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Word Count: 462
Author’s note: Sorry for the wait! I hope you guys all had/have a great day :)
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Kyoko sits and listens intently to whatever is bothering you, or whatever you had go wrong that day
As you’re venting, she’d rub circles on your back with one hand and hold your hand with the other, making sure to give reassuring squeezes every once in awhile
She will definitely make tea or coffee for you to help you feel better
She would then kiss you and suggest you two do something to get your mind off of it
And of course, she’d let you pick what you want to do to unwind, without protest
Not like she would complain normally, but especially not after you’ve had such a bad day
If you want to watch a movie, she would let you lay your head on her lap, and she’d play with your hair as you watched
If you choose to play a game, she’d try not to win every time; but she also wouldn’t completely baby you, for the most part
If your day was bad enough, you might even be able to get her to slow-dance with you
And even though she may be a little hesitant, she would lace her fingers in yours, wrap her other arm around your neck and start swaying to whatever music you choose
After, she’d remind you that even though bad days come, she’ll always be there to help you feel better after-the-fact
The next morning, she’ll see if you feel any better after a good night's rest, and to wish you a better day today
Hajime would pull you into a tight-ish hug and let you vent about your day
He’d listen and nod along, showing he was paying attention, without interrupting you
He would run you a bubble bath and put some nice scented candles around. He might even play your favorite music, to make it a nice (hopefully) relaxing experience, or just sit and talk with you through the door
After your bath, you two would cuddle and talk about things you like, or what you want to do tomorrow. Really just anything to help you feel better than you did today
He would also offer to watch whatever show you want to watch, no matter if he’d normally hate the genre or not
He’ll remind you how much he loves you and how he hopes your day is better, tomorrow
In the morning, he’ll make you breakfast and tell you that he just *knows* today will be better
And when you come home, there’s a chance you’ll get your favorite flowers, either to “Brighten your day if it was another crummy one!” or “As a reward for having a better day, today!”
As if you could control how well your day is, but it’s the thought that counts
I would like to request „where the hurt doesnt reach with kyoko, kaede and miu
A/N: Yes, of course! :} Slowly but surely getting through all of my requests.
Kyoko:
(Y/N) kept his head down in the dorm lounge, hands clenched around a cup of tea that had long since gone cold. The mug felt heavy- heavier than ceramic should- like the memories clawing at his chest had poured themselves inside.
The dorm was quiet. He had planned it that way. Early mornings were the safest. Fewer eyes, fewer voices. Fewer men.
He flinched as the door clicked open behind him.
Footsteps- measured, soft, deliberate- crossed the floor. No harsh breaths. No creaking floorboards from someone stomping in. Just silence.
“Good morning.”
He knew that voice. Soft and clear, like the first breeze after rain… Kyoko Kirigiri.
He didn’t answer. Just dipped his head lower.
But she didn’t mind. She never did.
“Do you want me to sit with you?” she asked.
(Y/N)’s grip on his cup tightened. His lips parted, but no sound came. He didn’t know how to say yes. Not without explaining the panic in his chest, or the constant crawl of anxiety under his skin. Not without revealing how he didn’t trust anyone- especially not the boys in this school, the ones with rough laughs and too-loud voices.
But Kyoko wasn’t like them.
She waited. Silent. Letting him answer in his own time.
“…yeah,” he breathed, almost inaudibly.
She didn’t ask any more questions. Just sat across from him, folded her gloved hands on the table, and looked at him- not with pity, but with understanding.
“You’ve been avoiding the others,” she said plainly, but gently. “The male students.”
His jaw tensed. Shame burned under his skin like acid.
“I’ve noticed,” she added, after a pause. “That’s all. I’m not judging you.”
“…I just… can’t,” he whispered. “I-They remind me of… Someone.”
Kyoko’s gaze didn’t waver. “Your stepfather?”
He froze.
“…How do you know that?” he murmured, eyes wide.
“I’m the Ultimate Detective,” she said softly. “But more than that… I noticed how your shoulders tense when anyone raises their voice. How you instinctively put space between yourself and any guy who walks near you. How you relax, just slightly, when you’re with me.”
(Y/N)’s breath hitched. Tears threatened behind his eyes, but he blinked them back, ashamed. He didn’t want to cry. Not in front of her.
But Kyoko reached across the table- slowly, so gently- and placed her gloved hand near his, not touching, just close. An offering. A silent I’m here. You’re safe.
“You don’t have to explain everything,” she murmured. “Not until you’re ready. And even then, only if you want to.”
The room was quiet again. But it wasn’t lonely. Not with her there.
“I feel… broken,” he confessed, his voice cracking.
“You’re not,” she said, firmly. “You’re hurt. But not broken.”
(Y/N) looked up- really looked at her- and for the first time in days, the crushing weight in his chest loosened, just a little.
Maybe, with Kyoko… healing didn’t have to be loud… Maybe it could start here.
In silence. In stillness.
In the presence of someone who didn’t demand anything from him- except honesty, when he was ready.
Healing is quiet, but constant.
The halls of Hope’s Peak were always noisier in the afternoon, but (Y/N) found himself in the library. He liked the silence there. The weight of books around him felt grounding, the muffled sounds a safe sort of background noise.
He was flipping through a random mystery novel when a shadow passed the table- and without needing to look, he knew who it was.
Kyoko.
“Hi,” he murmured before she even spoke.
She stopped mid-step, slightly surprised… and then smiled faintly. “Hi.”
She took the seat across from him again, like it had become a silent ritual. There were no expectations between them. Just moments. Just space shared without pressure.
“You’re reading mystery novels now?” she asked, voice laced with a rare warmth.
(Y/N) gave a tiny shrug, fingers playing with the page corner. “Thought I’d try to understand what makes your brain tick.”
That earned him the smallest chuckle- soft and barely there, but real. His chest swelled with something fragile and new. He liked making her smile. Especially when she did it just for him.
“Do you want help solving it?” she asked, gesturing at the book.
He nodded, and they spent the next hour side by side- her pointing things out, him guessing and missing obvious clues, but laughing softly anyway. For a moment, the weight on his shoulders lifted, and it almost felt like he was just… a normal student. A normal boy. With a friend.
No- more than a friend. At least on his end.
He liked her. Liked the way she gave him space, but always showed up when he needed someone. Liked how she never asked about his scars but always looked like she wanted to fight whoever caused them.
Not all pain is visible. But she sees it anyway.
It happened in the courtyard. He hadn’t meant to go out, but he wanted air.
Then a group of guys passed by- too loud, too close- and one of them bumped into him hard, muttering something under his breath that wasn’t even mean, but his chest clamped down instantly.
The panic came fast. Sharp. Ugly.
His breath caught. Vision blurred.
He stumbled back toward the wall, heart hammering in his ears, the sky spinning above him-
“(Y/N)!”
Her voice cut through the noise.
She was there in seconds.
Kyoko didn’t touch him. She didn’t crowd him. She just knelt beside where he’d sunk to the ground, her gloved hand resting lightly against the pavement, near his.
“Breathe with me,” she said. Calm. Grounding. “In… and out. Match me.”
She inhaled slowly. Exhaled even slower. Repeated. Over and over.
And (Y/N), shaking and pale, tried to match her. At first it didn’t work. His chest was too tight. His throat burned.
But she didn’t leave. Didn’t falter.
“In… and out.”
Eventually, the tightness loosened. The dizziness passed. His hands stopped shaking.
“…I’m sorry,” he whispered hoarsely, voice barely there.
“Don’t apologize,” she said gently. “You’re not weak for surviving.”
Those words hit harder than anything else. He blinked hard, biting down the emotion swelling in his throat.
She sat beside him then, her shoulder close. Not touching- just present. Solid.
“I hate how scared I am,” he murmured. “How small I feel when they’re around.”
Kyoko was quiet for a moment. Then she said, “You’ve never been small to me.”
He turned his head toward her, startled. She met his eyes- clear and unwavering.
“You're brave,” she said. “Not because you’re unafraid. But because you keep going, even when you are.”
And- that was the moment he fell just a little harder.
Kaede:
(Y/N) didn’t speak much when he first arrived at Hope’s Peak. He flinched at sudden noises, kept his eyes on the floor, and sat in the back of every room, as far from the boys as he could manage. Rumors spread quickly in schools like this- but Kaede never paid them any mind.
She saw him- really saw him- when she stayed after class to pack her sheet music, and he lingered a little longer than usual. Just the two of them in the room. She glanced up to say goodbye, and (Y/N) visibly tensed.
Her voice softened. “Hey… sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
(Y/N) didn’t answer at first. But he didn’t bolt either.
That was enough for Kaede.
The next day, she played a melody in the music room after class, loud enough for the hallway to hear. Just in case he passed by again. She kept doing it for days. Weeks.
Until one afternoon, she looked up between notes… and there he was. Standing in the doorway, holding his arm with a nervous grip, eyes unfocused.
She smiled, gentle and bright. “You can come in, if you want.”
He stepped inside- slowly, like the floor might give out under him.
Kaede kept playing. Nothing fancy. Just something soft and warm, like sunrise through a window. When she finished, she turned to him.
“…You okay?”
“…I don’t really like being around people,” he mumbled, “especially… guys.”
Kaede nodded, never once looking away.
“I get it. You don’t have to explain. But I’m not a guy, and… I promise, I’ll never make you feel unsafe.”
(Y/N)’s lip trembled slightly. But he stayed.
That became their quiet ritual- no words needed. He’d sit nearby while she played, sometimes reading, sometimes just… existing. In a room where no one could hurt him. A place where her music filled the silence he carried like a second skin.
One rainy evening, she asked gently, “Can I show you something?”
She pulled a chair beside the piano and motioned for him to sit.
“You don’t have to play,” she smiled. “I just… want you to feel what it’s like to be near music like that. To feel safe inside something.”
He hesitated, then slowly sat beside her. Their shoulders didn’t quite touch.
She began to play, her fingers moving across the keys in slow, deliberate tenderness. The piece wasn’t just music- it was comfort. A lullaby for someone long overdue for kindness.
Halfway through, she felt it- (Y/N) leaned in, his head resting against her shoulder. Light, like a bird settling onto a branch for the first time.
Kaede didn’t stop playing.
And for the first time in a long, long while… (Y/N) closed his eyes and let himself breathe.
The next day, he was there before her.
Kaede blinked when she opened the door to the music room and found (Y/N) already seated near the piano bench, a sketchbook in his lap. He looked up, startled- like he hadn’t meant to be caught.
“I… I wanted to hear you play again,” he said quickly, almost apologetically. “If that’s okay.”
She smiled. “Of course it is.”
As she sat down at the piano, she peeked at the edge of his notebook. Scribbles- music notes, little stars, a clumsy sketch of what might’ve been her fingers on the keys.
She didn’t comment. Just started to play.
Over time, it became something sacred. She'd play for him every afternoon. And when her fingers rested, they’d talk. At first, he only answered in nods or short phrases- but the wall between them was crumbling, brick by fragile brick.
One day, he surprised her.
“Do you… remember the first song you played for me?” he asked, barely louder than the hum of the heater.
Kaede paused, then nodded. “Yeah. Clair de Lune.”
“It reminded me of…” He trailed off, swallowing hard. “Of my mom. She used to play music on a little radio in the kitchen. Classical stuff. Before she met him.”
Kaede’s fingers stilled on the keys, but she didn’t say anything. She let the silence hold the space, like the soft pedal of a piano, gentle and unpressing.
“She stopped playing music after he moved in,” he whispered. “After a while, everything got quiet. Like… too quiet. I didn’t think I’d ever like music again.”
Kaede blinked slowly, heart aching.
“But I like yours,” he added, with the faintest smile. “I like… being around you.”
That made her heart flutter. Not with giddiness, but with something deeper. Like trust taking root.
She turned to him, her voice quiet. “I like being around you too.”
From that day on, something shifted.
He started waiting for her outside the music room instead of sneaking in early. He’d walk with her down the hall, always keeping a careful distance from the louder male students, but close enough that his shoulder brushed hers now and then.
And sometimes- when the room was empty, and the song was soft, and the sun hit just right- he’d smile. Not just at the music, but at her.
Kaede would smile back, her heart swelling.
She knew healing wasn’t a straight line. There were days when he still flinched at loud voices. When group activities left him drained and hollow-eyed. But he always found his way back to her.
One afternoon, after a particularly long session, he stayed behind after she packed up.
“Kaede?” he said, voice trembling.
She turned, instantly focused on him.
“…Can I hug you?”
The question knocked the wind from her.
But she nodded, gently, like she was answering a question from a dream. She opened her arms without a word.
(Y/N) stepped forward hesitantly. Then slowly- like a scared animal testing the air- he melted into her.
It wasn’t tight or desperate. Just a quiet press of his face into her shoulder, arms loosely around her waist.
Kaede held him with the kind of care reserved for breakable things. Her hand rubbed soothing circles on his back. “You’re safe,” she whispered. “I’ve got you.”
Miu:
(Y/N) had flinched when Miu first barged into his dorm, voice carrying that usual volume and vulgarity like a storm in stilettos.
“Yo, pencil-dick! You alive in here or what? You didn’t show up for breakfast and I ain’t got time to invent a search drone with tits just to find your sorry a-”
She stopped. Mid-rant. Her blue eyes scanned the dark room and landed on him, curled up in the corner with trembling shoulders, the edge of his sleeve wet where he’d been biting it to stay quiet. Not because he was hiding from her- but from the memories her voice had triggered.
“…Ah. Shit.”
It was the first time she didn’t call him a name.
Miu didn’t step closer. She dropped to sit cross-legged by the door, fiddling awkwardly with a spare screw in her hand, voice dipping just enough to feel like a whisper.
“Okay, so... maybe screaming like I’m in heat wasn’t the move,” she mumbled, chewing her bottom lip. “You wanna talk or should I just sit here and talk to myself like a damn lunatic? ‘Cause I can do both.”
(Y/N) didn’t answer. His voice was buried too deep behind the fear. But he didn’t tell her to leave.
She took that as permission.
Later that night, after hours of her rambling about new inventions- some genius, some dangerously stupid- he finally managed a small voice. Fragile.
“…Why’re you being nice to me?”
Miu blinked, caught off guard. Her usual grin didn’t come. Instead, she shrugged, arms resting loosely on her knees.
"'Cause I know what it’s like to hate being touched. To hear someone’s footsteps and feel your chest lock up. To build a thousand walls with your bare hands 'cause you don’t trust a single fucking person not to break you again.”
(Y/N) looked up at her, eyes wide. She wasn’t loud anymore. She was... real.
She smirked, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Plus, you’re the only guy who doesn’t try to touch me or tell me to shut up. That’s kinda hot.”
A breathless, broken laugh escaped him before he could stop it.
And that was the first night he fell asleep with her sitting beside him- quiet, steady, and real.
It wasn’t overnight. But it was something.
The next morning, Miu came back. Same knock, a little softer this time. She waited- didn’t barge in. When (Y/N) cracked the door open, she was standing there with a weird contraption in her hands.
“It’s a... uh... noise-canceling headset,” she said, trying and failing to sound casual. “If I yell too loud, it automatically dampens my voice before it reaches your ears. Like a built-in anti-Miu filter. Patent pending, dickweed.”
He blinked at her, then... laughed. A real laugh, quiet and airy, but genuine.
She flushed bright pink. “S-Shut up, it’s not because I like you or anything! I just got bored! You think I sit around all day worrying about your trauma baby brain or some shit?!”
(Y/N) smiled.
“Thank you.”
She looked like she short-circuited for a second. “…Whatever.”
Over the next few weeks, they started eating together- sometimes in the cafeteria, sometimes in his room. He talked more now, slowly. Haltingly. But it was there.
“I used to be afraid of falling asleep,” he admitted one evening, his fingers picking nervously at the hem of his sleeve as they sat cross-legged on his bed, a blanket pulled over both their legs. “If I stayed awake, I could hear him coming. I’d have time to hide.”
Miu didn’t answer right away. She just scooted closer, their knees brushing.
“If you ever need someone to sleep next to you,” she said softly, “I’m right here. I snore and occasionally yell ‘ORGASM!’ in my dreams, but like- other than that, I’m pretty fuckin’ cuddly.”
He laughed again, but this time, there were tears running down his cheeks.
One night, he reached for her hand.
She was rambling about a new sex robot idea (“It makes you breakfast and calls you daddy! Revolutionary!”), and he wasn’t really listening- just watching her, soft-eyed and warm.
His fingers brushed hers. Hesitant. Unsure.
She froze mid-sentence, cheeks blooming with color. “W-Woah. D-Don’t get all handsy on me, lover boy…”
But she didn’t pull away.
And when his grip tightened, just slightly, her own hand squeezed back. Gentle. Careful. A little shaky.
“…But if you wanna hold hands like some lame high school anime couple, I guess I can allow it.”
(Y/N) didn’t say anything. He just leaned his head on her shoulder.
And for once, Miu Iruma- Ultimate Inventor, self-proclaimed genius perv, filthy-mouthed storm of chaos- didn’t say a word either.
She just let him rest there.
If you're willing do you mind doing that last prompt you did (the one with Mahiru and Kaede, also fuck that Hina guy wtf) but with Kyoko, Celeste and Toko? I really enjoy subby readers and my gay heart is screaming ♥️
A/N: Absolutely! I tried to make it more subby, I hope this is what you wanted :} Also, yeah, I agree. That guy was super fucking weird. Hopefully, it won't be a problem anymore, though.
Kyoko:
- The Talk Comes First: Kyoko doesn’t act without knowing the full picture. She’ll sit beside (Y/N), voice calm and soothing, hands gently folded in her lap. “Are you sure you’re ready?” she’ll ask- not to test her, but to assure her she’s not going anywhere if she’s not. The detective always makes sure the emotional groundwork is solid before taking any step forward.
- Subtle Nervousness: She seems composed, but the truth is in the little things: how her fingers linger longer than usual, how she hesitates before speaking, how her eyes flick to (Y/N)’s lips then away again. It’s not fear- it’s hope. Quiet, careful hope that (Y/N) will want this just as much as she does.
- Soft, Private Setting: Kyoko prepares everything in advance: the room is clean, the sheets are freshly changed, the lights are low and warm. Maybe there’s a playlist in the background- instrumental, minimal vocals. She creates an atmosphere that wraps around (Y/N) like a protective spell.
- Guided Reassurance: She reads (Y/N)’s every reaction like she’s solving a case. If her breath catches or her fingers twitch, she slows. “Is this okay?” she murmurs. “We stop the moment you say so.” There is no judgment in her voice, only care.
- Uncharacteristically Soft Words: When the walls fall, they fall completely. “You’re beautiful,” she whispers against (Y/N)’s skin. “I’ve never trusted anyone this much.” Her words are rare gems, only shared when they matter most- raw and real in a way that Kyoko doesn’t allow herself to be often.
- Taking Her Time: She savors every kiss, every brush of skin. Her touches are slow, almost reverent, like she's memorizing the love of her life. She’s not rushing to an end- she’s exploring, mapping, learning. Her pace says ‘you matter to me’.
- Detective Instincts… for Love: If (Y/N) tenses, if her voice falters, if her expression shifts even slightly- she knows. She adjusts instantly. “We don’t have to go further. We can just be here.” Kyoko is attentive in a way that feels like she’s holding your soul in her hands.
- She Makes It About (Y/N): This isn’t about her. Kyoko pays attention to (Y/N)’s sighs, her shivers, her breath. She adapts to what she needs, and finds joy in giving her pleasure- not just physically, but emotionally. She’s endlessly patient, giving without asking for anything back.
- Detective-Level Focus: The way (Y/N)’s back arches? Noted. The little gasp when she kisses a certain spot? Locked in. She pieces it together like evidence, each detail helping her uncover exactly how to make her unravel.
- Hands First, Always Controlled: Kyoko’s fingers are her most precise tools- slender, confident, and deliberate. Even with gloves, she’s devastatingly effective. She doesn’t rush, she doesn’t falter. “I want to feel you come undone for me,” she murmurs, and she does.
- Kisses Between Commands: While her fingers do the work, her mouth follows: trailing kisses down (Y/N)’s neck, teeth nipping her collarbone, lips warm and firm. Her voice is low: “Don’t run. Let it happen.” She grounds her with both command and comfort.
- If She Uses Her Mouth… (Y/N)’s Doomed: Kyoko between her thighs is a study in devotion. She licks with purpose, pressure, and slow-building heat. Her hands keeps (Y/N) open, her eyes locked on hers. Every look says, ‘don’t look away from me’. And (Y/N) can't.
- She Talks (Y/N) Through It: “You’re close.” “That’s it, stay with me.” “I want you to let go.” Her voice alone is enough to push her over. She speaks in that even, warm tone (Y/N) trusts more than anything.
- Body Language Queen: When (Y/N) starts trembling, she grounds her. “Breathe. I’ve got you,” she whispers, and she does. She’s right there, adjusting her pace, never leaving her to ride it out alone. She breaks her down just to hold her through it.
- Finishing: When (Y/N) finally falls apart, she catches every piece. Shes in her arms before she can even think. “You did so well,” she murmurs against her temple. “I’m here. I’ve got you.” Her embrace is firm, warm, and unshakable.
- Gentle Aftercare: Warm water, soft clothes, slow fingers brushing through (Y/N)’s hair- Kyoko takes care of her like it’s second nature. Not for show, not for reward, but because (Y/N)’s hers, and that means everything. She wipes her down, tucks her into bed, kisses her wrist or her knuckles. The silence is not awkward- it’s safe. It’s filled with everything she can’t say aloud yet.
- Protective Instincts: She doesn’t move far. Her arm stays around (Y/N)’s waist, her forehead rests against hers, and she whispers, “I’m proud of you.” Even in sleep, she keeps her close, like she’s guarding something precious.
- And Later, When (Y/N)’s Ready: Kyoko brings it up again, gently. “How did that feel for you?” she asks, genuinely curious. She’s not looking for praise- she’s looking to learn, to understand, to grow. “Tell me everything. I want to know you.”
- A New Level of Bond: Afterwards, something in her softens permanently. She reaches for (Y/N)’s hand more in public, touches her back when she’s nervous, sits a little closer when she’s quiet. Her gestures stay small but deeply meaningful.
Celeste:
- Velvet Patience: Celeste is unnervingly calm, even in the most delicate situations. Her voice is a steady lull, her touch a whisper. She picks up on every nervous glance, every stuttered breath, and treats it not as hesitation- but as precious vulnerability to be cherished, not rushed.
- Curated Intimacy: Every moment is an event to Celeste. She crafts the room like a stage deep crimson sheets, flickering candlelight, the warm scent of roses and cinnamon tea. It's a soft fantasy she’s prepared just for (Y/N)- a world where tension melts away.
- Gentle Consent: Before anything begins, she cups (Y/N)’s cheek and asks, “Are you certain, my dear?” Her tone is so gentle, it borders on reverent. Consent, to her, is sacred. One “stop,” and she’ll halt without hesitation, offering warmth and cuddles instead.
- Experience Without Arrogance: Though she’s clearly confident and well-versed, Celeste never flaunts it. She leads with grace, not dominance. Her touches are exploratory, not possessive. She lets (Y/N) guide the pace, only stepping in to soothe or steady with tender encouragement.
- Laughter in Lace: If things go clumsy, she doesn’t blink. She just smiles, maybe chuckles, and says something like, “Perfection is dull, darling. I much prefer sincerity.” It eases the moment, makes (Y/N) feel seen and safe.
- Emotional First, Physical Second: For Celeste, intimacy without emotional resonance is meaningless. She watches (Y/N)’s face more than anything, whispering things like, “You’re doing beautifully,” or, “You have no idea how radiant you are when you trust me.”
- Slow, Intentional Control: Celeste doesn’t rush pleasure. She draws it out like a skilled gambler playing the long game. Her voice drops, sultry and steady: “Relax, mon amour. I know exactly how to make you tremble.” She plays (Y/N) like a prized deck of cards- every shuffle intentional.
- Bare Devotion: She begins with her hands- every movement is slow, studied, circular. One hand soothes while the other teases. If (Y/N) starts to shake, she holds her steady, whispering praise like silk over skin.
- Sweet Words, Wicked Edges: Celeste’s mouth is poetic even in passion. “You’re already this wet? How delightful…” Her tone stays elegant, teasing, yet never crude. She relishes how (Y/N) blushes, coaxing out gasps with every breathy murmur.
- Worship with Her Mouth: Between (Y/N)’s thighs, Celeste becomes reverent- like a queen worshiping a goddess. She alternates pressure and tempo with the finesse of a maestro. Occasionally, she pauses just to listen to the whimper she elicits, then resumes with a devilish glint in her eyes.
- Gentle Restraint: When things peak, Celeste adds pressure with a steady hand on (Y/N)’s hips. If she tries to squirm away or close her legs, Celeste parts them again, whispering, “No hiding, mon trésor. Let me see all of you.”
- Intuitive as a Card Shark: She reads (Y/N)’s reactions like a pro- breath catches, legs tense, voice cracks. Her every move is adjusted in response, keeping (Y/N) right at the edge until she knows- now. Only then does she let her fall.
- Hidden Softness: Only (Y/N) sees her like this- bare-voiced and slightly trembling when she says, “Thank you… for trusting me with something so precious.” It’s the rare crack in her otherwise theatrical façade, and it makes (Y/N) fall even harder.
- That First Finish- Her True Victory: The moment (Y/N) comes undone, Celeste doesn’t let go immediately. She eases her down slowly, lips softening, drawing out every last tremble. Her reward isn’t the climax itself- it’s the broken, blissful trust in (Y/N)’s voice afterward.
- Post-Climax Bliss: Afterward, Celeste is all silk and silence. She brings tea, tucks (Y/N) into bed, and curls around her like a shield. Her parting whisper? “You did beautifully… I hope I was unforgettable.” (Y/N) clings to her, dazed, and Celeste’s smile lingers in the dark.
- Aftercare Royalty: She doesn’t just do aftercare- she elevates it. Warm tea, gentle cleaning, luxurious sleepwear, and the softest embrace. (Y/N) gets to lie on her chest, feeling her fingertips move slowly through her hair as she whispers, “You are safe. You are adored.”
Toko (plus Jack):
- Nervous to the Core: The moment intimacy even approaches the conversation, Toko’s stammering like her life depends on it. “I-I-I- this is m-m-moving so fast! W-We haven’t even talked about lighting conditions!!”
- Hopeless Romantic: Her ideal “first time” is something out of a tragic Victorian novel- faint candlelight, whispered poetry, trembling confessions. She would kill for rose petals.
- Check-in Queen: “A-Are you okay? Did that hurt? I-I can stop- no really, just say the word!!” She checks in every ten seconds, desperate to get things “right.”
- Overheats Instantly: Compliment her? She short-circuits. “You’re so gentle, Toko.” - Cue wide-eyed stare, open mouth, and total emotional collapse.
- Tactile Panic, But Devotion: Touching (Y/N)? Terrifying. But she still does it, hands shaking, because she wants to. She takes her time, watching her reactions like she's memorizing scripture.
- Sacred Kisses: Every kiss is given with shaking lips and reverence. Like she’s afraid she’ll break the moment if she breathes too hard.
- Miracle Complex: When (Y/N) moans? She looks like she’s seen God. “I-I did that? You… because of me?” It's part pride, part panic, part euphoria. “I n-never thought anyone would… want me… Like that.”
- Taking the Stage-: When things get too intense for Toko- sneeze, slice, cackle- Jack’s on deck with that wild grin- “Well helloooo, lover~”
- Confidence on Fire: Where Toko panics, Jack thrives. She's flirty, bold, and loves teasing (Y/N) just to watch her squirm. Even so, shes weirdly considerate? She knows when to reel it in. If (Y/N)’s nervous, she dials it back (still grinning, of course). “Don’t cry on me now, babe. You’re doing sooo good~”
- Romance, But Make It Unhinged: Kisses (Y/N)’s knuckles while whispering, “You're the only one who makes me wanna play nice.” And she means it.
- Tongue Game- Dangerous: She’s filthy. Loud, wet, teasing- moaning like she’s the one getting off from tasting (Y/N). “Damn, sweetheart, you taste like sin~”
- Edge Queen: She loves dragging it out, edging until (Y/N)’s thighs tremble and she’s breathless. All while praising and taunting in equal measure.
- Orgasm Hunter: When she knows (Y/N)’s close, she gets feral. Eyes wild, tongue relentless, chasing her climax like it’s prey.
- Takes Care Afterwards (Sorta): Gently kisses (Y/N)s thighs, helps her clean up… while making a very inappropriate joke. “Can’t break my toy on the first playdate~”
- Balance of Soft and Savage: Toko builds the emotional intensity, Jack brings the fire. (Y/N) learns which version she wants depending on her mood. Toko starts it, slow and shaky. Jack finishes it, wild and ruthless. Tag-team of the century.
- Loving Navigation: (Y/N) learns how to hold Toko through the panic and keep Jack from going full menace. It's a labor of love- beautiful, weird, messy. Despite all the madness, both parts of Toko genuinely want to love and worship (Y/N)… they just express it very differently.