. And we’ll figure it out. Together.”
His lips parted slightly, like he wanted to argue. But for once—for once—he didn’t.
Instead, after a long, drawn-out moment, he simply closed his fingers around yours.
Not tightly. Not desperately.
Just enough.
A quiet, tentative acceptance.
“…You are remarkably persistent,” he murmured, the smallest, softest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.
You huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, I noticed.”
Viktor shook his head, exhaling something that almost sounded like a chuckle. “Jayce is going to be insufferable about this.”
You grinned. “Oh, absolutely.”
And then—finally, finally—Viktor let himself relax.
"Blitzø... I think so very highly of you..."
"I didn't realize you think so low of me..."
──────〃✰ KINKTOBER DAY 24: 𝐒𝐄𝐗 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍
title: milk me synopsis: usually demons' poisons just kill whoever was affected by them. this time, it served for something else. something way better. [2.1K] cw: established relationship, eye patch!kyojuro, crystal hashira!reader, sex pollen, public sex, pussy drunk, forced orgasms, overstimulation, oral (f!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), p in v, dacryphilia, spit, nipple stimulation, accidental voyeurism (we'll say: sorry miss shinobu).
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Monsters, echoed in the demon’s head as he ran deeper into the forest. His arm reattached to his body, fully healed but burning still. With human blood dripping from his mouth, he cursed the slayers after him. Monsters. All of them.
The bastard decided where his body would rot. He was the one to decide over his path. Lurking among the branches, you waited. Concealed by the night, Kyojuro chased. And as the demon laughed, believing to have outwitted the slayers, fire and crystal cut through his neck in union.
Blood burned into ashes on your nichirin sword. As the head rolled, you gazed at the starless sky. Using the moon as a reference, you knew this hunt was too easy. “It’s not even midnight yet”, you frowned. “Sanemi spoke the truth on our last meeting. Those slayers begged for our help to end this weak thing?”
Hypnotized by your presence, Kyojuro cupped your cheek. The head between you two screamed and cursed, but his voice meant nothing for Kyojuro. Talking is a privilege for the living, and he won’t allow a beast to stop him from admiring you.
“Only because of your flawless strategy, flame of my heart!” Kyojuro laughed, thumb caressing your lower lip. He blatantly ignored your last statement, determined to not let worries take you away from him. “How glad I am to fight beside you!”
To feel his hand full of scars, hear his voice full of love, made you come back to the present. Kyojuro knows how easy it’s for you to get lost inside of your own head. Soothing you back into reality, you were the flying pipe and Kyojuro the stone.
How could you care about any other thing when Kyojuro burns this bright? All concerns about the level of those new slayers were quickly forgotten. Moving your face, you kissed his open palm. He was so warm. Welcoming.
“You flatter me.”
“I only speak the truth”, Kyojuro pulled you closer. “As you deserve.”
Peace was disturbed as bones cracked. You looked down to find the demon’s jaw wide open, tongue contorting as he choked on it. You assumed it was agony, but Kyojuro recognized it as a last act of violence. From stroking your face, Kyojuro spared no strength to shove you as far away as he could.
You were about to do the same to him.
As you rose from the ground a heavy, yellow mist came out from the demon’s mouth. Covering your face with your emerald haori, to hear his coughs made your heart stir. The more desperate Kyojuro becomes, the more this pollen will infiltrate his nostrils. The more this wretched demon would hurt your dear Kyo.
In an act of pure logic, you kicked the head away. In an act of pure hatred, you did so with so much strength the head exploded in pieces against a tree trunk.
You turned around in time to see Kyojuro’s nose scrunching.
The pollen was already gone, scattered in the wind. You let go of your haori and held his chin, looking for blisters or burns were the mist touched. As you moved him closer to you, Kyojuro sighed.
More carefully now, you tilted his head. Moonlight revealed his flushed cheeks, forehead already soaked with sweat. His owl eye, always brimming with excitement and joy, never looked so dark. You found nothing. Not a wound, not a scratch.
“Focus”, you demanded, voice stern. Now you weren’t his wife, only a hashira telling a hurt person what to do. “Slow down your heartbeat. Fight the fever. Kyojuro, I need you to breath.”
That damned thing. You doubt that demon could create anything stronger than a common poison. After a whistle, your crow landed on your shoulder. Looking into its purple eyes, you gave the instructions to warn Shinobu of your position.
“Kyo!” You almost lost balance when he collapsed against you. “Listen to me! You need to keep on breathing.”
His arms intertwined around your waist, his hold so tight you could feel his chest moving up and down with every shaky breath. Kyojuro’s knees failed, his weight making you stumble back.
Your mind was a torturous place right now.
Usually, he would fight back. If only his body was threatened, Kyojuro would have stopped that poison by now, but it clearly affected his mind too. You can’t count on Kyojuro tonight. He needs you now.
The best thing is for Kyojuro to get healed immediately, and the only one that can assure that is Shinobu. You want to take him in your arms and run. The sudden movement, the change in temperature, his aching lungs. You want to run, but maybe that would only work to weaken Kyojuro even more. But to stay here, holding a suffering Kyojuro in the hopes of being found? That would make you insane!
And again, you were the pipe flying away, lost in the winds of your head. You need your stone. You need Kyojuro to be fine again.
Kyojuro inhaled deeply your scent, and for a moment you thought he learned how to deal with the poison. Him shamelessly ravishing on your skin made you second thought that.
“Dear”, you whimpered. Trying to move Kyojuro away, you stumbled back once more. This time, Kyojuro stepped forward, putting more of his weight on top of you. “Kyo… What are you doing?”
His warm tongue licked the crook of your neck, tasting your sweat. His nose brushed against you, drowning in your perfume.
“I am hungry”, Kyojuro whimpered, mouth closing around the sensitive skin where your shoulder and neck meet. His lips, soft and plump, stole a little whimper from you. “I burn for you.”
At that, your eyes widened. Aphrodisiacs! That explains why those slayers were so quick to avert his curious gaze and your careful touch. Why they cried as they moved, although they carried no wound. Why you feel something poking at your belly.
His teeth sank on your neck, expelling every thought from your mind. It was strong enough to bring you to tears. A deep moan echoed through the night; a sound so primal a part of you mistook it from an animal’s doing.
Your heartbeat increased, and you knew Kyojuro heard it too.
“Kyojuro Rengoku,” you hissed. It made him froze. “You need to stop.”
Taken back from your harsh tone, Kyojuro tilted his head towards yours. You were mad at him. No, no, no, no! That… That can’t be. He can’t make you suffer. He promised to never make you suffer.
“Forgive me,” he begged. Kyojuro sounded more like himself. Still clouded, flying like a pipe, but real. Caring.
In a merciful act, the moon shone over you two. And in its glow, you saw Kyojuro crying. Heavy tears rolled down his face, sobs forcing out of him.
The great flame hashira reduced to such a beautiful mess.
“I need you”, Kyojuro whimpered. He closed his eyes, all the voices in his head bringing him step by step closer to the abyss. “I feel as if… As if I will go insane if I don’t have you. I am… sorry.” You saw fire inside his eye, heard certainty on his voice. “I just need to… Yes, my flame, I just need to…”
His warmth turned into heat, and Kyojuro moved before you could decide over your next action. Not a second later your back was on the ground, eyes wide as you stared at the predator lurking above you.
Kyojuro kneeled down, thighs closed between your legs. His rough hands tugged at your haori, trembling as he pulled it apart. Like a beast, Kyojuro cut through all the fabrics between you two. He stopped when your breasts spilled out, nipples hard as the wind touched them.
His deep breath made you pay more attention to Kyojuro’s details. Fingers hesitant to touch your skin. Tears staining his face. Lips open, drool falling over you. The sound of his pitiful cries pierced your skull.
Without any words, Kyojuro begged. He begged for your forgiveness. For your help. For you. And how could you deny Kyojuro of what he wants so badly?
“Do it”, you said. You allowed. Supporting your weight on your elbows, back leaving the ground, you bit your tongue. “Knock yourself out.”
“Thank you, my flame”, Kyojuro cried. So beautiful. “Thank you, thank you.”
His warm mouth closed around your nipple, eyes widening as he sucked on it. His fingers yanked the other, rolling it between his fingertips with just the right pressure.
Kyojuro bit your shoulder, this time less feral. It wasn’t possessive, only a need to have you between his teeth. Marking your bust, leaving not a single inch untouched and unmarked, he covered you on his spit.
He is a selfless lover in a way the most selfish one could appreciate. There isn’t a single moment Kyojuro doesn’t think about your pleasure. He is always seeking for it, drowning himself on you and only coming back to surface when you beg for rest. It’s nothing but a mere coincidence that Kyojuro takes his own pleasure from yours.
The more you whined, hips twitching beneath his broad body, the more Kyojuro gave to you. You hissed when his teeth closed around your wet nipples, and Kyojuro saw that as a sign he needed to keep going.
Even in this condition, your man really can’t bear having an empty mouth.
Kyojuro bended your legs, feet high on the air, laying down on the ground. He forced your thighs to close around his head, fingers drawing circles on your hips. You felt his shaky breath against your ignored cunt.
“Itadakimasu,” Kyojuro whispered. Not for you, but for your pussy.
And so, he dived into you. There was no technique, no method on the way his tongue moved. And that’s why you always loved to have his head between your legs. With Kyojuro, you never felt as if your time was running out. As if you had to be quick, so he would finally feel pleasure too. Eating you out, Kyojuro never thought about the quickest way to get you to cum.
He does that for himself. Tongue deep into your walls, Kyojuro rejoices. Teeth pulling at your clit, Kyojuro salivates. Every noise that you make, from sheepish whimpers to weary cries, is a full meal for this hungry man.
You’re in for a long night.
Kyojuro licked your slit restlessly. In his place, your jaw would stumble. His big tongue slipped inside of it, back to his home. The soft and trained muscle, curling at the perfect spot inside of you.
But he never stayed inside of you for long enough, as another part of your glistening cut looked deserving of his attention too. Torturing you, all you did was pull his golden hair and take it.
After the fourth orgasm, his fingers filling you up without mercy, your mouth hanged open. You couldn’t close it. You couldn’t remember to close it. All you wanted, all you could think about, was for Kyojuro to have his fill. To get better. To just drown already and let you rest.
“Inside of me”, your voice echoed, but you had no time to be embarrassed about your screams. Pushing his head away, you tried to bargain with his desire. “Just get inside of me already, Kyojuro!”
But he refused you. Nodding, Kyojuro nuzzled at your core. Impatient, you groaned and pulled his hair harshly.
Kyojuro saw you. All of you. The redness of your tearful eyes. The bite marks around your collarbone. Those half-closed eyes, tired but energized still. Those breasts moving up and down, up and down.
“Now”, you ordered, clenching your teeth.
As if he would be punished by disobeying you, Kyojuro freed his leaking cock and pulled you closer. Rigid for you, sensitive because of all the pleasure he gave you, ready for you.
Your flame hashira, more than ready to burn you alive.
His body was on top of yours, involving you completely, as he thrusted into your walls. He licked your lips, eye as heavy as yours. “You taste so good”, he said against your mouth. “The best meal I ever had.”
Looking into his eyes, you melted. Your legs shaken around his hips; eyes rolled back as Kyojuro used you to get off. Watching Kyojuro finally fell apart, head finding solace in the crook of your neck, you smiled. “Better?”
A husky laugh vibrated through you. “Better.”
Shinobu thanked darkness for hiding her burning cheeks.
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hange hangeing at maximum hange (beautiful)
i really think having an emotional connection is so important to bakugou sexually.
like, i think he has to be in the exact right mood in order to get off by himself at home alone. can't be too tired, can't be too stressed out, can't have too much on his mind regarding work or other things, and even if it's been a while and his body is sensitive and wanting for it—if his head is not right, he can sit there for hours and never reach his peak.
which is why i think ultimately he doesn't do it that often, because it pisses him off to waste the time and not find the release. makes him more agitated. i think porn for the most part doesn't help him because he's too picky, literature probably helps a bit more, but he's still picky, and his imagination can get him there, but his headspace has to be right.
i think he's slow to hands-on stuff, when your relationship starts, and you can tell he's going to be like that pretty quickly. he responds to your touch like it's an accident; you reach out to hold his hand and he pulls his back like your knuckles have knocked by chance, like you're too close. it's not meant to be a rejection of any kind, it's just—he doesn't want you to touch him if you don't want to. if you don't mean to.
but when he realizes that you mean to, that you want to—
it has him skyrocketing. surprises him terribly, the affect you have on his body, and how quickly, because not even he can always have that affect on his own body.
you reach up to push some hair out of his face and your fingers skirt his cheekbone and he feels like a stupid gross disgusting puddle of mush. you loop your arm through his and lean into him while you're walking and he feels like a prize, like he's yours and you're his and you want everybody to know and that gives him a rush of pride that makes his head woozy.
he's dropping you off at home after date number he-doesn't-know and you're staring up at him outside your front door and he knows he should kiss you so he does and his whole body lights up with a heat he doesn't recognize at all. just from that.
and then he finally gets it: that heart-aching, stomach turning, body shaking want he's only ever heard about, and now finally feels.
you know what? Fuck you. *turns your strong and stoic and serious character into a crying, traumatized, whimpering, curled up mess in the floor*
WOOF? OH MY GOD?? ON THE CEILING OF MY ENCLOSURE I LOVE THIS
i saw u wanted val requests and well hes my fav. this isnt rlly a requst so much a thought tht has been festering in my brain and im too scared to post on my own acct imagine breaking val. imagine taking the time to ruin his grandiose showboating persona. he's always so cocky and arrogant, even when he got used to bottoming he remained an arrogant prick. he would smirk and act like a brat the whole time. it was fun sometimes. not always. you wanted so badly to see his arrogant face in tears. thats how he got here. tied tightly with ropes making sure he had no way to escape. of course this was accompanied by another arrogant comment "so tight, chiqui~ you worried i might flip the script?" you rolled your eyes. tying the silk blindfold to his face was met with similar comments and teasing. but what he didnt expect was you to slip away to sit in the corner of the room. at first he's sitting, waiting impatiently with the occasional comment. he expects at any minute you'll bring him a fun toy to fill his holes or to slap him around. maybe you're getting undressed and he'll soon feel your hands all over him. as time ticks longer he makes more comments, each growing more irritated in tone. it doesnt take more than 30 minutes for him to begin to get truly angry at you. hes yelling, cursing, screaming violent threats at you. its the farthest you've seen his facade fall. his body twisting and fighting his bonds as he tries as hard as he can to free himself. he can't. now its been 50 minutes and his thrashing has only gotten worse. his comments of harsh threats as loud as he can have turned his voice hoarse until he's making rough whining. his wings twist and write against his bonds kicking up little gusts of winds as he strains himself so hard you're worried he's going to get hurt. so you speak. "calm down, you'll hurt yourself" at the sound of your voice his whole body perks up and he tries to find your voice. finally you hear it, a pathetic whimper from his hoarse voice. "chiqui?" its so sad and sweet like a whimper from a kicked animal you almost wouldn't know its him. "im right here." you assure him finally getting up from your seat. tears start spilling from beneath the blindfold as he fights against his bonds, weaker this time. you place a gentle hand on his chest. "im right here." you repeat as his bound arms try desperately to get to you. "want you... n.. need you." you crawl over him and gently lift his blind fold exposing his tear eyes to you. you rub your thumb gently over his cheek to brush away his tears. "im right here for you, val. tell me what you need." "need you." he rubbed his head against your hand. "need mmm" you immediately retracted your hand and looked at him with a stern look while keeping your tone gentle. "you need to use your words." another whimper left his lips. "t-touch me please just. use me. need you so b-bad i dont care how i-" your hands were back on him in moments, making quick work of some of his bonds. mostly you were making sure he could flex his wings comfortably. before you turned him on his stomach. "you're such a good boy." you cooed in his ear which was met with shaky purring from deep in his chest. with all his showboating broken it was going to be fun breaking him down to a sobbing begging mess.
WOAH. GANG. IM LITERALLY SPEECHLESS. GOOD MORNING???
Nah this made me forget i’m a writer like WHAT NEXT??? WHAT HAPPENS AFTER THAT??? Part two in my inbox NOW. I’m on my hands and knees.
No because like “use me” from Val has got be acting up. I’m clawing at the walls of my enclosure. Him breaking down into tears when he hears your voice because he’s so desperate to be touched, because the poor baby can’t even go one full hour without your attention. IM COOKED.
Anyways, i’m impressed, and this delivered on so many levels. I’d sell my soul to have more anons like you in my askbox, much love lil homie. PEACE ✌️
me when a character who was completely powerless gains power and proceeds to lose themselves in the intoxication of it before coming to and being horrified by their own capacity for bloodlust
❝ in which your boyfriend satoru gojo subconsciously seeks your comfort ❞ ❦ cw ; f!reader. fluff. ❦ words ; 738
masterlist
The sound of footsteps walking through your apartment sends a jolt of fear straight up your spine, until-
“Satoru?” Blinking in confusion at the sight of your sorcerer boyfriend, you sigh in relief. Of course you know he can teleport but showing up out of the blue like this is a new level, even for him. “You scared the shit out of me,” you breathe out with a shake of your head.
“Sorry, baby.” Satoru heads straight for your living room, plopping down on your couch with his head tilted back and his eyes closed. There’s a tear in his jacket and his blindfold is nowhere to be found, which is unusual for him. Though, so is teleporting to your home without warning.
“I wasn’t expecting you so I don’t have enough food-” you pause, glancing back towards the kitchen, “-did you want to order something?”
“Sure, anything’s fine.”
You tilt your head, examining his expression though you can’t gleam anything about how he’s feeling with his eyes closed. Still, this isn’t like him. He’s too quiet. Too unenthusiastic. He didn’t even greet you.
“How does sushi sound, then? There’s this place just around the corner that just opened-”
“Yeah, that’s fine.” Satoru interrupts, his tone snappy enough that you recoil slightly, blinking at him as hurt flashes across your features. You may not have been together long, but he’s never once so much as expressed unhappiness towards you. In truth, you’re not sure what to do.
Your lips purse as Gojo leans forward, raking his hands over his face before resting his head in his hands.
Oh. Oh.
You approach him slowly, taking a seat beside him on the couch. He doesn’t react, thumbs pressed to his temples. You flick the light switch behind you, letting the room go dark as you gently lay your palms over his, urging him to drop his hands from his temples as you press a kiss to his forehead.
His breath fans your forearms as you adjust to carefully lay his head in your lap, his legs hanging over the arm of the plush furniture. Running your fingers through his hair, you massage his scalp as his hair cascades over your thighs.
Comfortable silence settles between you as he relishes in the moment, his muscles gradually relaxing. The harsh furrow to his brow begins to slack, his expression going neutral as he leans his face into your body.
He didn’t think about it when he teleported here, it just felt right. He knows now it’s because he craved your comfort, your touch, and he didn’t know it yet.
“I’m so, so sorry, pretty girl,” he sighs, burying his face into your torso as he blindly reaches for your hand. He finds it with ease, a feat of his six eyes surely, and brings it to his lips, lingering in a kiss against your knuckles.
“I forgive you, Toru, it happens,” you tell him. “Headache?”
“Somethin’ like that,” he sighs, gripping your hand tightly. “I’m sorry, pretty. I’m sorry.”
“I told you I forgive you,” you tell him, a sympathetic smile on your face. His blue eyes flicker open, squinting even in the darkness of the late evening as he struggles through his headache. Still, relief swirls in his eyes when he sees the sincere look on your face.
Although he has a habit of pushing your buttons and riling you up, those are things you’ve always loved about him. You’re well aware of his status, of just how little respect is directed towards him as a person rather than an instrument of destruction. Now, looking into his gorgeous cerulean irises, this is one of those moments where you can see just how human he truly is.
“Still up for sushi?” He asks, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. His head still pounds, evidenced by the faint tension in his forehead, but it’s tolerable with you at his side.
You return his smile, nodding. “With dessert,” you insist. His grin widens and you giggle at the sight, glad to have your boyfriend back.
Large palms pull you down by the back of your neck as he kisses you softly, his lips moving with slow and pure intentions as he conveys his love for you. “Now you’re speakin’ my language,” he hums against your lips.
Satoru needs comfort sometimes too, and you’re grateful he chooses to seek that in you.
masterlist
Arcane characters as crop tops part 3 ★
*pounds a monster at 9pm* why can't I ever sleep at night