#tempted to write a fic of this. nobody else will see it. because i will not publish it. but i am tempted. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

plothooksinc · 7 months

Note

For NRFTW prompts; this may or may not be a bit of a stretch since it's outside of the POVs in the original fic, but I'd just love to see what happened when April's parents were at Run of the Mill. I think it would be really funny to see Senior Hueso getting increasingly more exasperated.

Either that, or seeing the dinner that was promised at the end of NRFTW. I do always love me some found family fluff.

Honestly, both would be great, but even seeing just one of those would absolutely make my day.

You're in luck, actually! I chose Hueso, but the prompter after you asked for the dinner |D so I guess I'll write that next!

Fair warning for this: I do not know Spanish. I have thus used it sparingly. If anyone else knows Spanish and I have it wrong, please tell me and I will course correct.

They were closed. They’d been closed for days, but the announcement that the lockdown was officially over had been just a few hours ago, and so perhaps it was lucky that Hueso had decided to check in on his beloved restaurant to see if it had survived the surface invasion intact. He had high hopes, given its highly secretive entrance to the mundane world, but he also needed to take inventory of his kitchen because the lockdown had been unexpected, to say the least, and some of his more delicate ingredients would not have survived a four day absence of care.

Perhaps it was also lucky that Hop had come with him, lured by the promise of double pay, to help him clean out the pantry and set any issues to rights. Because when the yokai popped into existence in the middle of his dining room—complete with two shell-shocked, dark-skinned humans—Hueso himself was not at ground zero. And he was not their first impression. And a fluffy, wide-eyed black and white rabbit yokai was perhaps less terrifying to two panicked humans than a skeleton in a fedora. Hueso was not convinced that, had he been the first point of contact, the woman would not have tried to run him through with her knife.

For all the good it would do her. But… details.

Instead, he bolted out of the kitchen to the sound of multiple screams, stopping short at the counter to see Hop on the floor with both arms over his head, his feet thumping a pattern on the ground—and a woman breathing hard in a pair of blue jeans and an orange shirt and dark, wild curly hair that reminded him of someone else. He couldn’t work out if the man holding onto her shoulders was cowering or merely holding her back, they both seemed so terrified, but at least the knife in the woman’s hands wasn’t actually in use. Held in a death grip, maybe, but—

Mayhem, he did recognise. Because the traitorous little yokai hopped from the woman’s shoulder onto his counter, stared at him pointedly, and then vanished.

Which drew all attention in the room his way.

And if the screaming had been loud before…

For a moment, he considered turning on his heel and walking back into the kitchen, locking the door behind him. It was so tempting. But he had a duty of care to Hop, and he should probably… do something about the humans in his Yokai Only (With One Exception) establishment.

“I’ll thank you to stop yelling,” he said irritably. “Nobody is going to hurt you. You will perhaps tell me why you are here, yes?”

The knife swung in his direction, the woman’s expression fierce, and Hop took the opportunity to scoot away from the couple, jamming himself into the corner instead. Hueso sighed. “No trust. Senora, this is a pizzeria, not a death trap. That’s next door. If you put the knife down and take a seat, I will fetch you some soothing tea and you can explain to me why you have appeared without warning when we are closed.”

The woman blinked at him, and then her gaze travelled across the menu boards behind him, and her eyes widened. Thankfully, she finally lowered the knife.

“…Run of the Mill?” she said, sounding dazed. “I know this place.”

He stiffened. “How so?”

“My daughter... orders from here?”

Ah. That would be why she looked so familiar to him, then. Hueso adjusted his fedora and graciously kept his sigh to himself. “Your daughter has good taste. In pizza, if not in company.” That was mostly a lie; the boys weren’t that bad, but he wasn’t about to admit that. “However, she is not here today, and so my question still stands. Why did Mayhem bring you to my closed establishment?”

“Oh, good,” the man at her back murmured, and he smiled in a way that suggested he was not, in fact, happy at all. “April and Mayhem have both been here before. Isn’t that great, honey? Hmm?”

“Wait, that’s not important,” said the woman—Mrs O’Neil, he would assume until told otherwise. To his great annoyance, she swung the knife up again. “You have to send us back. We left her there, you took us away—“

“I took you nowhere,” Hueso snapped, both from impatience and the realisation that something untoward had possibly happened. He just wanted to check on his restaurant, but apparently that was not in the cards today. “If you listened, I said the furry creature with you—“

“Mayhem,” Mr O’Neil muttered. “I think that’s right. The… nice skeleton man is just as surprised as we are.”

His fingers squeezed into her shoulders, and she lowered the knife again. Hueso raised an eyebrow at her, wondering if she’d just threaten him again in a moment—she seemed the type. But Mrs O’Neil looked tired, and had begun to shake. Definitely something terrible had happened. Besides their sudden appearance here.

Now, he did sigh.

“Hop, go home,” he said wearily. “I will pay you until the end of the evening as promised. The two of you, please. Sit down.”

---------

Hop was a good kitchen hand but otherwise terribly anxious and hadn’t needed to be told twice to leave; by the time Hueso came back from the kitchen with tea, he was gone. Hueso eyed the corner where he’d squished himself in case the woman had somehow gone crazy in his absence, but there was no sign of violence and the couple was now sitting at the corner booth, though they both seemed as rigid as corpses. It was as if they were expecting the booth to come alive and eat them whole. (He… would refrain about joking about that sort of thing. They might actually believe him. And one day, it might not actually be a joke, given some of his clientele.)

The knife sat on the table with the blade facing away from the edge. It was as close to a truce as he suspected they could manage, and he placed the tray on the table, amused as they stared at it suspiciously.

“You will be reassured to note my tea is a mundane herb for soothing the nerves and likely something you are familiar with,” he said blandly. “Just as I’m sure you are already familiar with pizza. This is a normal restaurant, for all intents and purposes.”

They didn’t need to know about the delicate ingredients. Not unless he decided he didn’t like them. The jury was still out; for one thing, the knife. The yelling. His restaurant being closed. But on the other side of the equation, they were related to April, who had thus far been a surprisingly tolerable human guest.

They were also traumatized, and once he listened to their slightly incoherent attempts to tell him what had happened—tripping over each other in their haste to talk about alien zombie creatures—he realised Mayhem had brought them here to save their lives. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Surely, there were other places Mayhem would consider safer than a yokai restaurant.

Well. Small mercy that at least the dining room had not been open at the time.

Mrs O’Neil took a sniff of her tea with a cautious face, and then pulled back in surprise. “Chamomile?”

“And a touch of honey.”

“Oh. I wouldn’t have thought—“

“I can assure you, Senora, that many yokai tastes run quite similarly to those of humans. Like pizza, for example. Consider that you are sitting in a pizzeria.”

The look she gave him was actually irritated. “I was going to say it’s weird to find chamomile in a pizzeria.”

“…ah.” Well. Perhaps, when she wasn’t panicking, she was a reasonable woman. He tipped his hat. “My apologies. It is actually a blend for my own personal use.”

“Why are you Spanish?” Mr O’Neil asked abruptly, and Hueso stared.

“…I beg your pardon?”

“Hon,” his wife said tiredly, “You can’t just go around asking random skeletons why they’re Spanish—“

“It’s a valid question,” he insisted, but his expression was sheepish. “You said yokai. Yokai are Japanese in origin.”

“In origin,” Hueso repeated back pointedly. “A very, very long time ago. It is an adopted term for many of us. Your daughter has been consorting with yokai for more than a year now; I am surprised to find the two of you so ignorant.”

“…she what.”

…ah.

Well, if April was going to send her parents to him, what was he meant to assume? Hueso rubbed his fingers against his skull, trying not to hold it against them when they flinched at the click of his knuckles.

“Let’s start over.”

--------

Their first cup of tea settled their nerves enough that they thanked him politely for his hospitality, though Hueso noted tiredly their gratitude came with shell-shocked expressions, and he wondered how much of this they would retain later. The woman asked him if April had friends here—while her husband tried for the fourth time to call his daughter—and Hueso gave a faint shrug. He may have only a slight regret about accidentally throwing April under the bus, but Frankie’s daughter and the turtle boys were another story. Now that he knew how little they knew, it was time to keep his distance: he left them to continue their phone calls and vanished into the kitchen.

He was just putting a pizza into the oven when his kitchen door slammed open, and Hueso ground his teeth at the sight of Mrs O’Neil bursting into his kitchen looking upset all over again.

“Senora—“

“You don’t have a front door,” she said shrilly. “Why don’t you have a front door?”

Ah. They’d tried to leave. He could understand this particular panic, and he straightened. “Senora, this is a non-human establishment. As such, there is no door that any casual tourist can just walk through. Imagine the upset.” He raised an eyebrow. “Imagine if they all had knives.”

“They wouldn’t be carrying knives!”

“That is… reassuring?”

Her mouth opened and closed, and then she ran a hand down her face, face suddenly so tired. “Guns. They’d be carrying guns.”

“Less reassuring. Also an odd tangent.” He blinked. “This may be a strange question given the circumstances, but are you—“

“I’m fine,” she muttered. “I was trying to protest and then I realised you had a point.”

“Gracias.”

“No, but—sorry for bursting into your kitchen—“

“And again.”

“—but we really need to leave.” Her hands twisted into her shirt. “April isn’t answering her phone and we’ve tried, we’ve tried a lot, we’ve left messages, and we left her there and there are zombies, can you please let us out? There’s another way to leave, right?”

There was, of course. There were three ways out, and he wasn’t particularly inclined to show her any of them for a variety of reasons. First and foremost was the safety and privacy of his family and his livelihood. The O’Neils seemed like decent people, but they were still human and he’d only just met them. Giving them the mystical keys to get in and out of his restaurant—or allowing them to see where it was in New York—was not something he was willing to commit to just yet.

Another reason, of course, was plain common sense.

“Senora, the little furry yokai brought you here for a reason,” he said gently. “Did April ask him to bring you?”

“Yes,” she said heavily. “But—“

“Then you didn’t leave her there. She made you go. And most likely for the reason that she can hold her own far better when she does not have to worry about you as well.” He’d never seen April fight, but he knew the company she kept. It stood to reason. “Though I am curious as to why she sent you to my restaurant.”

“She told Mayhem to take us somewhere safe.”

“Ah.” Then this was a choice of Mayhem’s. The next time the little yokai came in, they were going to have words. Or at least… pointed stares. “You seem to be quite familiar with Mayhem, at least.”

“We knew he wasn’t, uh, quite a cat or a dog. And there are mutants out there,” she said awkwardly. “I figured he was a mutant animal of some kind, but… yokai, huh?”

He relaxed a little, leaning back against the counter. “You do not have a problem with mutants?”

“Well, I don’t know any, except for—well, no.” She folded her arms. “If Mayhem’s a yokai, then I’ve never met one. But they’re just people, right?”

A good attitude to have. He raised an eyebrow. “As are yokai. But you drew a knife on my kitchen hand.”

She had the grace to look sheepish—for all of half a second before she straightened against the door, ticking off points on her fingers, voice incredibly polite. “First, I already had the knife out because I was under attack by zombies. Second, I’ve never teleported in my life, and switching out a zombie for a sudden furry rabbit guy didn’t do wonders for my anxiety. I didn’t stab him. I would have stabbed a zombie.”

“I am glad you are such a discerning knife wielder,” he said dryly, and was rewarded with the small upward tick of her mouth. Ah. He was beginning to like her.

“I’m sorry I frightened him, though.”

“I will pass on your apology.” He tapped his finger on the edge of the oven. “Senora, I know you wish to leave, and I do not wish to spite you. But I feel it is best that you stay here for the moment. Your daughter…” He hesitated, but he’d already thrown April under the bus once, and he doubted very much her parents would still remain ignorant after this evening regardless. “I imagine she already has much experience in dealing with such issues. One assumes she knows where you are and will come to collect you.”

She was quiet a long moment, dark eyes sizing him up, and the faint smile faded. “And if I insist?”

“Then I would think you are remarkably foolish.”

“But would you keep us here?”

He sighed, throwing a hand in the air with some impatience. “I am not a jailer. I will find some way of returning you home.” He just—didn’t really want to. But Hueso wasn’t about to take a pair of humans prisoner, either. “Consider this also, however: by the time you return home, it will be too late regardless. Your apartment is some distance from here.”

She blinked. “You know where we live?”

“Your daughter orders from us,” he reminded her.

“…are your delivery boys also yokai?”

“Girls, actually. And yes.” Cloaked for the outside world, but nevertheless.

“…huh.”

It was a thoughtful huh, and she sagged against the wall, running a hand through her hair. It made the curls stand up at awkward, frizzed angles, and he suspected his heated kitchen was doing her no favours. “What do you suggest?”

He gestured toward the oven. “Sit and recover yourselves. Have a meal. It’s likely either Mayhem or your daughter will come looking for you. Honour April’s attempt to keep you safe and stay safe. If she still cannot be reached—“

Mrs O’Neil straightened suddenly, cutting him off. “Do you know who Donnie is?”

That…was unexpected.

He stared at her, mouth open for a moment, before he clicked his jaw shut. “Out of curiosity, why do you ask?”

“Before we left,” she said steadily. “She was yelling at him over her—uh, watch. I think she was asking for help. We can’t reach her on the phone, so—“

Ah. This he could work with, and he wished it had come up sooner. But he could hardly blame them for the stresses of the evening. Perhaps he could help more directly after all.

“Donnie is a customer of mine,” he said. “Go back to your seat, Senora. I do not have his number, but I do have his brother’s. I will try and reach him for you.”

---------

Leonardo was not picking up his phone.

This was somewhat surprising, as Hueso had a long history of having to grit his teeth when calling the boy, because his reaction was always, always over-enthusiastic and immediate and what’s up, Bone Man? and I knew I was your favourite and sometimes he wished that he had Raphael’s number instead, but Leo had insisted they were ‘mejor amigos’ (and Hueso regretted answering his questions on various Spanish words) and he was the one who forced his phone into Hueso’s face first.

He left a message. It was simple. The situation was too complex for more.

Pepino. Call me. Immediately.

Surprising, but when he thought about it, if the boys were at April’s apartment dealing with an apparent zombie situation (zombies? Really? Not that he doubted the O’Neils, but zombies?) they were perhaps too busy for phone calls. He fetched the pizza from the oven and carved it up into slices. Only Mrs O’Neil was at the booth, looking even more frazzled and now exhausted, but she looked up as he slid the pizza onto the table on its wooden platter.

Then she peered at the pizza with the sudden interest of a woman who has just remembered she is starving, and she reached forward for a slice immediately. “Wait, is this—“

“Spicy chicken. Extra sauce.”

“How did you know?”

“We have had this conversation three times now,” he said with amusement, and she huffed a small laugh. “Again—“

“My daughter orders from you, yeah, I got it.”

“And I know what her favourite is when she eats here. I had to assume this one was either your favourite or your husband’s.” He paused. “Where is he, by the way?”

“Oh… he went to find your restroom.” She took a bite and leaned back, pointing across the room, speaking with her mouth full. “An’ got distracted on t’way back.”

That could be alarming. His restroom was perfectly average, but the hallway down to it was lined with multiple artworks and posters and news articles that were largely from the Hidden City. Including a picture of April with Sunita and Frankie, which he hoped very much that the man did not see. He was fresh out of explanations he desired to give.

Fortunately, it seemed Mr O’Neil had been distracted by something much more mundane, if more important to Hueso than the contents of the hallway combined. He was stooped by the model ship on its stand, eyeing it with obvious delight, and Hueso decided that perhaps both of April’s parents were not, in fact, bad people.

“I have left a message,” he told Mrs O’Neil. “Donnie is… very much a foolish teenager, but he and his brothers are more than adequate to help your daughter deal with any trouble. It won’t be long.” (He wasn’t used to calling the boy Donnie, but it was wise not to give her even more information. Hueso was a restaurant owner big on confidentiality and wished to stay in his lane. April could deal with that tangle.)

She swallowed before answering this time. “Thank you. Uh…”

And she glanced back at the signs on the counter as if looking for inspiration, and that’s when he realised he hadn’t introduced himself.

“You can call me Senor Hueso.”

She mouthed something for a brief moment—he suspected it was bone from the confused look on her face—and then she smiled tiredly.

“Carol O’Neil. My husband’s name is August.”

“A pleasure.”

Well. That was stretching it. But they could certainly be worse company.

---------

Leonardo still wasn’t answering his phone.

---------

“You speak Spanish?”

“Si, Senor. August too, but not as fluently.”

“He is still looking at my ship.”

“He loves boats. Or ships. Whichever. He has a collection at home.”

“Ah. Is he a sailor?”

“Not since he was a teenager. You?”

“For a while. Then I decided to turn my gaze towards more…. legitimate business.”

“Oh. What, were you a, uh. Smuggler?”

“Not quite.”

“…you weren’t a, um…”

“Pirate? Yes.”

“Oh! I was thinking something more… skeletal.”

“…Senora. I assure you that I am not now, nor have I ever been… Santa Muerte. A ‘Grim Reaper’.”

“I guess that was a stupid question.”

“A little, yes.”

“…”

“…wait. Piracy?”

“Of course. I obtain media illegally all the time.”

“Oh, that’s a relief. Really?”

“No.”

---------

It had been hours. Now he was worried.

He would deny it for the rest of his bony life, of course.

---------

The O’Neils had passed from shock to exhausted complacency back to a growing urgency the more time passed, and Hueso found himself wishing Leonardo did not know portal magic, because then he would perhaps have an address for delivery that he could pay a visit to. April was not answering her phone. Leonardo was not answering his. Mayhem had failed to reappear. Something had clearly gone amiss and, aside from the humans growing more agitated in his dining room, Hueso’s mind was filling with terrible images of dead teenagers. Or zombie teenagers, or—

They were good customers. They paid well. That was his only concern.

(He was lying to himself.)

The chamomile tea had been swapped out for spirits; just enough to settle nerves, because he wasn’t about to have two agitated and drunk humans on his premises. As it was, they were both back at the table, Carol tapping an uneven rhythm on the table with her fingers and beginning to stare off into the middle distance, and August kept glancing between Hueso and the walls of his establishment. Perhaps he was wondering whether there was a secret door he could find if he looked hard enough. Unless he suddenly developed mystic vision, unlikely.

Their growing fear was perfectly understandable. He felt a little like he was harmonizing with them. Hueso leaned against his counter, tapping at his phone, and sighed.

“Ten minutes,” he said quietly. “I will call again. If I hear nothing…”

…if he heard nothing, he did not know what to do. Did he just blindfold them until he could turn them out onto the street, let them go scurrying back home to a potentially tragic scene? He pondered visiting the apartment himself, but there was precious little point to it; not this late in the game. He’d left his swashbuckling days well behind him in any case.

“Ten minutes and we leave,” Carol said flatly, knuckles whitening as she curled her hands on the table. “One way or another.”

Hueso gritted his teeth for a moment, fighting back a withering response. She was within her rights, and he had already said he would not be a jailer. There was very little else he could do about the situation, and it frustrated him.

Leonardo needed to call back right now and make a terrible joke at him, so he could yell at him for his terrible sense of humour and his terrible Spanish and for worrying April’s parents, and then he could wash his hands of the whole thing and go home to sleep in relief. (He thought perhaps that if they called back now he might even make them pizza on the house.)

“Ten minutes,” he said, voice quiet. “And then I will escort you off the premises and wish you the best. But give me ten minutes.”

Carol sagged against the table and gave him a watery smile.

---------

Ten minutes later the youngest turtle answered the phone, sounding breathless and cautious, and Senor Hueso thanked every god who might be listening, leaned against the counter, and tried not to panic that it was the wrong turtle.

“Michelangelo. Where is Pepino?” He saw the O’Neils straighten out of the corner of his eye, turning toward him with hopeful faces.

“Yeah, sorry, Senor Hueso! He’s not allowed to have his phone right now, kind of doctor’s orders.”

“He is concussed?” His alarm rose. “Did the zombies hurt him?”

“Zom--? Oh! No! No, he wasn’t there for that, this was, uh, earlier.” Mikey was quiet for a moment, then spoke even more brightly, but Hueso could hear the strain underlying it. “He’s okay, promise! Just gotta rest up, that’s all. Do you want me to take a message for you?”

Earlier probably meant during the invasion itself, and many people were hurt in the upper city—he wondered now if he should have perhaps reached out to Leonardo and his family to offer them sanctuary on the other side of the lockdown. There was nothing he could do about it now, so he moved on, trying to keep his voice level. “No. If he is hurt, leave him be. Please tell me you know where April O’Neil is.”

“…yeees?” He sounded confused. “Why would you—OMIGOSH.” Hueso jerked the phone away from his ear. “And you know about the zombies. Are the O’Neils with you?”

“They are here, yes,” he snapped. “And they are very stressed and eating me out of house and home.”

He heard August protest softly from across the room. “Hey, now—“

“Oh, don’t be like that, you big softy.” The strain was gone from Mikey’s voice. Now he just sounded utterly relieved. “No way you didn’t just feed them yourself out of the goodness of your bones. But that’s great! We didn’t know where Mayhem had taken them, April’s been really worried.”

“She is safe?”

“Safe and sound.”

He glanced over to the O’Neils and gave them a slight nod, and then turned away again as Carol gave a small, aborted sob. “Then if you please, Michelangelo, put her on the line? I will hand the phone over to Mr O’Neil.”

“You got it, BM.”

August was already standing, a hand on his wife’s shoulder. Hueso handed him the phone.

Then he vanished back into his kitchen, shutting the door behind him and eyeing the oven and what ingredients he had. Pizza; nothing fancy given they were closed, but if he wasn’t mistaken, he was about to have more guests. And baking them would give him something to do far, far away from the two humans currently having a breakdown in his front room.

Soon, they would all be gone and he could go home and things would return back to some version of normal.

(The only thing he was relieved about, of course.)

---------

April arrived via ostentatious pink portal, bruised and scuffed and accompanied by the Hidden City’s Most Wanted and promptly threw herself into her parents’ arms, both of whom seemed far too overjoyed to see her to remark on the way she arrived and the company she was keeping.

Hueso stared at Draxum.

Draxum stared back, arms folded.

Hueso dumped a stack of pizza boxes on the counter and sidled off to his hallway while the joyous reunion was happening (“Baby, your face!”), and carefully yanked a Wanted poster off the wall, crumpling it in one hand.

There was quiet for a moment. And then he heard Carol, voice heavy with disbelief.

“Barry?”

“Hello, Carol.” Draxum was extremely casual, examining his knuckles.

“But you—but he--you used a—you’re our neighbour!”

Dios mio. Hueso would pretend he never heard that. Instead, he strolled back up, rumpled paper carefully shoved into a pocket. “Carol, please do not tell me you somehow thought he was human.”

“I could pass for human,” Draxum grumbled.

“Ah, yes, because human legs all bend the wrong way like that.”

“Yeah, okay, enough,” April interrupted, voice small, still latched onto her father as Carol examined her bandaged nose. “Mom, uh, I’m guessing we really need to talk, so—“

“You do, and I would like to sleep,” Hueso said, shoving his stack of carefully prepared pizzas into Draxum’s empty arms. To his credit, the caprid yokai merely took them with a long-suffering look and then promptly used them to hide his face. “And I am so done with revelations tonight. Please have any further life-changing conversations somewhere that is not my restaurant. We are, after all, closed.”

April grinned tiredly at him. “Sorry. But thanks, Senor Hueso. I appreciate it, I know it was…a lot.”

Ah. Well. He softened, just a little. “You are welcome. Just do not make a habit of either visiting after hours or zombie attacks.”

“Thaaat, I think we can do.”

“So you say,” Draxum muttered dryly, and then glared as April kicked him in the shin.

“None of that, Barry. C’mon, Portal Express. Can you take us to, uh, Central Park?”

“If I must.”

“Wait,” August interrupted, eyeing the portal that was still open with no small amount of nerves. “Do we have to go through that?”

Whatever the answer was, Hueso didn’t care to hear it. He swept into the kitchen and snapped the door shut behind him decisively, wiping down the counters. He didn’t care if Draxum bodily dragged them through the portal at this point; he just wanted to return to the quiet evening he had been looking forward to before all this.

That being said, he would admit to himself he was glad that everyone had turned out to be okay. Well. Minus Leonardo, who was apparently hurt badly enough that he wasn’t allowed to have his phone this many days after the invasion. But Michelangelo said he would be fine—

He paused in his cleaning to dash a quick text off to the boy, and then finished closing down his kitchen in peace.

---------

BoneMan: Pepino. When you are entirely done lazing around, please call. You still owe me a shift for the restaurant damage, you can’t get out of it that easily.

He might care a little.

---------

(He returned to the dining room later to wipe down the table and found a folded serviette with words scrawled on it in what looked like lipstick, and he flipped it over to read.

Thank you for everything. We’ll tell no one.

- Carol

Well.

They seemed like decent people. Perhaps he would see them again.)

#rottmnt #rottmnt fic #no rest for the weary #nekotsuki #prompt #warning this is LONG #can I write a short prompt? probably not #OH WELL #Hueso is trying very hard to Not Care #he may be failing a little #also he doesn't get paid enough for this honestly

21 notes · View notes

m1ckeyb3rry · 9 months

Text

Catching and Falling

Pairing: Satoru Gojo & Fem Reader (platonic)

Length: 2.7k words

Summary: Satoru Gojo is not quite sure how he feels about you, the child that took his beloved babysitter away from him. AKA the pomegranate ink prequel mini one shot nobody asked for, featuring Gojo and Y/N’s relationship before she joins Tokyo Jujutsu Tech.

Warnings: minor swearing, gen fic, makes more sense with knowledge of pomegranate ink but ig could technically be read without that

A/N: Something completely random based off of Gojo mentioning during the exchange event chapters that Mrs. L/N used to babysit him before Y/N was born!! I am VERY scared of writing Gojo so Gojo stans please be gentle about me mischaracterizing him horribly 😭🙏🏻 I did my best

Satoru Gojo stood in the dimly lit hallway of the L/N manor and craned his neck, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible when peering through the open door. It was not the child that everyone was cooing over that he was trying to see; in fact, it was someone else entirely.

“Satoru! Did you want to hold the baby?” his mother said, noticing his curious gaze. His expression immediately dropped into a scowl as he was forcibly handed that thing.

“Where’s Mrs. L/N?” he grumbled, glaring at the baby in his arms, which gazed up at him with large, adoring eyes. It was a dainty and tiny creature, like a little dove, entirely unaware of the vitriol he held for it. He was tempted to throw it across the room, but it would not do for the almost-twelve-years-old heir of the Gojo name to toss around the child which might one day stand beside him as the head of its own clan.

“She’s resting,” his mother said. “It’s hard to be the mother to an infant, you know.”

“When can I see her again? I don’t like the other people who watch me. Mrs. L/N was nicer,” he said.

Mrs. L/N, the mother of this child — she had belonged to Satoru first, hadn’t she? She had told him that he was her favorite person in the whole entire world, allowed him to have extras of everything she made for him, turned on movies he wasn’t supposed to watch and ate popcorn as they made fun of the characters. She was only ever supposed to be his babysitter. So why’d she have to go and have a baby of her own?

“Likely not for a while,” his mother said. “She’ll be far too busy with this one.”

“That’s not fair,” Satoru said. “Tell her she has to spend time with me.”

“She is a L/N, not a Gojo,” his mother said. “It’s not our place to demand things of her. If you really want to see her in the future, you could marry this one.”

She pointed at the baby, which was still held securely in his arms. It was a good thing it was so secure, too, because his mother’s words almost made him drop it as he gagged.

“It’s a baby,” he said.

“A baby that will one day become a woman capable of using the Reverse Cursed Technique and maybe even healing entire armies with it,” his mother said with a shrug. “Allying our clan with the L/Ns would be a smart move, so I doubt your father would have anything to say about it, and then your precious Mrs. L/N would be your mother-in-law.”

“But it’s a baby,” he insisted. The baby shifted in his arms, blinking lazily at him, perhaps mesmerized by the bright blue of his irises.

“She will grow older,” his mother said.

“So will I,” Satoru said. “I don’t wanna marry it. That’s gross.”

“It is a she, and she has a name, by the way,” his mother said.

“What is it?” he said, though he didn’t really care. He just was getting that sense that his mother wanted him to ask and wouldn’t let him go until he did, so he jutted out his chin and waited for her to answer.

“Y/N,” she said.

Satoru’s eyes widened. There was only one person who could’ve chosen that name: Mrs. L/N herself, who had been enamored with the story of the Heian sorcerer Y/N, the woman that had died sealing Sukuna before being revived by her husband, one of the healers of the L/N clan.

Abruptly, he handed the baby back to his mother. If it was true that Mrs. L/N really loved the thing more than she loved him, then he wanted nothing to do with it at all.

☆彡

“Gojo!” the toddler shouted, chasing after him — well, chasing was being generous, he was walking at a medium pace while she wobbled desperately to keep up — and reaching out her chubby little arms in his direction.

“Leave me alone!” he said. Technically, as the now-head of the Gojo clan, he should be attending the meeting with the rest of the higher ups, but he had been told in no uncertain terms that he was a child and ought to play outside with the rest of the children. When he argued that he was a teenager, they laughed and said that that was actually worse before slamming the door on his face and locking it to ensure that he could not get inside.

With a sigh, he deactivated his Infinity and crouched, wondering if they’d find him mature for entertaining the little girl. She began to babble in delight, fingers opening and closing when she reached him, tugging on his clothes, his hair, and his ears. He scowled but did nothing more, finding it to be too much effort to tell her to stop. What an irritant. How did the poor Mrs. L/N deal with having such an insufferable being at her side constantly? He was sure that she regretted it all now.

“Gojo,” she said again. That was the one thing she seemed able to say with confidence, and he patted her on the head for it.

“That’s right, Gojo. That’s me,” he said, pointing towards himself before pointing towards the locked door where the higher ups were having their meeting without him. “And the people in there? They’re assholes. Can you repeat after me? Ass-holes.”

“Ass-holes,” she parroted.

“Oh, shit,” he said as he realized he had just taught Y/N how to swear. Now he would never be allowed into a meeting of the higher ups.

“Shi — shit?” she said, stumbling over the foreign word and tilting her head at him as if seeking out his approval. His already pale face went even whiter, and he began to make the cut-it-out motion.

“Nope, no, stop saying those things! Stop it! What would Mrs. L/N do if she heard you?” he said with a groan. To make matters worse, the door squealed open, and the higher ups filed out, still chatting amongst themselves about whatever had happened during the meeting.

“Ah, Satoru, thank you for watching Y/N, you really didn’t have to do that!” Mr. L/N said, swooping his daughter up into his arms. “I hope she wasn’t too much of a bother.”

“Um, no, she was fine,” Satoru said faintly, his head spinning as he realized this might actually be the end for him. Every single important person in jujutsu society was gathered there, and though he didn’t necessarily care about their opinions of him, they had the capabilities to make his life incredibly difficult if he made them upset.

“Papa,” the toddler said proudly. “Ass-holes!”

The room grew deathly silent. Mr. L/N’s jaw dropped, and he narrowed his eyes at Y/N, who was entirely unaffected by the tense atmosphere, giggling to herself about whatever it was that dumb little kids found amusing.

“Darling, who taught you that word?” Mr. L/N said.

Don’t say it don’t say it don’t say it don’t —

“Gojo!”

Fuck.

He decided then and there that he would never have children.

☆彡

Satoru hated the stupid parties that he was forced to attend under the guise of being a good clan head. He usually tried to slip away as soon as he had finished eating, but today was different; namely, that annoying thing was following him once again.

“Gojo, your glasses are so cool,” she said. “Can I see them? Huh, can I? Please please please can I try wearing them?”

“How about you please please please try bothering someone else?” he snapped. “The twins are your age, and Noritoshi Kamo isn’t that much older. Play with them!”

“But my father said I’m not to associate with the Zenin twins in case their uselessness rubs off on me, and Noritoshi Kamo is too busy to play with me, so I can’t! Also, my mother said that you were really super duper nice and cool, so that’s why I’m following you around,” Y/N said. He froze at the mention of Mrs. L/N, whose face was the first he thought of when someone asked him about his mother.

“Fine,” he said, taking off his glasses and placing them on her face, ignoring the stabbing pain in his head as his Six Eyes were exposed to the harshness of the world. “There.”

“Do I look nice? Do I look like you?” she said. “I can’t see anything, so you have to tell me.”

“You look —” He was going to say stupid, but it would be a little uncharitable for him to call her that to her face. “Not as cool as I do.”

That got the job done. And it was true, to boot; there was just no way that he looked quite as ridiculous as she did with them on, the black lenses too large, dominating her face and giving her an owlish appearance.

“Nuh-uh, I bet I look even cooler!” she whined.

“Impossible,” Satoru said with a snort. “No one’s as cool as me.”

“Y/N! Come say hello to Noritoshi, won’t you?”

“Oh, it sounds like my father is calling me. Can you help?” she said, feeling around blindly for the door. He watched in amusement before bending over and plucking the glasses from her face, putting them back on and smiling slightly at the relief they provided.

“Hey, wait, Y/N. Does your mother mention me a lot?” he said. Surely she must have. After all, he had been her favorite person growing up, so of course she regaled her daughter with tales of their time together.

“Nope! I don’t even think she knows who you are?” she said, voice ticking up in that way characteristic of children, as if everything they were saying was a question. Satoru tried to fathom this, a world where Mrs. L/N did not even recognize him. Mr. L/N never brought her to clan meetings or parties, so he had not seen her since Y/N had been born…had she forgotten about him entirely? In such a short time?

Y/N. It was definitely Y/N’s fault. Though it was petty, he stuck his tongue out at the girl’s disappearing back and hoped for something equally as horrible to happen to her.

☆彡

A few days later, the news came out that Y/N L/N showed no aptitude for the Reverse Cursed Technique. The failure of the L/N clan, she was lambasted as an embarrassment akin to Ogi Zenin’s twin daughters Maki and Mai.

Satoru thought it must be his fault for cursing the girl. Every night, he’d feverishly whisper apologies to whatever deity he had accidentally contacted, telling them that it was alright, he didn’t care that much, it was fine that Mrs. L/N didn’t remember him as long as they gave Y/N the Reverse Cursed Technique back.

It was all for nothing, because of course it was not actually his doing; whether Y/N L/N could use her family’s Composition had been determined at her birth, and nothing he could do or think or say would change that. Still, Satoru stared at his hands and felt something like guilt whenever her small face crossed his mind.

☆彡

Y/N L/N stopped coming to meetings and parties after that. They were trying to hide her away, he reasoned. It made sense. It was probably what he would’ve done, if that was his situation. They would try to make it like the girl and her mother had never existed, and then she’d be quietly married off to someone like Noritoshi Kamo in the hopes that she’d strengthen their bloodline enough to make her entire measly existence worth something.

He found he missed her. She had been a pain, but she had reminded him of her mother in some way. And…and she was definitely annoying, but it had been kind of nice, having someone look at him the way she did, all awed and genuine, with no ulterior motives behind it. She didn’t really care that he was the head of his clan or the holder of the Six Eyes and Limitless. She thought he was cool just because he was himself.

☆彡

“Say, do you have any siblings?” Suguru said. It was an entirely random question, one Satoru thought he must’ve answered already, but then again, it wasn’t something that came up very often, so maybe that was why he was asking.

“Yeah, one,” Satoru said. “Little sister.”

“Really? I’m an only child,” Suguru said, a hint of jealousy entering his voice. “What’s she like?”

“Dunno,” Satoru said. “I haven’t seen her in years.”

☆彡

Maybe there was something to be said for the fact that when everything went wrong, he did not wish for his mother to come back. It was Mrs. L/N’s face he pictured, her in her youth, when his parents would leave him at the L/N manor for days on end. That bright-eyed woman, the only one who had ever cared about him, the singular person who treated him like a child instead of a god — he cried and he cried and he wished she was there to wipe away his tears and tell him it wasn’t his fault, tell him it was alright that he couldn’t save everyone, tell him she did not blame him for any of it.

His own mother had never loved him, anyways. To her, he was not Satoru but Gojo, as he was to everyone else. He did not resent his power, but everything else that came with it was like a poisoned barb in his skin, so painful that occasionally, he wished he had been born a L/N instead.

☆彡

Y/N L/N was to marry Noritoshi Kamo. He was not quite sure what the girl thought about it; to his knowledge, Noritoshi was kind and gentle and handsome, so there was no real reason for her to complain — besides the fact that she was being forced into it.

It seemed that that was enough. It was obvious to anyone with eyes (and Satoru had six of them, so imagine how obvious it was to him) that she was unhappy, and Noritoshi was no better. They were two children pretending to be in love for the sake of politics, and the sight was actually sickening. Especially because it was her, that girl he had known since her infancy, the one whose mother he loved like she was his own.

That was why he followed her out onto the balcony when she left after Naoya Zenin or some other such unimportant person made a crass comment about her relationship with her fiancé. He wasn’t sure what, exactly, he could say to make it better, but he wanted to say something. To give her some kind of agency, to free her before the chains that bound her mother wrapped around her as well. Because he understood, now, that it had never been poor little Y/N’s fault that Mrs. L/N had had to stop seeing him — it had been the clans, the L/Ns as a unit, who had reduced the woman to nothing but Y/N’s mother, and Y/N to nothing but a failure, and Satoru to nothing but a tool with which they could exorcise curses. And after all, tools were not supposed to need love, and failures were not supposed to need freedom, and mothers were not supposed to need anything.

Fuck that.

She was about to jump, or maybe not. Maybe she was just enjoying the night air and the distant fragrance of the nearby gardens and the stars hanging in the sky. He wasn’t sure, but his heart leapt in his throat at the thought of this girl, this Y/N L/N, dying. He did not want that. He did not want it to happen in that way.

“I won’t catch you if you fall, you know,” he said casually, conversationally, as easily as if he was talking about the weather. That was because it was a lie.

He definitely would.

#ummm uhhh i tried posting on here for once???#it was kind of nice honestly maybe i should do it more often #m1ckeyb3rry writes #pomegranate ink #jjk #satoru gojo & reader #reader insert

23 notes · View notes

sailor-aviator · 1 month

Note

What tips do you have for someone just starting to like post their own ideas/fan fictions on tumblr?

A great question, Nonny!

My advice would be to not worry about what everyone else is doing. Seriously. I know it's tempting to do what other people are doing because they're getting notes, but if you aren't in to what you're writing, then people can tell.

You should write what makes you happy and the stories you want to read, ya know? It's always very tempting to want to write what's popular, but diversity is the spice of life and all that. I'm so serious, if you write it, people will read it, so write what YOU want to write and don't worry about the rest. If you want to write a vampire mafia AU, then do it. I guarantee you that people will want to read it. Now, it might be a very niche demand, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't write it. I'm well aware that murder mystery mermaids was very niche, and people loved it. Nobody was interested in it at first until I started writing it, and now it's arguably one of my most popular fics.

As for posting? Never post on the weekends. Weekends are the dead zone. Always be sure to use a "Read More" on your fics. If you don't, people probably won't read them just from sheer annoyance. Always be sure to to a content warning at the top of the post so people know what to expect going into the chapter. Tag your fics appropriately. For example, if you're writing for Bucky Barnes, don't tag Sebastian Stan because even though he's the actor who plays Bucky Barnes, he has nothing to do with the post beyond that and it's going to upset people to see fanfic in a real person tag.

Along those same lines and as an aside to writing tips....please, PLEASE do not write real person fic. It's one thing to write about a character that doesn't exist, but writing about a real person with feelings and an actual life? That's a no go. There have been issues with people writing real person fic and then people treating that celebrity as if they aren't a real person, then getting upset when that very real person does not fit the idea people have made up in their heads or their fics. Just don't do it.

#answered #anonymous #hey nonny nonny #writing advice #long post

6 notes · View notes

jennycalendar · 9 months

Note

nobody said jenny/willow or jenny/buffy yet?

(also if you saw me re-follow you because I accidentally hit the unfollow button when I was trying to hit the ask button... no you didn't)

GOD BLESS U I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE LIKE. SO OBVIOUS? like that would be what i personally would guess first????? hello??? i am a whole lesbian with a big schoolgirl crush on jenny, you think i don't wanna project myself into one of those girls and write ridiculous improbable id fic about it?????

ANYWAY, in lieu of an answer, an anecdote.

the very earliest drafts of north star had jenny and buffy engaging in a sexual relationship (which was also a notion that i vagueposted about while writing the end of north star, because i was SO tempted to pull a HARD right and create a spike/jenny/buffy situation, but i talked myself out of it because i had laid the groundwork SO perfectly for Not That). this got cut because i decided that it would detract from the cosmic weirdness of jenny and buffy's connection if i simplified it into a simple romantic/sexual affair, and i wanted to explore this eldritch intimacy that came from literally Knowing Someone Else's Soul without trying to put it in Human Relationship Terms or implying that an intense intimate commitment of this level could only ever be romantic. i am certain that i made the right choice, but i also think about that early draft so so so much, and there's a fic in my drafts unrelated to north star that is starting to look like it might turn into some ridiculous improbable id fic in a certain specific direction.

(also jenny/willow fucking slaps and i don't think i ever have to explain why -- like oh my gosh i would have assumed this to be the first thing people guessed -- but, like my feelings about jenny and willow as a platonic dynamic, i feel like a lot of people extrapolate a dynamic from what we know about willow in canon and assume intimacy that we never see. the most thematically rich interactions that jenny has with a Not Giles main character are always and forever with buffy.)

(and. also. hello. jenny and buffy are literally in my header. i have a thing about them. i talk about their potential for an intense weird boundary-breaking You're Me And I'm Justified To Hate You About It connection all the time. this has been established.)

#asks #this was a FUN guessing game. u get a cookie #and so does that anon who also guessed right!#consider this a test run before (eventually) i post a jenny/buffy fic that is literally just for me and me specifically and only me

9 notes · View notes

katieskarlette · 6 months

Note

You might have seen it already but, there's an official Wrathion plush now!

I saw. He's adorable and I'm sorely tempted. I just wish they'd made him years ago when I was really obsessed with the character. Oh well, I had a very cuddly dragon plushie (the "Merlin" one by Douglas Toys) that was "my" Wrathion.

I should probably update this blog with the status of my interest in WoW, since it's been a long time.

I wish I could say I'm back in love with Warcraft, but I'm not. My subscription ran out several months ago.

TL;DR version of the part below: Not feeling the WoW love anymore. Wish I was. I'm not really on this site much these days, either. This blog will continue to exist, just with very few updates unless I suddenly feel the spark again. I've been doing original writing instead these days. Hope everything is well out there in Tumblr-land.

Due to changes and crap at my job I didn't have any PTO left to take like I normally do for Blizzcon, but I'm just kind of numb about the franchise these days so I honestly don't think I would have taken it off, even if I had the option. Which is depressing, because that was a tradition for me as long as Blizzcons have been livestreamed.

Shadowlands just plain killed my love for the franchise to such an extent that even a dragon-centric expansion couldn't revive it. I wanted it to so, so much, but if that didn't do it, nothing can. Maybe I shouldn't blame SL completely, though, because I'd been playing since vanilla and that's a long time to be deeply immersed in any fictional universe. Maybe it was just time. I don't know, but it still makes me sad that I can't get dopamine from WoW anymore, when it was a sure-fire supplier for so long.

I'm not 100% ruling out that I'll get back into the game at some point in the future, but I'm not feeling it these days.

This blog isn't going anywhere. I have literally thousands of posts, hundreds of screenshots, and many years invested here.

However, my motivation for Tumblr kind of fizzled at around the same time my WoW love did, so I haven't scrolled through my dash in ages. I sometimes will search for a topic or see a post I like as I pass by on my way to update the blog for my original universe, @kavrillia, so once in a while I reblog something to @skarletterambles, my off-topic/multi-fandom catchall blog, but even that's pretty dead these days.

I've spent most of my leisure time writing, editing, and drawing for my original universe these days--which I'm enjoying a lot, but nobody else is familiar with it so I'm basically doing it all for myself.

*insert self-deprecating joke about how not many people read my WoW fics so what difference does it really make*

Anyway, sorry if this post is a downer. Like I said, I wish I still got the enjoyment out of the Warcraft franchise that I did for so many years, but I can't force my brain to feel a certain way. I hope if anyone actually read this far that they're still having a lot of fun with WoW. Thanks for following my blog!

#ks answers questions #blogging about my blog

3 notes · View notes

blorbology · 8 months

Text

The other day I was thinking about the fact that I've been told my longer fics are written in a fairly unique way. While I view this observation as neither negative nor positive (it is what it is), I thought it might be interesting to dig into that particular topic more.

I feel like writing style works similarly to artistic style: you tend to come into your own eventually after enough practice and work at your craft. I couldn't actually cite a specific writer as inspiration for my writing style (or "voice" I suppose), but I also tend to not want to mimic prose styles—not even the ones I like the most. Because of this, even my earliest "writing voice" would probably feel somewhat familiar to anyone used to my work.

It feels weird to say I've always had a stable writing voice, but that's more or less the truth for me. I've bettered it over the years (versus finding it the way some do), but I think I've always felt secure in what I had. It probably helped that the old days of FFN gave me hundreds of reviews on 'fics and a lot of encouragement.

A long time ago, I saw a piece of fanart I really liked, and sought to redraw it in real life. This was the early 2000s, maybe 2002 or 2003. It was an MLP fanart of...I want to say Glory and Baby Glory (from the 80s), and I redid it on a huge piece of paper I'd taken from my school's art room. I busted ass to replicate the piece. It was a great replica, actually, and I posted it online, eager to share my hard work. I'm sure you can imagine what happened! The community recognized the source immediately and was annoyed with me. They scolded me for copying an artist, explained why that wasn't a good idea, and I never did it again. (I felt stupid but I realized that day that nobody cared how well I could replicate someone else's hard work; people wanted to see my spin on the idea.)

After that, I always had my own very recognizable style of art and I didn't seek to recreate the work of others, even if I liked it a lot. I just started drawing what I wanted how I wanted to do it—in my own style.

While I found many things to like about the prose of friends and published authors, I never tried to mimic someone else's prose wholesale. I've never even been tempted by it; writing like someone else feels so incredibly unnatural; I'd sooner give up writing entirely than tell my stories the way someone else would.

That said, this post isn't really about writing "voice" so much as the specific way I tend to tell stories, though I do think actual writing style factors in here, and I'll get to that in a second.

My favorite genre of fiction for a good number of years was historical "inspirational" fiction. You may laugh if you wish, but I grew up in a very strict Christian household, and...frankly there wasn't much literature to choose from. My mom loved doing "daily devotions" and at some point, on the recommendation of someone else, she started reading us "Love Comes Softly" by Janette Oke. All four of us kids really loved it. We memed the hell out of it and to this day we have at least one in-joke based on it. It was part of a long book series, and eventually I read them all. This book tackled a surprising amount of issues, including domestic violence, and had a great trope that I still adore: a marriage of convenience.

I was obsessed with Janette Oke's books after that. Roses for Mama, The Bluebird and the Sparrow, A Bride for Donnigan, the four-book seasons series, and They Called Her Mrs. Doc. There were plenty more, but those were some of the most iconic to me.

If you didn't know, the very specific subgenre of Historical Inspirational Romance Fiction (can I call it HIRF?) tends to read similarly across the genre. Some novels play up the romance a little more, some the relationships between the characters, some the faith aspect, but generally speaking these books tend to have predictable elements. The male lead usually has a bestie he's emotionally vulnerable and open to. The female lead's friends, siblings, and/or other family members are important to her and play a role in the story. These stories tend to feature or utilize animals. There is almost always a focus on relationships overall, in every story. In Roses for Mama a family of four is orphaned and the oldest two siblings raise the youngest two and run the farm. The primary relationships are between the four siblings and their friend group(s). The challenges of "parenting" siblings are here. Kids tend to act like kids in these books too. There are huge varieties in the ages of characters and some young women have best friends who are decades older than they are. Some of these writers are very serious too about being accurate regarding the places they're writing about (coal towns full of immigrants who are mistreated by the coal companies for example).

The first book I loved was I'll Always Love You by Hans Wilhelm. The Velveteen Rabbit also holds a place in my heart.

Relationships are ALWAYS at the core of everything I write these days. I love exploring how people affect the world around them. I like to write about the complexities of sibling relationships and friendships over the years. I love history and how "the times" impacted the way relationships worked. HIRF was foundational to me as a reader and a lot of those elements are things I have chosen to carry with me. Everything I write is about a character journey more than it's about anything else.

Yes, I want to write about the blorbos in situations, but these situations are a means to an end. I want the situation to happen but I want to explore every facet of how it affects the blorbos.

Dumping a baby on Raine in Break Open the Sky was a way to explore a character trying to do the right thing but feeling completely overwhelmed by it. It was about breaking cycles and doing better for the next generation. It was about choices, about how difficult they can be to make even when they're selfish. And it was about learning to trust and love while finally having a place and the safety to begin healing from trauma. The baby was the means to that end—a plot vehicle, yes, but hopefully she didn't feel that way because she had her own needs and impacted the story right to the very end.

I think my particular writing style, my "voice" if you will, lends itself well to this particular type of slow-burn character-study-esque storytelling. I try to hit a middle ground with descriptions and write a lot of engaging dialogue. I try to write people being people without being too sparse or detailed. Both sparse and detailed writing have their places and genres they do really well in, but in the very weird subgenre of writing I've nestled into I do think my voice tells the story to satisfaction.

As to what subgenre I'm writing in... I honestly don't know what to call it. It's like HIRF in spirit, but I tend to substitute more "adult" themes for the romance and have less or no focus on religious faith (though it depends on the characters). I don't actually think there's a name for it, though of course if someone has a name for it, I'd be happy to learn what it is. In the meantime I'll just consider what I write to be HIRF-adjacent.

#blorbology 101 #writing

5 notes · View notes

penig · 1 year

Text

So I don’t write smut, as a lifestyle choice, and I don’t go out of my way to read smut, but I don’t go out of my way to avoid reading it, either, except insofar as I want something else to be the A plot. I’ve run across it incidentally quite a lot since joining AO3, as you do, and most of it I skim because most of it isn’t really adding to the story. If it advances plot or characterization of course I’ll read that, but otherwise I treat it like fight scenes (which have the same problem) and the boring parts of Moby Dick. If you get the gist you don’t have to get every word to know if it matters to you or not. (For E-rated stuff that has a job to do and is eminently readable, as an example of what I don’t skim, I recommend Charlotte Madison’s GO Human AU, Or Be Nice, feuding neighbors to lovers, in which the first sex scene is part of a long conversation that goes through multiple means of communication, before and after the act.)

By and large I don’t think about the stuff I’m skimming, but in the case of M/M scenes specifically, mostly but not entirely in fanfic, I have evolved some questions, which by their nature I’m not about to put into comments, but I can’t help running through sometimes, sometimes in terms of writing quality and technique but also in terms of societal and technological changes that have happened since my life became more domestic and monogamous. I will mix them up together here. Quite probably many of the fics I don’t read because the explicit material is the A plot would address these concerns, but that possibility is not enough to tempt me to read that widely without guidance. And I need something to distract me from worrying about my cat and the discomfort of the foot (and the head; I’m getting lots of positional vertigo, which is scary as well as nauseous when you can’t put weight on one foot.) Anyway, in no particular order, I wonder:

Do gay men not keep tubs of Crisco by their beds anymore? What is this magic lube that comes in packets and is never too cold and apparently is never nasty-tasting or grainy and never makes a mess on the sheets or leaks on the headboard or gets the container sticky and therefore dusty? We did not have this in my day. It sounds wonderful. Where can I get it? I keep forgetting to look in the family planning aisle and am not sure I’d recognize it anyway. We used to have to buy lube in the first aid aisle and in a certain kind of novelty shop, where it was called “massage oil.”

Are cock rings passe? I can see how that might happen when they became mainstream as accessories to rave wear, but the chrome things were never the only option and it’s been long enough for them to cycle back.

Where are these men’s testicles? Even most of the scenes I don’t skim seem to take place between guys who don’t have them. I get that not everybody likes to play ball but aren’t they in those cases at least in the way?

Why is the bottom never making a bathroom run as soon as their legs function again? (This applies equally to women and men but I notice it most strongly in M/M.) In the case of rear entry in particular, this BS about the top bringing a damp washrag back to bed to clean up with will not do the trick, absent a preliminary enema. I know enemas aren’t sexy but nobody seems to even own the pumps anymore and if you haven’t planned ahead and regulated your food intake, believe me, you do not want to clean up that wet spot much less wake up in it - you head to the can ASAP. This is distracting and gross, y’all, please just take advantage of the glories of indoor plumbing!

That seems to be the bulk of it.

#non sims #writing #sort of #practical problems of mature people #I find I am hesitant to hit post lest I attract unwanted attention #but to heck with it #I have a block button #I'm not afraid to walk alone downtown after dark why does this make me nervous?#how do you stick community labels on? Does this warrant one?#guess I'll find out

11 notes · View notes

sarkywoman · 1 year

Text

Responses to @merrilark for the ask game

1. Do you prefer writing one-shots or multi-chaptered fics?

I think both are good for different reasons. I like the way multi-chaptered fic gets engagement throughout and it tends to reach more people as it pops up again whenever you update. But I am a very busy bee so one-shots at least get finished, plus some people won’t read WIPs so you won’t get their feedback until it’s all posted, which can take a very long time for multi-chaptered fic.

7. How do you choose which POV to write from?

Funny you asked this one as I current have to write about this process for my Masters course. In theory I should have something to say. I guess it’s basically just whoever’s emotional perspective I want to examine, though sometimes I want to look at them from the outside so I’ll grab one of the other characters. I really like characters watching one another so Umbrella Academy’s pretty handy with its ensemble cast. It can sometimes frame a story I’ve told before differently if I change POV. Like I write a lot of Five/Klaus, but in ‘Playing Easy to Get’, I use Allison’s POV which provides a little amusement because she’s exasperated with them and it also means the reader has less clues as to how it’s going to go, because she’s not seeing everything. (And it stops it being angsty when Klaus is pining because we’re not in his head to deal with it.)

46. How would you describe your style? (Character/emotion/action-driven, etc)

Absolutely character-driven. It’s one of the harder things about translating fanfiction skills to original writing skills - I have to come up with plots for novels/screenplays, I can’t just be like “okay, we all know and love these guys, let’s watch one suffer while the other murders about it.”

56. What’s something about your writing that you pride yourself on?

Dialogue, baby! Let’s get those bastards talking. Three pages in you suddenly think to yourself, wait, where even are they? In a library? At a cafe? In a bedroom? Nobody knows! It’s not important! They are conversing. XD (reasons I lean towards script over novel in original work.)

72. What order do you write in? front of book to back? chronological? favorite scenes first? something else?

I have to go chronological or I have a nervous breakdown. Chronological in the order I write, but the story doesn’t always go chronological, if you know what I mean. Like, I’ll mix past events with present within the story, but the first part I wrote is unlikely to be relocated to somewhere else in the story. It’s not impossible, but generally I prefer my stories to build up as they go, so even in something like Passion Over Consequence with its mix of past and present (and future? Time travel’s messy), I am writing it in the order that I want the information to be revealed, not writing a scene I’m looking forward to and working my way there. (Though it’s damn tempting for that one, as I know the end scene.)

2 notes · View notes

echovoidheart · 3 years

Text

OH NOW I'VE JUST IMAGINED LIKE. MY DSMP SONA MEETING CHARLIE AND BOTH FINDING OUT THE OTHER IS A SLIME AND BOTH GETTING SUPER EXCITED ABT IT

#echo spambles #CAUSE THE SONA I'VE HAD FOR FOREVER IS LITERALLY A SHAPESHIFTING SLIME #BUT USUALLY THEY LOOK LIKE A HUMANOID SORT OF DRAGONISH CREATURE #AND SHIFT TO DIFFERENT FORMS DEPENDING ON WHICH HEADMATE IS SWITCHED IN WHICH IS HOW I EXPLAIN MY SKIN CHANGES #THEY DON'T TELL PPL SOLELY CAUSE THEY DON'T THINK IT'S IMPORTANT BUT THEY MEET CHARLIE AND FIND OUT HE'S ALSO SLIME #AND JUST GO WILD LIKE YO!!!! WE'RE THE SAME!!!!!!!!#tempted to write a fic of this. nobody else will see it. because i will not publish it. but i am tempted.

0 notes

drxwsyni · 3 years

Text

show me heaven, take me to hell︱okkotsu yuuta x f!reader

“Going so long ensuring that you wanted him and nobody else ended up having adverse effects, all this time spent putting you first had turned him selfish, and he didn’t quite care anymore. He needs you—all of you, anything less for any longer and he might just go mad.” a/n: this is my part for @seita’s corrupt-a-virgin collab! i was really excited to write a fic with this prompt, and this collab was super fun so pls go check out the other writers involved!!! words: 3.7k warnings: ALL CHARACTERS AGED UP 18+, noncon, somnophilia, virginity loss, rough-ish sex, oral (f. receiving), fingering, choking for a quick moment, creampie, a little praise, heavy stalking & obsessive behaviour, gen. yandere themes

Yuuta liked to think he had control over his emotions—but peering down at you, he knew that was far from the truth. How those emotions manifested was what he could control, because if it weren’t for the steely expression cemented into his face, he’d be sure you’d know of all the debased things running rampant throughout his mind.

And yet, he doesn’t fear the falter in his masquerade right now.

You’re fast asleep, none the wiser to the looming figure of your boyfriend, locked onto the way your chest slowly rises and falls in a rhythmic manner. How his eyes nearly gloss over as they travel down the curves of your body, half exposed as you’ve only pulled the sheets up to settle around your waist.

Yuuta reminds himself to breathe, exhaling a little too shakily, wondering to himself how he’s made it this far. He was a damn good actor, and he knows that fact currently stood as the only thing that’s gotten him to where he is today.

If he thinks back, it’s hard to even find one moment out of all the time he’s spent with you in which he’d shown you his genuine self. Hell, the very first time you spoke to him wasn’t even honest. He remembers asking you your name after introducing himself, lying through his teeth because he already knew what your name was. Yuuta knew what rank you were (well below his), your cursed technique (too weak to really protect yourself), how long you’d been working alongside Gojo (two weeks―starting the day after Yuuta had gone overseas). But he still asked, enamoured with the way you bashfully looked down at your feet when he praised you for being able to put up with the white haired sorcerer so far.

Another lie―how he claimed he’d love to team up with you and show you around, when it was just to keep you as far from any real danger as possible.

But you didn’t know that, going along with each and every falsehood that left his mouth. Lie after lie, he’d draw on the knowledge of you he’d spent months gathering, gradually molding his character into whichever form earned those soft little gifts of affection. Becoming the person you wanted, the person you needed, slowly until you recognized him as someone special. Yuuta did everything right—only to be completely overwhelmed now that he had you alone.

Because of course suppressing himself wouldn’t work out in the long run. Burying the desire that felt goddamn near insatiable, ignoring the feeling of it festering, growing into something ugly and uncontrollable—the kind of thing he saw in others, and exactly what he was trying to protect you from. But Yuuta wouldn’t let himself believe that what you really needed protecting from was him, even though standing over you now, proof of that reality was finally beginning to surface.

Just for a second, maybe not even that, it crossed his mind—just a taste couldn’t hurt, right?

The bound passion he could never let see the light of day unraveled in the dead of night. You were just so tempting, blissfully unaware of the danger towering over you, a vulnerability that tore away at the seams of his self control.

Yuuta felt the first thread snap, a barely there fracture to spur his irreversible descent into self-destruction.

Moving without really even thinking of any future consequences, long fingers that were calloused from battle and endless training reached to where the sheets atop you rested. White, silken and gleaming under the moonlight, he carefully, calculatedly pulled them down your body. Letting it pool at the foot of the bed, he slowly appraised your sleeping form.

An almost inaudible curse left him, whispered under his breath—he didn’t even notice the way your sleeping shorts were discarded onto the floor before peeling back the sheets, but he couldn’t miss it now. Maybe...you wanted him to find you like this?

No...he knew you weren’t that daring. The two of you might be dating, but all those past insistences of not wanting to move too fast, dancing around intimacy like it was the bane of all evil alone told him that this naivety was genuine.

There was that, and the fact that you were staying in his guest bedroom. Too shy to sleep in the same bed, how cute. He was all too understanding just a few hours ago, leaving you for the night and planning on retiring to his room. Only he was drawn right back to where you lay, realizing it was yet another subconscious lie to tell you he was fine with taking things slow, giving you your space.

He wasn’t even supposed to be in this room—there was absolutely no way you planned on Yuuta finding you like this.

A voice in the back of his head warns him, tugging at his subconscious to leave you be. Yuuta ignores it for the first time, crossing a new boundary, knowing that it won’t be the last.

You’re sprawled on your back with the hem of your oversized shirt riding up just a little.

A little too much, he thinks, eyes travelling lower and lower until they land on the lace trim of your panties. Thin, adorned with a small bow at the top. His fingers itch, wanting to feel the fabric for himself, likely soft in comparison to his rough hands.

Yuuta props one knee up onto the bed, the mattress sinking slightly with his weight. With one more glance, just to make completely sure you’re still fast asleep, he allows his fingers to trace up the inside of your leg. Gliding along your calf, then meeting the soft plush of your thigh. Your muscles don’t even twitch, unmoving as his hand gradually creeps higher, higher, higher.

All he needs is to be closer, something to tide him over until you’re willing to let him in. He wants to know just what it feels like to have you under him, little weaknesses you hold that nobody else knows of.

Just a taste, he reminds himself.

Yuuta peers down at you, relieved and on edge at the same time when the tips of his fingers brush against the cotton fabric of your panties. Ever so lightly, his ring finger dips lower, gently pressing against your clothed slit.

The heat between your thighs makes him shiver, warmth pulling him in impossibly closer. Your legs are spread just enough for Yuuta’s hand to fit perfectly in between them, almost invitingly so. He feels like all of his nerves are standing on end, vibrating as just the simplest touch has such a large effect on him.

It’s a familiar feeling, despite always looking at ease, he frequently had to mask these turbulent emotions inside him so that he didn’t scare you away, just as so many others did. This new sensation, not having to worry about constant control, it was unimaginably refreshing. He didn’t want it to end.

You don’t seem to be stirred in the slightest, which is good, because he’s not quite satisfied. The both of you did have a tiring day to be fair—now making you a heavy sleeper. Yuuta deems it a saving grace, curiosity unquelled in wanting to know how far he could push his luck.

That same singular finger travels along the dainty fabric, gently dragging up your folds until stopping at your clit. Experimentally pressing into it, Yuuta spots the way your brows just barely draw together for a moment. The sound of your breathing meets his ears, turned airy as your lips part when he begins rubbing back and forth, a light friction that makes your sensitive, untouched body react unconsciously as you continue to sleep.

Yuuta thinks for a second of how you touch yourself when you’re alone—if you do as he is now, teasing your clit, making you squirm at the light stimulation. You’re not waking up, but your body is still reactive even in this state. With how your panties hug the curves of your body, how he presses them into your heat, it’s not hard to see the small patch of your arousal already leaking through.

It’s cute, you’re so much more honest when you’re asleep.

An idea strikes him, coming more as an intrusive thought than anything helpful, but it’s dangerously enticing nonetheless—if he could make you cum without waking you up. Earn a glimpse of what he hoped you’d let him see eventually.

You look like you want it, chest rising and falling a little heavier, and when he pointedly nudges your clit with the smallest increase in force, your breath hitches.

It would be cruel to leave you like this—Yuuta isn’t a cruel man.

He’s doing this for you now, not himself. It’s repeated in his head, words reassuring as he slinks onto the bed. His grip is delicate, pushing your thighs apart a tad bit more, just enough to make room to lower himself between them.

Eye level with your heat, the scent of your arousal washes over him. He can’t help but place a few ghosted kisses on your inner thighs, a quick nip at the supple skin that leads to a trail of the same before his lips hover over the seat of your panties.

Through long lashes, he focuses on your face, almost shuddering with you as his tongue comes into contact with the patch of wetness, dampness growing as he licks a slow strip up over the cloth. Yuuta repeats the action—once, twice, three times, then loses count. His movements are slow, soft and steady, taking what he can get but soon becoming frustrated with the barrier in his way.

The hands placed on your thighs twitch, and it only seems logical that if he wants to finish what he started, he needs to make things a little easier for himself. An unnatural strength imbued with cursed energy flows through his palms. He’s eager, doing it without thinking, not realizing the force he puts behind his actions until the seams of your panties tear with almost no resistance.

Yuuta’s eyes widen slightly, because his plan was to merely push the fabric aside. But that problem can wait, especially when he can’t.

The offending fabric is casted aside, and Yuuta knows he wants to take his time. Testing the waters, his thumbs come up to spread apart your soaked folds, taking in the way your hole clenches around nothing as he gently blows cold air against it.

He’s not shocked to find your muscles twitching so easily now, reacting to every little thing he does. Not shocked, but it does make him greedy. It makes him want to abandon caution entirely. Taking his time turns out to be a lot easier said than done—when his tongue places a few kitten licks onto your clit, the near sinful whimper that escapes you has his lips latching on and sucking instead.

You’re always so quick to flee from him, Yuuta can barely get a lasting kiss in before you push him away. To hear that leave your mouth, intentional or not, it’s dangerous. He’s starved for intimacy, starting to lose sight on why he’s worked so hard to become close with you, drowning in the thoughts of why he instead wants to rip that safety he provides from you entirely just to see the things you keep hidden from him and everyone else.

There’s his own personal heat building, hips grinding into the mattress now and then to relieve the ache you don’t even know you’re causing in him so quickly. It doesn’t do much, if anything it only makes his resolve weaken, low groans making their way up his throat and sending soft vibrations onto your sensitive nub.

His tongue darts back out, flattening as your hips buck against his face, trying to gain more friction.

And all it tells him is that you want this—just as much as he does. You’ve never told him, but you don’t need to. Your body speaks for itself.

The wet muscle pushes past your entrance, Yuuta’s nose bumping your clit every time his head jerks when his tongue curls against your walls. From how your body tenses, the feeling unmistakable under his large hands, he can tell you’re getting close.

All the breathy sighs and whines leaving you, the overwhelming taste of you on his tongue and in his mouth, it clouds his judgment more and more as each second passes.

Yuuta forgets about the hard work he’s put in to keep you safe, to make sure you ended up choosing him over everyone else. You’re intoxicating, and he can’t get enough. There’s no such thing as just a taste, not when he’s stopped trying to hold back and instead starts trying to devour you.

You deserve more, he thinks, coating his ring finger with your slick, teasingly swirling it around your entrance before letting it sink into your heated pussy. It reaches far deeper than his tongue, and with a few thrusts, curling his finger inside you, Yuuta finds what he’s searching for as you tense hard around the slender digit. His mouth returns to your clit, sucking and flicking it with the tip of his tongue.

Yet no matter what he does, it’s still not enough. He wants to watch you finally fall apart, wants you to stop pushing him away.

And he realizes, it’s not a want, but a need. One that can’t be satisfied as easily as he thought when he first removed the sheets from your unsuspecting body. Going so long ensuring that you wanted him and nobody else ended up having adverse effects, all this time spent putting you first had turned him selfish, and he didn’t quite care anymore.

He needs you—all of you, anything less for any longer and he might just go mad.

Yuuta can’t think straight to save his life, he’s hooked on the way your body shakes beneath him, adding another finger pumping in and out of you, groaning against your clit as he desperately ruts against the bed.

You’re responding so well, it only confuses him more as to why you haven’t let him take care of you sooner, as clearly you needed him like this. He can practically hear his name fall from your lips, airy and begging him for more.

His eyes are screwed shut, and yours are open.

“Ahh—Yuuta...wh—ngh”

Those calloused fingers know just how to make you shake in pleasure, not relenting as you suddenly cum around them. He feels your swollen clit throb, over and over against his tongue.

When you start to convulse, near pained whimpers leaving you, he finally stops.

He’s frozen for a moment, your full awareness dawning on him.

A sheen of sweat clings to you, chest heaving, heartbeat going a mile a minute and hammering against your ribcage. You were falling back down from the high that made you see stars, the closer to reality you got, the more you understood what had happened.

The fear would hit you first, and it’d be fast—you’d scream, fight, try to leave him.

Yuuta knew this, he knew you, and so he moved faster.

Before you could make another sound, panic rising in your throat, a firm hand clamps over your mouth.

And god, you look fucking terrified. Both hands flying up to push him away, nails biting into his wrist while tears begin to well in your eyes. Irises swirling with fear, confusion, betrayal.

It should make him feel guilty, it does—but it’s not enough to stop him from wanting to make it worse.

His palm stays cemented over your mouth, muffling your cries. “Shhh, it’s okay, it’s okay.”

It’s not, all your squirming does is grind against his aching cock. And he’s so far gone that he might as well go further—he doesn’t even try to stop you. The hand over your mouth pins you down well enough, your body so much weaker compared to his.

“M’sorry, just—fuck…”

You’re not calming down, struggling harder with each second that goes by while Yuuta fights to hold you still.

“It’s alright, baby, you’re okay.” With everything running through his mind, the only thing consistent and true is that he has to be inside you.

His free hand grips the waistband of his sweats and boxers, hastily pulling them both down at the same time. He hisses when the cold air of the room meets his cock, slapping against his abdomen. He’s already in between your legs, and you’re still trying to get away, hips lifting off the sheets as your legs helplessly kick. Your movements are uncalculated, frantic—it’s an accident when his cock brushes against your heat.

You squeal at the contact, but there’s nothing you can do to stop him from rutting against you, length sliding between your folds and coating him in your slick. A slight shudder runs through you as the tip of his cock catches on your puffy clit, repeatedly nudging it with each thrust.

It’s not enough. Not before, not now, he can’t seem to satisfy whatever want inside him has broken loose, and you’re forced to deal with it all because he couldn’t keep himself in check.

“Just relax, okay? Gonna make you feel good...promise you—”

Yuuta practically chokes on his words, lining himself up with your entrance, unable to stop his hips from pushing himself inside you all in one go. Blood rushing behind his ears drowns out the sound of your whimpers, lost in the way you keep sucking him back in when he goes to pull out. So goddamn tight—Yuuta’s glad he’s made sure he was the first to get to you, despite the circumstances.

He’s a mess, you’re a mess, it’s sloppy and it’s perfect, because the quick back and forth of his hips goes so deep that he’s grinding against your clit with each thrust. Your whines are in tandem with his movements, pain mixing with the building warmth spreading throughout you.

The body draped over yours is so much larger, broad shoulders blocking out the moonlight as Yuuta keeps himself propped up above you with a hand beside your head. The one over your mouth disappears, lightly wrapping around your throat for better purchase instead.

It’s too easy to lose himself now, letting his guard down—and you jump at the chance.

There’s a shove to his chest, and then he’s being kicked down the bed. The door is on the adjacent side of the room and so to make quick time you scramble across the bed sheets. Of course, a hand too cold clamps around your ankle, and it feels like he’s about to crush the bone beneath when Yuuta drags you back.

All your pleas go ignored, and he’s suffocating as your body is pinned against the bed by his own.

A lanky yet toned arm snakes around your waist, lifting your hips to meet his. “Just a bit—” there’s a pause, groaning as he drives his cock right back into your pussy, “—bit longer…”

Yuuta hasn’t completely forgotten why he decided to take things this far, his free hand reaching down to toy with your clit. With the new angle, his cockhead hits that soft, spongy patch that has your walls fluttering around his length.

Your fighting spirit diminishes more and more, not much strength to begin with in how you were woken up, only worsened by the way the coil in your stomach keeps tightening. When you go to shove the arm wrapped around your body, it’s not genuine, not completely at least. You’re overwhelmed just as much as him, and letting it happen doesn’t seem all that bad.

Slick is dripping down your thighs, the sounds of skin slapping against skin echoing throughout the room alongside his grunts and your airy moans.

There’s a shake in your body, legs unable to keep themselves up as your voice breaks through the noise. “Yuuta...p-please…”

It doesn’t matter what it is you’re begging for exactly, but he tries to console you anyways. “I’m right here, baby. Just let go for me…”

The pads of his fingers press harder circles around your clit as the cant of his hips picks up.

You’re reaching your end, unmistakable in the way you tighten around his length, your muscles contracting and releasing. Yuuta is right behind you, thrusts growing erratic, barely pulling halfway out before sinking in again.

“Ah—that’s it, cum for me, good girl—”

There’s a moment where you go quiet, body locking up and mouth opening into a silent scream. It’s enough to have Yuuta’s body reacting much the same, a harsh ‘fuck’ leaving his lips before painting your walls white. There’s no thought to pull out, just that he wants to relax with you in his arms.

You’re trembling, aftershocks washing over you in waves, especially when he slowly drags his cock out and past your g-spot before leaving you empty.

Yuuta finally releases you from his hold, watching as you slump pitifully into the mattress. There’s a trail of his cum leaking down your slit, a little pool of it forming on the sheets. You look absolutely ruined, face turned and smushed against the bed—he can see the tears heavily wetting your cheeks, mouth agape as your chest heaves.

And he just...stares. Somewhat out of breath himself, hunched over, unmoving otherwise while realization crashes down on him.

You’d never forgive him, you’ll leave the second you get the chance. What Yuuta’s done to you is irreversible.

...As far as you know.

It’s always been like this, he thinks. Yuuta keeps you endlessly in the dark, meticulous pre-planning to make sure you’re protected always. And so he steps away, tucks himself back into his boxers, pulling up his sweats and grabs his phone. It looks like you’ve pretty much fallen asleep, which makes his job easier.

Plan A through Z, Yuuta has something to fall back on no matter what.

The screen illuminates his face, fingers swiping until Inumaki’s contact shines back at him. The cursed speech user owes him a favour, and there’s no time more perfect in Yuuta’s mind than now to cash it in.

A deep sigh from him sounds throughout the room—you won’t remember this happened, none of it. Yuuta will clean you up before Inumaki arrives, use reverse cursed technique to handle any wounds you may have, and then he’ll have his friend make you forget anything past going to bed.

While he still wants to keep you safe, keep you pure—it’s no longer for the same reasons.

Darkened eyes land on your weakened form, and Yuuta knows this won’t be enough for him. You’ll push him away, he’ll get impatient...the rest is predictable, to say the least.

His message sends, phone turning black.

Somehow, he’ll need to find a way to earn more favours.

#yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere yuuta #yandere yuta #jujutsu kaisen smut #yuuta smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #tw noncon #tw somnophilia #tw choking #tw stalking #tw virginity loss

3K notes · View notes

ditttiii · 3 years

Text

gold rush. || kth {m}

⇢ summary: kim taehyung is a walking heartbreak waiting to happen. all narrow eyes and long nose and devilish smirks, he is everyone’s dream. after months of sharing an elevator with the man who makes your heart race until you can scarcely breathe when the chance finally comes; are you willing to risk it all for his touch?

⇢ genre: porn with feelings, soft smut, angst, is unresolved tension and feelings a genre?

⇢ pairing: kim taehyung x reader

⇢ word count: 4.4k

⇢ rating: explicit / 18+

⇢ theme: strangers to lovers, s2l!au

⇢warning/s: public/elevator sex, exhibitionism, fingering, cunnilingus/oral (female receiving), lots of kissing, hickeys, unprotected sex? reader’s on the pill, swearing, tension and so much of it, unresolved-repressed feelings, taehyung is a certified dingus & reader is hopelessly smitten.

⇢ a/n: betaed by @yeojaa who owns my heart and is the most precious bean ever.

also have all my virtual, socially distanced cuddles @btsmosphere @papillonsgf @birbdae & @unoriginal-username15432. if it weren’t for their support this wouldn’t be out today. my gratitude knows no bounds ♡ also big thanks to taylor for the fic title.

banner by @chillingkoo & moodboard by @today-we-will-survive their art breathed life into this fic ♡ a belated birthday fic for one mr.kim taehyung & the beautiful @kerikaaria. this fic is also my submission for @thebtswritersclub january monthly project.

lastly, i had a lot of fun writing this so i hope you guys enjoy it x 2021 here v go ♡

You wonder when the shame stopped making you hide behind a curtain of messy bed hair. When the smell of a man's cologne on you and a fruity fragrance on him started to feel normal; routine.

The elevator closes with a 'ping', and your eyes track the numbers as they descend, the warmth of another human, the soft puffs of his breath, warming your shivering, scantily dressed body.

"What happened to ‘she’s too old for me?’ " You grunt, slipping off your six inches of agony inducing footwear and pushing them to a corner.

"What happened to you not being jealous?" You can feel his smirk, oozing of self-assured nonchalance and smugness that would seem ugly on anyone but fits like a well-tailored suit on him. From the corner of your eye, you watch as he leans back, hands resting on the metal railing while his tall, lean body slouches lazily, almost invitingly, and you have to force your eyes away from tracing the curves of his pecs. It's a tempting sight, but you aren't about to give him any more ammo to goad you with. As it is, he already knows too much, is far too keen.

"Of your sugar mama? I don't think so."

Taehyung hums but doesn't refute the statement and the silence between you two stretches on. A burning ball of jealousy in your stomach continues to eat away at your peace, and with a clenched jaw, you allow your head to rest against the cool metal of the elevator and pretend that the proximity doesn't affect you.

It's always the same between you two, a constant game of tug and war, where one pulls too firmly, and then the other comes tumbling close until one of you comes back to your senses and then it's back to square one. Back to bickering and recounting the previous night’s escapades of half-truths and lies told from kiss-swollen lips and hooded gazes as you try your best to rile the other one up.

It's stupid. You are in your twenties and this isn't like you. The lying, the pretence that you are still seeing your ex-boyfriend and biting and sucking your own lip until it swells; until you look properly ravished; none of this is you.

You should have known the day he first stumbled into the elevator with a half-buttoned shirt and bite marks painted over the pale skin of his neck, a satisfied smirk curled on his dark pink lips, that he wasn't good for you. But no, like the absolute fool that you are, you fell for him. Fell knowing full well he wasn't yours to have, that back then you weren't his to have.

The elevator comes to a stop with a shudder. Your eyes, closed sometime during the descent, snap open and your feet pause when the sight of the closed doors grace you.

"You stopped the elevator." It's not a question, not when his hand is still hovering over the stop button, head tilted as his eyes stay trained on you.

"I did." He admits to a question you never asked.

Biting back a hiss at his insistence on being difficult, you twist on your heels, lips pulled into a smile whose edges sting like shards of a broken glass and parry, "And why did you do that, pray tell?"

He doesn't answer, just looks at you with that half-lidded gaze and his silence only infuriates you more, makes the back of your neck feel heated as an angry flush rises from your chest all the way up to your cheeks and with a few angry stomps you’re in Taehyung's space, barely a few inches left between you two.

"God!" You start, and the anger, the jealousy, the ugly ball of insecurity and lust and something you haven't quite found a name for yet all coagulate and rise up your throat, burning your heart in their wake until you are hurting and seething. “I don’t get you, nor do I want to anymore!" The words tumble out, one after another and half thought out but your chest still burns and the ugly ball still feels scorching hot in your throat and you can't bring yourself to stop, to shut up and think. "Stop doing this. Stop flirting with me and stop looking at me with those hooded eyes of yours and for the love of god, do you really need to lick your lip that often? Why don't you carry a lip balm if your lips are that dry, huh?"

The cross of your eyes is almost painful, but you have started and fuelled by anger and unreciprocated feelings there’s no stopping your steam. "And now this! Stopping the elevator! What the hell is this supposed to mean?" His lips part as if to answer but without waiting for his response, you plow on, "What! Do you actually have an answer? Really? Let's face it; you think I’m some sort of challenge that needs to be conquered. Another notch on your bedpost. You and your stupid smirks and half-lidded eyes and that damn mole on your nose and god, can you just not—"

The soft pad of his finger on your lips pauses your rant, leaves them parted and your heart hammering while unsaid words clutter the hollow spaces in your throat, tighten around your vocal cords like a noose until they become their own nemesis.

"I broke up with her last night," Taehyung says, and from where you are standing so close to him, his breath on your neck, cheeks, lips is too enchanting, too much like something you had hoped and begged and prayed for far too long now. Breathing out harshly you blink yourself back to reality because you must be hearing him wrong.

"Huh?"

His hand slowly comes up to hold your chin, thumb running over your lower lip with a feather-like touch, "I broke up with her last night, went home and came back early because I didn't want to miss you." He says, and your chest feels tight, palms numb and it's only when his hand gently settles over the nape of your neck and you inhale painfully that you realise that you had stopped breathing.

"Why?" You rasp out.

Don't hope. This means nothing. Do not hope.

Something twists in your belly, a thread tightens around your heart, and you know, despite it all, that you are hoping.

"Why do you think?" He asks instead, and you stifle the sudden desire to bash his head into a wall.

"Don't play games with me."

A sigh, his breath dancing on your lips and you barely suppress the tingles that burn down your spine, "I'm not. I don't want to, not anymore." The hand resting around your neck curls, fingers caressing the soft skin behind your ear.

"What do you want then?" Your words are quiet, hope and longing laced into every syllable that you desperately hope to hide but fail.

Your heart hammers into your ribs with so much force you are half afraid it will leave them cracked; splintered just like your love for the man who is touching you, holding your entire heart in the palm of his hands while you wait for it to be crushed. Because it will, it's inevitable. Kim Taehyung is a walking heartbreak waiting to happen. All narrow eyes and long nose and devilish smirks, he is too good. Too good for the woman he was with and certainly too good for you. You would be happy if you looked half as good on your wedding day as he regularly does because he is that gorgeous. And unreal, and pretty and it hurts.

It hurts because you can never have him and any second now he will push you away and ridicule you for getting flustered so easily and he will never understand, and god it cuts. It tears at you because despite knowing better, you long for him, his touch, his warmth.

Maybe even his love. But that is one hope you refuse to acknowledge out loud.

Your breaths mingle from where you two are standing so close, and part of you aches to reach out, to pull him closer and wrap yourself around him until you can sync the beat of your heart to his, to nestle your face in the crook of his neck and breathe him in, drown in the scent of that spicy cologne that you associate with him and nobody else. Because it's tempting, oh so inviting and he is so so close.

You could touch his chest, caress the skin peeking from in between the dip of his low neck shirt and it would be easy, he would let you, you know that too but what about after? How do you come back from holding someone your soul is in love with and then pretend that being with them for one night was enough? How does your hope keep living on in the name of that fragment of love? His arms your shelter for one night and then you are back to being strangers, sharing elevators and bumping into each other at the grocery store, pretending all the while that you do not yearn to visit that one night you spent together whenever your head hits the pillow?

"I..." Taehyung struggles, chews the words before his lips form them because this is his last chance and if he loses you now, it's over; he knows that too. The pair of you are done playing cat and mouse.

"I know my words don't hold a whole lot of value. I could promise you things, but you won't believe me and that's fair. I get it." He admits, another hand coming up until your face is cradled in his open palms, fingers slipping behind the edges of your ears and you will yourself to not drop your gaze, to look into his eyes and search for...love? Honesty? You wish you could say you know what it is that you are hunting for, but held so close all you can think about is the chestnut brown of his eyes, the black that rims them, the high arched brows and the thin, smooth lips and that mole; that mole that you can only see when you are pressed close, a hair's breadth of space between you two.

"But...?" You ask, pray, and yet again, against your better judgement hope.

"But I love you." He confesses, voice forever rich and deep and you feel the hum of his baritone from where your chest is still pulled tight to his. "My love for you is unlike any I have ever known, and it scared me; it still scares me because I don't know. I don't know what I will do if I ever lose you. I care too much, I—" His grip on you tightens and instinctively your hands snake around his waist, clenching the soft cotton of his shirt, nails biting into your skin as his words thread your hopelessly lovesick heart back together; piece by piece.

"I love you too much." Taehyung whispers and the ice around your heart thaws, his raw confession lighting a fire in your nerves until you are left buzzing from the high of his admission. "Trust me. Just this once. Please." He is vulnerable in his plea, and for the first time you wonder if you had characterised him wrong. Boxed and stored him like a gift on a shelf without bothering to look underneath the paper wrapping.

Taehyung doesn't have to beg, he doesn't have to try and persuade anyone, and for all the gibes you threw his way, all the daggered words about him dating only for money, you didn't truly believe any of them. Sure, the woman he had been with for the last few months was older (a voice in your head whispers wiser), but that wasn't because she was, as you would often insist, his 'sugar mama', but instead because their interests aligned. Kim Taehyung is a man of taste, whether it be his fondness for a violin's trill, fascination with modern art, or his love for jazz music. He is an enigma and with no small amount of embarrassment you think back to all the times you have bought a book after he made a passing comment on it, searched the pages and the characters to find some semblance of him.

Maybe you are pathetic, perhaps you are far too infatuated with this man for it to be healthy. Just maybe...

"No," Taehyung commands, his voice so determined you’re snapped back to the present, head thrown out of the haze your wandering thoughts had created.

Seeing your obscure expression and strayed eyes (look away because you can't acknowledge how much he matters), he pushes, one hand sliding down to grip your chin and urge you to look him in the eye. "Don't."

Maybe he sees something in your eyes, spots your hidden insecurities, reads you like an open book and dog-ears the pages that hold your weakness.

"Don't what?" You deflect, gaze drifting away again as you pretend to not know what he means but secretly long for him to keep pushing, to keep trying—your denial’s a facade to hide all your pleas.

"Don't do this to me. To us."

"You'll hurt me." You protest, a half-hearted attempt at trying to protect your already doomed heart even as your fingers clench tighter, pull him closer.

"No, I won't." He speaks with certainty that you don't wholly believe but fuelled by far too much love and longing, you don't protest any further and instead toe closer, rise higher, and breathe in the shaky exhale he lets out when your lips skim the sharp curve of his jaw.

"I've wanted this for so long." Unadulterated desire courses through your veins at his admission. Even if Taehyung is lying, even if he leaves you stranded after today, you'll live. You'll live on the high of this moment, the memory of his skin under your touch, the crisp of the cotton draped over his lean torso.

It's easier to let go and surrender yourself, easier to lay yourself bare because you have already come too far and there is no protecting yourself anymore—your heart is now his to do with.

Your hands twine around his waist, slide over the vast expanse of his back like he is yours; as though if you try hard enough, you'll leave an imprint, a sign that he belongs to you. Mark him for the rest of eternity and brand him with your name on his heart.

Kissing him is easy, the slight ache of staying on your tippy-toes going by unregistered as you get lost in the sensation of his lips, his sighs on your chin, the tickle of his lashes against the high curve of your cheek.

The cradle of his palms around your face is gentle, almost careful, as though you are a porcelain doll and he is afraid one harsh move will leave you splintered. Chest tight, you push down the last remaining traces of hesitation clinging inside your throat and twist to catch his lips instead, licking a long strip from the soft cleft of his chin over to his parted lips, dip into the hollow of his mouth and slide over the soft flesh on the inside before you catch his upper lip in between yours and suck.

His responding groan has you clenching your thighs and you break the kiss, breathing in to replenish the oxygen that doesn't seem as important when his lips are on yours. When your gaze catches his, for once you don't look away, don't force yourself to stop from swimming in the beautiful, clear pool of his eyes.

"I love you too." Your admission is quiet, more a careful whisper than anything else, as though any louder and you'll break this spell and things will go back to the way they were. He will come to his senses and realise he doesn't love you after all and then you'll go back to being a pining, lovesick fool, only this time with a broken heart and no hope to cling to.

His eyes grow soft—gentle in the curve of two crescent moons, and you smile your first real smile, the edges twitching and pulling into a gentle grin before you can bite it down and the answering smile that Taehyung rewards you with has your heart squeezing almost painfully inside your chest.

"Yeah?" He asks as though he already knows the answer but just wants to hear you say it again, profess your love for him again and you do. You say it again and again, press your lips over every inch of his face and emboss the words onto the smooth, unblemished skin.

Taking in a shuddering breath, you answer from around the suspended ball of disbelief and love in your throat. "Yeah."

When the clothes start coming off it’s a gentle, slow affair, the spaces in between filled with tender touches curious to explore the skin that they had desired for so long and open-mouthed kisses pressing promises of forever and happily ever after onto the naked expanse, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

Legs twined around his waist like ivy, you arch off the floor. A tug of your hand and his shirt slips low, and then your mouth is pressing warm, wet, kisses, tongue slipping out and desperately tasting his skin, his sweat— him. You lean back and then he's on you, low, low, low until his lips are close enough to skim the edges of your panties and you buckle, arch and push without meaning to as you ache for relief only he can provide.

"You are beautiful. So so beautiful. The most beautiful woman I have ever seen."

His words are rough, less speech and more growl as he pushes his head closer to your soaking heat and inhales. "Fuck."

Breathes turning to hitches, words into gasps, you can scarcely keep your eyes open when he runs a long, slim finger through your folds and circles your wet opening before your walls are pulsing around him, sucking and pulling the finger in as deep as it will go. One and two then three, your cunt can't have enough of his fingers, his heat and him and oh—

His lips are velvet against your clit, your body a molten mass of gold moulding itself around his fingers, your sanity and restraint slipping and dripping down onto the carpeted floor from in between the spaces. With the last left strength, you prop yourself onto your elbows and the sight of Taehyung's mouth on your sex is almost enough to send you slipping back down again. His tongue laves across your folds with the desperation of a man parched, caressing every fold, greedily licking away your dripping arousal and moaning out obscenities too vulgar for how early the day is.

When you come, it's with a cry that sounds too animalistic to be yours. One that comes from your chest and leaves your back arched like the ends of a boomerang. "Good?" He asks with glistening lips, and you wanna scream, hysterical in your pitch— good? Is there anything better that exists in this world than his lips on you making you come? Again and again, until you can no longer stand the sensitivity?

But instead of screaming, or shaking him by his shoulders until it gets through his head, you reply with a spent nod and let your elbows slip. This is what being eaten out by Kim Taehyung feels like. The pleasure coursing through your veins is something far more potent than any you have ever felt before. The blood in your veins thrumming, almost sizzling under the thin layer of your skin.

He presses his forehead to yours, rests to catch his breath and with every shuddery inhale you breathe your arousal in, a swipe of your tongue across his glistening lips, and then you can taste it too. It tastes of nothing and yet everything. Coming from his lips, it tastes of what your dreams are built from, like liquified recklessness and yearning and above all —Taehyung.

It tastes of him and his smirks and all the kisses you couldn't have and all the kisses you now hope for.

His fingers are gentle when they tuck your hair, eyes bright behind the curtain of messy, ink-black strands, "There's a law somewhere that says when you love someone with all your heart, you are unavoidably loved by them as well. Amor ch'a null'amato amar perdona."

Your eyes search his, frantically rove all over his face, search the lines under his eyes, pause at the small mole on his nose, and then stop at the sight of the one on his lower lip, the one that your eyes would always drift to every time he'd smirk or grin in the past. Now he's smiling, lips stretched into a soft boxy curve, the mole evident against the edge and you raise a trembling hand, run your thumb across it. Cup his face with both your hands until your vision blurs and then your lips are on his. Locking and licking and your mouth is a leaking faucet of I love you's, hands working to the back of his head and getting lost in those perfectly long, wavy strands.

You hope this is the real thing when you wildly take off your dress, rip off his shirt unmindful of the last few buttons that clatter to the floor and undress until the both of you are as bare as you were the day you were born.

The steel railing is startlingly cold against your rear but before you can wince Taehyung's large hands are on your waist, pulling you closer until all that's on your mind is the feel of him, hard and hot against your dripping heat. His mouth is on your breast, lips sucking marks into the flesh and tying you to him, leaving traces of his presence behind until you can no longer differentiate the ache in your heart from the burn in your belly.

Somehow through the haze of want and compulsive need, you collect yourself enough to tell him you're on the pill when he remembers the lack of protection in his wallet, and then he's inside you. The thrust inside is fluid, and you are moaning, keening at your wetness, at how long he is, at how unbearably, entirely full you are.

Your name falls from his lips like a prayer, like the last words of a man dying an untimely death, desperate and hurried and like if he takes a second too long he might never get the chance again. The scratch of your nails against his back must hurt, the grip of your heels around his sides must be painful, and still you can't bring yourself to let up; to let go.

The air inside becomes humid, reeks of sex and sweat and everything that shouldn't seem so right, and yet does.

You come first, hit your peak and crash through it like a ship in a torrential sea, hot and volatile and like something vital that you'll retain even in the afterlife. Taehyung–sweet, sweet Taehyung – helps you ride it out, makes your body sing with the honed practice of a pianist who has spent more decades playing than he can recall. His tongue is on your neck, stroking that one sensitive spot in the hollow of your clavicle while his hand brushes your clit, builds the pleasure and lets it drift, unhurried and soft until you are crying from the overwhelming rightness of it.

With a shudder, you finally push his hand away from your quivering heat and bring it to your lips, kiss the bony knuckles and let it rest on your thigh from where he wraps it tight around your waist and drives to chase his own high.

Sated you watch Taehyung, catalogue all the features that you had never seen before but up close can. Just in case—just. File them all in a part of your heart where only he resides, a piece you will always come back to, regardless of if the man in your arms chooses to stay or not. You will be selfish with these memories, hoard and treasure them in secrecy until the day you can look back upon them with nothing more than nostalgic fondness.

The appearance of a deep furrow on his forehead, between those long arched brows and the breaking rhythm of his thrusts, alerts you to how close he is and you clench. Clench with all the love and devotion you nurture in your heart and hope that somehow it will be enough. If not forever, then at least until you can have your fill, until you can love him for a life's worth and live off on those memories. Live on them like a late mother's half-finished perfume bottle that you take out and sniff on your sorriest days, a push strong enough to keep you going.

One more day, then one more and then just one more until you can finally meet him in the afterlife, old and having done all that you had been sent to do. Except for love. You doubt you can ever love like this again.

Kissing him after feels like the best kind of heartbreak because you know, somewhere deep in your gut where you house your intuition and insecurities, you know this won't last.

Yet you wouldn't take back anything. Your lips form words on Taehyung's shoulder 'i love you so much. i always will', and you tighten your arms around his waist. Anchor him to the present and pray that the defence will be strong enough to keep him with you for a little while more.

Just a little.

a/n: the end is up to your interpretation, you are free to imagine whatever end you’d have liked to see. If you enjoyed reading this please let me know through comments, reblogs, tags or asks. the feedback makes me insanely happy and i love hearing from you guys ♡

1K notes · View notes

pingutats · 3 years

Note

i just had such a good request for a fic. dom/sub dynamic with dom!harry where y/n is being spanked for misbehavior and she ends up crying during it because she feels like she deserves to be hurt, and harry stops immediately and there’s a lot of fluffy aftercare and physical affection

thank you for the request!! i know it took me a million years to get to writing this but finally did it... i know it strays a little bit from all the details of your request but i hope you enjoy regardless!

warnings: spanking, dom/sub dynamic, descriptions of anxiety (maybe don’t read if you’re in a weird headspace, it’s not exactly pleasant!)

word count: 1.7k

. . . . .

As soon as Y/N hears Harry’s car in the driveway, she dashes from the kitchen to the front door like a kid that’s heard an ice-cream van. After the day of work at home she’s had, of redoing paperwork she’d messed up the first time and struggling through technical issues and communication errors over email—she just needs Harry so badly.

In fact, she’d texted him earlier to let him know. Quite blatantly. With a photo she prays he opened when there was nobody else around.

When Y/N opens the door for him he freezes, taking in her appearance. She’s wearing just panties and one of his shirts, her bare legs completely on display for him. His gaze sweeps up and down her body for a second, then he swears under his breath and strides in quickly. Y/N jumps back to give him room, waiting a few feet ahead in the hallway.

He shuts the door with his arm swinging back behind him, not even glancing over his shoulder to watch it close.

There’s a second of silence as they stare each other down, and it’s in this second that Y/N feels them slip into the roles of the game she’s been wanting to play all day. His eyes go from wide in shock to steady. Her head bows almost of its own accord, responding to the straightening of Harry’s shoulders after he drops his bag.

He inhales sharply through his nose and drops his keys into the bowl on the bench. “You’ve been doing this on purpose, darling,” he says in a measured tone. It isn’t a question. He won’t be asking questions now—she won’t have to think, she can just listen to him, let him take over now.

She plays with the bottom of his t-shirt that she’s wearing, pulling it up enough to reveal the slightly paler skin where her shorts would usually cover.

Harry’s tongue darts out to wet his lips. “Come here,” he says, beckoning her over.

She considers refusing, just to be a brat, but it’s a lot easier to just go along with him now she’s getting what she wanted. She twists her hands in the t-shirt in front of her as she approaches him, averting her eyes from his as he watches her, suddenly vulnerable under his gaze.

When she’s close enough, he reaches out and grabs her wrists to yank her grip on the shirt free, pulling her off balance so the only thing that stops her falling flat on her face is his arms. She tries to relax into his grip, tries to let herself go.

“Been so fucking needy today. That photo — nearly had me getting hard in the studio right in front of everyone, love,” he says, squeezing her wrists almost painfully. “And look how you answer the door, nearly naked for anyone walking on the street to see.” He shakes his head, clicking his tongue condescendingly. “Do you want to apologise for anything?”

She looks at him, pretends to think, and then shakes her head.

He sighs. “Of course not, you little brat.” His grip loosens. “Alright then. Go upstairs for me.”

She blinks at him.

“I’ll be up in a minute. Go on.” He spins her around and nudges her towards the stairs with a gentle push.

She glances over her shoulder at him before she goes and he only raises his eyebrows expectantly. She’s almost tempted to pull the back of the t-shirt down over her ass to cover herself, but that wouldn’t get her what she needs, and what she needs is Harry to take care of her—so she keeps her head bowed as she walks up the stairs, adding a little swing in her hips with each step just as the icing on the cake. She smiles when she hears his deep inhale from the hallway as he watches her the whole time.

Upstairs, she sits on the end of their bed with her hands in her lap, scratching at days-old nail polish she’ll need to redo soon. There’s a knot in her stomach that’s been twisting all day, stresses piling up and morphing into some ugly feeling she can’t shake, not without Harry’s help. She manages to peel all the bright pink colour off her left thumbnail while she waits.

It seems like forever before she hears Harry’s footsteps up the stairs but when she does, she straightens up. The sound of the door opening makes her jump in nervous shock. She flexes her fingers, trying to calm her jitters. It’s Harry. She needs him.

“Being such a brat today,” he says when he’s finally in front of her. “Aren’t you? Don’t know how to behave.” He sits beside her, squishing her cheeks with his thumb and forefinger. “Need me to teach you a lesson, hm?”

She nods at him, eyes moony. Yes, this is what she wants, needs from him—to let him take over for a little while, let him take out his frustration on her, help her let go of her own.

His grip softens a bit. “This okay, baby?” he asks more quietly.

She swallows. “Yeah.”

He leans forward and gives her a quick kiss. She feels like melting against the softness of his lips, pressing against her own, the mouth she knows so well. It’s a comfort in the mess that her mind is feeling like right now.

But he isn’t so gentle as he drags her over his lap a moment later, her face roughly pushed down into the mattress. His hand squeezes her ass, only barely covered by her panties, and her breath hitches.

“Count for me.”

“Yes sir,” she breathes, closing her eyes.

Her exhale is cut short by the force of his palm cracking against her skin, jolting her forward over his lap. The sting dissipates quickly, taking none of the tension inside her with it.

“One,” she says.

“Good girl.” His hand comes down on her again, harder this time.

She screws her eyes shut. “Two.”

It isn’t feeling like how she wants it to feel. She’s too tense, restless, her mind unwilling to float away under Harry’s touch. The pain, which usually is laced with something brilliant and exciting, is just pain today. But with all the mistakes she’s made today, all the things she messed up that have just added to her workload and her stress—maybe this is what she deserves. Punishments are called that for a reason.

So she stays where she is, her head lowered so Harry won’t see anything wrong. She gasps at the third, and it takes her a second to remember she needs to count. “Three,” she says, her voice shuddering.

Harry pauses and she fears she’s made him upset, spoken too quietly, taken too long—she can’t do anything right.

“Love,” he says. His hand comes to rest on her shoulder gently. “Are those good tears or bad tears?”

She squeezes her eyes shut for a moment and in the pause, realises her cheeks are wet. “Um,” she says. Her voice shakes.

Harry’s arm snakes underneath her and pulls her up, manoeuvring her so she straddles his lap and he can see her face. The crease between his brows is deep as his eyes dart over her face, his thumb coming to her cheek to brush a tear away.

She leans her head into his palm that was cracking down onto her skin just a minute ago and closes her eyes, taking a deep breath to steady herself.

“What happened? When did it change?” he asks, his voice soft again, his character leaving.

She shrugs. She doesn’t trust herself to speak without crying more, and she feels stupid enough already.

“It’s alright, love,” he says, shifting so he can sit up straighter and pull her closer to his chest. He rubs her back, kissing her hair. “Let’s just rest for a moment, alright?”

She nods into his shoulder, hiding her face. His hand cradles the back of her head. The panic that she was feeling is dissolving into nothing. All day she felt so tense with so much twisting inside her, and she’d thought she could force it out painfully—she was wrong, of course, and now she feels awful for roping Harry into her misguided attempt to fix herself.

After a couple minutes, Harry taps her to get her to look up at him. “Why’d you want a punishment today?” he asks, without accusation.

She shrugs, raising her shoulders as high as she can and then letting them drop sharply. “Just felt like I needed it.”

He nods. He understands that sometimes she feels like this—needs to lose herself in playing a role for an evening, forget about real life and its responsibilities—because he knows the feeling too. She’s helped him in this way before. They take it in turns: give each other what they need, when they need it. “Wasn’t helpful today, though?” he prompts, his eyebrows raised sympathetically.

She shakes her head, looking sheepish. “Sorry.”

“Hey,” he says. He smiles a little bit and a shallow dimple appears in his cheek. “That’s fine. It’s just a game. We play it whenever you want to, we stop playing when you’re not enjoying it. That’s important, alright?”

“Yeah,” she says quietly. “Sorry.”

“Need to stop apologising, baby,” he tells her. “Just keep talking to me. I don’t want to hurt you.” He kisses her cheek and the gesture raises butterflies in her stomach, even still after all the months they’ve been together. It reminds her that he’s there for her, to look after her, to take care of her when she can’t do it for herself. His lips stay close to her skin as he asks, “How can I help, though, really?”

She buries her face back into his shoulder. “Dunno,” she says, her voice muffled. “Just need you.”

She feels his chin gently knock against the top of her head as he nods, his arms tightening around her again. “You’ve got me, baby. Always got me.”

. . . . .

thank you for reading! if you did like it, a reblog would be really appreciated as well as any feedback/comments you might have! you can find more of my writing on my masterlist.

#harry styles fic #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #fic

244 notes · View notes

kyovtani · 3 years

Text

𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 | 𝒌𝒖𝒓𝒐𝒐 𝒕𝒆𝒕𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒐𝒖

✗ pairing: kuroo tetsurou x female reader

✗ genre: smut, like just smut, lit nothing but smut; absolute filth but still classy so it's fílth anyway; established relationship!AU

✗ word count: 4.1k+

✗ warnings: swearing, heavy dumbification and degradation, mean/hard (to soft) dom!kuroo, DD/LG (d*ddy dom / little girl), mentions of jealousy and slight possessive behavior, orgasm denial, p*ssy slapping, some spanking, praising, ch*king, impregnation, some c*m play, car s*x, (a little bit of) cute aftercare

– A/N: Happiest Birthday to my fave scorpio boy in HQ!! This is an old fic of mine which I wrote about a year ago and as I thought about it, Kuroo does fit the concept really well and since I’m a little busy writing smth new, I thought why not reuse this big boy! I hope you guys enjoy this one and please feel free to leave feedback of any kind if you did!!

x all the love, zade.

✗ summary: your boyfriend is sweet, caring and oh so soft, so you decide it’s time to make him lose his composure...

It takes a lot to make Kuroo switch from his soft, caring demeanor to his hard dom persona because after everything, he remains a patient man.

He puts your pleasure above anything else; your body a temple for him to worship and take care of with every part of his being.

However, sometimes, no matter how much you love your sweet, loving boyfriend, you find yourself growing a little bored of his constant softness; your desires going further than just being choked and called kitten.

You want Kuroo to absolutely destroy you, to put it as simple as possible. The guttural desire to have him use you for his own pleasure, claim you in the most intimate ways possible and every now and then your body craves this certain type of pleasure; the one which lays pretty close to pure pain.

Led by your body’s deep desire, you find yourself seeking methods which might not be the morally right ones but at this point you struggle to care the slightest bit about morality.

You set Kuroo losing his composure as your goal, trying your very best without even overthinking the possible consequences and if that means that you have to let a random man flirt the living hell out of you right in front of your boyfriend (who happens to have slight possessive tendencies) during your weekly grocery shopping, then so be it.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

Kuroo watches the blood boiling scene in front of him with his brows furrowed in pure anger; annoyance flooding his usually so soft and calm features and the more time passes, the angrier he gets.

However, Kuroo’s not a dom for nothing.

He keeps his cool, even lets you take the guy's number as he causally ignores the way that stupid fucker lookes at your ass like a fucking pervert, before the two of you eventually finish the shopping without Kuroo commenting on any of it.

At this point you’re just frustrated. Anger and irritation rush through your body at such a fast pace, you feel your head spinning the closer you get to the car and if it wasn’t for the fact that you’re currently in a public parking lot, you would have thrown a fit already.

Tired of Kuroo’s oblivion, you finally get yourself to gather every bit of composure you have left and turn around to just tell him about what the fuck you want when he suddenly pushes you against the car door, pressing his strong body into your back.

"What the fuck was that little scene supposed to be, hm, doll?", he hisses into your ear, his hot breath fanning your neck and just as usual you love the way his deep and almost unrecognizably raspy voice sends jolts of arousal through your whole body right into your core.

In an instant, you feel your cunt clenching in despair, drenching the fabric of your panties just like that and even though you’re very much aware of your surroundings, you can’t bring yourself to actually give a fuck.

"Good fuck dolls answer when they are being talked to", Kuroo grunts and pulls the lobe of your ear between his teeth, easily eliciting a sweet moan from you before he suddenly wraps his strong fingers around your throat. The cold metal of his rings builds the perfect contrast to the hotness of your skin and with another soft whine, you press your thighs together.

And then, as you gently throw your head back against his shoulder, Kuroo’s hand finds its way around your breast, quickly and incredibly harshly pinching your sensitive nipple between his fingertips to remind you of his – still unanswered – question.

"T-Tetsu, I just-", he doesn’t give you the opportunity to finish your sentence, casually tightening his grip around your throat and cutting off your air supply in one go.

"How the fuck dare you call me by my name right fucking now, you cockhrungy little slut?”, Kuroo’s voice is cold and distant; the anger and disappointment evident in every single one of his words and you can’t believe just how much your pussy starts spasming in response.

“You better address me correctly or last night was the last time you got to cum, did you fucking hear me?", he’s quick to add, the lack of oxygen in your body sending you even deeper into the beautiful haze of pleasure. You barely notice the way you start gasping gasping for air, your lids fluttering shut as you press your thighs even tighter together to get some kind of relief from the heavy pressure on your throbbing cunt.

"Y-Yes, Daddy", you whimper and push your forehead against the cold surface of the door, your body slowly but surely growing overwhelmed by the arousal heating you up.

And in the middle of it all, you’re still incredibly grateful for the lack of company due to the late time of the day because even though you enjoy this with every single pore in your body, you don’t want anyone else to see you like this.

Kuroo lets go of your throat, his hand wandering in between your legs and underneath the waistband of your shorts, just to suddenly cup your cunt. The feeling of his fingers pressing against the drenched fabric of your panties, his rough digits rubbing your needy clit makes you let out a loud, throaty moan.

"Fucking whore", Kuroo curses, his lips so close to your ear, you feel yourself literally melting into a puddle of despair underneath his tall figure, "I can't believe you let that bastard flirt with you right in front of my eyes", he continues and sucks the skin of your neck into his mouth, sucking harshly before he harshly pulls it in between his teeth.

You whine again, constant mewls of frustration leaving your lips as you try your best to move your hips against his big hand, yet fail miserably.

"I should have fucked you right then and there just to show him who this slutty cunt belongs to", Tetsu groans, rubbing his hard erection against your ass but refusing to to move his fingers on your clit. His words and the pressure on your sensitive bundle of nerves has you moaning and without even trying to calm yourself down, you reach back to take a hold of Kuroo’s thick hair.

"You would have liked that, am I right, kitty cat? No, wait – you would have loved it. You're literally getting wetter and wetter just at the thought being fucked like a stupid whore", Kuroo scoffs, a hint of disbelief wavering in his voice and without missing a beat, you let out a sound of approval in response.

"I'm not even surprised", he hisses and suddenly, pulling his hand out of your shorts, "at the end of the day, you're nothing but a pathetic whore who thinks with her stupid cunt and nothing but her stupid cunt", and then he lets go of you.

His sudden absence leaves you tumbling against the door with a soft whimper and it's then that you notice the way your whole body is shivering from the overwhelming amount of arousal rushing through your system.

"D-Daddy, please", you whisper helplessly, using every single bit of your energy left to turn around and face him, "I need you", you add and can’t help the soft sob falling past your lips; two tears finding their way down your cheeks as you look into the beautiful face of your lover.

The strictness and distance in his features makes you gulp harshly, his usually so soft and calming eyes filled with nothing but hunger and anger and you let yourself devour this rare sight.

"Oh, look at that", Kuroo pushes his bottom lip into a fake pout with amusement sparkling in the pretty brown around his iris, "my little, cockcrazy whore thinks she has the right to even think about my cock after pulling a show like that”, he lets out a loud, empty chuckle, “how cute and oh, so pathetic, kitty.”

Kuroo takes your chin in between his fingers before he straightens his face and pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek.

"Backseat", is all he grunts, "I guess I’ve been a bit too good to you. I haven't fucked some manners into you in some time, have I, pretty kitty?”, you look at him with big, teary eyes and your lips parted before you bring yourself to nod in response to his question.

“Is that why you keep acting up like some needy, filthy little whore? Do you want Daddy to treat you like this, hm? Because you know how much I hate disobedient kittens who flirt with other men, yet choose to do it anyway. Right in front of me, too."

His words stir something deep inside of you, your pussy clenching even harder around nothing as a strong jolt of arousal finds its way right into the pit of your stomach.

You have never been more turned on by anyone or anything and at this point you’ve completely forgotten your surroundings; Kuroo and his huge cock the only thing on your mind as you pull open the door to the backseat of his car.

Kuroo watches you carefully, his eyes roaming the sight of your shaky thighs and the damp spot on the grey material of your shorts before he gets himself to tear his gaze away from you, lifting his head and checking the mostly empty parking lot to make sure nobody is watching the two of you.

He doesn’t like doing it in public; the thought of being caught or watched is definitely alluring and tempting but usually followed by the image of it actually happening and a jolt of slight disgust washing over him.

However this time Kuroo is absolutely ready to make an exception because after remaining patient with you for so long, he knows he won’t be able to keep it up for the entire drive back home.

After making sure nobody is around – his habit of parking all the way at the very end of the parking lot no matter what coming as an advantage – Kuroo also makes his way into the backseat, his gaze instantly finding your glossy eyes before he takes in the oddly satisfying sight of your tear stained cheeks and pouty lips.

You look so vulnerable, so helpless, so pathetic – the thought of completely destroying you in every way possible quickly clouding his mind and the longer he looks at you, the more he just wants to fuck you into oblivion.

But again, Kuroo isn’t a dom for nothing.

With hooded eyes, he silently motions you to turn around, the urge to press your face into the seat taking over every bit of his brain.

You don’t hesitate and obediently move onto your stomach, pulling yourself up onto your knees as your eyes nervously roam the inside of his car.

Your heart is hammering against your rib cage at an unhealthy pace, adrenaline and arousal thrumming inside your ears and clouding your mind in the best way possible.

Oh how you love the effect he has on you.

"Take off your shorts and then finger yourself", Kuroo hisses, casually pushing his sweats as well as boxers briefs down his muscular thigh, exposing his thick, rockhard cock to the cold yet tensed air in the car and letting out a soft hiss, "I want you to stretch that little cunt of yours", he adds and without even trying to hide it, you turn your head to watch the way Kuroo spits into his palm and then wraps his fingers around his cock.

You let out a loud, desperate moan at the sight of his huge length; the tip red and angry, already leaking so much precum, you feel your mouth watering at the memory of his taste coating your tongue. You gulp harshly the longer you watch him stroke his length like that, your pussy clenching in despair at the mere thought of how good he fills you up.

You hear the loud sound of skin meating skin before a harsh pain starting from your inner thigh rushes through you; a choked out whimper leaving your lips before you can literally feel your ears perking up at the sound of Kuroo’s voice.

"If I have to repeat myself one more fucking time, I swear to God, I won't let you cum for a whole month, kitty", Tetsurou growls, an almost inaudbile moan following his threat and after mumbling a soft apology, you're quick to get rid of your shorts and underwear just as you were told.

You bend your body down and spread your legs, only to feel waves of embarrassment and shame in combination with heavy, hot arousal overwhelming you.

Kuroo has the perfect view on your spasming cunt and you know he is basically devouring you with his eyes, your head spinning at the thought.

"Oh, kitty", he sighs and picks up the pace of his hand, focusing on his tip every now and then to slightly edge himself because even though he usually manages to hide it really well, this whole situation has him a lot more worked up than he had expected.

And now that he actually got to see how much his change in demeanor and choice of words have gotten to you, he is more than just struggling to keep his cool composure.

Kuroo can’t help but think of the way your slick arousal tastes and feels on his tongue, your sweet moans filling his ears as you part those pretty lips of yours in pleasure.

Kuroo watches the way you slide two of your fingers through your glistening folds, collecting your own juice before aiming for your sensitive, hardened little clit and as soon as you press the tips of your digits against the bundle of nerves, both of you let out a loud moan.

"Don't forget about that tight hole of yours, baby", Tetsurou grunts, throwing his head back as he curses himself for slipping out of his persona even if it wasn't for longer than a second.

You whimper at the sound of your favorite pet name falling past those pretty, swollen lips and choke on that exact whimper when you insert both of your fingers into the warm walls of your cunt.

"That's right, just like that, you little slut", Kuroo’s quick to comment, his other hand pushing the material of your (his) oversized shirt up to reveal the soft flesh of your ass before spanking you softly and then digging his fingers into your skin, "even though your fingers are nothing compared to my cock, we don't want you to to get hurt, right?", and again, he finds himself quickly regretting his choice of words and lack of authority.

But he can't help it. You’re his perfect, sweet faced little angel girl after all; there’s no way he can completely abandon his soft, caring side no matter how bratty you become. Not even thinking about giving you a chance to respond, he reaches out and plants another harsh spank on your slightly sore ass.

You muffle a loud whimper, burying your face in your arm as you try to keep your noises down in hopes of getting to hear the sinful moans of your Daddy; however, Kuroo is quick to notice your little plan.

"You're really trying it tonight, huh, you fucking cumslut? You better start moaning or I'm about to get really, really mad and believe me, you do not want that", Kuroo scolds you, his hand leaving your ass and wrapping around the one buried between your legs before he starts helping you thrust your fingers into your wet pussy.

Kuroo watches the way you clench around your digits with his lips parted in pleasure and arousal tingling at the bottom of his spine and if it wasn't for the punishment he has in mind, he would have fucked your pretty pussy.

Your loud moans, high pitched whimpers and desperate whines start filling the small space of his expensive car, making it even harder for him to stay collected and as he slowly observes the way your thighs slowly start shaking, he pulls your hand away from your drenched cunt with a deep grunt.

"Let's go over the rules really quick, kitty", Kuroo sighs and pulls you to stand on your knees, making sure you don't hit your head before he pushes you against the back of the passenger seat.

Your head is spinning at an inhumane space and you don’t even know if you can form proper sentences especially at the feeling of Kuroo’'s hot tip prodging at your entrance. However the slap against your sensitive pussy manages to pull you back to reality rather in an instant.

"Green means good, o-orange stands for okay, slightly uncomfortable and r-red is the signal for you to stop, Daddy", you whisper, burying your face in back of the passenger seat’s head part as Kuroo slowly starts pulling you down onto his lap, making you sick onto his big cock painfully slowly.

"Keep it going, you're not done yet, kitty. Come the fuck on, stop disappointing me like this", he groans and throws his head back, the sudden urge to feel your lips on his and your tongue in his mouth making his mind go absolutely empty.

His words ring in your head, your mind foggy and sight slightly blurry as he finally bottoms out and knocks the breath out of your lungs just like that.

You try to stay focused, knowing and very well aware of his order but the feeling of his pulsing cock inside of your tight pussy, tip right against the entrance of your womb has you going mad crazy.

"One tap, if I can't breathe, a pinch if it hurts and two if I want you to stop", you finally manage to mumble and the moan that leaves your lips when Kuroo slowly starts pulling out of you at those words – is almost animalistic.

"I'd love to praise you but you did make me wait and you actually have the pleasure to feel my cock even after all that shit, so", Kuroo’s voice is slightly strained, your tight walls gripping his huge cock like a vice and no matter how many times he got to experience this feeling, he knows he’s never going to get used to it.

You start moaning shamelessly, not even able to close your mouth as Kuroo rams himself back into you and then finally picks up a steady rhythm. Your fingers dig into the fabric of the seat, face buried in the headrest as you let him use you like a doll.

You love the way Kuroo’s grunts grow louder, his thrusts more impatient and the grip in your hips painfully tight; you love the fact that he is enjoying this as much as you were.

But then, out of nowhere, you realize how quiet he has been ever since he has started fucking you.

Dirty talk is something Kuroo has alway been really into, the lewd words falling past his lips so easily and managing to rile you up every time, that you haven’t even noticed how much you miss it.

"D-Daddy", you moan and gulp harshly, your hand reaching behind you to wrap your fingers around his, "t-talk to me, please", you ask softly and spare a quick glance at your lover; his astonishing beauty sending jolts of warmth through your chest.

Kuroo tsks, a loud scoff leaving his lips before he rolls his eyes and keeps thrusting into you. He is absolutely obsessed with the way your cunt spasmed around his cock, the sight of his huge length disappearing inside of your tight hole edging him more and more.

"P-Please, Daddy", tears flood your eyes rather quickly, the pleasure making you incredibly emotional and the tight feeling in your chest looking for relief as you softly sob into your arm, "I need you to talk to me, please; I'm sorry for acting like a whore", you cry and throw your head back, a choked out sob-moan leaving your throat and even though Kuroo does enjoy the way you are literally falling apart on his cock, he hates seeing you cry like that.

"P-Please call me your pretty girl and t-tell me how much you – fuck – love my cunt, please", you beg shameslessly, the tears streaming down your cheeks and leaving hot trails behind and despite the guilt inside your chest, you slowly start coming closer to your relief; the taste of your upcoming high coating your tongue in the sweetest way possible.

"Ssh, baby", Kuroo finally lets go of his hard mask, his chest tightening with every one of your soft cries and even though he knew he'd break at some point, he still had hoped to keep it up a little longer than usual, "it's okay pretty girl, I got you. I'm here, kitten", he whispers and as his soft voice fills your ears, a loud sob leaves you, followed by a tiny moan when his fingers start drawing circles into your neglected clit.

"Come on, angel, I want you to cum", he places a soft kiss on the back of your hand before he starts thrusting into you even harder, "show me who this sweet cunt belongs to", your lover's oddly assuring words are the last straw and without another second passing by, you let go and feel the coil in your core snap; shoving you head first into your high.

Several waves of pleasure hit you, your orgasm literally ruining you to a point where you struggle to take proper breaths.

Kuroo helps you ride out your high by slowing down the movements of his hands and hips, his breath getting stuck in his throat as he tries to handle your constant clenching.

"Cum inside of me, Daddy", you whisper, exhaustion dripping from every single one of your words yet you still let out soft little whimpers to encourage your pretty faced boyfriend, "want you to fuck your baby into my belly", you add quickly and the way literal innocence is coating your voice is what throws Kuroo over the edge.

Your cunt continues to spasm around him, making sure he cums as hard as you did and then, after his whole body halts its movements, he cums inside of you; painting your warm walls in several shades of white.

Kuroo quickly pulls out of you, the loss of contact and sudden feeling of emptiness has you whimpering slowly but you instantly go silent when he pulls you into his arms, pushing your face into the sweaty crook of his neck before he slowly starts caressing your naked thighs and massages your scalp.

A couple of minutes pass by, the exhaustion overcoming the two of you and when Kuroo notices the way your lips grow heavier by the minute, he presses his lips against yours and pulls you into a passionate kiss. A lazy clash of teeth, your tongue slowly entering his mouth and of course he is quick to swallow your spit, making you whimper into his mouth.

"Please don't ever do that again, my love", he whispers against your parted lips, his thumb grazing your cheeks and then your neck, "if you want me to be hard on you, there's no need to flirt with other guys, you just have to tell me, okay? You know I will do anything to make you happy", he mumbles and you quickly reply with a soft hum of approval.

"I love you, Daddy", you sigh, burying your face in his chest as your lips stretch into a big smile when you hear him mumble, "I love you, too, pretty girl."

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu smut #hq!! smut #haikyuu!! smut #haikyuu x female reader #haikyuu x reader #kuroo smut #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou smut #haikyuu scenarios #kyovtani

2K notes · View notes

xoxo-teddybear · 3 years

Note

Hey idk if I’ve asked for this before but can you do nsfw Bakugo x fem reader fic, where you do work studies with him. He’s obviously going to be a little older 3-6 years, and you two have know each other since you were kids and he’s always just been a little nicer to you and cared about you more than others, and when you are working with him you get hurt and he flips out. You’re really confused and your like “wtf why do you care this isn’t affecting your job” and he gets mad your not getting the hint that he cares about you in a “not friendly” way, he ends up tch’ing and just says frick it and confesses that he has feelings for you and you’re just like cool I reciprocate and he’s like “with”... it just gets frisky from there... Idk if this is like a thing you might be interested in writing about, but like it just an idea😃... Anyways I love your work please keep it up🥺(sorry for any grammatical errors I’m writing this at 2:30am)

What Took So Long? - Bakugou Katsuki

Bakugo x f!reader

Warnings: NSFW, f!receiving, mutual pining, angst, injury, fluff, cursing, all the good stuff

BAKUGOU”S MASTERLIST

Summary: you and Katsuki have been close friends for forever, how long is it gonna take to realize both your love is mutual?

Growing up, you and Katsuki got along really well. You knew him before he got his quirk so you got to see his non-egotistical self. You saw the him that was kind and caring and he always looked out for you, always took care of you, always was there for you. In your eyes, you thought he thought it was in a big brother kinda way. Oh how that changed once you both became teenagers.

You both made it into UA, of course at different times, but you still kept in touch. You guys hung out like, everyday! It was always wake up, FaceTime, go to school, text throughout the day, and meet and go to either your house or his. It was like there was nobody else in the world except you two.

Throughout the years, you developed a small crush on the blonde boy. What went from a small crush turned into love. To you, it was unreciprocated love. He was 3 years older than you! He had to have seen you as a little sister. It only made sense! When you came to that terribly incorrect realization, you pushed back your feelings. What you had with Katsuki was special! You’re friendship meant the world to you. It didn’t matter if you wanted more, what you had was already perfect, there was no way it could’ve gotten better than this.

—

This. These moments. These memories being made with Katsuki kept you sane. As you both cuddled up and watched a trashy reality tv show in your room on your computer, you both threw popcorn at the screen at the cringe scenes.

“BoooooOOOOO!!” You both said as you threw a handful of the buttery snack. You both laughed at the moment as you settled down again. With you both laying on each other, your head on his, while his own rested on your shoulder, you were sure both of you would get neck pains the next day.

“So,” Katsuki started up a conversation, “how’s your third year at UA?”

“Ugh, don’t get me started. Classes got crazy hard outta nowhere. BUT, lucky for me, I have a UA graduate to help me out!” You said while nudging his arm.

“No way teddy bear, you’re finishing that on your own. As a graduate, that means I don’t gotta deal with that bullshit anymore.” He said as he popped some pieces of the snack into his mouth. With that, you pouted. Something he noticed and thought was insanely adorable. He poked your plump lips and told you, “hey, I’m helping you by letting you do your work study at my agency. You’re very welcome for that.”

“Helping? Suuukkiiii, you barely let me go out and fight. How am I supposed to get experience and actually do my work study if I don’t...you know..WORK?” You whined out. Katsuki had always been avoiding this topic. Yeah, he let you get your credits by going to his agency, but he never let you do any real hero work other than paperwork. Don’t get me wrong, you loved hanging out with him as much as you could, but it was beginning to get boring not doing anything at the agency.

“Y/N, no. You’re getting enough experience. Paper work is a big part in the life of a Pro,” he argued.

“Yeah, well saving people and actually getting out there in the field is a bigger part in the life of a pro.” You rebuttled as you flopped down next to him. You looked at him with puppy eyes and he knew what was coming.

“No.”

“Pleaseee Suki!”

“No.”

“Pleaseee!!”

“Nope.”

“Sukiiiiiii!!” You whined while tugging at his arm. He sighed before answering.

“One job, WITH ME, and that’s all you get.” He said while staring at you with a stern look. You smiled and jumped in the air.

“YESSSS!!”

—

So now here you are, on job number whatever. You weren’t sure how many you’ve actually been on because ever since your first job with Katsuki was a huge success, he let you join him more and more. You were almost like a partner to him now, fighting crime together. Except this time...things went a little south.

As the villain struck you down mid air with his quirk, you fell to the ground with a now burned arm. Katsuki saw red. No fucking way. No way in HELL is he going to let some shit faced freak bring harm to his teddy bear, his world, his best friend, and the love of his life. Yup. Katsuki Bakugou fell for his best friend. But could you blame him? You knew him better than anyone else, you guys got along so well, you were absolutely gorgeous and he was sure he’d give his life for you. 100%. So when this scum bag thought he could try and ruin you, he saw red. Blasting him a thousand times over and once he was sure he was out cold, battered, bloodied, and bruised he ran to check on you.

You were sitting on the ground holding your left arm where the burn mark was. Your costume was tattered and your head felt like it was gonna blow. Katsuki came along and didn’t really help with that all too much.

“YOU FUCKING DUMBASS!” He screamed. Oh, the throbbing your head had only increased with his booming voice.

“You see?! This is exactly why I hate bringing you along! You’re always gonna get hurt!” He said as he picked you up off the ground to help you stand.

“Of course I’m gonna get hurt Dynamight, my job as a hero includes a little beating every now and then for the sake and safety of others!” You replied, raising your voice as well.

“You’re NOT a hero Y/N!” He said as he reached out for your arm.

“Yet! Not yet at least! But I will be!” You replied while pulling away from him. His eyes were shaken and it was clear he was mad. You pushing his buttons didn’t help soothe his anger either.

“NO YOU WONT. Y/N ITS SO OBVIOUS YOU’D MAKE A SHIT HERO! YOU ALREADY GOT HURT ON SUCH A SIMPLE JOB, DO YOU HONESTLY THINK ANYBODY WOULD BE WILLING TO DEPEND ON YOU FOR THEIR SAFETY?!?!?” Bakugou heard the words he said and he thought he was doing the right thing. Granted, he knew the delivery was bad, but his message was in there. He didn’t want Y/N to be hurt. If she died on the battle field, Katsuki wouldn’t know what to do with himself. Y/N can’t be a hero, for her safety and his sanity. He loved her too much to have to watch her take beating after beating. However, Y/N took it in a completely different way.

“Are you trying to say I can’t be a good hero?!” You asked filled with anger and hurt.

“Y/N,”

“It’s H/N, Dynamight. That’s the name you’ll address me as for when we’re on the job. That’s the name you’ll have to get used to because I will be a hero!” You exclaimed.

“You can’t be a hero Y/N! You’re gonna get hurt! You always get hurt! You’d be more of a burden on a mission instead of an advantage! So just stop trying ‘Cuz you’re never gonna make it!” He screamed at you. Is this what he really thought of you. That you were weak and wouldn’t be able to do jack shit? As your eyes began to water, you walked away from him in silence.

“Y/N...where are you going?” He asked you as he followed.

“Recovery girl. She’ll heal me up and I’ll be perfectly fine.” You simply stated.

“At least let me help you,” Bakugou said as he tried to reach out to you, but you only stepped away from him again, which made his heart hurt a little.

“Don’t touch me, Bakugou. I’ll be fine on my own.” You said.

“Bakugou? Who the fuck are you talking to teddy bear?” He said as he got all up in your face. You only rolled your eyes and stepped to the side. You used your quirk to get into the air and travel faster. In the dust, you left behind a confused and hurt Katsuki.

“Uhh....Okay! See you later for movie night!” He yelled out as he watched you fly off. You’d still show up, right? Yeah, you’d show. You always spent everyday together after school and work so it only made sense...right?

—

Well he was wrong. Really wrong. It’s been a week since you last spoke to him, the longest it’s ever been, and he was starting to get into a depressing cycle. Wake up, call Y/N. No reply. Get ready, spam her. No reply. Go to work, text Y/N throughout the day. No reply. Get out of work, go home, shower, eat dinner, do whatever while stalking your social media, go to bed, spam a little more, call twice more, and still. No reply. He misses his teddy bear.

Y/N doesn’t even go to her work study anymore. She’s been doing everything she could to avoid Bakugou, and he’s noticed it all too well. He still gave her the credits, he wanted her to pass of course, but he was also tempted to stop doing that just so she could show up and see him. Thankfully he didn’t.

Now here lies Bakugou Katsuki, watching a movie by himself again, hoping his crush and best friend would show up. But again, like every other night for the past week, she hasn’t shown. The end credits roll in and Bakugou sighs as he looks down, thinking back to all he said.

‘Y/N ITS SO OBVIOUS YOU’D MAKE A SHIT HERO! ... DO YOU HONESTLY THINK ANYBODY WOULD BE WILLING TO DEPEND ON YOU FOR THEIR SAFETY?! ... you’re never gonna make it!’

Bakugou flopped down onto his bed.

“Great idea Katsuki, tell your dream girl she won’t ever reach her goals. That’ll win her heart,” he sarcastically said aloud as he cringed at his own thoughts. Bakugou just let a few tears fall, before rolling over and going to bed. He had patrol in the morning, maybe it’ll get his mind off of Y/N.

—

Orrrr maybe not. Because here he was, Pro-hero Dynamight, following around his 18 year old crush as she walked home after getting some coffee from their favorite cafe. Should he have been on patrol keeping the city safe? Yes. But was he going to take this chance to talk to Y/N to fix this shit? Yes.

Once Y/N made it to her doorstep she heard a voice behind her.

“Glad you made it home safe..Maybe we could pick up on that trashy reality show now that we’re both here,” Katsuki said while trying to joke around. Y/N only rolled her eyes at the hero and attempted to put her key into the lock. Katsuki was quick to react though. He snatched her keys out of her hand before speaking again.

“Y/N please! I can’t live like this! I can’t live without you in my life. You’ve been absent for a week and it’s been driving me insane!” He said while holding onto your wrist.

“Katsuki, give me back my keys.” You calmly said.

“Y/N, just hear me out.” He also calmly said.

“And listen to you say what Katsuki?! That I’ll never be a hero? That even if I was I’d be a terrible one? That I should just give up and stop trying?! Don’t worry, I already have. So now, let me go-“ Bakugou shut you up with a kiss. You were shocked and froze up. He kissed you with such passion and you melted into it, closing your eyes and letting him hold you as he pleased. He speperated from you before speaking again.

“You are not a terrible hero. Y/N you’re one of the strongest people I know. If anything, you’d be a better hero than me...but if you got hurt, I don’t know what I would do.” He said looking down. You turned your head in confusion at his small confession.

“Katsuki?..”

“When you got hurt that day, I was livid. I almost killed that guy, just for scorching your arm. There are so many worse things that could happen to you when you do become a pro and the fact that I freaked out so bad over a little burn is insane! I just want you to be safe. I can’t let you risk your life when I need you hear with me the most...... I can’t let the girl of my dreams get hurt.” He said while placing his forehead on yours.

“When I become a hero, I’d be taking on an oath to put others before my own. And that’s what I choose to do. I’m gonna get banged up from time to time and I understand you’re worried about me, but you have to trust me when I saw I’ll always come back to you. I love you Katsuki.” With that, Bakugou slowly moved in to give you another kiss. This time, you kissed him back, letting your hands travel to his soft, golden hair as he pressed you up against the door.

You heard him unlock your door during the kiss, and as he separated he spoke.

“Let me show you just how much I love you Y/N.” He pushed open the door and continued to make out with you. Kicking the door to close it, he pushed you up against the wall. There he picked you up, and groped your ass, earning a moan from you. With your mouth open, he slipped his tongue in, tasting all of you. He walked to your bedroom, kicking open the door this time, and shutting it the same way as before. He dropped you onto the bed as you both giggled in excitement. You noticed something though. He was still in hero gear.

“Shouldnt you be on patrol, Dynamight?” You asked as he came up to kiss your neck and you pulled him in closer.

“Dynamight has something better to do right now, Teddy Bear. And you know what?” He asked while putting his face right infront of yours.

“Tell me what, hero.”

“That’s the exact name I want you screaming.” He smirked. He tore off his top and mask before taking off your own. He then attacked your breast. He pulled off your bra before taking a second to admire your perfect curves. He squeezed a mound in one hand before taking in the other one with his mouth, biting at your nipple. Leaving hickies all over your chest, he was proud to see the purple marks that now adorn your upper body. He pulled down your pants and kissed your inner thighs. Right at the center was his treat. He pulled at your panties and stuffed them in his pocket.

“Hey!” You said after you noticed what he did.

“My little souvenir. Don’t worry about it princess, I’ll buy you more.” He kissed up on your legs and saw your arousal glistening. He licked his lips as his ruby eyes dialated. He was excited. He took an experimental lick as you moaned at the feeling and he savored the sweet taste. He could help himself, he dove right in for more. As his tongue lapped up against your clit, you moaned out in pleasure.

“Mm...yess Suki! Oh fuck right there..” you said as you pulled on his hair. He smacked your thigh, receiving a yelp from you.

“That’s not my name, princess~” he smirked against your pussy. He stuck his tongue in you and you cried out even more.

“F-Fuck! Dynamight, pleasee...more!” He squeezed your ass in approval as your legs began to shake. He knew what was coming and used his fingers to rub against your bud.

“Fuck..cum for me princess, cum in my mouth and let your hero taste you.” He said as your squirted in his face and Bakugou suck your clit, collecting all your sweet nectar.

“What a good girl,” he said as he came up to kiss you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

“You ready for the main event?” He asked while giving you this cocky grin.

“Please..” you whined out.

“Please what, princess? You’re gonna need to be specific.” He knew what he was doing. He wanted you to beg. And you were going to do it.

“Mm..Please Dynamight! Please fuck me with your cock! Please fuck my pussy!” You begged. He smiled and smacked your ass.

“Good girl.” He said as he pulled down his hero slacks and stepped out of the material. Here he was, Pro-hero Dynamight and your now ex best friend completely stripped infront of you. His member hanging out with a hard erection and your eyes went wide at the length. He noticed this and tilted your chin up so your E/C diamonds could meet his eyes. “Don’t worry, it’ll fit,” he kindly said.

“Doubt it,” you sarcastically replied.

“Then we’ll make it fit, Princess.” You bit your lip in excitement. He pumped his cock a few times before placing the tip at your entrance. He rubbed his tip up and down you slit as he spoke.

“I’ve wanted this for so long princess, and now I’m finally gonna make you mine.” He said before he slammed in as you both cried out in ecstasy.

“Oh-oh my god..” you whimpered. He peppered your face in kisses to distract you from the pain. Once you adjusted to his size, you begged him to move.

“Please..more.”

With your permission, he began to thrust in and out of your heat, with hard, slow strokes. Both of you moaning as the sensation. The way he filled you up completely was euphoric. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss, moaning into it as he picked up his pace a little more. You could hear his grunts and soft moans as he sped up, enjoying the way your pussy held him tight.

“Mm...Harder, Dynamight...F-Faster..please!” You whined. Katsuki listened, and he listened well. His strokes went deeper, his speed increased, and he fucked you harder than ever as he went up to your ear.

“Yeah...you want it harder?...deeper?....Mm fuck, faster princess? You like it rough? You like how Dynamight fucks your tight little cunt?” He asked while you cried out in pure pleasure.

“Y-yesss. Oh my god yes Dynamight. Fuck me just like this...ahhh!” Bakugou grabbed onto your ass with both his hands as he pummeled into you. You gripped his hair and he moaned at the feeling. He sucked on one of your tits as he looked at you. God, you were gorgeous. The blush that covered your face, you mouth hanging open with a slight smile as moans fall from it, and your eyes looking up like you’ve been fucked stupid.

“Oh..I’m gonna cum! Please, I’m gonna cum!” You moaned out.

“Not yet Teddy bear. Hold it,” he said as he gave your ass a hard smack and pulled out of you. You whined at the loss of his cock and looked at him with begging eyes.

“Turn around princess. I want you on all fours.” He simply said as he continued to pump his cock.” You moaned at the sight of it and smirked to yourself. He watched as you dragged your hand to your center and began playing with yourself.

“And if I don’t listen?” You smiled as you moaned at the way your fingers rubbed at your pussy. Bakugou grabbed your hand and got in your face before you could go any further.

“Then the brat who wants to cum so bad will cum for me 100 times over as her punishment.” He said as a threat but you only took it the best way possible.

“Sounds fun..Katsuki.” With that, he yanked your hand away from yourself and flipped you over before slamming back into you from behind and smacking your ass again and again.

“Ohh fuck...Ah...you think you’re funny, huh y-you brat? Let’s see how funny you are when I fuck you so dumb the only thing you’ll know is my name.” He said as he pounded into you. Your cried were muffled as you screamed into the mattress.

“Don’t do that, princess, I wanna hear your pretty cries,” he said as he yanked your hair, lifting your head up. He grabbed onto your neck and kissed you as you both loudly moaned into it. He squeezed your neck ever so lightly but tightly as he placed his forehead on yours to look down at where you both meet and become one. He sped up at the sight.

“I bet you love this. I bet you love having Dynamight’s cock deep inside you. Can you feel me? Huh? Feel me in your guts? Feel my big dick deep inside you?” He asked as he looked back at you.

“Y-Yesss! Oh f-fuck...ohhh so big!” Bakugou smiled at your comments and felt you squeeze around him.

“S-shit...you gonna cum? Gonna come on this big dick?” He asked as his hand traveled to you pussy, rubbing at your clit.

“Do it! Do it now, cum on my cock!” You squirted around his cock and Bakugou continued to fuck you through your orgasm and you cried out, and your upper body fell to the mattress. His hands grabbed at your waist as he pounded your pussy. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and bit his bottom lip as he threw his head back moaning out.

“Fuck! Ohh f-fuck, I’m gonna cum. You want my cum princess? Can I fill your pussy with my cum?” He asked while looking down at you. You had little tears poking at the ends of your eyes due to the mass amount of pleasure and Bakugou came at the sight. His thrust stopped as his hips met your ass in a final push, while his cum went deeper into your pussy, filling you to the brim. You both cried out as he finished and he kept himself in there for a little until you both caught your breath. He kissed up your spine to your cheek as he pulled out and layed down next to you.

As he pulled you closer to him he could hear your soft voice.

“A-amazing...Suki.” You said as you nuzzled into his neck. He only smiled as he realized you forgot.

“I hope so, cuz we’re not done teddy bear.” He said while smirking. Your eyes went wide as you looked at him in shock.

“Your punishment. Remember? I want you cumming on my cock a 100 times over. I don’t even want you to be able to walk for the next week.” He said while looking you right in his eyes. You took on his little challenge and straddled his waist before pumping his cock a few times and hovering over it. He watched the whole thing and licked his lips at you.

“Fine then Dynamight,” you said as his hands traveled to your hips. “Show me what you got,” you said as you slammed back down on him releasing cries from both you and him. This was gonna be a fun, long night.

—

After rounds 2, 3, 4, and 5, you both lie on your bed completely fucked out as you held onto each other. Bakugou was contempt as he held you under his chin and thought you were asleep. You were only resting your eyes with a soft smile on your face. Bakugou kissed the top of your head before softly speaking.

“I’m so sorry for everything I said teddy bear. You are the most amazing person in the world. I just don’t want you to be hurt. I wanna protect you for the rest of my life. I love you with my everything and I really want you to officially be mine. When you wake up, I’m gonna tell you all of this.” Bakugou sighed. Now it was your turn to speak.

“You don’t have to wait Suki,” you softly spoke as Bakugou looked down at you in shock. “I already heard it all, and I want to officially be yours too.” You said while looking right at him.

“Heh..I thought you passed out,” he teased.

“Well then I guess you’re not as good as you thought, Dynamight.” You teased back.

“You tryna say I didn’t fuck you good enough princess?! Cuz I still got enough for one more round that’ll be sure to shut your mouth real quick!” You only laughed at his little outburst.

“I’m good Suki. Trust me, you did more than enough.” You said.

“You’re damn right. And by the way you were screaming my name, I’m sure of it.” He proudly stated.

“Shut up,” you rolled your eyes and softly spoke. You both gently laughed at the teasing and embraced each other once more, but this time a little tighter.

After a few peaceful moments of silence, you heard him speak up.

“So..you’re being serious about really wanting to be mine..right?” Bakugou asked with worry laced in his voice.

“Of course I’m serious Suki. I don’t wanna be anybody else’s but yours.” You said in the cutest voice. Bakugou blushed at the confession.

“Ok then teddy bear. You’re mine now, and I’m never gonna let you go again.” He whispered. “I love you Y/N.”

“I love you too Suki.”

—

“WHERE WERE YOU?!?? A BANK WAS ROBBED, MULTIPLE PEOPLE WERE MUGGED, AND 2 VILLAIN BRAWLS BROKE OUT ON YOUR PATROL MAN!! ARE YOU GOOD?!?” Red riot screamed into the phone.

“Yeah, yeah I’m good. I’m great actually, a lot of good stuff happened on my patrol.” Bakugou said as he drank from his glass of water.

“Dude. Seriously?” The red head said in disbelief. What could possibly make up for all the crimes committed on his best friend’s watch?!

“Seriously. Gotta go, talk to you later shitty hair.” Katsuki said as he hung up the phone. As he finished cooking, he brought two plates of food to the couch for Y/N and himself. He had to carry Y/N there.

“What was all that about?” Y/N asked as she took a sip from her cup and turning away from the trashy reality show you both were watching.

“Just another reason why you’d make a better hero than me, teddy bear.” You awed at the compliment and cuddled into him. If only you knew how serious he was being.

Kirishima would know. For he was the one running around like a mad man trying to stop all the crimes committed due to his best friend being absent thanks to his horny desires.

A/N: YAYYY MY FIRST REQUEST! I really enjoyed writing this one and I’m sorry if it wasn’t exactly what you were looking for. I’m hope you enjoyed it tho! Feel free to drop more request for me to do!💗🧸

P.S. New series coming on the way!

592 notes · View notes