#☆dark content

[sol-consort]

May we have a crumb of yandere Kai Leng x reader headcannons or something like that? 🙏 🥺 (I'm sorry)

Hell yeah my dude, you may even get a smooch on the forehead for being the bravest soul out there to ask for this.

Yandere Kai Leng HC

[Dark content, yandere, stalking, obsession, possessive behaviour, enemies with tension, love/hate relationship]

[Shepard reader - gender neutral]

"You killed the scientists... What do you want?"

"Your attention."

Kai Leng is many things, an assassin, a killer, a bastard and the most annoying thorn digging at your side with exceptional delight.

The way he snatches victory from your fingertips at the last moment, drinks in the expression on your face going from genuine surprise to despair and then rage.

It makes the blood pump faster in his veins, being at the centre of your undivided attention as you stare at him with a look of pure primal rage.

Careful Shepard, you treat a man this way and he might get the wrong idea.

Next thing you know, he's breaking into the Normandy undetected while it's docked on the Citidal. Crew blissfully unaware as they enjoy their shore leave for a day.

Your quarters aren't what he expected, not from the best fighter he ever went against in his life. Yet so very endearing, you collect ship models? You care for fish?

How...cute.

He traces his gloved fingers against the surface of your desk, leaves a couple smudges on the glass of the aquarium with a smirk as he imagines the annoyed look on your face.

Sits on your chair, examines the various medals you keep in a case display. Reading what each one was for, looking through your life achievements as if it was a to do list he's crossing off, comparing his own skills to yours without a hint of shame.

Moving to your couch, he spots a half empty glass of wine. A small smudge of lips against the rim of the delicate glass.

Nimble fingers pick it up, careful not to let the sharp metal nails on his gloves scratch the surface. He drinks in the aroma of the wine.

Oh, definitely not his type, you have an awful taste in wine. He thinks as he turns the glass around, parting his lips and pressing his mouth against where your own lips have been.

Downing it in one gulp, he feels the same rush of dopamine whenever he fights you. The same shiver ran up his spine as that day he noticed a bit of your blood on his finger and licked it off while meeting your eyes, shameless at the look of disgust in yours.

You tasted just as awful as this wine, as sickingly bittersweet, and he can't get enough.

Your bed is on display next to him, all made and neat just like any alliance soldier must have been taught to do.

What a good little soldier you are, he thinks, did you keep your bed all made for him to ruin?

So many ideas go through his head on the ways he could piss you off with this, maybe spill the wine on it? Or how about his own blood? Maybe litter the cover with bullet holes and spell out his name.

He walks closers to the seemingly soft thing, lifting the covers and leaning down.

It...smells like you. Like the faint scent he catches whenever he has you pressed under him during combat, amidst the smell of gunpowder and rubble, your own scent stood out as he pressed his nose closer to your neck, alongside his sharp sword.

Kai Leng buried his face in the pillow much like he wanted to do with your neck just before you flipped him over on the ground and pointed a gun at his head.

He settles for laying on the bed, nothing else. You wouldn't have had an idea he was here except for the few wrinkles on the sheets his heavy armour would leave behind.

Your bed is surprisingly hard, much like your own body. He thought it was fitting, and yet a part of him wanted to force you on a soft bed, see you unwillingly sink into the comfortable fluffy sheets and have your muscles unconsciously relax.

Do you keep yourself constantly sharp not to lose your survival instincts? Do you refrain from allowing yourself the luxury of comfort not to grow soft around the edges?

He has read and heard so many things about you, he has searched the aftermath of every battlefield you left behind.

He knows more about you than anyone could ever claim to, more than the person you've shared this bed with before could ever attest to.

On his way out, he removes the bugs he planted to block the cameras. Twirling one of your shiny medals between his fingers, your opened wine bottle in the other hand.

"You're not as weak as I thought. But never forget that your best wasn't good enough to stop me."

He's cocky and confident in his own skills. He has nothing to prove and no one to impress.

But you, oh you, always working hard to meet other's expectations. Always being spun around and dragged from one trivial mission to another, hunting for the most useless of sentimental items to return to their owners without being asked to.

He hated seeing others use you, he felt like it was only his right to have you running around searching for him.

Whenever your focus drifted elsewhere, he'd blow up a small colony here to get you chasing after his trail again, plant a small hijacking device on an alliance ship you'd need to save, let some info slip so your sources could get a tip on him.

Let your pathetic crew think they managed to track him when he turned off his own firewalls just long enough to ignite the flames.

He always gives you just enough to keep the fire burning, just enough to keep him out of reach with you on his heels.

Just enough so you don't get distracted by lesser matters.

Or lesser people.

He has seen your record, read your personal information reports and he was not impressed by the person you've called your lover.

What do you even see in them?

Now he can't have his cute little commander getting distracted by some lame date or a sorry excuse of a person you call a lover, no he needs you to focus on him.

And if slitting more throats was all it took to keep your pretty eyes focused on him, then can you really blame him?

Can you blame him for looking forward to each fight with you.

Your back aches from the sharp stones of the cracked wall behind you digging into your armour. Legs floating just above the ground below as you were helplessly pinned to the wall by a hand against your throat, helmet cracked open with your eyes glaring into the masked figure in front of you.

There's a sharp dagger against your heart, an obsidian blade threatening to tear through your armour like paper. It has also dug a way through to your bare flesh with its tip, you feel the cold press of the sharp stone against your skin.

Heart beating, your fingers stay still against the trigger of your pistol. Despite the barrel pressed directly onto the temple of his head, Kai Leng paid it no attention as his closed his body against yours more.

Thighs touching each other, the heat radiating off of the two of you from your previous game of cat and mouse. The way he keeps all of your weight lifted off of the ground with just a single hand, pressing hard enough to choke you but not cut your air off.

He's smiling, a gesture so seemingly innocent yet smug at your scowling expression. Each one holding the thread of life of each other, the threat of snapping it hangs thick in the air but neither of you makes the first move.

The dagger is steady against your heart, his body keeps moving closer. You're struggling not to let your grip on the pistol falters, it's all you have left.

Letting go of your neck, the supply of air makes you regain your wits. His body is tightly pressed against your now, the blunt edge of his dagger pressing against his own heart.

Strangely, his free hand holds you lovingly. Holds you like you're partners in a slow dance, like you're seconds away from sharing a kiss after months spent at sea away from your lover.

His face is moving in, your eyes are glued to his lips. Your mouth parts on its own.

Closing your eyes, you feel your finger slipping from the trigger on the pistol. You feel the dagger faltering.

Within a second, you immediately bring up your knee to dig painful in his stomach and free yourself. He staggers backward before finding a cover from the barrage of bullets you fire his way.

The dagger slashed across your armor, a line from your heart and upwards to collar bone. The marks of his fingers on your neck left a visible bruise.

He noticed your high collared wardrobe choices in the following weeks, the corner of his lips tugging upwards at the purple traces peaking through the turtlenecks you wore.

But his own bruise from your solid knee hitting his stomach was on fill display as he wore lighter clothes during his training. Stopping in front of the mirror in his room to lift his shirt and admire the mark you've left on him.

He wanted more.

He wanted your claws marking down his back, he wanted your thighs squeezing his waist until it bruised.

Your teethmarks against his neck and shoulders, a slap to the face, a punch to bruise his side.

Reducing the two of you to animals in a state of primal fighting for domination, he wanted you to give your best to him and watch as he still overpowers you.

Make you struggle for your life and then lose to him, time after time he wanted to keep you frustrated and losing.

Making the acclaimed hero, the Commander Shepard, feel weak against another human for once in your life.

It gave him such a power trip. A rush of ego going straight to his heart and between his legs.

You were his. Since the day you the Illusive man handed him your file, you were fated to be his.

He wanted you more than anything, he wanted you more than air itself at times. Wanted to push and prod you and experience all of your reactions, wanted to put you below him then watch you flip him over.

Kai Leng will take anything and everything you have to offer, be it love or hate. He will gladly feed his obsession off of both, make you feel his body pressing against yours during each encounter.

Remind you of your equal, that you're not the unbreakable titanium everyone claims you to be.

That just like him, you're human too. Weak and prone to error.

He will never look at you with stars in his eyes like the rest of your loyal crew does. He will never see you as bigger than life like the other humans do.

He will always see past all the fancy titles, shiny medals and heavy armour.

And see you. Not Shepard, not your last name and not the commander.

But you.

Bare, strong, weak.

And no one else besides him will get that, no one else will be your equal but him.

He will make sure of it, that you won't get to experience this with anyone else.

Everyone is worshipping at your feet. Doesn't it get tiring? Don't you want to feel alive? Really alive rather than being reduced to this symbol of hope rather than the living being you are?

And so he reminds you of that, several messages disguised as war reports or intel from military officials sent by him.

Only for the first line to be met with, is him praising you for doing such a good job and opening these messages, falling straight into his trap.

Be good for him, read through the whole thing. Through all the demeaning praise and gratifying insults, through all the things he has written about you.

Like eating at a restaurant and leaving a review afterwards, that's how he treats those battles the two of you have. Sending you a performance review afterwards and listing the things you did wrong and how to improve them.

Making you the more confused by him, by why he does the things he does.

Sometimes, his messages include information about you that no one else knows, references to moments you were sure you've spent alone, past, and present.

He ignores every questioning message you send him, cherry picking the parts of your message to reply to.

He grew more and more unhinged with his messages as time went on, more and more shameless with his voicing his inner thoughts on a recording and sending it to you.

There's a faint sound of gunshots and screams in the background, as if he was recording them on missions. Forcing you to have to listen to them so you may catch any details on where he was and who he was killing.

Other times, you started finding things on your bed and desk that you were sure you didn't buy whenever you came back from a shore break on the Citidal.

A dark chocolate candy bar on your desk.

An apple on the table.

A shirt that's not quite your size, washed and folded on the bed.

A perfume that smells faintly familiar.

One handwritten letter you found, stabbed to the bedframe with an obsidian dagger.

"The legend of Shepard needs to be re-written.

I hope l'm there for the last chapter. It ends with your death."

[sinitimacy]

the urge to have him pin me like that....

[yuujipaws]

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒, fetishes & turn ons . . . 𝐎𝐇 𝐌𝐘 .ᐟ

ᯓ★ synopsis 概要 : shorts on what i think some of the jjk mens kinks would be.

ᯓ★ featuring 特集 : gojo, geto, toji, sukuna.

「 minors do not interact 」

ᯓ★ word count 語数 : 893

ᯓ★ content warnings 警告 : afab! reader. oral (f), overstimulation, p in v, begging, teasing, praise & degrading, cockwarming, slight somnophilia, daddy kink, nippleplay, consensual non con.

GOJO . . . enjoys overstimulation, especially when it comes to giving you head. your clit is already sensitive to the touch, so much so that he cannot place a finger on your bare clit without you gasping and squirming, shooting sensations pulsing from that area. he has to rub you over your clitoral hood, so that there’s at least a soft, cushiony barrier between your most sensitive parts, and his roughened thumb; but when it comes to his mouth, it’s just heavenly. the way he laps you up, tongue peeking into your hole as deep as it will go, pushing in a finger as his mouth works on your clit, sucking and swirling. after a bit, you start to get overwhelmed, the sensations coming from your abdomen making you squirm almost out of his grip. “mmhnnn.” satoru shakes his head slightly, wrapping strong arms around your already shaking thighs. “please, no more, i can’t take it.” you plead with him, just before his mouth releases your clit with a wet and sloppy ‘pop’ before telling you, “you’ll take as much as i want you to. you’re mine.” viciously sucking at you until you’ve came, again and again.

GETO . . . likes cockwarming. sometimes it was while he was on the game, noticing you walking around the house in damn near nothing, whistling to get your attention. he would pull his shorts down just enough, motioning for you to come sit on his lap. of course you had no issue with this, discarding your panties to go sit on his lap, with his cock buried deep inside of you. sometimes you would wiggle around and earn a harsh slap to your ass, or what he could reach of it. other times he was thrusting into you after losing, or even winning a match. you didn’t mind, as long as he was giving you attention. sometimes cockwarmimg geto was a little different, like when he is tired and needy, snuggling with you in bed. he can feel your ass pressed against him, and whether you were trying or not, you made him hard. sometimes he will pull off his shorts, sticking the tip against you and if you’re wet enough, it slides right in. you can hear him hum softly, settling in, feeling the warmth of your walls, he wraps his arms around you to sleep for the night. once he wakes in the morning, and realizes his cock is still hard and inside of you, he fucks you awake.

TOJI . . . has a daddy kink, ironically. it started off as just a joke, him calling himself big daddy, or telling you he was your daddy; and at first, you didn’t know how to feel about it, but weeks of thinking, and possibly some subliminal conditioning from your lovely, perverted boyfriend had changed your mind. “do it, slut.” he was hovered over you, tip of his cock pressed against your slick hole, teasing, but only enough to have you frustrated and almost begging. he wouldn’t put it in until— “say it.” he demanded of you, hand coming up to grip your soft cheeks, keeping your focus on him. you wanted to, but it felt so foreign on your tongue, saying it when you were alone just to get a taste of the word in your mouth. “daddy?” you finally let it slip, your voice light and airy, the word coming out almost as if it were a question. “that’s it, good. say it again, like you mean it.” less demanding this time, but he still wouldn’t put it in until he was satisfied, and he could tell it was bothering you. the way you wiggled your hips and tried your best to push yourself down onto his cock, but it was useless in that position, lying on your back you were helpless beneath him. “daddy please.” this time it sounded better, more natural as the words just fell off of your tongue, begging him to finally wreck you; to which he did, until you were a crying and cumming mess.

SUKUNA . . . likes cnc. he rather enjoys watching you squirm and cry beneath him, begging for him to stop. you’ve already established a safeword, and he always confirms it before going into a scene; knowing that if that word fell from your lips, he would stop immediately. “baby, what’s your safeword?” he asks you, and once you respond he begins to push himself onto you, feeling up your thighs, squishing soft skin and pushing his rough fingers between the warmth of them. “please..” you whimper, knowing it turns him on to hear you beg. he ignores you, his free hand pulling your tank top down to reveal your chest and already budding nipples. with his head dipping down to put one in his mouth, his other hand worked his way up your thighs and right against your panties. “please, stop!” you protest, gasping at the feeling of his teeth, nipping and sucking before releasing their grip, his fingers down below pushing past the fabric of lace, plunging themselves into your sweet dripping hole. “you know you want this, that’s why you don’t fight me.” the man snickered at your obedience, the way your hole clenched around his fingers when he spoke. “relax, enjoy this.” he hums, pumping his fingers in and out until you’re begging for him to let you cum.

© yuujipaws 2024. all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, modify or use works as your own.

[konigsblog]

P!LINK COD MWII MASTERLIST (🌽)

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. STRICTLY 18+. ALL MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED.

BEWARE: DARKER THEMES BELOW.

PHOTO CREDIT: GLUTT_R ON 🐦/X

KÖNIG

riding könig for the first time (inexperienced!reader)

somnophilia with pervert!könig

taking kidnapper!könig for the first time

size difference with petite!reader and könig

“just the tip, könig.” with loser!könig

loser!könig who loses control (breeding kink)

being groped by kidnapper!könig (hole inspection)

forced breeding with pervert!könig

hope inspection with older boyfriend!könig

virginity loss with könig (virgin!reader)

letting virgin!könig use your body (virginity loss)

raped and recorded by könig

entertainment for kidnapper!könig (non-con)

raped in public by rapist!könig

incel!könig making porn for his online girlfriend

SIMON ‘GHOST’ RILEY

punishments with brat!reader and simon riley (brat taming)

relaxing simon riley with your pussy

‘obedience’ with simon riley

stepbrother!simon riley and his best friends

humping your stepfather's bulge

car sex with stepbro!simon riley

rough dom!simon riley and his fuck doll

being manhandled by your stepbrother

raped by kidnapper!simon

being filled by simon riley (breeding kink)

hole inspection with simon riley

cock worship with older boyfriend!simon

rough dom!simon x brat!reader (brat taming)

punishments with stepfather!simon

having your attitude fixed by your lieutenant

semi-clothed sex with pervert!simon

raped for intel by lieutenant!simon

JOHN ‘SOAP’ MACTAVISH

pervert!soap x milf!reader (morning sex)

“just the tip, i promise.” with stepbro!soap

your needy stepbro attempting to distract you

rough dom!stepbro!soap punishing you

playful!stepbro!soap and his virgin stepsister virginity loss

stepbro!soap eating you out

cuddling fucking with stepbro!soap

drunken sex with loser!soap

“fuck, don’t stop, bonnie...” handjobs with soap

being fingered by stepbro!soap

mutual masturbation with soap

stepson!soap with stepmom!reader

KYLE ‘GAZ’ GARRICK

shower sex with pervert!gaz

the type of videos gym bro!gaz sends you

riding gaz in your new lingerie

the result of getting high with stepbro!gaz

having your insides rearranged by gaz

riding gaz for the first time

“don’t pull out!” with pervert!gaz

sucking off gaz for the first time (inexperienced!reader)

letting virgin!gaz play with your cunt while you're high

treating soft!gaz to a handjob after his deployment

virgin!reader fucking themselves back on gaz

CAPTAIN JOHN PRICE

being eaten out by john price (1)

being eaten out by john price (2)

morning sex with older boyfriend!price

spit play with older boyfriend!price

morning sex with sugar daddy!price

being eaten out by sugar daddy!price

manhandled by price

making out with price

stepdad!price and his slutty, daft stepdaughter

[starry-bi-sky]

I am loudly pushing the batdad agenda i am loudly pushing the— DPxDC Prompt

“Woah. You look like shit."

Granted, that’s probably not the first thing Danny should be saying to the guy that just bit the curb, but in his defense; he’s not running on 100% right now either.

The man -- tall, towering, and broader than Danny is tall -- whips around on his heel, black frayed cape flaring out impressively. Danny would've whistled in appreciation, but he takes the time instead to wipe the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing the blood running from his nose across his cheek.

"Sorry." He blinks widely, not even flinching as the man with the horns zeroes in on him. "That was rude of me. I have a really bad brain-to-mouth filter; Sam says its what always gets me into trouble."

And she's not wrong either, per say. His smart mouth is what landed him in this situation -- with blood blossom extract running through his veins and cannibalizing the ectoplasm in his bloodstream. Thanks Vlad.

The man grunts at him; a short, curt "hm" that shouldn't make Danny smile, but he does because he's somewhat delirious and probably concussed. The man keeps some kind of distance, sinking towards the shadows of Gotham's alleyway like he dares to melt right into it.

If it's supposed to scare Danny, it doesn't work. Danny's never been afraid of the dark; he's always been able to hide himself in it. He blinks slowly at the mass of shadows.

"You look hurt." The shadows says, blurring together around the edges. Danny squints, and licks his lips to get the blood dripping down his chin off. Ugh, he hates the taste of blood.

"I am." He says, "My godfather poisoned me. M'dying." The agony of the blood blossom eating him from the inside out looped back around to numbing a while ago, so all he feels is half-awake and dazed.

"Hey," Danny stumbles forward towards the man, a bloodied hand reaching out to him. "You-- you're a hero, right? You're not attacking me; which is more than I can say for most costumed people I've met." Maybe it's a poor bar to judge someone at, but he's already established that Danny's not in his right mind.

The man makes no change in expression, but Danny realizes blearily that it's hard to tell with the shadows on his face. He stays still long enough for Danny to latch onto the cape -- stretchy, but almost soft under his fingers.

He looks up blearily into the whites of the man's eyes. "Can you help me? I don't-- I don't wanna die." Again. He doesn't wanna die again. He blinks slow and lizard-like. "I mean- I'll probably get to see mom and dad again, but I told them I'd at least try and make it to adulthood."

There's a clatter down the street, and Danny's ghost sense chills up his spine and leaves a bitter, ashy taste in his mouth. He immediately knows who it belongs to even before the deceptively gentle; "Daniel?" echoes down the way.

"Daniel? Quit your games, badger, Gotham is dangerous for children."

Danny's mouth pulls back, and blood spills against his tongue. "Please." He rasps, and grabs onto the shadow's cape with both hands. "Please. He's going to kill me. Please--"

"Daniel? Is that you?"

His lips part, dragging in air to plead with the darkness again. He doesn't need to, the whites of his eyes narrow, and the cape whirls around him before Danny can blink. Soon swaddled in shadows, the Night lifts him up, and steals him away.

[svuguru]

Somno with stepdaddy Toji 🍬

Toji gazes down at you fondly as you shift in your sleep, your eyes screwed shut and your teeth sunken into your lower lip. Your short shorts are pulled up high thanks to your crazy sleeping, your tank top lifted up to your chest and exposing just a peak of your tit.

A faint, "fuck," falls from Toji's lips before he lowers himself down to his knees, placing his hands on your waist and gently pulling you closer to him. His eyes are glued to your sleeping form as he carefully hooks two fingers to the waistband of your shorts, sliding them down your warm thighs.

Toji groans at the sight of your damp panties after spreading your legs, reaching for his hard, strained cock and palming at it intensely. He leans down between your thighs, a breath escaping his lips before he licks a stripe up the wet area on your panties. His eyes roll back and he quickly peels your panties off of you, biting his lip at the sight of your dripping pussy.

"Havin' a wet dream, huh, princess? Dirty girl," Toji grunts into the heat of your pussy, your walls clenching around nothing as you whimper. You throw your head to the side, sinking it into the supple pillow and your hair is spread all around the sheets. He takes two fingers again and drags them across your soaking cunt, swirling them around before slowly slipping them into your tight hole.

Just at the feeling of his fingers inside of you has his cock aching inside of his pants, silently humping the mattress as he curse under his breath. You squirm and shift in your sleep, murmuring a soft, "daddy...", drawing out a quiet laugh from Toji.

"All wet for daddy, huh?" He knits his eyebrows together, "shit, take it for daddy..." The way you suck Toji's fingers in like a vice has him imagining just how tight and warm you'd be when you actually do take his dick, how you'd struggle to fit all of him in and how you'd look up at him with teary, doe eyes, repeating how you need him and how you want him, begging him to hit it raw with no barrier between you and your stepdaddy.

Toji starts thrusting his wrist, sliding his finger in and out of your sopping hole, your juices coating his digits. Your eyes flutter open, meeting Toji's greedy eyes and you gasp.

"Mhh... Daddy..? What are you doing?" You slur sleepily, eyes droopy. Toji only leans down again to plant a kiss to your clit, his soft breaths muffled by the bundle of nerves.

"Shh, baby, shh... Take it for daddy, yeah? For daddy, do it for me."

[envy-of-the-apple]

Sun Eats Moon

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

Word count: 9.1k

Part two: Earth Kills Moon

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. 

[moechies]

hhfrhrhrh stepdad nanami absolutely demolishing u in bed

“daddy.. daddy—“

“hm, princess? daddy’s here,”

he holds your face in between his fingers, a gentle tap to your cheeks when your eyes gaze off somewhere else.

he pistons into your cunt like a fucking machine, contradicting to his sweet words. you’re barely able to take a breath before he presses into the fat of your cunt yet again, forcing a weighed cry from your throat.

an offering of shade hovers over you as he leans above your body with his; blocking off all sight of what’s beyond him, the only thing visible in your vision is the handsome face of your dearest stepfather.

your cunt creams around his heavy base, pearlescent rings of cum that form lewd, wet noises as he fucks your cunt.

“creamin’ all over the place, hm. does it feel good sweetheart?”

and you're unable to provide a verbal answer, only a humiliating loud moan that leaves your lips; but he'll take it as a yes.

"d-daddy.. no more.. too.. much!"

"no princess, be good. you want daddy to give you your reward, right?"

your small hand tightens around his bicep.

"y-yes.. i wan— wan' daddy's reward.."

"there we go, that's my sweet girl."

nanami knows anything you say is out of the goodness of your heart, and not from a single thought provoked in your head; but he doesn't care.

because stepdaddy nanamin knows that you would never say no to him anyways.

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Short Stories:

Let Me In

Yandere Francis Mosses (Doppelgänger) x GN Reader

Swish. Swish.

You leaned back as your foot steadily rocked the cushioned seat of your desk chair from side to side. It was yet another boring day of being the doorman for this apartment complex. Yet you couldn’t help the shudder run down your spine from time to time since you constantly felt under surveillance. Then again, perhaps you were going slightly insane from working such long hours in such a narrow space? There was no way someone would stalk you of all people… right?

You let out a low chuckle at your thoughts. You recently felt as if your days melt together. It was the same routine every single day. Stop the doppelgängers from entering the apartment complex. Check their IDs and entry requests. Call their room. You were tired of this consistent repetitive pattern! You wanted some excitement for once-

“Hello.” You jumped to attention when a handsome man stood before you. Your eyes nearly shot out of your head at the blood that stained his face. Was it macabre of you to find that attractive. “I just got off work and I’d like to call it a day in my apartment.”

“Y-you have a little.” Your breath hitched when he wiped the blood off with his thumb and gave you the faintest of smiles.

“Ah. I hadn’t realized I made a mess earlier. Thank you.” The man then handed you his ID and entry request. Francis Mosses was it? He was indeed a looker and his ID checked out… but he wasn’t on today’s list.

“I’m sorry, Francis. You’re not on the list today-“ you scream when he slammed his hands on the window. His half-lidded eyes now wide open and bloodshot. This man no longer looked like an angel, but rather a demon. A demon that would no doubt rip you apart and swallow you whole.

“I’m not on the list? I’m sure you could let me in.” You quickly push the emergency button but his large hands grab the metal doors before you can shut them completely. You gulp when you spot the veins bulging from his gray hands. “Haven’t you been bored lately? You always look so lonely at your desk… I’m sure I could show you a good time.”

Well, Francis wasn’t wrong- no! You can’t endanger the residents! You dialed the D.D.D’s number with haste which made the doppelgänger sigh.

“Fine! Have it your way.” Francis casted you one last look. “But I will be back. And you will let me in. Remember, I’m always watching.”

You deflated like a ballon and sunk back into your chair. Your body felt as if your bones had completely melted from how scared you were… you’ve never encountered such an aggressive doppelgänger before…

“You have contacted the D.D.D. A group of agents has been sent to your building.” The garbled voice on the other end of the line brought you back down to reality.

You sighed and leaned forward to put your face in your palms. What on earth did Francis mean that he would always be watching?

[sol-consort]

Not to be toxic but fuck, imagine how easy it would be to manipulate an angar huh? You can get one wrapped around your finger in no time. It'd be like tricking a toddler to do something.

They're so trusting and never look for hidden intentions. Humans are so cunning and are great actors. Gaslighting them would be a piece of cake.

On the other hand, Drell and Salarians must be masters at gaslighting since they can use their perfect memory as an explanation on why you're wrong and don't remember things correctly.

Krogans feel easy to manipulate emotionally but the second you slip, they catch on.

Turians maybe psychologically? They're raised on the service of others and neglecting their own needs. It would be easy to lovebomb one, getting them hooked on your praise and gifts so they always seek your approval because no one else gave them this much personal attention.

For humans, just stroke their ego. 90% of us will move mountains if someone makes us feel speical.

The asari and hanar however, feel much harder to manipulate. Especially asari. You can't outwit a parasite who's already manipulating your mind.

Protheons?...maybe? It's hard to tell with Javik as the only frame of reference. If you prey on his loneliness, maybe just maybe he'll listen to your suggestions.

But Javik is the key to controlling any hanar. When you're the boss of their supposed god, it'd be blasphemy for them not to listen to you.

[konigsblog]

WARNINGS: NON-CON/DUB-CON, STEPCEST, INTOXICATION, SOMNOPHILLIA. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT.

to write about stepbrother's johnny, kyle and simon...

all of them being so perverted, yet so predictable. :(

you can't wear a short dress around simon, otherwise he'll bombard you with questions, asking where you think you're going whilst dressed like a hooker! believe him, he's just looking out for you... but, when you come home drunk, attempting to hide in your room, simon is already convincing and coercing you into his bedroom, where he'll demand you to suck him off and let him fuck your tight, little asshole. gripping your soft tits over your short dress, rolled up around your waist as he begins to thrust and grind deep into your swollen, puffy and glistening folds.

you can't wear shorts around johnny because it drives him crazy. even your other stepbrothers will tell you to cover up, because johnny's acting depraved; palming himself in front of everyone, and eyeing you up like a feast. if you do, he'll be humping you constantly, trying to get you to bend over so he can get a nice view of your ass... you may even wake up to johnny rubbing his hard boner over your clothed ass, all drowsy and conditioned, tip soaking your skimpy pajama shorts, thick and milky cum oozing from the head of his achingly hard cock, while he apologises profusely, telling you to go back to sleep, that he'll be quick...

you can't wear anything revealing around kyle, nothing whatsoever, he'll find a way to sexualise you somehow. when you're wearing a low cut top, one that reveals too much cleavage, he can't resist. he'll grope you and kiss your breasts, telling you it's alright for a stepbrother to touch you like this because it's done with protectiveness, making sure you're safe in his arms, the perverted bastard lying straight to your face and being so touchy and perverted.

wearing bikinis? it's like you're asking to be fucked like a whore... :( during a pool party, he'll corner you in the bathroom and have his way with you, fucking your sweet pussy while you tell him it's not alright for a stepbrother to be so depraved with his stepsister!

[ozzgin]

Had this idea today and I couldn't help myself. Feel free to replace it with your own The Fic™ that's an instant ticket to hell.

[svuguru]

Satoru making it fit with his cute lil stepsis . . . ꨄ︎

⤹ "Can't, 'toru, 's too much !" you whine, pulling at the bedsheets as you look down at Satoru who's slowly inching himself in.

"Shh... Shh, baby, 's barely the tip," he laughs, his hand gently caressing your tear stained cheek. You squirm, throwing your head from side to side, your lower lip trembling and fixed into a pout.

"C-Can- *hic* can't do it, 'toru... 's too big, won' fit!" You tell him as your other hand begins to tug at his white short sleeve t-shirt, tears still falling from your lash line even though it's been almost ten minutes of him trying to make it fit.

"s why we'll make it fit, dolly," Satoru gently slides his fat cock into your warm, tight cunt and you're already gassping and whining at the intensity.

"toru, 's so big!" You gasp, mouth formed into a sweet "O" shape, your other hand now flying to his other sleeve.

"I know, but you can take it, yeah? Take it like a good girl for your big stepbrother."

[freelanderadventures]

Does this darkness have your name?

Photo by Federico De Angelis (Please don’t remove the credits)

[morxwar]

dirty thoughts 💭

[sol-consort]

Yandere shepard x reader ryder thooo, like, it's commander fucking shepard. Shepard just walks off any blow for their cute pathfinder, headbutts krogans to protect Ryder. Shepard CAN and WILL do anything even if it seems impossible. Kett wouldn't have stood a chance. (How awkward would meeting Alec be at family dinners? Would Alec approve of their kid getting with a older n7? Then again it is commander Shepard!)

Alec would be so fucking pissed.

Being N7 was brutal and he definitely hated his co-workers, there is a reason he didn't sign up his kids for the same military program. He wanted them to he explorers and not traumatised by the military.

So Shepard being N7 is already a red flag in his book, not to mention their age! Shepard is definitely in their mid-late 30s and Alec would have none of that. They think they could waltz in here and date his 20ish kid? Over his cold dead body.

Like assuming this is still happening in the milky way, Shepard would have the best reputation imaginable for saving the galaxy meanwhile Alec has his reputation and creditability ruined for making an AI and implanting that AI into his brain.

Even if space jesus walked up to his doorstep with roses and medals of honour in hand, Alec would slam the door on Shepard's face if they even hint about taking you for a date.

Imagine if he knew Anderson from his N7 days and Shepard calls in a favour to make him talk with Alec. So now he has a whole fleet admiral at his door trying to convince him to let Shepard take you for a night out.

If Alec wasn't rushing to leave this cursed galaxy because of his ruined reputation, now he is doubling the efforts and speedrunning getting his andromeda project ready to get you away from Shepard.

And you're like, so cute and oblivious to what's happening. Your dad never told you or your twin anything because he wants to protect you. Any attempt Shepard makes at contacting you is blocked by Sam overseering your omni-tool.

But Alec's overprotectivess bites him in the ass when you eventually go out on your own like any adult your age does, and end up stumbling upon THE Commander Shepard, casually.

You have zero idea about their relentless attempts to get to you and obsession. You're flustered for meeting this celebrity who is N7 like your father, especially since you read some articles about Shepard before.

Shepard, who is known to be brutal to there fans and tell them to fuck off if they bothered them on the streets, is all smiles and invites you to the Normandy for a special tour. You won't refuse a commanding officer request, right civilian?

Maybe you really are a fan, or maybe you only read a couple articles about them but don't have the heart to tell them you're not actually a fan. What's the harm in being polite to this war hero and go meet the literal legends of the galaxy? This might as well be your last year in the milky way based on your father's plans after all.

I can't decide if Shepard would prefer having you on the Normandy where they know they can immediately take off with you on board and your father wouldn't be able to do anything.

Or take you to their citedal apartment and let you look around. Maybe sit close to them on the piano while they guide your fingers over the notes to teach you the same song Liara taught them, or maybe mention the fact they have a hottub upstairs in hopes you'd ask to try it.

Finding any excuses to get their hands on you. Resting it around your waist while walking in the street , pulling your body closer to theirs on the pretense it's crowded. Making you hold their hand while they use their VIP statues to get into exclusive places in the Citadel you normally aren't allowed inside.

Taking you to Artex Arena just to show off and get to play the hero while you try your best to hold your own. Laying on top of you when the two of you are hiding under cover from an enemy, releashing in the way you squirm underneath them especially since you haven't seen combat before.

Imagine the rest of the crew's reaction when Shepard suddenly bings them to cancel shore leave and go back to the Normandy just because they want to take you for a spin around the galaxy. Convincing you it will be very quick so don't worry about coming home late.

Joker watches Shepard bringing you to the helm and showing you the amazing views from the windows. You're in awe of the stars and like any proud pilot, he tries to show off his knowledge and his skills to you but Shepard cuts him off and talks about their own achievements instead. Completely shutting down the idea of you growing closer to Joker instead of them.

You ask to touch Garrus's scar and his cheeks glow blue for a second before nodding his head, bc how could he say no to this adorable human civilian? But Shepard interrupts and tells you how it's bad to touch turians, could be deadly to them, blatantly lying in front of Garrus.

If it's renegade Shepard, I see them mentioning the fact the glowing scars on their face is more interesting, why don't you touch them instead? Here their hands will guide yours.

Maybe Liara and Tali find you before Shepard could sneak you up to their personal quarters. Liara mentions knowing your father and how he always says good things about you, meanwhile tali is very fascinated by the Andromeda project and she mentions working on the qaurian ark design and she has some blueprints she'd love to run by you.

The two woman happy to talk your ears off for literal hours if they could. You're just so earnest and eager to please, it makes them want to share more since everyone else in this ship is so jaded and boring.

Shepard hating the idea of having to share you with them so they order Tali to go check in on the engine, telling Liara that they saw Gylph wander outside of her room. Any made up excuses to get them away from you.

And just when Shepard gets you to their quarters, let's you get busy looking at the ship models or petting their hamster. They send message to Joker to immediately take off and go as far as he could from the Citadel, engage full stealth systems.

Shepard almost wins, almost gets the chance to have you stay over for a whole week or more in here because "an urgent mission came up" and "I could teach you how to shoot better"

Except. Joker's request to take off is denied last second. Alec somehow figured out where you are and Immediately dialed up Anderson to yell at him for allowing his kid aboard a military ship and how Alec is going there right now and the Normandy better be still docked.

Shepard is happy to sit with you sprawled on their lap, talking about their latest mission while you fidget with a spaceship model before they get an omni-tool call from EDI. They silence it but she dials again and this time it auto-answers.

Alec Ryder is downstairs, and he is demanding his child be handed to him back immediately.

On another note, EDI and Sam feel like they'd be friends but differently. EDI wants to be more human while Sam doesn't become he already gets the human perspective from Alec and eventually the Ryder twins. He is an AI that enjoys being an AI and doesn't attempt to be more humanlike.

If you start dating Shepard and bringing them around, Alec would have to accept it for you but he will always be sour about it because you deserve better.

But imagine the events. Imagine the media and the news. If you thought living in your father's shadow of achievements was hard, imagine having to live under Shepard's. Especially to a Ryder who wants to make a name for themselves.

Shepard would 100% offer to go with you to Andromeda. Bringing the Normandy and their crew with them. Pulling their rank as a spectre whenever you think you could disobey their orders.

You have no choice but to follow the chain of command and let them abuse their authority over you. Making surprise visits to the Tempest and demanding to know who you're taking on mission or why did they see you and PeeBee standing so close together that other day.

Tagging along on missions so much that the only time you get to fight enemies alone is when Shepard is ordered to go deal with bigger more important missions and you finally have room to breath.

After your first contact with the angara, Shepard is immediately hostile to Jaal because what if they killed you? What were you thinking going to a new species like that? Did you forget about the turians first contact?

They use this stunt against you when you try and argue that you don't need their supervision. Ordering you to stand down and obey, they saved the galaxy, you don't get to question their judgement.

But they're so soft the day after when you're visibly hurt from their words. They pull you close and kiss you tenderly, reminding you that they're doing this for your own good and to protect you. You don't have to think, you're not fit to be a leader or a hero, they would know. So don't argue with them and stop playing pretend with your father's armour.

Constantly offering you a spot on the Normandy as their own personal assistant. No no it's different from Tryner, you won't do any actual work, all you have to do is be pretty and stay out of harms way. Tend to them after missions and answer whenever they call you to their quarters.

You constantly refuse of course, you won't give up the tempest that easily and you enjoy exploring the universe. You're a pathfinder with a big responsibility and you get to decided the future of the people here while Shepard's job is only to protect them.

A paragon Shepard will respect that. They will admire your passion and feel immense guilt at the growing obsession they continue to fester. Whether they ask Liara to keep tabs on you. Excusing their overprotective tendencies because they only want your best.

A renegade Shepard would squash down your dreams and any sense of self importance. Saying actually now, their job is to save your damn ass and you wouldn't even be alive if it wasn't for them protecting everyone. How you're clearly clumsy and not up to the task of being a pathfinder, just because your father choose you doesn't make you automatically qualified.

Renegade Shepard would try to sleep with you often, disregarding proper time and place. Not caring for your personal boundaries and going through your room in the tempest quite often.

While Paragon Shepard tries to connect with you emotionally more, show their love and dedication, how you're the single person in life that keeps them going. They pretend to respect your boundaries but keep subtly pushing the limits and conditioning you into making them the only exception. I mean they are the commander Shepard, the war hero, is it so bad to let them in your room?

Somehow, in both Shepard scenarios, some of your clothes and underwear always go missing after these visits.