I like reading about a lot of different things but I hate most of them irl. Like I love yandere, but I hate obsessive men the most. Idk why this happens
the sun barely touches the curtains when you wake, tangled in him. satoru's arm is heavy across your waist, his breath warm against the back of your neck, slow and steady like the whole night healed him. he stirs when you shift, pressing a lazy kiss to your shoulder.
“already awake?” his voice is rough, scratchy with sleep, and somehow that makes you shiver.
“couldn’t sleep,” you whisper.
he hums, dragging his nose along your skin, and suddenly you feel him hard against your thigh. even half-asleep, he’s needy for you.
“baby,” he groans, pulling you closer.
his hand slips beneath the blanket, finding your bare hip, fingertips tracing circles that turn into slow squeezes. you gasp, and that’s all it takes — he’s already kissing your neck, soft but hungry, murmuring against your skin: “let me have you again. please. just once more.”
he rolls you onto your back, hovering over you, his hair messy, eyes half-lidded but burning. the morning light spills across him like gold, and you think you’ve never seen him more beautiful.
he kisses you slow, deep, like he’s savoring you this time. no rush, just worship. his dirty talk is softer now, half-whispered between breaths: “so sweet. so warm. fuck, i could stay inside you forever.”
when he pushes into you, it’s unhurried — a steady, delicious stretch that makes you sigh into his mouth. he groans like he’s unraveling, forehead pressing to yours. “there it is. my perfect girl. you take me so good.”
his thrusts are lazy, deep, each one dragging a moan from you. he keeps kissing you, murmuring every thought like it’s holy: “look at you. love you so much. never gonna stop. you’re mine, you hear me? mine.”
you cling to him, nails in his shoulders, legs wrapping tight around his waist. the bed creaks softly but it doesn’t matter — it’s slow, intimate, like the world doesn’t exist outside this room.
when you cum, it’s quieter than last night — just sharp gasps and his name spilling from your lips. he watches you, utterly undone, and follows right after, groaning into your mouth, hips stuttering as he fills you.
he collapses onto you with a laugh, pressing messy kisses along your cheek, your jaw, your nose. “morning ruined,” he teases, voice still wrecked. “we’re never getting out of bed now.”
you swat at him, but he only grins, tucking you tight against his chest.
and as the sun climbs higher, you fall back asleep in his arms, still connected, still his — wrapped in a morning that feels like forever.
Labelling every non-binary relationship as sapphic/yuri and achillean/yaoi is exorsexism.
It is one thing if a non-binary person personally labels their relationship as such. However, the active neglect of non-binary specific labels is exorsexist, especially since sapphic/yuri is predominantly used to refer to feminine relationships and achillean/yaoi is predominantly used to refer to masculine relationships. (This is not to say sapphic and achillean can't refer to other gender types, but theres no denying the binary-centric history these terms hold within the community.)
Fandom spaces are even worse with this, treating all non-binary relationships as just sapphic-lite and achillean-lite.
If you are in a fandom, and you have a character with a non-binary ship, please promote non-binary language.
At the very least, please mix in non-binary language with your binary-centric terms (ie; a non-binary person who is dating a binary man, and prefers to be called a husband, while using terms such as toric or adonic for their relationship.)
Here are some terms used in the same way sapphic/yuri and achillean/yaoi are:
-Diamoric (A relationship that involves a non-binary person in some shape or form)
-Trixic (NBLW) and Maedic (WLNB)
-Toric (NBLM) and Adonic (MLNB)
-Enbian (NBLNB) and Binitian (Binary Loving Non-binary)
Here are some terms used in the same way lesbian and uranian are:
-Feminamoric (non-binary person primarily attracted to women.)
-Viramoric (non-binary person primarily attracted to men.)
-Ceteramoric (non-binary person primarily attracted to other non-binary people.)
-Tria (binary person primarily attracted to non-binary people. This could be any type of non-binary person, or specific types of non-binary people). Can be spelled alternatively based on attraction (ie; triasexual, triaromantic, triaplatonic, etc.)
And while we're here, stop calling non-binary people "they/thems." Non-binary people do not all collectively use they/them pronouns, we can also use he/him, she/her, it/its, neopronouns, multiple pronouns, or even no pronouns. Our genders do not deserve to be boiled down to infantilizing language like "my little they."
When referring to a singular person, use the words non-binary person, enby, or enban.
When referring to a group of non-binary people, use the words non-binary people, enbies, or enben.
HI EMIIII!! Can I ask for a Scaramouche x F!Secretary!Demon! Reader Smut?
𐙚 ─── WEIRD DREAMS
⟡ after several secretaries are told they're "not good enough" to work for scaramouche, he finally finds someone competent for the job, however, it’s around the same time that he begins to have frequent strange dreams that negatively interfere in his personal life...
・pairing. scaramouche x f!secretary demon reader
・warnings. NSFW; longfic; I'll divide this in chapters; m!masturbation; cum tribute (?idk if that's the word for it); their work field is not specified (I NEVER WORKED IN AN OFFICE IN MY LIFE SO IDK)
・a/n. HIIIII! I'm so sorry I took so long to reply 😭I think you won't even remember you sent somethingJFKWKRKEE also, I made reader look like a succubus in some parts, I hope you don't mind 💔
Miko let out a deep breath, preparing herself before speaking to Scaramouche. She had started as just an assistant, helping him with whatever he needed, answering calls and emails, scheduling meetings, and so on. But now, huge bags under her eyes betrayed the countless nights she had spent awake for the company.
At first, as an assistant, Yae had managed Scaramouche’s life with little trouble despite the unpredictable demands, she simply wasn’t as busy as she is now.
It all began when he decided to fire the previous secretary. She hadn’t made that much of a catastrophic mistake, just several minor ones that piled up until everything fell apart. She was a bit clumsy, often arriving late, and sometimes dozing off at work. Her boss, patient and forgiving as he was, let her slide multiple times... as long as she delivered her assignments on time and completed them flawlessly.
But taking advantage of that patience one too many times, she finally crossed the line. She fell asleep on top of the papers due by midnight. Normally, a gentle poke on the cheek would have been enough to wake her, no problem at all! But when Scaramouche nudged her roughly with the tip of his pen and she lifted her crumpled face, drool at the corner of her lips, he saw the enormous puddle she had created beneath her, smearing the ink and tearing the fragile papers, rendering the documents illegible.
Enraged, there was no shortage of shouts for her to be fired. From then on, he became dramatically strict, believing that anything slightly off from his expectations was unacceptable. Scaramouche had always demanded the best from his company. He believed in giving opportunities to promising employees, not out of care for their well-being, but because he hated having his work ethic questioned whenever complaints or lawsuits arose. He now realized he'd made a mistake, and that evaluations needed to be stricter than ever. After all, he had the money to cover any legal action if necessary.
The positions were still available, but at the price of the possible humiliation of having your short, angry boss put you down for the slightest slip-up. Little by little, fewer people showed up to volunteer, as he had a reputation of firing the poor girls before they quit themselves.
"There's no point in hiring secretaries anymore, it's always the same old shit. I'd rather you sort these things out for now." He barely took his eyes off the computer, his fingers frantically working on the keyboard as he spoke to his assistant.
"I don't think all this is necessary; you might want to rethink your decision."
"There's no point in rethinking it, no one ever does the job right! They think this position is just sitting on their asses and sleeping all day, but not at my company. You’ll have to deal with this until we find someone competent." she pouts in response.
"There are plenty of competent people, give them one more chance. You can find someone diligent, like—"
"Like you? Do you want to be the new secretary AND assistant?" he smirks. Yae knows he's serious when he pauses to sip his coffee, eyes closed and neutral expression as he savors the painfully bitter drink.
"Heh~? No way, what I really wanted was the CEO position." She knows she's not in a place where she can make jokes so casually, but it was what she could do to deal with this stress.
How could he even think of demanding more from her when she was still up after three sleepless nights because of what he had done?!
"Yeah… I’m sure you do" he replied, uninterested. She forced a fake smile, swallowing her irritation. He was the one in charge, after all.
"Well, then, pick out a few people from this list who you find convincing. I don't want anything less than perfect. By tomorrow morning." He hands her a large folder and then waves his hand palm down, telling her to get lost without needing to speak.
As she left the room, Yae already felt her head aching, anticipating another sleepless night searching through thousands of candidates who might meet his impossible standards.
With her briefcase in hand, she returned the next morning and found herself at Scaramouche’s door, knocking softly, hoping he would approve of at least one candidate so she could finally clear her backlog and get some rest.
"Come in." His voice came from inside. Immersed in paperwork at his desk, he finally stopped, lifted his head, and stretched out his arm as soon as he saw the documents in her hands. "Hand them over."
She obliged, passing him the detailed files and resumes she had painstakingly prepared.
"Couldn’t you have summarized this?" He looked at her with bored eyes. Yae almost felt a vein pop in irritation.
"No". she replies dryly, a soft smile on her face.
"Hmm..." Scaramouche began reading the descriptions carefully. "You can go. I’ll call you if I find someone good. You’ll take care of the rest from there."
---
A great sense of relief washed over Yae the next day when Scaramouche finally told her he had chosen "the most promising one among the boring applicants." It was a start, at least temporarily lifting the weight off her shoulders, assuming the candidate was truly competent.
That brings us to the beginning of the week, when you're supposed to start at your new job. The building where you would be working at was quite tall, a little intimidating from the outside. You take a deep breath before entering, your heart racing in excitement. You couldn't sleep the night before, so it was quite earlier than expected for you to be at work. In any case, it would be good for you to get used to the place before Yae even showed up, since she had warned you during the interview to work hard if you wanted to keep the job. You head for the elevator, jumping between your steps a few times when you realize you're about to be left out by the person who'd gotten in before you.
"Hey- excuse me! I'm going up too!" You raise your voice slightly to warn the man, hoping he'll hear you and hold the metal door open, but the person in question simply ignores you.
You should have known rushing in like that was a bad idea, there was no need to when you were so early. But you didn’t want to risk making any mistakes, you had already lost jobs before. Still, you never would've guessed that trying to force your way in would result in such an embarrassing situation for you: tripping, spilling cappuccino all over your clothes, and ruining your white outfit on your first day of work. Worst of all—you couldn’t even look at the man beside you after all that. You managed to get into the elevator before it closed, but at what cost?
"...Are you okay?" His voice pulled your attention. Your head stayed down, too ashamed to lift it.
"Yes, I am," you muttered, still on the floor as if your legs had given out.
"Get up already," the man said curtly. You finally raised your face toward him, eyes teary and cheeks red with humiliation.
Sure, not everyone had to be nice, but how hard would it have been for him to hold the door? In the end, it was his fault! And now he was being rude on top of it.
"I was about to!" you snapped, standing and crossing your arms as your soaked T-shirt dripped with coffee.
Beside you, Scaramouche’s eyes widened as he finally recognized the face of new secretary he himself had chosen. He pressed the floor button repeatedly, impatient to reach his office and shout at the top of his lungs.
…Maybe he was just unlucky when it came to picking employees. Or perhaps it was Yae Miko’s fault, since she was the one responsible for presenting the best applicants for him to choose from. None of that mattered at the moment, though, when the outline of your red bra was clearly visible through your sheer shirt.
He scoffs and looks away. Of course he wasn't that shameless to look!
Minutes pass since you've stepped into the elevator, the floor number unchanged, standing in the middle of the building, as if it couldn't make your situation worse. Scaramouche sighs deeply and presses the emergency button.
"It's not moving..." you whisper, your voice tinged with desperation. You were starting to get cold as the drink cooled on your body, unlike Scaramouche, whose body heat seemed to rise more and more for some reason. Was it something he ate? He only felt worse as the minutes dragged on.
Annoyingly, there was a spot where the heat seemed to concentrate. He was wearing tight pants, so he could feel it brushing against the material.
"Cover yourself up already," he warns you, simultaneously removing his jacket. You think he's going to hand it to you but instead, he places it on top of his lap.
"I have nothing to cover myself with," you retort, already stressed by the way he kept addressing you. "Can I use this?" You point to the jacket on his lap and his heart skips a beat, swatting your dangerously close hand away.
"Ouch! What's that for?!" Your hands immediately dart for the jacket again, gripping the fabric between your fingers and pulling it toward you merely to provoke him. He tries to snatch it back, but it's too late to hide the predicament between his legs.
He's not sure if you've seen anything, but as soon as the elevator stops on a safe floor and the doors open with a "ding!", he rushes straight out to his office without a word, storming into it like a hurricane and tugging at his shirt to cool himself down despite the blasting air conditioning.
"What the fuck..." He wasn’t prepared for this. And now he didn’t know how to handle keeping you in the company. How could a young woman be so shameless? There was no way it had been a mere accident. From the moment you entered that elevator, it was as if you did everything to spite him. Still, he couldn’t fire you right away—not when he had just hired you. It would be reckless, and his reputation would suffer. At least a week, he thought. He would give it at least a week.
Dropping into his chair, he tried to gather his thoughts. He hung his jacket on the back, loosened his tie, and unbuttoned his collar, desperate for air. But his body betrayed him, tightening again as unwanted memories of you on the floor, glaring up at him with flushed cheeks, replayed in his head.
His mouth parted, indignant at the way his body was behaving, but he couldn't utter any dirty words from his extensive vocabulary, as he usually would.
He felt as if something inside him was controlling his body, slowly moving his hips to find some kind of relief without having to touch himself, feeling that it would be too humiliating to jerk off at work right in his living room. But what was more humiliating than that? He was completely hard now, so much so that a small mark of pre-cum had already made its way through his underwear and pants, visible from the outside.
"Urgh... Fuck this..."
With a sigh, he gave in to temptation, palming himself through his tight clothes. Maybe he was so busy with work that he didn't really have time for such things, always arriving home tired and going straight to bed after finishing getting ready to sleep. He was pent up, impatient, and yet he took his time, feeling the fabric of his underwear brush lightly against his glans as he massaged his length. It was unbelievable to be so sensitive with so little, but you had such beautiful breasts that he couldn't keep himself from fantasizing about it... he needed to scold you about how to dress from now on later. He rubs his fingers over the area below the tip, uneasy about having two layers of cloth preventing him from reaching his goal. His cock only seemed to harden further, and the sensation became more pleasurable the more he teased himself. Finally, he decides to touch his skin directly, unzipping his pants to pull down his underwear and free his aching cock.
He searches quickly for a resume paper, an image imprinted amidst the words standing out at that moment. Your image. Scaramouche doesn't think much about the meaning of what he's doing, pleasure clouding his mind. He simply squeezes the base of his cock and begins to stimulate it, slowly moving from the bottom to the tip.
"... Argh... I can't believe I'm doing such a depraved thing..." he gasps, his face completely red with his heightened sensitivity. However, he only increases the speed of his strokes, spitting a few times on his hand to slick it up and wrapping it around his cock once again, rubbing it up and down. It doesn't take long before he starts to feel a tingly sensation at the base of his dick; he's close.
He moves his hand faster, focusing on the most reactive area, feeling his fingers graze the edge of his tip a few times, and throwing his head back.
"Mnnn, what did you do—" He stands up from the chair abruptly, his hand holding onto the table for support, stroking his dick with the other to the resume on top of the desk, drops of precum falling onto your photo as he feels his orgasm building. He can't control himself—or so he prefers to believe—when jets and jets of cum cover your beautiful face, arching his back so his cock can meet your lips up close, rubbing the sensitive head on the photo as if it were your own face there. He lets out a final hum before reality sets in and he wipes himself with a tissue. Now what the fuck is he going to do with this whole mess?!
---
Yae arrived at Scaramouche’s office without having seen you yet, having planned to meet you at the reception. She figured you might have been late and expected a message about it, but instead of an update on a possible delay, she found a strange note saying you were going home to change and should return the next day. Even stranger was the shock she felt when she opened her boss’s door, only to see him leaving at the same moment she entered. Without hesitation, he barked out, a little exasperated "Get that girl sorted out and don't come back here until she's presentable!"
It wasn’t an understatement to say Yae was flustered. You’d barely arrived and already caused trouble? She had to find you before you left. Scaramouche had no idea where you were, but if you were in the building, she would track you down. Surely you couldn’t be that much trouble on your first day. Of course, newbies had difficulties, but not to the point of pestering Scaramouche like this.
She finally found you in the bathroom, standing over a sink, miserably scrubbing at your shirt with a soggy paper towel. Yae stopped for a moment, massaged her temples to steady herself, then laid a hand gently on your shoulder.
“You were supposed to wait for me.” You jumped slightly at her touch, spinning around.
“You have some explaining to do.”
“Umm…” you scratched the back of your neck nervously. “I wanted to arrive early today.”
“And how did it end up like this?”
“I tripped…” Your voice was barely audible, cheeks burning with embarrassment.
“…Well, anyway, don’t cause this kind of scene again. Or it won’t end well for you.”
“Ah—! Yes, I’m sorry.”
“Let’s get your attire fixed so you can be properly introduced to your new position.”
You nodded, following her lead. Luckily, Yae had a spare shirt tucked away in her bag, though it was shorter than you would’ve liked. Grateful nonetheless, you slipped into it and trailed cautiously behind her as she led you to Scaramouche’s office for a formal introduction.
Your chest tightened with anxiety. If Yae didn't mention the previous events to him, then maybe Scaramouche had no idea how clumsy you really were. If you keep yourself under control from now on, maybe he will never know! You don't want to resort to other options to not lose your job after all.
Your eyes widened as the knock from Yae on the office door jolted you from your thoughts. The door swung open when he allowed you two to enter, only to reveal the man from the elevator—the same man who had stood beside you when you spilled cappuccino all over yourself.
The same man who had gotten hard while trapped alone with you in that elevator. The same man who fled without warning the second the doors opened.
Heat rushed to your face, cold sweat prickling your skin, but somehow neither of you acknowledged it. Yae exchanged brief pleasantries with her boss before guiding you in, and you managed a trembling handshake. He didn’t even seem to remember. But you knew better.
On the bright side, he hadn’t fired you outright. Still, your job was already at risk. From here on, you would need to be careful, cautious, and determined if you wanted to keep your position.
…Or, perhaps, you could take an easier route to secure your place. But no—it had only been a minor slip-up, nothing career-ending. You wouldn’t stoop so low, wouldn’t be desperate enough to resort to something unethical…