The first time you met him, it was orchestrated down to the second. The coffee shop was crowded, your friends chattering about mundane things as you calculated the perfect angle, the perfect timing. When you stood up, your shoulder brushed against his, and the steaming coffee in his hand tilted—just enough to spill onto his crisp white shirt.
"Oh no! I'm so sorry!" you gasped, reaching for your handkerchief before he could react.
His brows knitted in irritation, lips parting as if to reprimand you, but you were already pressing the soft cloth against his chest, dabbing away the stain with delicate, practiced strokes. Your fingers lingered longer than necessary, feeling the warmth of his body beneath the fabric. Your heartbeat quickened—not out of guilt, but from the thrill of touching him so intimately within minutes of meeting.
He exhaled sharply, eyes narrowing. "It's fine."
But you didn't stop, not yet. "Please, let me make it up to you," you insisted, tilting your head just right, voice honeyed with remorse and something else—something darker. "I can buy you another coffee?"
He studied you then, his annoyance melting into something more calculative. A smirk ghosted over his lips. "That won’t be necessary." He took your handkerchief from your grasp, fingers grazing yours as he folded it neatly. "But I’ll hold onto this. A little collateral, in case you owe me later."
Oh, he was good.
You returned to your table, heart pounding—not from nerves, but from the thrill of setting things into motion. Your friend Lucas raised an eyebrow, sipping his iced coffee. "That was… convenient."
"What was?" you asked innocently, stirring your drink.
"Come on," Lucas scoffed. "You’re usually so careful. And you just happened to spill coffee on one of the most well-dressed men in this place?" He smirked, leaning back. "Was he your type or something?"
You shrugged, feigning indifference. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."
Your other friend, Mia, giggled. "Well, he was ridiculously handsome. And rich, judging by that watch. I mean, if you’re going to bump into someone, might as well be a catch."
Lucas rolled his eyes. "You do realize he was totally onto you, right? He took your handkerchief like he’s keeping a receipt."
Your lips curled slightly. "Good."
The second time, you hadn’t expected to see him so soon, but you'd hoped. Your friend—a harmless pawn—had invited you to dinner at a high-end restaurant, and you'd chosen a table strategically. Back-to-back with him, close enough that you could hear the soft murmur of his voice. Close enough that he could hear yours.
And so, you spoke just a little louder than usual, laughing at your friend’s jokes, letting your voice drip with sweetness as you addressed Lucas by name. It worked. Halfway through your meal, you felt the weight of his gaze. When you turned your head slightly, you caught the way his fingers tapped against his glass, how his eyes darkened when he noticed the man across from you.
He hadn’t planned on running into you tonight. But now that you were here, now that you were seated so casually with another man, he found himself amused.
And irritated.
Lucas leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "You know he’s listening, right? He hasn’t touched his food since we sat down."
You feigned surprise. "Who?"
"The guy from the café. The one you so conveniently ‘bumped into.’" Lucas’s eyes flicked toward the table behind you. "He keeps glancing this way."
You twirled your wine glass between your fingers, suppressing a smile. "Does that bother you?"
Lucas scoffed. "I just don’t like the way he’s looking at you. Feels… possessive. Like he already knows something the rest of us don’t."
Interesting.
His phone buzzed, a reminder of an impending meeting, but he dismissed it. Instead, he swirled the wine in his glass, contemplating. He had wanted to take his time, let things unfold naturally, but seeing you so soon—so radiant, so close yet untouchable—he realized he wanted more control.
So he arranged it. The perfect excuse to bring you into his world, to bind you to him without raising suspicion.
The job posting appeared three days later, an opening for a personal assistant to the CEO. Not a secretary. Not an assistant manager. A position that would place you right next to him at all times.
And, as he'd expected, you applied.
The moment you stepped into his office, he leaned back in his chair, watching you with open amusement. "Imagine my surprise when I saw your name among the applicants."
You feigned innocence, your smile demure. "It’s a wonderful opportunity, Mr. Veltre."
Cassian Veltre.
His lips twitched. "Is it?" He gestured for you to sit, his gaze never leaving yours. "You seem… overqualified for the position."
"And yet, you're interviewing me."
A chuckle rumbled from his chest. "I suppose I am. Tell me, what made you apply?"
You folded your hands neatly on your lap, meeting his gaze with unwavering confidence. "I've always admired this company. I think working under someone as accomplished as you would be an invaluable experience."
He hummed, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Flattery? So soon? You’re not even hired yet."
You tilted your head, feigning surprise. "Flattery? I thought I was simply stating a fact."
His expression darkened, intrigued. "I see. And tell me… would you be willing to dedicate yourself fully to this job? It’s demanding. Requires constant presence. Close proximity."
You leaned forward slightly, mirroring his intensity. "I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t ready for that."
His grip on control tightened, his heartbeat a fraction faster.
the first time the high lord katsuki touches you, he drags his fingers lightly over your clothes. his palms slide against your shoulders, your waist, your hips, and your thighs. he's careful to not overstep, moving slowly over your body as if any sudden movement would shatter the illusion.
he'd asked you to come look at something on his desk. a book or some other thing, and you'd obliged because you appreciate the things he shares with you. but you had stood so close to him, so close that katsuki could smell you, that he could lean forward a little and put his face in your hair.
"tell me if you don't like it," he'd mumbled, his voice tense and gravelly. there was a bite to it, a nervous one that he'd struggled to conceal.
then, he'd moved his hands to touch your hips. lightly at first, then with a bit more urgency. you had not turned around to face him, instead content to let him touch you this way. almost like worship.
his hands now roam gingerly over your clothing, catching momentarily on the heavy fabric before letting it fall again. he spends a lot of time simply feeling your shape, greedy hands that tremble with his desire to take you. katsuki touches you because you let him, because you want him to.
katsuki doesn't fuck you today, but he does other things. he lets his hand slip to your inner thigh and you part your legs with a small step to the side. neither of you speaks a word and the room is so silent save for your breathing that you could hear a pin drop. kirishima is outside of the door, but he won't enter unless he's called. the silence and secret of this wraps you both in a film you can't seem to break free from.
slowly, he pulls your dress up to run his fingers along the inside of your thigh, raising goosebumps along your skin and causing you to shutter and lean back against him. he sighs a little, leaning forward so that his breath hits the shell of your ear. then, he places a small kiss on your exposed part of your shoulder where it meets your neck.
then, his fingers dip to cup your cunt, pressing lightly until he finds the spot that makes you gasp and lean forward, bracing yourself with both hands on the table. his thick finger rubs circles into your slit, pulling aside your underwear to collect your wetness on his fingers before pressing it again to that sensitive bud.
you sigh, letting your head fall forward and katsuki steps closer to you, close enough that you can feel his hardness against your ass. he groans when he realizes the extent of your wetness, no doubt thinking about how long you've been like this, how long he's let you go unsatisfied and neglected.
katsuki doesn't make an effort to enter you, nor does he move his fingers from your clit. he just rubs circles into it, finding a pattern that makes you tremble and sticking with it. you sigh softly as he touches you, your skirt hiked up over his wrist and legs spread ever so slightly to give him room to pleasure you. choked moans and whines threaten to escape your lips and you can feel katsuki's face and breath beside your head, his eyes fixed on you as he watches your expression twist into one of mounting pleasure.
his hand comes up to brace your hip when you get close, pulling your body against him so that his hard cock is flush against you. it's a possessive movement and the roughest he's ever been with you, harshly jostling your body against his as if to have you close when you reach your peak.
you're leaning forward, fingers digging into the fine wood of his desk, as he repeatedly rubs at your clit, occasionally dipping to your entrance to collect your slick. you'd love for him to put them in you, to curl his thick fingers inside of your body until you cum, but this seems to be all he allows himself to do, as if he's holding himself back from ultimate pleasure.
what he does do for you is certainly enough, though. soon, he's crowding your body, his figure hunched over yours as you twitch and writhe against him. he keeps his fingers firmly rubbing at your clit, soft circles that grow more intentional with each twitch of your hips against him. then, you tense up and sigh deeply, then tension in your body fleeing as you cum hard against his hand and rut your hips into his fingers.
katsuki watches and groans softly as you finish, still moving his fingers and breathing heavily in your ear until you collapse forward against the desk with overstimulation. your legs tremble and squeeze his hand between your thighs and your breath comes heavily and quickly. he breathes like this too, as if he's just exerted some great physical force, and you can still feel his cock twitching against you in his pants as the fingers on his free hand dig harshly into your hips.
katsuki doesn't move his hand until you've stopped your twitching, content to leg you squeeze it between two plush thighs. then, he removes it, briefly holding your skirt up and peering around you to see the supple flesh of your leg, before letting it drop. you exhale a breath you hadn't realized you were holding and katsuki lingers behind you for a moment before letting his head fall forward to rest against your shoulder.
neither of you says anything about the reality of what you've just done. it's a great crime. one that is not easily undone should anyone find out about it. the two of you sit in silence as it settles over you.
Gojo is pretty emotionally disconnected from most, refuses to let himself get attached most of the time after everything thats happened to him.
And then you show up
He doesn’t want to slip up. He doesnt want to form another bond like that. But its like he can’t stop it. Maybe you just remind him of what he’s lost, maybe it’s the way you see him as him rather than “the strongest,” an annoyance, or something shallow. It happens slow, so slow he barely even picks it up, but the feelings bloom. You just enrapture him. And he remembers everything that happened last time he got so close to another person, and he’s terrified to accept it but terrified to turn it away and loose the last chance he might have at a relationship like that.
so he takes it, tries to claim you in every sense of the word. You’re weaker than him, possibly even an underling, so there’s definitely a power dynamic that makes it easier for him to keep control. Maybe he tries to keep you hidden, but maybe he likes to drag you around like a dog, only loaning you off to somebody else when it gets too dangerous. Either way, it’s not like you can run because he’d definitely find you. He is absolutely NOT going to lose something so important to him, not again. He’d do whatever it takes, even if it meant making himself look like the bad guy in your eyes because you understand him so well, so he’s sure he can turn your relationship back to the positive side with just a little explanation and coercion
(idk if this may be a bit ooc but… its been rotting in my brain ty for letting me dump it here)
trigger warnings/content: yandere, stalking, power dynamics, obsession, Gojo is a few years older than reader, no smut, just word vomit
It starts off small. You’re a budding sorcerer, a few years Gojo’s junior, and also a new teacher at Tokyo Jujutsu High, trying to adjust to your new job. Gojo takes it upon himself to mentor you. You don’t think anything of it, other than the fact that it’s a little intimidating to have the strongest sorcerer of the era to serve as your guide.
You’re strong, he can see. You’re hardened by a few rough years of working in the field, but even despite barely meeting you, your facade cracks and he can see the goodness underneath.
Gojo’s impenetrable most days. To a lot of people, he might be a loud, annoying nuisance, but to you, you see a broken man who tries to keep everyone at arm’s length at the expense of his pride and reputation as a formidable sorcerer.
Gojo’s extremely intelligent, and uses it to play his cards wisely. It took him years to build a persona that’ll prevent outsiders from ever looking in. You manage to unravel him day by day, and it almost frustrates him.
Almost.
Until he realizes there’s no point in fighting the inevitable— he’ll have to let you in eventually.
There’s a fear in Gojo’s eyes when he sees you. It’s like all tomorrows appear in a blink. Your entire essence, so good, so innocent about the cruelty of the world. It reminds him of innocence he once had in his youth. Something about you is so magnetizing, and no matter how much Gojo wants to fight it, he can’t help but be pulled in.
He wants you. And he wants you to want him. Need him. Desire him carnally in the way he does you.
Slowly, he lets you see parts of him that no one else has ever seen. His love is so overwhelming, and because it’s Satoru— with his sweet words and seemingly good intentions— he manages to have you fall for him too. And when he finally, officially has you (because let’s face it, he decided you were his long before that point), he manages to keep you under lock and key.
For your safety, he reasons.
After all— is he really the strongest if he doesn’t do what he can to keep you safe?
The rose colored glasses seem to wear off over time, and you start to see Gojo for the monster he really is.
It takes a few months of garnering courage to even attempt to begin planning your escape from him. You do it slowly, but carefully, calculating every step to make sure you don’t leave a trail behind.
You get one of the auxiliary managers to buy you a back up phone, set up a whole new bank account overseas, and eventually *secretly* book a ticket to a whole different country— one far from the grasp of Satoru Gojo.
Fate, by some miracle, seems to be on your side. Yaga calls both of you in for an emergency meeting. Gojo is being sent away on a week long mission abroad to snuff out a new curse user group that has connections to one here in Japan. You— a local mission to check out disappearances in a nearby town.
You can feel the hostility radiating from the man standing next to you. You dare to take a peek, and you see nothing but an airy smile. “Yaga, I’ll take care of their mission. It should be quick for me—“
“No, Satoru. They haven’t been on a mission in months, thanks to you being greedy and taking on everything. Being a good mentor means letting them take calculated risks.”
With that, both of you sign off on paperwork and begin to prepare for your respective missions. The atmosphere is tense in Gojo’s home— the same one he made you move into just a few months prior (“So you don’t have to worry about commuting so far. ‘Sides, there’s a lot of creeps lurking around out there, and I’m not talking about curses.”)
Gojo refuses to leave you until he makes sure that you’ll be safe. Borderline threatens Ijichi to keep a close eye on you, and the poor man is nothing short of pissing his pants.
He pulls you aside before Ijichi starts preparing the veil. One hand rests on your waist, squeezing almost a little bit too tightly, like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he lets go, while the other tilts your chin up so you can meet his gaze.
He has his blindfold on, but you know all of his attention is on you. “I know you won’t have service inside the veil, but the second it gets lifted you’re going to call me.”
You nod, and listen like the good girl he likes you to be. With that, he gives you a kiss on the forehead before he leaves.
You manage to locate the missing victims and exorcise the curse in less than 48 hours. You do as you’re told and call Gojo. He picks up after the first ring, and you think you can hear a shuddered sigh of relief on the other line upon hearing your voice. He tells you he has to go, only because duty calls, and that he’ll talk to you soon. Be good. Update him. Don’t leave without permission.
As usual, you appease him.
You make it back home in record time, tell Ijichi to wait outside because you need him to take you somewhere.
You leave your phone behind— the one that Gojo has the location of— and shut the door with nothing but a small suitcase in tow.
Ijichi stammers, you want to go where? Alone? Does Gojo know about this?
You tell him there’s no time for questions and to start driving.
He drops you off at Narita, in the international terminal. He’s visibly sweating, no doubt fearing for both his life and yours once a certain white haired sorcerer gets back from his mission. You give him an easy smile and thank him, and he speeds off, probably to go into hiding as well.
Your hands are shaky as you hand the boarding pass to the flight crew, and the tremors don’t stop even as you take a seat inside the plane. Even when you arrive at your destination, lay down in your bed in what’s going to be your temporary home for who knows how long, does your anxiety fail to cease.
Gojo knows something is off. He’s blown up your phone with endless calls and texts, called Ijichi countless times, and even asked Yaga about your whereabouts. Nothing. Your radio silence confirms his intuition. He finishes up his mission quickly, before the one week allotment is up. The first thing he does when he steps foot in Japan is immediately teleport back home.
He’s met with silence, and hardly any trace of your cursed energy residuals to be seen. You’ve been gone for a few days, he deduces.
Anxiety starts to prickle the back of his neck, he doesn’t remember the last time he’s ever felt this much concern for anyone. Are you hurt? He tries calling you again, until he hears it. The slight buzzing sound emanating from your shared bedroom.
He picks up the device and sees the log of notifications. You really were gone.
Satoru looks through your phone— messages, emails, camera roll, bank statements— anything, anything to give him a hint as to what you were up to. Nothing. That’s okay, onto the next plan, which is honestly what he should’ve done first.
Being the strongest sorcerer had its perks, but none of them were greater than his privilege to investigate into people’s background history.
You know deep down there really was no escape from Satoru Gojo. That no matter the distance, he’d find a way back to you.
So when you see Gojo sitting on your bed in your hotel room, a part of you isn’t that surprised. The rest of you is paralyzed with anxiety of what comes next. You want to run, but you can’t. Your eyes begin to shift towards the still open door, trying to assess your options, but you’re hardly given a chance to finish your thought before Gojo is in front of you, closing the door. Effectively shut away from the outside world.
He’s not wearing his blindfold, you noticed. Which means he’s probably been tracking the flow of your cursed energy the moment you stepped foot into the lobby.
His stormy gaze meets yours, and he smiles. Your stomach drops.
“So…” he starts, voice sinfully low, “thought you could get away, hm?” He’s backed you up against the door, his strong frame pressed against yours.
Words bubble up your throat but die as they reach the tip of your tongue. You don’t want to set him off. You’ve only been given small glimpses into Gojo’s more sadistic, domineering side, which he does on purpose to serve as warning. You’re not like anyone else, so I’ll be good to you. In return, you must be good for me.
You start to tremble, legs beginning to fail you— but Satoru’s there to hold you steady. He uses one hand to grip your face, squishing both of your cheeks until your lips are pursed. He watches with deep adoration and fascination at how pliant the flesh is between his fingers. It’s like you were made for him.
“I’m willing to forget that you did this,” he hums, placing a quick peck to the tip of your nose before he presses his forehead against yours. “If you promise to get in that bed with me until I’ve decided you’re forgiven.”
Work belongs to @ryukatters. Please do not repost, recommend, or translate my writing on TikTok or Twitter.
Pairing: Yandere!Actor x Reader
Description: The television flickers with Caelum Ashford's triumph, but even in his absence, his shadow looms, a dangerous obsession seared into your every breath.
Warning/s: YANDERE | IMPLIED NONCON | possessive behavior | obsessive behavior | emotional manipulation | power dynamics | psychological abuse | implied violence | toxic relationship
Note/s: Apologies for not posting yesterday. Anyway, here's something for today. Might post something later or I might work on Callixto's story the rest of the day, Oh, also, Dark Roast is currently on sale for those of you interested. We're also about to hit 900 followers. Yay! Anyway, let me know what you think about this one!
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The television glows like a portal in the otherwise shadow-soaked room. The air is still, heavy with the scent of rosewood and Caelum—his cologne clings to your skin like fingerprints, still damp with sweat, bruised in all the places he left his mark. Your robe slips over your shoulder with each shallow breath, but you’re too sore to adjust it. The ache in your body is a ghost of how he claimed you before leaving, whispering that you belonged to no one but him.
The TV is the only light in the room. He left it on intentionally.
“Even when I’m not here, you’ll watch me. You’ll remember who you belong to.”
His voice is still in your ear, etched into your spine.
The crowd on the screen roars, dressed in designer gowns and thousand-watt smiles. Glitter rains from the ceiling of the grand theater. The host opens the envelope with ceremonial flourish.
“And the award for Best Actor in a Drama Series goes to… Caelum Ashford!”
You flinch.
Applause. Standing Ovation. Camera Flashes.
You grip the arm of the velvet couch tighter, the pressure grounding you. You’d known he’d win. Of course he would. The world is in love with him. They believe his portrayal of Lord Severus—the dangerously obsessive noble who would kill, steal, burn the kingdom down just to keep his wife—was the role of a lifetime.
But you know the truth.
He wasn’t acting.
The screen cuts to him rising from his seat. Hair immaculately styled. Sharp black suit hugging his tall frame. He walks with that haunting grace only Caelum possesses—like he owns the air around him. When he smiles, women in the audience swoon. Men clap harder. Critics nod, impressed.
But you—you freeze.
Because you know that smile is the same one, he gave you last night, when he held your wrists down against silk sheets and murmured, “Even if the world saw you naked in my bed, they wouldn’t know you like I do. Not like this.”
He takes the mic at the podium. Lifts the trophy. Looks straight into the camera.
“Thank you,” Caelum begins, voice velvet-smooth. “Portraying Lord Severus was… easy. Too easy, some might say.”
The crowd chuckles, charmed.
“When love consumes you… when it becomes your religion, your obsession, your purpose—it doesn’t feel like acting.”
A pause. Just long enough for you to notice the shift in his expression.
“You live it.”
There it is. That subtle smirk. One only you recognize. A private performance.
“I dedicate this award…” he continues, his voice softening. “…to the one who anchors me. My muse. My wife in heart, if not in law.”
Your stomach twists.
Your name is never spoken. It never is. Not even your shadow is allowed to touch the world outside these walls. But the message is for you. Always for you.
The camera zooms out. Applause. Cheers. Ovation.
And then—
Chime.
You go still.
It’s not a knock. Not a doorbell. It’s the discreet code-triggered chime that signals the villa gate has opened. A sound only those who live in this exclusive riverside estate would ever hear.
You scramble to your feet, heart hammering. You’re trembling before you even make it halfway across the room. The ache in your legs pulse like a warning. Your body knows before your mind accepts it—
He’s home.
Keys.
Click.
The door swings open.
Caelum Ashford steps into the villa, the golden trophy gleaming in one hand, a bottle of expensive wine in the other. His jacket drapes over his arm, hair tousled just slightly from the breeze outside. But his eyes—his eyes are on you the moment he crosses the threshold.
Predatory. Possessive. Burning with hunger.
“You watched, didn’t you?” His voice is low, silk around a blade.
He sets the bottle down, places the award beside the others on the black marble shelf. Unhurried. Precise. He undoes the top two buttons of his shirt, sleeves already rolled up.
He doesn’t wait for your answer.
“Don’t make me ask twice, sweetheart.” His smile is all teeth now. “Did you see what the world gave me tonight?”
You nod.
“Good,” he whispers, stepping closer, his voice darkening. “Because now it’s your turn to give me what I really want.”
he’s a cold man, with an icy stare and a fiery temper that is set off at the drop of a hat. the high lord katsuki has a reputation for being harsh on his peers and servants alike, though he has enough political sense to keep the peace.
he’s from an important family, born and bred with a silver spoon in his mouth and taught all of the niceties of good society. katsuki has read all of the classics and, in addition to an impressive family home (which he manages along with familial business), he has an extensive library, which he visits frequently.
you are low-born, only granted to opportunity of reading because your father taught you before he passed away. you’d been forced to find work when he passed and, by some stroke of luck, someone in the kitchens was willing to take you in and have you keep inventory for a small monthly salary. reading and writing comes in handy for that.
you consider yourself unlucky, however, at being noticed by katsuki’s first officer and personal attendant, kirishima, who happens to be of common birth with a position that should belong to a noble and thus, outranks you. well, just about everyone our ranks you. it’s him who recommends you for the “promotion” and lands you in katsuki’s personal office in the main house.
“my lord,” he says, stepping into the room with the comfort only a noble could have. “i’ve brought them.”
“who?” katsuki doesn’t raise his head. his voice is low and gravelly.
“the new serving staff, my lord,” he states. “the one from the kitchen inventory.”
katsuki looks up at this, his gaze unimpressed and unyielding. he looks you over for a moment, staring as if to size you up.
oh, he’s beautiful. it’s shameful thing to think of such a harsh man, but it’s the truth. he almost looks like a painting, with hard set eyes and round lips. you’d expected someone frightening, with harsh features and sharp, cutting proportions befitting of a man with rumors like the ones surrounding him. instead, the man who sits before you seems a prince with a slightly colder gaze. you suppose that his beauty is drowned out by the other rumors surrounding him.
“you said they could read?” katsuki snaps.
“yes, my lord,” he responds.
katsuki doesn’t comment on this, instead, he shifts his gaze to you and harshly barks a question.
“you’re willing to work?”
what does that matter? you don’t have much of a choice.
“yes, my lord.”
“very good,” katsuki says. “kirishima, see her to her quarters.”
kirishima excuses himself and you bow deeply and do the same. katsuki’s gaze lingers on you for a moment as you bow. it is so intense that you can almost feel the moment he tears it from you and returns to pouring over the papers in front of him. he does not look up again as you shut the door.
katsuki gives the impression that he is made of stone, stubborn and immovable. you imagine that his peers have trouble convincing him of anything and you briefly wonder, judging by the hard look he’d given you, if you’ll run into the same trouble.
anyway i think katsuki gets jealous upon seeing the way your friendship with his guard and personal attendant kirishima unfolds. you're incredibly easy-going around him, in a way that you're not around katsuki. he begins to notice the little glances exchanged between the two of you, or worse, the way you chat idly and joke with each other when you do your errands together.
it makes sense that you'd be more comfortable around him. kirishima, despite his position of prestige as a soldier and close attendant, could be considered a peer of yours. kirishima is not a lord like katsuki is, but rather, of common birth. he could marry you, if he wanted, something katsuki could never be allowed to do. he grimaces at the thought of having to approve your marriage certificate.
it's not that you're uncomfortable around katsuki, but rather that you seem to tread with a caution that you don't have with kirishima. katsuki wants you that way too. he wants you unbridled and unafraid, to see the real side of you, to touch you in the casual way kirishima seems to, though maybe not exactly like that. his desires are more selfish, carnal. it's inappropriate. it's a greed katsuki is not permitted to have and because what he feels is forbidden, he's threatened by the idea that with kirishima and you, it's not.
of course, what he doesn't know is that there's no real tension with kirishima. there's no real reason for you to be on guard or cautious or nervous with him because, unlike katsuki, you don't leave kirishima's company with damp underwear and an itch you can't seem to scratch.
after months of quietly serving the high lord katsuki his meals, exchanging only the bare minimum of words with him and tiptoeing n around his legendary temper, you are invited to sit with him while he eats.
he’s alone in his office and has cleared his work papers to make room for the tray of delicately prepared food you carry. food that you have never even dreamt of tasting. katsuki watched as you carefully walk and set the tray in front of him, addressing him properly and briefly explaining the meal. he stares as if waiting for you to mess up, for a slip of the tongue or a stutter. instead, as you turn to go, he clears his throat and quietly, almost gently, asks you to stay.
“would you care to stay for a moment?”
the sentence shocks you. not just because of his gentle tone, but because in the few months you’ve worked here, he has not so much as uttered a word to you beyond what is necessary.
“my lord? is there something else you need?” you ask, fighting to keep your thoughts from your face.
katsuki shakes his head. “i only asked if you cared to sit for a while.”
you don’t know if you’re allowed to turn him down, better to oblige his request. you take a seat on a chair partway through the room, down the back of your thighs and lowering your head. truth be told, you’re exhausted and it feels good to get off your feet, though you feel tense at being alone in a room with someone so far above your rank.
katsuki doesn’t say much as he eats, lifting the food to his mouth with closed eyes and an unreadable expression. you’re anxious to know why he’s kept you here. the silence is almost deafening and the smell of his meal makes your mouth water.
as the silence drags on, you are almost tempted to ask him why he’s asked you to stay. in fact, it’s on the tip of your tongue when katsuki next speaks.
“where did you learn to read?” he asks, his voice even and firm, though a bit rushed.
the question surprises you and you instinctly look up at him in confusion before meeting his crimson gaze and lower them again.
“my father taught me before he passed, my lord.”
“when you were young?”
“yes, my lord,” you reply, your nerves evident in your voice. “he taught me from when i was a child.”
katsuki nods his head as you raise your gaze. he’s looking at you with a slightly tilted head.
“what have you read?”
“whatever i could get my hands on. not many books were available to us.”
you pause as you realize your wording may have been rude. if katsuki notices he doesn’t say anything. in fact, he seems to relax into himself.
“and you enjoy it?”
“enjoy what, my lord?” you ask.
katsuki rolls his eyes and huffs.
“reading.”
“oh!” you feel best rush to your face, “yes, very much.”
katsuki nods his head again and let’s the room fall into an awkward silence. you get the sense that he’d like to say more to you. what’s holding him back? you have no idea. you serve at his pleasure, he should have no reason to worry what a servant thinks of him.
still, you’re surprised at the gentleness of this conversation, even with his impatience. there’s an awkward air even to him and, in some perverse way, his uneasiness makes your own feel somehow milder.
“will you be needing anything else, my lord?” you question quietly.
katsuki startles for a moment, as if he’d forgotten that your job is to serve him, and shakes his head. you think, for a moment, that you see the tips of his ears flush pink, but you don’t feel comfortable looking at him long enough to find out.
“no, that will be all.”
you almost get the impression that he is trying to be delicate with his wording as you stand from the chair and bow.
“then i’ll take my leave,” you say softly, making your way to the door.
katsuki watches you as you do, his meal seemingly forgotten in front of him. you peer through the door as you shut it just in time to see him run a hand over his face and rub lightly at his temples. the expression he wears is not one you’d expect from a man with a reputation such as his.
professor nanami keeps his eye on you all through class, flirting with the sweet, pink haired boy next to you. he watches you tap his fingers with a pen to tease him, watches the way you tilt your head and smile as he goes on about the last game or other. itadori is nice enough. the sort of boy you'd bring home to your parents and, despite being a part of a particular crowd, he seems to take dating very seriously. that doesn't mean that nanami hates watching you flirt through his entire lecture.
his feelings aren't appropriate. nanami knows that. he knows that he could jeopardize your education were he to act on them, but it's one thing to swallow down attraction and another entirely to try and swallow down jealousy. so nanami keeps his eye on you, holding back your last exam paper. you missed a few questions and may need to go over them with him. that's all it is.
