It's The Little Things C. Kamo

figured you out

1900 words. pining. possessive behaviour. sexual tension. obsession. light stalking.

{Dedicated to @mythblossoms and @spiderlilypetals aka the enablers of my mental instability}

Note: this entire thing is me basically calling out @rose-tinted-kalopsia, @unluckywisher, and @starmocha for setting off a Caleb-sized inferno in my brain and keeping the fire going for weeks now. All of you on my feed combined with the lyrics of this song are entirely to blame so here’s me getting Caleb out of my system (liar) xoxo

The barrier between focus and obsession was glass-thin and shaped like a trigger. One decision, one small flick of a finger away from shattering. 

Obsession was an itch, fleeting, temporary. But focus? Focus was ambition, determination, winning.

That’s why Caleb had always been a creature of restraint, the very picture of self-control. As a boy, when he set his sights on something, he never burned with want. Wanting was purposeless.

Instead he would set his focus on whatever it was — sweets, trinkets, secrets, toys — until he found a way to make it his. Until he carefully maneuvered the object of his desires right into his little grasp. 

Caleb didn’t wish, he didn’t desire.

He conquered. 

Only this time, his focus wasn’t on a conquest. It wasn’t on a mission, or a lab data report, or a secret he could use to his advantage. It wasn’t power or strategy or survival. 

It was you. 

From the very beginning, you’d been the object of his focus. Your affection, your thoughts, your wit, your emotions. Everything that made you tick, he’d picked up and studied like the rarest gem.

And now? Now your fingerprints were sewn permanently into his heart, holding together the thing that beat in his chest. Now, he was light years apart from the boy he’d been, and yet you still gripped it tightly, your hand too small to keep that shriveled and charred, bloody mess together.

But the taste of your laughter, the sound of your skin, the feeling of your scent? Every moment of disorientation you created within him only served to reinforce his lifelong focus on you.

Military training, tests, experimentation chambers, nothing upended the center of his gravity like you.

From the dim hallway, Caleb watched you. His gaze — deep purple with motes of gold, an iris bloom washed in sunset — mapped the coordinates of your smile, measured the radar of your thumping pulse, calculated the precise trajectory of your movements as you fluttered around the small group of Hunters you were meeting with at the Association for a late night UNICORNS debrief.

You’d never understood entirely how you affected him. No one did, he’d made sure of it. Not your mutual friends growing up, not the woman who’d raised you, not the laughing fool you were talking to right now. Not even your Hunter partner across the table from you.

Caleb knew you better. Treated you better. He always had.

It’s because none of them actually took the time to see you, not really. Not like he did. And no matter how far apart you two got, that would never change. 

You were an enigma to them, a cluster of ridges and buttons in a cockpit, unfulfilled in an amateur's grasp. Dormant without expert handling and care. 

But Caleb had long ago solved you — your wants, your vulnerabilities, your secrets, your fears, your weaknesses. He'd seen you bared before him and had figured you out. Down to the very core in your heart.

Even within the darkest depths of the universe, with no sense or feeling, he would know exactly where to trail each of his fingers. How much pressure to apply to every delicate divot. The precise combination and rhythm to elicit a response.

The way he could guide you, command you, the way he could make you take flight for him? It would be… explosive.

The melody of your sudden laughter extinguished the heat that had started to lick its way down his body as he watched you give them the version of yourself they expected. Amiable, innocent, polished. 

As your meeting came to an end and you and your colleagues stood to leave, the shadows shifted around Caleb as he pushed off from the wall he’d been leaning against. Pulling the DAA clearance card that had kept the door behind him open, he took a step into the corridor that would lead to his quiet exit. 

Only he knew where your smile dented into your cheek. Only he knew the cadence of your breaths when you spoke. Only he knew what you looked like when your guard was truly down. When you sighed, cried, hurt, and slept. Only he was worthy of seeing it.

Only Caleb had forged himself into a man worthy of loving you.

The night was thick with fog when he watched you step out of the Hunter’s Association, your shadow dancing across the concrete under the warm glow of the street lamps.

As you parted ways with your colleagues, Caleb studied the elegant line of your throat, the way it expanded and contracted around the hum of your voice.

He knew the exact shape of it by memory, — all those times you'd looked up at him to smile at him, to talk to him, to argue with him — the softness of the delicate skin there, the way it would feel under his palm, under his mouth. Fluttering, warm, alive.

He wasn’t supposed to be here, not away from Skyhaven, not in a darkened alleyway by your workplace where the lamp light barely even reached.

But as the sound of your footsteps ticked over the hum of the city, as each of your movements brought you closer to the corner of the building, to him, the oxygen funneling into his brain seemed to thin, and the rational part of his mind, his focus, took a backseat. 

The sight of you walking toward him was so right, so inevitable that Caleb barely even realized how far out of the shadows he was leaning, how quickly he’d snapped himself back into your orbit. 

He, the metal, you, the magnet.

The fist of his right arm clenched as he forced himself to stay in place, to stop leaning toward you on the off chance the sweetness of your skin would enter his nose. The connection between you was so physical, pulled so taut, that he almost couldn’t believe you'd never sought to close the distance, that you’d ever accepted his death so easily.

That had always been your biggest mistake, though. Thinking that he’d ever allow something as trivial as mortality to sever what bound you to him. 

He shouldn’t reach for you. He knew that. And yet, as you closed the distance, he stepped closer. Just enough to feel your presence pull against him.

His evol stirred, faint but insistent, brushing against the edges of your space like a ribbon. The pull of you was so familiar, so tangible, he could feel every cell, all the matter that made up your beautiful existence. 

Suddenly, without his permission, his hand shot out, gently enveloping your wrist as you passed.

You spun around, your instincts awakened, and in one fluid motion the barrel of your gun was aimed at his chest. He almost chuckled at the sight, but the intensity on your face kept him quiet.

Your eyes widened, shock and incredulity clicking into place when they finally registered Caleb’s presence. “You…” the sentence withers in your throat.

“Hello, pip,” he said softly, raising a brow at the gun. “Still using that move?”

Your eyes flicked across the contours of his face like a laser, his hair, his cheeks, his eyes, his jaw, no detail escaping your notice before you stuttered, “C-Caleb? Bu— You’re supposed to be…”

He felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth as the letters of his name curled around your tongue for the first time in what felt like an eternity. “I still might if you don’t put that away,” he said mildly. 

Your grip on the weapon tightened reflexively, but it didn’t lower. Interesting. 

Moving with military-like precision, too quickly for you to counteract it, Caleb’s hand shot out, hitting the gun and dislodging it from your grasp. 

You froze, hooking your gaze into his as he tested the weight of it in his hand, the barrel pointing at your chest for one second, two seconds, three... before he aimed it at the ground.

“Tsk, tsk. So careless.” The soft click of the safety flicking on pierced the air between them. “Someone could’ve gotten hurt, pipsqueak.”

“How did you… how are you…?” there’s a faint tremor in your tone and your eyes turn glassy. 

“Shh,” Caleb stepped closer, close enough to feel your shaky exhale against his throat like a wave of summer air, close enough to reach around you to place your gun back in the holster on your hip. Close enough that his forehead brushed yours. “I missed you too.”

For half a second, he saw your guard slip, your face caught between disbelief and longing. 

And then, like feeling an engine ignite, he knew exactly which of your buttons he’d just flicked. Before the anger even had a chance to crackle across your irises. Before your palms came up to his chest and shoved at it. “I went to your funeral.”

“My funeral, hm?” His body had barely swayed, but his amused, love-drunk smile never wavered when he decided to press another button. “Did you cry for me, then?” 

Caleb’s evol flared, and he had your hands lowered — eyelashes fluttering in surprise, back and palms pinned to the building behind you — before you’d even finished the thought of shoving him again. 

With your hands out of the way, as you struggled against the bindings of his evol, Caleb finally took the chance to cup your face in his hands, cradling it like it was the very nucleus of his life force. 

“Hey. Hey,” he soothed, re-familiarizing himself with the contour of your jaw beneath his fingers. “I’d never leave you in a world without me, pip, you know me better than that.”

“I thought I did,” you gritted out, the confusion and betrayal in your voice slowing your movements. "Now, I'm not so sure."

He took advantage of your hesitation, brushing the bow of his upper lip against the bump of your lower one.

“You do, though,” he reassured.  “Just like I know you. Better than anyone ever could.” Caleb reached out, his knuckles grazing your cheek. “Your anger, your love” His hand went to the steel-chain tag that hung around his neck. “Wants. Needs.” His nose traced the bridge of yours and he reveled in another one of your shaky breaths. “Outside…” His voice roughened, “Inside.”

Just as you quit struggling, just as your confusion fissured and your body turned languid against his, just as you gave in, Caleb released you, taking a step back to enjoy the sight of you trying to find your footing.

“Now you’ll never doubt that I’ll always find you.” His mouth curved into the charismatic smile he was known to flash at his general when he gestured toward the street. “It’s late, pipsqueak. Get yourself home.”

Your chest heaved with what were no doubt a dozen of your favorite insults, but you didn’t voice any of them. Instead, you clenched your jaw, straightened your shoulders, and bit out, “I’m going to— I can’t believe— No, I can’t do this right now. This isn’t over, Caleb.”

You turned sharply on your heel, your footsteps echoing in the silence as you walked away, steps stiff and uneven. And Caleb watched as the shadows swallowed your figure and you disappeared from view. 

He’d wait, he decided. he could play the long game. He already spent all these months away from you, what were a few more if it helped you realize the raw, unfiltered truth — that he belonged to you. 

And that was the moment the glass barrier shattered, a pulled trigger that splintered his focus into shards of obsession. 

Catching his eyes

Denji angst time!!!

The soft light filters in through the nearby window, casting pillars of light onto his soft blonde hair. His expression is surprisingly tranquil as he sleeps, his eyes closed and his mouth hanging open lightly. Although this reveals razor sharp teeth, it seems unthreatening in this morning light. Seeing Denji this peaceful almost makes it worth it. Almost. 

When he came to you in the middle of the night to lament to you about his suffering, you found it almost impossible to turn him away. As always, you would be his comfort when he had nowhere else to turn. You wanted to help him, after all, you knew how hard he always had it. He had once told you that you were similar to his old dog, whom he could share his dreams with. That you would always listen to him. That’s what you wanted to be for him. But it was so damn hard. Afterall, these dreams of his always starred a girl he could never quite get, and one you could never quite be. 

Makima. 

“Makima.” 

As you said it quietly to yourself, even the name felt wrong on your tongue. It felt like poison, a slow working but fatal poison. Perhaps that is what it was to your relationship with the confused boy in front of you. As he slept on your couch, you could almost imagine that her name would never cross his lips again. But of course, you doubted when he actually rose for the morning that it would take more than five minutes for her name to be brought up by the excited boy. Sometimes you wondered if it was actually love in his heart for the red haired woman, or he simply didn’t know how to express his true feelings. Despite all the time he had spent pouring out his heart to you, you still weren’t quite sure.

When had this happened to you? When had you allowed yourself to fall into this confusing chaotic relationship that would never be a relationship? Afterall, Denji was unaware of your feelings. Even if he knew, he was eager for romance so he might accept even with no feelings of reciprocation. The flame in his heart would always burn bright for the girl with the golden eyes. Before Denji, you had never seen Makima in this way. In your brief interactions with her, she had always seemed untouchable, but not unkind. She seemed to still care for her job and the people around her. Yet now, Denji had put a filter over your eyes. Sometimes you could see what he saw, you could see why she was so perfect. Still untouchable, but now she was worthy of adoration, worthy of worship. It was true, you could see why Denji had easily fallen for her. And yet the pain in your heart whenever she came into your gaze remained. 

Perhaps it wasn’t just seeing her. It was seeing him. His expression. His adoration. He was usually so loud, so obnoxious, so uncaring about others’ opinions. Yet around her, he grew silent. Respectful. This was a phenomenon you had never seen Denji experience with anyone else. 

Its not that you wanted that with him. You didn’t want Denji’s worship. Even asking for his love felt too much. Perhaps you just wanted his consideration. Just wanted to be in the running for his affection. 

Sometimes you could imagine it was there. When he came to you late at night, and you would offer him tea made with way too much sugar (just the way he likes it), a piece of toast with his favorite jam, and a patient ear; you could just barely see it. Just hardly there, glimmering below the surface, you could see something. Some emotion in his eyes. You didn’t quite know what it was. You didn’t want to give yourself false hope, but just like him, you liked to dream. 

Afterall, there had to be a reason he came to you. There had to be. Something inside of you refused to accept his reason of “Power would make fun of me” or “No way I’m talking to Topknot, he’s my rival!”. You never considered yourself an egotistical person, but you had to be special. Denji wouldn’t have chosen you otherwise. You were his confidant, a role you took with honor. You would always be there you this strange boy who had wormed his way into your heart. 

Beep! Beep! Beep!

The sound of an alarm startled you from your thoughts, even startling Denji awake as well. As you walked over to click it off, you heard him groan lightly. 

“Ugh, thanks for setting an alarm for me. Aki would be on my ass if I was late again”. 

There it was again. You didn’t think you’d heard him say “thank you” to anyone else but you. And of course, Makima. But that had to mean something, didn’t it? 

“No problem. Do you want some breakfast before you head out?”

 Your eyes dragged over his tired frame. He was still dressed in his public safety uniform, although much more disheveled now. His tie was undone, his shirt was half unbuttoned, and everything he was wearing was wrinkly. If you had more time, you would offer to fix his clothes for him, even going as far as to get out your rarely used iron, sitting forgotten in your closet. However, you knew he was under a time crunch, so his heavily creased clothes would have to do. His eyes, though they looked tired, lit up slightly at the prospect of food. A fleeting thought crossed your mind about how you wished he would look at you like that. How pathetic you are. 

“Hell yeah! But it’ll have to be pretty quick or I won’t have time to get back to Aki’s before work.” He grinned as he spoke though, clearly more excited about breakfast than worried about what Aki would do to him if he was tardy. You turned your back to him, rummaging through your cabinets to find the baked goods you had procured yesterday. Although giving them to Denji would require you to go out again for food sooner than you expected, it would be worth it. Despite the fact he would probably never reciprocate your emotions, you would still always yearn to keep him happy and healthy. You would remain on the sidelines for him, if it meant you could see his delighted smile become a constant. 

As you turned back to him, that very smile was on his face, his eyes aglow with happiness. Even if it wasn’t for you, you’d take it. You knew Denji would continue to come as long as you’d let him, seeking someone to listen to and in turn help him understand his complicated emotions. And you intended to always be there when he looked. You just wished he was looking at you for a different reason. And some part of you, would always wish to be the girl with the red hair and golden eyes. 

Levi would always give most of his earnings to support the Survey Corps, and what little he kept for himself was typically spent on his teas. However, things began to change the day he noticed how your eyes sparkled with joy at the sight of a simple daffodil. This small moment inspired Levi to shift his spending habits, starting with a single, white lily he placed beside your door.

From then on, Levi's days off included visits to a small florist on the corner of the market street. The types of flowers he bought varied: some weeks it was roses, others wildflowers, and occasionally something as exotic as orchids. But Levi's new spending didn't stop at flowers. He also began visiting a local bakery where he picked up a variety of desserts—pastries filled with cream or topped with fresh fruit, leaving them at your door every week.

As the weeks progressed, these tokens of affection became like a quiet conversation between you two. A bundle of lavender would appear here, a slice of apple tart there, each gift left without a name but always warmly accepted. You started responding in your own subtle way, placing notes in library books you knew Levi often read. You also noticed a change in Levi's tea habits—he wasn't drinking as much as usual. So, you began leaving various new teas for him to find in his office. Soon enough, everyone was quietly gossiping about you two. Hange and Erwin always observed from a distance.

“Do you think they realize how obvious they are?” Hange whispered with a chuckle, watching as Levi discreetly placed a fresh note in your book.

“Not at all,” Erwin laughed, shaking his head.

Stepmom! Carla fucking you with her strap and overstimulating you. Not letting you cum until you tell her how badly you want Eren to fuck you 🥵

Mmmmmm and before that, you came to her to tell her how Eren’s been touching you in secret, grabbing your ass and playing with your cunt using the mere touch of his cold fingers. Your words were full of worry and confusion, double the last part after Carla said to show her.

You comply, middle and ring finger rubbing your clit as you keep your legs spread over the living room couch. “like this, mom— ah, fuck” you can’t help but whine at the sensation. She had noticed your needy cunt clenching around nothing, simultaneously pushing out the slick forming inside of it. At the very least, she had to pick some up with her thumb and have a taste.

Now here you were, face down and ass up, taking Carla’s cock deep inside your little pussy.

“Shit, mom, d-don’t stop,” you were warm in the face, warm all over, your ass stung with her grip on it— and you never felt so good. “feels so good, ‘m gonna cum.”

Wails and moans drip from your tongue as she delivers a harsh slap to your ass, correcting your misbehaviour. “No, baby. You know what to do if you wanna cum.” she speaks between heavy breaths, keeping up her relentless pace, awaiting an answer.

You hide your face in a pillow and shake your head no in embarrassment, but not even a pillow could silence the scream you just let out after her second slap. “Wrong answer. Say his name.”

You muffle a quiet ‘eren’ into the pillow, shying away from Carla. She halts for a brief moment, grabbing a fistful of your hair and bringing your back to her chest— she picks up her pace again. “Didn’t hear you, hun.”

High up in the clouds; you cry in pleasure, throat vibrating beneath her hand. “Eren! Oh, fuck, eren—“ Carla smiles in approval, peppering your neck in kisses as she brings you close to your high.

“Fuck, mom, w’nna take my big brothers dick. He’s s-so big, wanna fuck him.”

“Yeah? You wanna be your big brothers slut?” she presses further, not stopping even after feeling you cum all over her cock. “Yes, yes, yes, yes— i’m his slut.” you thrash in her arms, grinding against her dick as you ride out your high.

s. aizawa + "nobody likes a secret."

— suggestive themes, gn!reader, alcohol consumption, reader is a pro hero + UA teacher

— requested by @artemis32 for my five seconds flat event <3

"Y'know what?" you prompt, cheek smushed into the tabletop as you eye the man sitting next to you. "I think you like me." It comes out matter-of-factly, because obviously you're right. You pop back up to take another sip of your drink, frowning at the watered-down alcohol as you near the end of it.

Aizawa tries not to stare at your wet lips wrapped around your plastic straw, but thankfully you're too engrossed in sipping up every last drop to notice him failing miserably.

"Well, you should stop thinking," he suggests, pulling the glass away from your lips before you spill ice down your shirt.

"God," you groan, "'M trying to!"

The UA faculty appreciation party was in full-swing and downright boring. The only thing keeping you going was the open bar and a suited-up Aizawa Shouta sitting at your lonesome table.

He hums, watching you snatch up his own drink with a raised brow.

You take a sip before pushing it back over to him, wincing at the harsh burn sliding down your throat. You contemplate the small chuckle at your expression, analyzing the sharpness of his jaw, his heavy-lidded eyes, and the pink of his lips. “I think you should come to my place.”

“What did I just tell you to stop doing?”

“Exactly. I stopped thinking— so you should finish that drink, admit you do like me, and then you should come home with me.” You flash a toothy smile like you didn’t just ask him to sleep with you, and nudge his glass further into his hand.

He meets your eye, hardly blinking while trying to process if you’re screwing with him or not. Because you were always one to leave things professional, drawing clear lines in the sand with flashing lights and blaring sirens warning DO NOT CROSS.

Casual sex amongst the pros was far from uncommon, but you were far from casual. He knows this.

So when you look up at him all pretty, with a tipsy smile and a foot not-so-innocently trailing up his calf, Aizawa listens like a smart man, and downs the rest of his bourbon. He ushers you out the side door with a large hand splayed across the small of your back, "Maybe you're right," he whispers, the low vibrations of his voice rumbling against your ear as he flags down a cab.

. . .

Warm sheets drape over your shoulders as the morning sunlight peeks in from behind the curtains. You're roused from slumber by a grating trill sounding from your bedside table. Your phone rings ceaselessly, and you will it in your mind to silence it as you bury your cheek into your pillow, hoping that whoever is calling you will stop.

They don't.

Huffing, you shove the blanket down, allowing the morning chill to litter your skin with goosebumps as you blindly reach for your phone. Not bothering to check the caller ID, you answer the call, knowing it's just your friend checking up on you.

"Hey, did I wake you?"

You reply with nothing more than an affirmative groan.

Her hearty laugh echoes through the speaker, "Sorry, sorry! Just calling to make sure you're still alive. You are still alive, right? I didn't see you leave last night."

"Yeah, I'm alive," you offer, a sleepy smile making its way to your face. "Sorry I didn't tell you I was leaving. Had some company."

"Oh? Well, you can't leave me hanging! Who was it? Wait, wait, wait— are they still there?!" she whisper-yells, as if anyone else could hear her in your bedroom.

Well— behind you, a deep, low grumble grabs your attention. Chapped lips kiss along your jaw, "'Mornin'," Aizawa whispers, too low for your friend to hear clearly.

"Oh my God, they so are! Who is that?!"

"Can I call you back?" you evade, leaning into the sweet, heady kisses Aizawa starts pressing into your skin.

"What—? No! C'monnn, spill already. Nobody likes a secret," she pleads, desperate for any clues.

You're about to insist on calling her later, but his impatience rears its very horny head. He slings a thick, muscled thigh over your waist, pulling your hips flush against his as he rolls on top of your figure.

"Shouta—!" you yelp, desire sparking hot and low in your tummy. Aizawa's teeth teasingly nip at the soft skin of your chest, and his tongue laves at the dips and divots along the column of your neck. His stubble scratches at your skin in the loveliest of ways, and you almost forget you're still on the phone.

"Hang up," he mumbles, his nose and lips now grazing dangerously close to the mic on your cell, burying his face into your neck as his rapidly stiffening cock begins to rut against your thigh.

"No fucking way."

A surprised giggle slips from your mouth, "You heard the man. Gotta go!"

✶ — m.lists

✶ — replies + reblogs appreciated !

obsession

L x female bodied reader

desc: L could stay in between your legs for hours

words: 1.1k

warnings: oral (reader receiving) fingering, overstim, teasing, praise, mentions of passing out during sex (none occurs here), hair pulling

even while he’s smothered by your heat, L’s mind is sharp as ever. especially compared to you, who is already fucked out within 15 minutes and two orgasms, which of course led to more teasing from your boyfriend.

he had come home in a mood. it wasn’t often that he became frustrated with the progress of a case, but when he did, it was usually taken out on either his coworkers in the form of anger or you in the form of mind blowing head. of course you can’t complain, but when he’s spreading your legs so far that it burns, it gets annoying.

so, here you are, poor little cunt being invaded by L’s masterful tongue and long, dexterous fingers. having just come down from your second orgasm, you were panting and sweat was surely formed on your hairline. mindless curses fell from your lips as L carried you through your ecstasy, not letting up his pace even a little bit. he always tended to be rough.

he watched as your face gradually unscrewed from the blissed out expression while you came, your mouth now relaxed and opened, your eyes occasionally rolling back into your head. he could feel your legs jerking from the overstimulation, so L took it upon himself to take his fingers from your throbbing heat, instead bringing them to harshly push your hips down. “stay still, y/n, it makes this much easier.”

“c- can’t! L, fuck, can’t, please-“ you couldn’t tell if you wanted more or less, but knew you were going to get more either way. “you can, love. remember the time i made you cum 11 times before you passed out? you’ll be fine for a little more.” he muttered before bringing his face back down into you. as soon as you felt his tongue lightly rub at your clit, your body tensed and jerked in his strong grasp.

he was unrelenting after he got back to work; tongue fucking you while he rutted his hips into the mattress and his hands kneading the fat on your hips and thighs as if he couldn’t get enough. he repeatedly used his grip on you to grind your cunt further into his mouth, drinking down everything it offered to him.

you, meanwhile, were a wreck. drool was collecting itself on your lower lip, threatening to fall down your chin. you tried to relax your legs as best you could, but the constant assault on your clit made it difficult. your fingers were buried in L’s hair for now, but regularly went to clutch at the sheets or anything else you could grab.

L certainly appreciated the sting in his scalp, evident by how he moaned each time your grip tightened. “be good and don’t move too much, okay?” he said, more as a threat to not squirm away from him as he took one hand from your hips to stuff back into your clenching hole. you nodded, although you weren’t sure you could keep the promise.

he entered his middle finger first, which made you gasp out loud. L watched your face closely, studying your reactions. “good, good...” he murmured, stroking his finger in and out in light motions before inserting his ring finger with it. he let you adjust for a moment again before he began a faster pace, and much harder movements.

you were truly trying your best to keep still, feeling your orgasm approaching for the 3rd time. however, as soon as L began curling his fingers inside of you, making them bump right against the puffy tissue of your g-spot. this made your eyes clench shut and your fingers to retreat from your lover’s hair, instead grasping the sheets and your own breasts. L almost chuckled at the display before taking his other hand and harshly grabbing your wrists, pulling them back into his dark hair.

with a few more pumps of his fingers and the way he moaned in time with you, you were cumming. “fuck, L, i’m cumming, fuck, please!” your voice came out in broken phrases and high pitched squeaks as your body trembled violently. your hips jerked up into his touch, your back arching off the bed. you went up onto your shoulders to get a better view of L between your legs, which made your orgasm continue even then. L brought his mouth down desperately to taste your juices, never slowing his fingers as they fucked you through your high. “hm, there you go, love.” he said calmly

his demeanor made you even more restless, the thought of him being so calm and collected while you soaked the sheets underneath you two. L could tell what you were thinking. “hm, you are such a mess, y/n. amazing.” he said into you, eyes falling shut as he continued eating you like he was starving. you doubled over at the feeling of his tongue right after your orgasm, hips bucking up into his mouth. he hummed in delight, pulling his fingers from you once more.

your hole clenched around nothing, feeling empty. L took some mercy on you, pulling himself away from your core for a moment to bring himself up and kiss you messily. you took his tongue into your mouth, tasting your release as the taste invaded your tastebuds. he pulled away after a moment, a string of spit connecting you too. you smiled, dumb off of the pleasure and L. “open, love.” he said quietly, nudging your mouth open with his wet fingers. you opened, sucking your release clean from them. “good.” he said simply, using his other hand to grasp the back of your head.

L strokes your hair, calm and docile like usual. when you glance back up to his face, though, you see the furrow in his brows, signifying that there was still something bothering him. “L? do you wanna talk about what happened?” he said nothing. “L-“

he cut you off by going back down between your legs, a groan leaving his throat as he tasted you again. “just need to taste you, love, don’t worry.” he stated. you cried out as his lips came in contact with you, your hands flying to push at his shoulders “p-please, ‘s too much, L, shit-“ you cried, chest heaving. he didn’t respond or move to dissipate your grip on his shoulders, instead opting to double his efforts until you couldn’t keep the strong hold on him, your arms falling limply to your sides.

he didn’t stop, though, and you figured he wouldn’t until you were crying and begging.

Combining my two biggest fixations atm <3

Edit: bonus comic!!

Hi! Can I request Kyojuro with a s.o./crush who'll get really excited about something and start rambling, but then suddenly stop talking because they've been told they talk too much? And the s.o./crush is worried he'll think they're annoying? Thank you! I love your writing!

(hey there hun!! thank you so much, i'm glad you enjoy it!! ❤️ and honestly just reading this ask put a little smile on my face because as someone who rambles far too much, i definitely relate far too hard with this, lol ^^; thank you for your request!! i hope you like it! my apologies if it feels a mite short, and that it's so late :') ❤️)

kyojuro x reader (in which reader rambles and kyojuro loves it)

kyojuro may not be sure what you're talking about a lot of the time, but he does know that he could listen to you talk for hours, regardless of whether he understands or not. it's not always about what you're saying. it's about how you say it.

every time he asks you a question and your eyes light up, he feels his heart skip. watching you go through a range of emotions as you talk, making sure to express absolutely everything you feel with your hands and your face and your body language so he knows exactly how much it affects you, it makes him smile like a smitten fool. and your voice itself is the prettiest music to his ears, one he could listen to forever. even if you don't feel the same about him, he's proud to at least call himself your friend.

so when you suddenly go quiet in the middle of a story you'd been telling about your last mission and press your lips together, your hands freezing in midair before slowly lowering down, he snaps to attention. he'd been leaning his cheek against his hand, watching you with a soft smile, but now he sits up straight.

"...and then what happened?" he asks, noticing how you jump almost guiltily, avoiding his eyes. "surely that isn't the end of it!"

"i, uh..." you wring your hands together, avoiding his gaze. normally it’s him that won’t look at you properly. "i don't want to... bore you or something. it's really not that interesting, i don't even know why i'm telling you. you probably don't even care. sorry." it takes him a moment to truly process what you’re saying, and when he does, his slight smile drops.

he’s been told countless times by countless people that he never seems like he’s listening. airheaded, they called him. he thought you would have known by now that even if it seems like he isn’t, he always pays rapt attention to your conversations, even if he doesn’t quite meet your gaze or speak very much. he can’t look you in the eyes too long without getting flustered, after all, and he enjoys hearing your voice more than his own.

“i apologize,” he says, “i’m being a terrible audience, aren’t i?” if he hadn’t bowed his head, he would have seen your bewildered look. “i can assure you that i was listening very closely! even if it didn’t seem like it! i treasure every word you speak, and i apologize that i made you feel any less than appreciated!” the quiet that falls is awkward, but he doesn’t look up until you clear your throat.

“you-you don’t need to apologize,” you say. when he lifts his head, he sees that you’re blushing, staring at the ground. “i just didn’t want to bother you, is all. i know i talk a lot more than i should, and that it can get really annoying when i don't stop.”

“who told you that?” he demands, cutting you off before you can continue. odd. he never interrupts. you blink.

“oh, um. people?” you gesture vaguely. “a lot of people. i just... i’m sorry. you’re one of my best friends, and you’re too nice to tell me if i’m annoying you-”

“do i annoy you?” he interrupts, smiling, and your words stutter for a moment.

“of course not!” you manage to get out, shaking your head.

“you don’t believe that i’m too loud? i’m not too cold or indifferent or distracted? i don’t act too superior?” he smiles wider when you shake your head again, waving your hands to deny further and varying versions of “no” spilling from your mouth. “tell me, then. how is it that you think i find you to be a bother? to tell the truth, i find your ramblings very endearing!” he leans his cheek on his hand once more, watching your lips open and close as a light flush spreads over your cheeks. clearly, that hadn't been what you were expecting him to say.

"do you really?" you eventually say, tentative but hopeful. he gives a single firm nod.

"very much so! i would even go so far as to call it the best part of my day!" he lifts his other hand, turning it in a gentle circle, gesturing for you to continue. "you were saying? the demon leaped at you, and then...?" you fidget in place, visibly chewing on your words. he waits patiently, his smile never faltering.

eventually, he's rewarded once again with the soothing sound of your voice, rapid and excitable and sometimes indecipherable, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

Baby

Warnings: PIV, afab!reader, slight dom!Aizawa, slight sub!reader, a little bit of uniform kink, some choking, overstim, dirty talk, begging, praise, breeding, wanting a baby. 

Relationship: Shota Aizawa x wife!reader

Shota thinks you’re irresistible. He knows you think lowly of yourself, that sometimes you get up in your own head about your body, your personality, your skills… people have put you down, hurt you, but never him. Shota doesn’t care if he spends his whole life making you realize you’re the best woman on planet earth, he’d do it all over again. 

It’s your anniversary tonight. During the day, it’s work. You’re subbing for Mic in English, his gorgeous wife drilling vocabulary and grammar into their heads until their brains hurt. He sits with you at lunch, watches you eat the lunch he made for you while you laugh at his jokes. You play with your necklace, dragging the pendant up and down the chain, and Shota might sound like a degenerate when he says this but… seeing you in your teaching uniform really does something for him. 

He’s thought about before, why he always thought you looked so good while teaching, and he wants to think it’s because you’re in your element, teaching the kids, doing something you love, but in reality it’s because your teaching clothes involve form-fitting clothing and not your normal sweatpants and big shirt combo. He thinks that’s sexy too but seeing you in a button down… in a skirt and a short heel… wearing earrings and makeup? He’s been thinking about dragging you to the supply closet on the fourth floor, the one isolated from the rest of the school, and hiking your skirt up like the dirty man you’ve turned him into.

Keep reading

Once again JJK nation, I am asking for your assistance in finding a post. I can’t remember which site it was on but it was a Sukuna x reader where you are his wife in the Heian era. One of your servants falls in love with you and Sukuna doesn’t let him live but he shields your eyes from the carnage 😭. If y’all find it please let me know it’s living in my mind rent free.

If not, anyone got recommendations for Heian era Sukuna x spouse reader? I am astronomically down bad.