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ijustwant2write · 3 years

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A Secret Romantic-Benedict Bridgerton x Reader x Eloise Bridgerton (Platonic) (Part 2)

(GIF credit to @elenawinchstr)

Part 1

Masterlist

Tags: @marvel-ousnesss @myficplace @yelenas-lova @lavxnder @s-unflowxr

Summary: Benedict and Eloise both anticipate Lady (Y/N)’s social event, as does their mother, causing tensions to rise and panic to ensue. Benedict doesn’t want his mother ruining what he may have with (Y/N), asking Eloise for her help, who gladly plays the role of a good sister.

Characters: Benedict Bridgerton x Reader, Eloise Bridgerton x Reader (platonic), mentions of Anthony Bridgerton and Violet Bridgerton

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

(Y/L/N)=Your last name

Warnings: Fluff, fluff, fluff

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Benedict hastily moved around the house, avoiding his mama at all costs. She called out his name repeatedly, growing frustrated at his childish manner. He was supposed to discuss a plan with her about how he should prepare to court Lady (Y/N), but he knew better; his mama knew nothing of (Y/N) (he admitted, he still had much to learn about her too), and he didn’t want his chance to slip away. Although he was confident at her house when he called upon her, there was a sickening doubt looming in his mind that if he did anything wrong, another suitor could easily take his place.

“You have no where else to hide brother.” Anthony smirked, his eyes skimming over the top of his newspaper.

Benedict sighed, accepting defeat. She would find him in a matter of minutes, especially since Anthony’s office was the last place she would look.

“Please, just let me stay her for a few moments.” Benedict begged.

Anthony chuckled, putting down the papers as he reclined in his chair.“Oh dear, I see things are turning serious quite quickly.”

“Yes, which wouldn’t be a problem if mama wasn’t making this such a big ordeal.”

“But it is to her.”

Benedict knew this.“I know that, because someone hasn’t found a woman to marry, so it then falls onto my shoulders.”

“I haven’t seen you so anxious before. Sit down, try to relax.”

Benedict took his offer, practically collapsing into the chair on the other side of the desk. Anthony stood, pouring out a drink each and handing one to Benedict. Though not one to drink in the early afternoon, he gladly sipped at it, wishing he would just calm down.

“Besides mama, what is going on in that head of yours?” Anthony asked.

He genuinely wanted to help. He felt a slight guilt knowing that his mama was more excited about this possible partnership, seeing as he never gave her the satisfaction of even socialising with women.

“I worry that I may not be enough for (Y/N).” he said.“Of course, I have talked to women, I know the right things to say, but I also know that I will not want to engage in further conversation. Whereas with (Y/N), she intrigues me, so much that even after we danced and talked for hours, I still felt like I hardly spent any time with her. I thought about every word I said, listened intently to everything that poured out of her mouth. There are no other women like her.”

Anthony didn’t speak for a few seconds.“You should write poems alongside your art work.”

Benedict groaned, about to stand when Anthony stopped him.

“I am teasing you brother. Look, it’s extremely obvious that you have fallen for this woman. Putting feelings aside for a moment, she also comes from a well off family with a respectable background, so you’ve done very well in that department. This art exhibition will allow me to also see what Lady (Y/N) and her family are like, as well as keep mama away from you both as much as I can.”

“You would do that for me?”

“You seem shocked. I will pretend not to be offended.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I know that you too do not like to be....bothered by mama at these events. No doubt she’ll talk to you about my potential courtship all night.”

The door opened as he finished speaking, Violet popping her head in. Her smile widened when she saw both her sons in the same room, now able to speak with them both about Lady (Y/N). Anthony and Benedict shared a look, knowing they would be there for some time.

Elsewhere in the house, Eloise was suffering through a conversation with Hyacinth. As Daphne had to endure, Hyacinth was questioning her older sister, wanting to know everything there was to know about the balls they attended. She wanted to make sure she had all the knowledge she needed when it was her turn to debut. They never spoke of these things in front of her or Gregory and she wanted all the answers. However, Eloise was not revealing anything, and making it seems that everything to do with debuting was awful.

“Go away and pester somebody else.” Eloise huffed as she descended the stairs away from her sister.

“Why are you always so mean to me? I’m just asking questions!” Hyacinth protested.

Eloise felt guilty, especially since Hyacinth was still young and didn’t understand many things about the world yet.“I’m sorry, but I’m not the best person to ask these questions.”

“Why don’t you want to get married?”

“If I explain, you won’t understand.”

“Yes I will!”

“You won’t Hyacinth.”

“You’re so mean!”

The young girl stomped off, having a tantrum to herself. Eloise did feel bad for being so snappy with her sister, but she really didn’t like talking about these things, doing all she could to avoid it where possible. It just made her feel miserable. And who wants to dote on a topic that eliminates all happiness from them?

However, Eloise did find that she was excited about the art exhibition. She was curious as to how (Y/N) and her brother’s encounter would go. For a moment, she felt like her mama. It sent shudders down her spine. It was nice to have the pressure and attention off of her, and to see her brothers in the spotlight. She knew too many friends with brothers who had it easier than the women of the family. Of course they had certain expectations, but Eloise did not see any men parading around in uncomfortable, tight dresses, with over the top embellishments and feathers.

The remaining days leading up to the art exhibition were filled with dress and suit fittings, lessons on the (Y/L/N) family, and making sure everyone knew how important this day could be. Benedict grew more and more nervous as it approached, his mama making him realise that this could be a turning point in his life. Before this was all about him being excited to see (Y/N), to be in her company again, now it was as if he was proposing to her.

Eloise stepped out into the garden, welcoming the warmth that was still lingering at this time of night. She couldn’t sleep, knowing what was on her mind, but not wanting to admit it. She wasn’t surprised to see Benedict already on the swing set, secretly smoking as they had both done before. A small smile appeared on her face as she approached him, making sure to create some sort of noise as to not startle him.

“I’m glad I’m not the only one being kept awake.” she said as she sat down.

“I haven’t even tried to sleep yet.” Benedict said before inhaling through his cigarette again.

“Is someone nervous?” she wasn’t teasing him, she was concerned.

“Yes.” he surprisingly said.“I’m nervous because mother has made me believe everything is depending on this next meeting. Yet she forgets how long Daphne took to decide who she was marrying.”

“You shouldn’t be nervous.”

“And why is that?”

“Because (Y/N) likes you.”

Benedict chuckled."Ah, I forgot you were the expert on such topics."

"I may not know a lot about...feelings and love, but I am not a fool. I saw the way your eyes lit up when you first saw her. (Y/N) was practically speechless too. But not like the other women who fawn over the Bridgerton name, she actually liked you for your face, for some reason. I don't know, it just seemed that there was something natural between you."

"Eloise Bridgerton, what a doting thing to say."

"I am trying to be nice to you brother."

"I know. And I appreciate it, but...I feel at ease with (Y/N), and I don't like the thought of mother's eyes burning into the back of my head. Anthony has said that he will do what he can to help, but I fear that mother will not be totally distracted by him. She’ll know his sudden interest will be fake.”

Eloise had an idea, and even if she didn’t want to go through with it, she knew it would help Benedict.“I will regret saying this, but I shall help too. I will make sure mama is paying attention to me, I’ll let her drag me around and indulge in hideously, dull conversations.”

Benedict had been shocked for the second time that day. Two of his siblings, both detesting the thought of marriage, had offered to suffer through this social event in order to give him time with (Y/N).

“What has happened to you two today?” Benedict asked.

“We are merely being charitable. Hopefully you return the favour in future. God knows I’ll be in need of saving soon.”

(Y/N) was all a flutter on the morning of the exhibition. Her mother had bought a new dress just for this, wanting to impress the Bridgerton family, prepping their halls and rooms for the exhibition for the last week. (Y/N)’s father was proud of what he had created, and that his daughter may be on her way to marrying a family who were held highly in their society. (Y/N) couldn’t focus at all, relieved that her maids were the ones in charge of getting her dressed and ready for the day; if left to her own devices, she surely would have put her dress on backwards.

Guests streamed in, but (Y/N) was only on the lookout for one person. She remained polite, trying to stay in the moment as more and more people arrived. However, she still kept an eye out for Benedict, also staying on her toes. She had many things in mind to say to him, and she wanted to keep them in her mind. There was no way she was going to humiliate herself.

Her heart started beating a thousand times faster when she saw Benedict enter the main hall, the one holding the biggest and most expensive pieces of art. She smiled, and somehow it grew even bigger when he made eye contact with him. His smile was so sweet, it made you fall for his charms even more. Benedict felt his stomach twist in anticipation, desperate to have just a few moments with (Y/N). Alas, that did not come when his mama latched onto his arm, steering him in (Y/N)’s direction. Although he wanted to speak with her, he found it all rather forceful, especially when (Y/N)’s parents suddenly appeared behind her.

Formal introductions were made, each set of parents making small talk about the last time they were in each others company. (Y/N) and Benedict were silent, nodding along with what was being said as they sneaked glances at each other. The conversation was dragging for them, they knew their parents wanted to figure out if this could be a potential arrangement. It didn’t seem that they were going to stop talking at any point, neither child wanting to be rude, until Eloise intruded.

“Pardon me,” she started, sending a subtle smile to Benedict,“mama, I have been looking everywhere for you.”

“Ah, another Bridgerton. The next daughter to find a suitor, I presume?” (Y/N)’s mother beamed.

Eloise hid the urge to frown. Luckily her mother stepped in.“Yes, this is Eloise. I’m sorry darling, I did not mean to leave you stranded.”

“Yes, well, shall we?” Eloise tugged at her mother’s arm.

“Alright dear. It was lovely to see you both again.”

As Violet eagerly followed Eloise, (Y/N)’s parents also dispersed. Benedict and (Y/N) were now finally together, just as they had wished; so why did it suddenly feel awkward?

“Well, that seemed to easy.” Benedict cleared his throat.

“What was?” (Y/N) asked.

“Getting rid of them.” he grinned, holding out his arm.

(Y/N) smiled back, happy to hold onto him.“I was trying to come up with something to say that would not be rude, but would also mean we could leave. I hope that it wasn’t obvious I wanted to leave.”

“Even if it was, I doubt they would care too much. We both know they are over excited.”

“Oh how right you are. I’m assuming your mother has been acting the same as mine this whole week?”

“Overbearing? Overthinking? Over-”

(Y/N) giggled.“Yes, yes, I do not wish to dote on the memory. I am happy that you are here though Benedict.”

“You are?”

“I am.”

The pair’s arms stayed linked as (Y/N) guided Benedict around the art work. Sometimes they joined other conversations, though liked to keep to themselves. It was easy to bond over artwork, especially since it was a passion both of them had. There were no pauses or silences after a few minutes of talking, conversation flowed naturally between them. Men and women also searching for suitors were jealous; a Bridgerton boy had been swept up all too quickly and (Y/N) had been a popular choice amongst the men. However, people could not deny they made a fitting pair.

"Come, let me show you something." (Y/N) muttered to Benedict, easily slipping away from the crowds and leaving the room.

"We really shouldn't be alone (Y/N)." Benedict said, even though this was all he had been wanting.

(Y/N) had a cheeky smile on her face as she tugged on his arm, her steps gradually getting quicker. Benedict didn't even take in her elaborate house, only looking at her beautiful face every time she glanced up at him. They stopped before two grand doors, which (Y/N) cautiously opened, slipping inside with Benedict close behind her.

In the middle of the room was a huge painting covered by a fine piece of cloth. Benedict was confused why (Y/N) brought him to this, until she let go of his hand (him instantly missing the feeling), and theatrically pulled the piece of fabric down. Benedict's jaw dropped as the piece was revealed. He had never seen a painting like it.

It was a large, landscape painting of a ballroom. It captured dancing pairs in the middle of some sort of waltz, musicians huddled in the corner whilst the other guests stood watching; and it was so intricate, Benedict guessed it must have taken the artist months to complete it. All the colours, the detail, it almost looked real.

"This is amazing." he breathed out.

(Y/N) was happy when she saw Benedict's shock."Isn't it? It's supposed to be revealed later, but I wanted to see your expression properly."

"Who painted it?"

"I don't know. Father said he is going to inform everyone later, but it is a new artist. I just think they're work is dazzling to look at. I become mesmerised."

Benedict's focus changed back to (Y/N)."Yes, that does tend to happen."

She didn't notice that he was referring to her, nodding along in agreement. Her smile faltered slightly, which Benedict was able to see immediately.

"What's wrong?" he asked as he neared her, hating the gap that was created

(Y/N) covered her slip up, as her mother had told her."I'm sorry, it's really nothing..." she started, but found herself relaxed, and wanting to tell Benedict all her problems."It's only that...I used to paint frequently, well, I sketched more, though I enjoyed both. Like all girls, my mother told me to stop that and focus on becoming the most desired lady in society. I shouldn't have even told you about that when we first met."

"That's what made me desire you (Y/N)."

She blushed, realising how intense his gaze was."Oh, Lord Bridgerton-"

"What's with all the formalities all of a sudden?"

"I-I don't know. I don't want to ruin anything and it's only our second meeting. Third if you count when you called upon me."

"And I called upon you for a very good reason."

"I was wishing that everyone else would leave, so I could spend more time with you."

Benedict loved hearing her say that."As did I."

Subconsciously they had moved closer, though they both knew what they were doing. Benedict reached down to tenderly hold her hands, causing her heart to beat erratically. (Y/N) had no idea what to do, she only had experience from the books she read. It seemed simple enough to kiss someone, but also the hardest thing in the world. How much pressure should she apply? How long should they kiss for? Where would she put her hands? Where would he put his hands? She didn't have anytime to think as he was already leaning in towards her.

Eloise and Anthony were finding it extremely hard to keep the fake smiles plastered on their faces. Benedict was really in for it once this was all over. Their mama had kept a tight grip on them both, because as soon as they saw their chance to flee, they would. Both had to suffer through extremely long, boring and repetitive conversations, listening to parents boast about their children's achievements. Everyone knew how this worked, yet they all had to pretend to be happy about it.

"Where is Benedict? He's been away for a long time." their mama pondered as they took a break for refreshments.

"He's probably wooing Lady (Y/N), just as you wanted." Eloise slurped on her drink.

"Do not fret mother, he knows what he's doing. He truly likes her and will be doing all he can to...well, yes, woo her." Anthony said.

"I suppose you are right. It feels strange that one of my children are making an effort for once."

Eloise huffed."Oh, do not chastise us mama. We've been doing this all afternoon, haven't we?"

Violet squinted her eyes at them, suspicious that they were up to something. She was about to question it, but stopped herself. They were doing what she always wanted, finding someone to spend their future with. She wouldn't jeopardise that. Lucky for them, a servant announced that Lord (Y/L/N) requested for everyone's presence inside. The guests were intrigued, following orders and grabbing full glasses of whatever quenched their thirst. Eloise and Anthony had got away with their plan for now, they just hoped Benedict and (Y/N) had had enough time together.

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seijorhi · 4 years

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Final Girl

Kuroo Tetsurou, Bokuto Koutarou & Akaashi Keiji x Female Reader

And please check out the incredible fanart @lausterdomyamong created for this fic here 💕💕💕

TW blood, gore, violence, minor character death, implied non-con, pregnancy mentions, nsfw

Your lungs are burning.

You haven’t run like this in years, your thighs are screaming at you for a reprieve. With every step it feels like the soles of your bare feet are splitting open but you can’t stop, not for a single second.

You can’t stop. You can’t stop.

Keep running.

It’s dark, and you can barely see.

Stumbling like newborn foal through the thick undergrowth, tripping over the roots that catch at your feet. Your legs are scratched and bleeding, and there’s a nasty scrape along your arm from where you’d fallen and tried to cushion the blow, but you shove it all down and you keep running.

You can’t hear much over the sounds of your laboured breaths and your own heartbeat hammering away inside of your ears, but you know you must be making a racket. Branches breaking, leaves crunching underfoot as you clumsily dash through the woods - keep running, keep going.

Being quiet won’t save you if they catch up.

The loud whoops and the hyena like laughter that echo out through the trees behind you spur you onwards. Faster, you have to run faster.

This is nothing but a game to them.

“Wait- wait, just stop for a sec… do you hear that?”

You sigh, rolling your eyes as you scoot closer to his bedroll, “Really, babe? The campfire stories weren’t enough for you? Do you not want me to sleep at all on this trip?”

There’s a teasing little grin on your face, not that your boyfriend can see it in the darkness of your tent. You expect him to laugh, grab you by the waist and pull you under him - make some quip about his wicked intentions of not letting you sleep a wink, but he doesn’t.

He stiffens, pushing himself back upright onto his palms, head cocked to the side like a dog listening for the faintest hint whisper of a sound.

“Babe-”

“Shh!” he hisses, and it’s more shock than anything else that has your mouth falling shut. His hand reaches across to grab yours in the darkness and he squeezes it just once. An apology maybe, or a reassurance that you’re still there with him. “Can you hear that? I think… I think there’s someone out there.”

You swallow uneasily, goosebumps prickling at your skin. If this is part of some stupid joke, you’re gonna kick him out of this tent and make him bunk with his friends for the rest of the trip. He’s never been one for mean spirited pranks, but this is freaking you out.

“It’s probably just one of the guys-” or an animal, or the wind, or his own overactive imagination. You guys are out in the middle of the woods after all.

“I’m gonna go out and check,” he whispers, pulling his hand from yours and pressing a quick kiss against your cheek. “Stay here.”

There’s a road, a long stretch of winding highway that you’d driven along for what felt like hours when you’d first arrived with your friends. There’s no possible way for you to know if you’re going in the right direction, but if you can just make it there, then-

The thick scent of smoke invades your nose and for you falter - just for a split second - searching for the source. There, maybe two hundred yards away to your left, you spot the orange glow flickering between the trees and your stomach lurches.

Dark figures flit through the clearing, maybe a dozen of them, half illuminated by the bonfire. You can hear their laughter, the shouts and drunken revelry as they party the night away. They don’t have a care in the world, and why should they? Real monsters belong in horror movies and scary stories, not lurking in the shadows of the woods.

Leave them.

The vicious thought takes you by surprise, but for one awful moment, you consider it. The promise of fresh new toys to rip apart and break, drunk and blissfully unaware, surely that would be enough to tempt them away. You’re just one girl…

(The truth, the one that sits heavy in your stomach, whispers that you know better than to believe they’ll ever let you get away.)

Your heart pounds against your ribs, your legs unwittingly slowing down. You don’t have time for indecision; it’s them or you.

If leaving them to the wolves meant that you walked away from this, if you could make it back home-

There’s a shout, a scream that rips through the crisp autumn night before it cuts off with an abrupt gurgle. A loud thud followed by a laugh you don’t recognise - one that sends a chill running down your spine. More voices, more screams. Footsteps and a splatter of something dark and viscous against the side of your tent.

There’s a hoot and a chuckle, closer this time, and you hear a sob that’s all too familiar. Pleading.

Your friend begging for her life.

“Shh, shh, shhh. Aw c’mon sweetheart, don’t be like that.”

Another hiccuping sob. “Please… p-please I don’t wanna die…”

“Kuroo-”

There’s a petulant huff, a loud voice interjecting, “s’no fun when they’re just sitting there.”

Kneeling frozen in your tent with one hand clamped tightly over your mouth to stifle your own terrified cries, you squeeze your eyes shut, not daring to draw breath.

Somebody sighs - the first one, you think. “Y’know, I think Bokuto has a point… Do you like games, sweetheart?”

There’s no response - at least not one that you can hear - but she must have nodded, because the voice continues, “Glad to hear it! Tell you what, we’re gonna play a little game, and if you win, we’ll let you go! Sounds fair, right?”

“We’ll even give you a headstart, just cause we’re nice guys! Whad'ya reckon ‘Kaashi? A minute? Two?”

There’s a short silence, filled only by the sounds of her ragged whimpering. “Two,” the second one - ‘Kaashi - decides. His voice is deadpan, smooth, cold and blunt, but there’s an underlying current of something excitable - the barest hint that he’s not quite as disinterested as he sounds. “She won’t get away.”

No.

You veer, sprinting towards the camp.

The others died while you hid like a fucking coward, too scared to do anything to help them (it wouldn’t have made a difference, but you should have tried) you can’t do this again.

You can only imagine how you must look, a strange woman sprinting out of the woods, barefoot, your nightgown torn and filthy, blood streaking your skin. You can pinpoint the moment that they catch sight of you, one of the guys doing a double take and jerking so badly he almost falls off the log he’s perched on. “What the fuck?!”

Another turns, eyes wide and gaping, “Dude, she’s fucking pre-”

“RUN!” you bellow, just in time to see an axe arc through the air beside you and embed itself smack bang in the centre of his skull with a sickening thud.

“Now that’s a bullseye!” Bokuto hollers, maybe thirty feet behind you and gaining quickly. “Didja see that, Akaashi?”

Screams erupt from the other campers, scrambling frantically to their feet as their friend collapses lifelessly to the ground, blood still spurting gruesomely from his wound.

“Don’t go gettin’ cocky now, the night’s still young,” Kuroo drawls, swinging his baseball bat - the dark wood flecked with dried blood, rusted nails crudely hammered through the barrel - experimentally through the air a few times. “And last I counted, I was still two up on you.”

There’s no time to humour the fear that rips through you like wildfire. You grab the nearest camper - a girl not much older than yourself, staring wide eyed and trembling at the body in front of her - and yank her forward with you. “Run,” you hiss again.

The others scatter, drunk and clumsy - a split second too slow.

A boot lands on the fallen tree stump, its owner springing gracefully over it. Akaashi’s machete gleams in the moonlight, sweeping gracefully like an extension of his arm as he slices downwards. Blood sprays, drenching his front, and another body falls to the ground - this one missing half a face.

It’s brutal. Chaotic.

Ruthless.

You can’t look back, you can’t help them. The girl is screaming at you, yelling words you can’t hear, trying fruitlessly to tug her wrist out of your grip, but you don’t relent. You don’t slow down, not even as dread fills your stomach and tears burn unshed in your eyes. You can’t help the others - not as Kuroo’s bat comes swinging out of the darkness, tearing flesh and muscle from bone, not when Bo yanks his axe from his victim’s head with a foot planted on his chest, immediately giving chase to another with a wild grin, not when Akaashi’s machete, slick with blood, cuts through her friends like butter - but you can save her.

Just one person-

“Kitten, come back and play!” Kuroo shouts after you with a sickeningly fond chuckle.

- so long as you don’t stop running.

The camp is eerily quiet, even the crickets have stopped. You have no idea how long ago they left to hunt down your friend, how long you’ve sat, sobbing in silence, too scared to breathe, waiting to see if they’d come back.

Your friends are dead. Your boyfriend is dead.

You don’t realise how badly you’re shaking until you try and move - almost falling flat on your face when your arms give out. They’re gone, but every noise, no matter how muted, feels deafening and you try not to flinch as you drag yourself towards the mouth of the tent. You don’t have time to prepare yourself for the carnage waiting for you across the camp ground, you can’t think about the fact that people you love have been torn apart and murdered while you cowered away frozen in fear.

The grip you have on your emotions, your sanity, is fragile, but in your terrified hysteria, you understand one very important thing - they could come back at any moment, and you cannot be here when that happens.

You cannot stop and cry for your friends, you cannot afford to break down when you see their bodies hacked up and scattered around you - you won’t even look - you just have to take the car keys fisted in your right hand, get to your boyfriend’s truck and get the fuck away from this nightmare as quickly as those wheels can take you.

Crawling on your hands and knees you slowly pry open the tent flap, biting your lip and wincing at the quiet hiss of the zipper.

The cold night air hits you like a slap in the face, but it’s nothing compared to the overwhelming coppery tang of blood that settles on the tip of your tongue as you breathe it in. You bite down on your whimper, squeezing your eyes shut and forcing your leaden limbs to move - you can’t afford to stop now, you have to get away.

You won’t look, you won’t look, you won’t-

“I was wondering when you’d finally show yourself.”

Ice douses your system, your heart lurching. Your eyes shoot open, darting towards the source of the voice - there, leaning calmly against the thick trunk of a tree only a few feet away from you is a man. Tall and slender, with dark hair and delicate features, you’d probably go so far as to call him pretty if it wasn’t for the blood splattered garishly across his pale skin and the teasing grin tugging at his lips.

Absolute terror renders you helpless as he pushes away from the tree and takes a single, calculated step towards you. “Kuroo and Bokuto won’t be long, they’re just finishing up with your friend.” His pretty smirk widens as your eyes well up with tears and a gasping sob finally rips its way free from your chest, “but I don’t think they’ll mind if we get started without them.”

You’re following the well trodden path, praying to god that it’ll lead you back to the road, to any kind of safety. The shouts and screams behind you died out a few minutes ago, but you can’t let yourself think about what that means - it’ll only slow you down and you’re so close.

“Wait, wait, stop! We ha-have to go back!” the girl cries, trying once again to pull you to a stop. “My friends-”

“I’m sorry,” you pant, glancing across at her - and you are. Her eyes are wide and terrified, swimming in a pain you know all too well. It’s selfish and cruel, and it’ll tear her apart just like it has you, but if you let her go now… “It’s too late for them, we need to keep-”

“Baby, you know you can’t hide from us!”

Bokuto. Your heart seizes just as the girl shrieks, and you risk a glance over your shoulder, slowing just a faction.

They’re closing in, all three of them, less than twenty yards away.

Panic and desperation bite at your nerves - you can’t let them catch you, not now, not when you’re almost free. But your body is aching, your muscles on fire and your stamina is shot to pieces. You’re on your last legs and they know it. They don’t even have to run anymore, they’ve worn you down completely - it’s a miracle you’re still standing.

And it’s childish and petulant, but you just want to scream and cry and yell and beat your fists against the ground because it’s not fucking fair!

You were so close.

Your grip around her wrist slackens just a touch, and the girl takes the opportunity to rip her hand free from yours. You expect her to run, to flee like a bat out of hell and leave you crumpled in the dust, but instead she turns to you with a withering glare, “This is all your fault. You brought them here. You did this.”

The accusation hits you like a slap, but before you can even open your mouth to protest (she’s not wrong, you know she’s not wrong) she grabs you by the shoulders and with all the strength she has left, shoves you back in the path of your pursuers. You stumble from the force of the blow, not expecting it, and for a moment you feel yourself start to fall, instinctively curling in on yourself to protect your belly-

Strong arms catch you before you can hit the ground, pulling you against a warm, muscular chest. “Gotcha,” Kuroo breathes, his tongue darting out to lick at the blood splattered across your cheek.

Vaguely, you register Bokuto’s low, furious growl as he launches forward, his axe raised high. The sharp, piercing screams are cut off quickly - violently - as he buries it in her neck with a snarl. He swings again and her head tumbles clean off to bounce across the forest floor, but he keeps going, swinging again and again and again until her body is nothing but a bloody, mangled mess for the animals to scavenge.

Your vision blurs, and it takes you a moment to realise that it’s tears welling up in your eyes as Kuroo’s hands run up and down your sides, drifting protectively across the gentle swell of your stomach. “You did good, kitten,” he coos, Akaashi and Bokuto coming up either side of you. “But it’s time to come home now, don’tcha think?”

A hand cups your cheek, drawing you to meet Akaashi’s twisted, lovesick expression, “Gotta reward our pretty little girl for playing her role so well,” he murmurs, his thumb gently stroking the delicate skin.

“Maybe we can fuck another kid into her,” Bokuto adds with a grin, his previous rage all but forgotten, sated along with his bloodlust thanks to the butchered corpse lying a few yard away. His golden eyes, half lidded and burning with lust, flicker across your face for just a moment, drinking in every last drop of crushing defeat and despair before his lips crash down on yours in a savage, bloody kiss.

This was nothing but a game to them - one you never had a chance in hell of winning.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere kuroo x reader #yandere akaashi x reader #yandere bokuto x reader #yandere kuroo #yandere akaashi #yandere bokuto #tw blood #tw violence #tw gore #tw implied noncon #tw murder #my writing #tw pregnancy #hhhh it's 4:45 i hope y'all are happy #i'mma go sleep now

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after-witch · 3 years

Text

Thanks For Your Donation! [Yandere Shigaraki x Twitch Streamer Reader]

Title: Thanks For Your Donation! [Yandere Shigaraki x Twitch Streamer Reader]

Synopsis: request, “Please I love that troupe where Shigaraki gets obsessed with a twitch stream and deluded himself into believing they’re together until he finally takes her home 🥰”

notes: yandere, kidnapping mention, creeper

Shigaraki glances down at the notification on his phone and his chest suddenly feels tight, anxiety blooming across his skin which makes him want to scratch, scratch, scratch. Your Twitch is live again--fuck, he can’t miss it. He rapidly presses the save button on his Switch, impatient to devote his entire attention to his phone screen--to you.

But fuck, do you make it hard on him lately. You stream so much more now that you’ve gotten followers, gotten popular; donations have become a regular feature rather than something surprising, but those other guys, the ones who flash big donations and write insipid comments, aren’t really fans of yours. Not like he is. He’s been watching and donating and praising you since you were a nobody, a nothing streamer with barely 10 viewers per stream.

That was back when you used to just play games with your cheap little pink earbuds and your messy room behind you. When you used to feel more real, used to express yourself more openly.

You stumbled over words and reacted naturally, which meant you were boring--or you would be boring, to someone that didn’t know you like he did. Sometimes the small circle of viewers would dwindle down to just Shigaraki and you’d talk to him, only him, replying to his chat messages with earnest honesty. Smiles. Jokes. It was so goddamn cute. He always donated one last time before signing off for the night and you would curl your fingers in a heart and cheerfully bid him good night.

But now that you’re getting big, you’re more polished, more presentable, more popular. And less… like you, he thinks. You cleared out some little room just for your gaming streams and you have a nice headset now, a background that he can tell you carefully set up to create just the right vibe. You don’t have time for one-on-one convos with your viewers, because your streams never dwindle down, never fizzle out until you’re left awkwardly signing off.

They’re full-fledged productions, now, whether you’re gaming or doing a Q&A or--these have become one of his favorites--doing a cute yet clearly rehearsed “sleepy morning” stream in your pajamas, picture-perfect coffee in your hand, where you muse about life and love and strawberry pancakes.

It’s cute, he admits, but it’s also too rehearsed. He misses the real you, the real personality that you used to let shine through when hardly anybody was watching. You would only show the real you for him, but now that he’s just one amongst a crowd, you keep yourself protected. He understands. You have an image to maintain, after all.

It’s even changed your gaming habits. Now when you game, you react so dramatically, bordering on ridiculous. You would never scream at a horror game before--sure, you might cringe, or admit that your heart is pounding like a hammer, but you weren’t cartoonish. But it’s what those losers watching want--they want you to open your mouth so big when something scary happens in a game so they can screencap it and imagine you’re opening your mouth to do something… else. They want you to scream girlishly at jump scares or dramatically fawn over cute guy characters. And of course, they want you to react when they donate--they want to hear those sweet little words: “Thank you sooo much, you’re my number one fan!”

It’s your new little catch phrase, something you’ve integrated into every stream now. It’s even in your intro--“Hello, all my number one fans!” It’s an in-joke now between your followers. All part of your brand.

Shigaraki knows you don’t mean to hurt him by calling other guys your number one fan. But it does. But it’s okay. He doesn’t hold it against you. He knows that you don’t really mean it, when you’re saying it to them; he’s smart, he can tell the difference in how you react to his donations versus the donations from the absolute shitheads who watch your streams.

You mean it when you call him your number one fan. It’s the only way he can get you to say his name, now that you’re too busy to really respond properly to the chat. And it’s fine, really, nothing to get too upset over. Because when you finally meet in person, he’ll explain that he’s the only number one fan that you’ll ever need.

He jumps into the stream, annoyed at having missed the beginning, but what he sees on the screen instantly melts away any emotion other than pure adoration and obsession. You’re very… pink today. A pink oversized sweater and pink cat headphones and even glossy pink lipstick that makes your mouth look like candy.

None of the freaks watching the stream know this, but Shigaraki is the reason why you feel comfortable wearing pink. He remembers one of your early streams, where you wondered out loud if it was cliche to be a girl gamer who likes pink; he’d told you that it was fine, and you’d thanked him. Who knows, without his sage advice, you might be wearing clothing you didn’t like. Wouldn’t that be a shame? He makes a mental note to remind you to thank him, somewhere down the line. Maybe when you were out on a date and wearing a short pink skirt and urging him to take a sip of your vanilla-cherry milkshake, letting him put his lips right on your straw.

A date… the thought makes him feel tight all over. Would you date him? I mean, you were practically dating already, truth be told. It just needed to be formalized. He’d spent so much money on you, and in the early days he knew exactly what his donations bought because you’d happily chatter on about getting a new game or perfume or stack of light novels because of his generosity. Of course, you didn’t talk as much as you used to--well, practically never, except when he donated--but that couldn’t be helped. You were stretched thin, being pulled in directions by these so-called-fans who watched your streams but didn’t give a fuck about the real you underneath. The real you that Shigaraki knows all too well.

Would you date him? No, more than that--did you love him? The way he loves you? The thought of the real you, the one who didn’t bite her lip oh-so-obviously in a bid to look adorable, the one who didn’t mind eating messy lunches while she gamed, the one who always always made sure to wish Shigaraki good night, makes him want to find out.

He rarely participates in the chat nowadays. There’s no point, when you rarely respond to anything other than answers to questions you ask, and even then you cherry pick from the countless replies that pop up in seconds. Donating is the best way to catch your eye, to hear those sweet words from your lips that you only mean when he donates.

But something makes him want to try, today. Maybe it’s all his nostalgia for your early days, the early connection you made that is still going strong. Maybe it’s the allure of the glossy pink lipstick smeared across your lips, making him think about how you might taste of cherries or strawberries or pure sugar.

Whatever it is, it’s pulling his fingers towards the chat, and before he knows it, he’s rapidly typed and hit enter. The second he does he begins to scratch furiously at his neck and he can feel the blood even as his message is quickly dominated by other messages in the chat, inane bullshit.

Tomura001: sry for the sudden question but I need to ask you something personal do you love me?

As a quick thought, he makes a donation, just to ease the nervousness that was flooding through him with every passing millisecond.

He hardly blinks as he stares intently at you, sitting in your chair with your pink lips and pink headphone and soft skin and--you glance over, where he knows you keep a larger screen to see the chat.

And suddenly, you’re speaking.

“Awww,” you say, your voice sweet and flattered, even. “Tomura! Of course I love you! You’re my number one fan!”

He can hear his heartbeat in his ears. You do love him. I mean, he knew this already; it’s the little things, like how you still have the light novels you bought with his money on your bookshelf and you thank him for his donations like you mean it and you feel confident enough to wear pink, all thanks to him. But he’s never heard it from your mouth before. From your lips. Soft and pink and inviting.

You love him.

He sets the phone down, a rare occurrence when he’s glued to your streams. But the emotions rushing through him are so strong that he’s worried it will slip out of his fingers and fall, crack on the floor.

He loves you. You love him. You belong to him. So why are you wasting your fucking time streaming to a bunch of worthless losers who don’t care about you? He can buy you the things you want, the things you like. He can clear out some space in his room so you can game together. And he knows girls like things clean, so he’ll even throw out the used soda cans and food wrappers before he brings you home. You’ll appreciate that, just like you appreciated his donations and late-night practically empty stream chats. You’ll be happy with him. And he can see you and hear you and touch you in a way that he’s been dreaming about (and you’ve been dreaming about, he knows) for ages.

All he has to do is find your address--easy enough--and you’ll be living it up with him before you know it.

He chews on his lip and picks up his phone. You’ve moved on--you had to, didn’t you, to keep those viewers donating--but he can tell by the way your lips are pursued that you’re thinking about him.

Your number one fan.

#yandere shigaraki tomura #yandere shigaraki #yandere #yandere x reader #shigaraki x reader #afterwitch writes #I am def. doing part 2 of this eventually

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thighs-of-betrayal-blog · 3 years

Note

hey! i saw that you were opening one-shot requests so i wanted to request something! would it be okay for me to request a tony stark x reader in which it's tony's first time playing minecraft with the reader? super random, i know, but i've been super addicted to it for the past few days and it'd be really interesting to see tony's reaction to a game like minecraft. preferably she/her pronouns, but anything works! thank you in advance if you actually decide to write this weird request!!

Want to Play?

A/N: I love this!! I’ve played Minecraft a few times and it’s so much fun! I can totally see Tony playing this game and enjoying it lol. Thank you so much for the request and I hope you like it!!

Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader

Warnings: None, just fluff

You are laying on the couch, playstation controller in hand, playing your favorite game: Minecraft. It was a Sunday, and after an incredibly long and tiring work week, you wanted nothing more than to spend the day with the fictional village you’ve created on this game. Tony was in his lab, working on a new tech for his suit. You knew it would be hours before he would emerge from his cave. More time for you to focus on your game.

On Minecraft, you are currently building a chicken coop for your villagers. Just as you finish guiding the last chicken through the gate, Tony surprisingly comes up the stairs from his lab.

“Hey, honey!” he says while walking into the kitchen and grabbing a glass of water.

“Hey, babe!” you say back, focus entirely on the TV.

Tony walks into the living room, sitting down next to you on the couch.

“What’s this?” he asks.

“Minecraft”, you answer. You are now currently in the process of building a pig pen, right next to the chicken coop.

“Right. What the hell is a Minecraft?” He turns to look at you, confusion written all over his face.

You laugh. “It’s a game. You essentially create your own world. You look for resources to build things and find stuff to help you survive.”

Tony looks at the screen. “Are there any monsters?”

“There are. They have these zombie creatures that come out at night and can attack you. You can build yourself a sword and armor to protect yourself and fight back” you explain.

He looks down at the controller, then back up at you.

“Why don’t you try for yourself?” you say, holding out the controller towards him.

Tony takes the controller and stares at the buttons. “What do I do?”

“Here, let me show you.” You explain what each button does and give him a general summary of the supplies you can find, and where to find them.

Tony focuses intently on the TV, moving the character to head towards the mines.

“What are you going to do there?” you ask.

He looks at you incredulously. “Find gold. You need a nice suit to help you fight these monsters. I’m not sending my wife into battle without protection.”

“Right,” you say. You stand up and pat his shoulder. “I’ve gotta get a shower, but I’ll be back in about an hour, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll just be here playing this,” he mumbles, not even glancing your way.

You shake your head and laugh, while walking out of the room.

--------------------------------------------------

Exactly an hour later, you are finished your shower and heading back into the living room.

What you see makes you stop in your tracks. Tony is sitting in the same position you left him in, focusing intently on the game.

You move to sit back down next to him. “Having fun?” you ask.

“Oh yeah,” he replies. “I’ve just been busy building some things for you.”

“What did you make?” you ask.

He turns and looks at you. “Well, I made you a new suit, made completely out of gold. I made you five new suits actually. Can never have too many. I also added a new building on your property. It’s a lab. You can do all your crafting in there. And, I put up a gate. Gotta make sure to keep out those monsters.”

You stare back at him in shock. “You did all that while I was in the shower?”

He nods. “I’m going to add gates to all your neighbor’s houses next. They need protection from the monsters too.”

“You are something else,” you say.

“If by something else you mean a devastatingly handsome, smart, Minecraft player then yes, I agree.”

You playfully slap his shoulder and laugh. “Well Mr. handsome, smart, Minecraft player, I’m going to bed.” You stand up and head towards the stairs. “Are you joining me?”

“In a minute, honey!” he says back.

“No kisses for a week if you’re not in bed in five minutes!” you yell while walking up the stairs.

“Coming!” he yells back, rushing to turn off the game and run after you.

#tony stark x reader #tony stark one shot #tony stark imagine #marvel fanfiction #tony stark x y/n #tony stark x you #tony stark #tony stark fluff #tony stark fanfiction #marvel

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onionsaremeansstuff · 3 years

Text

Arranged Love

Pairing: Mob!Castiel x reader

Gender: Male

Summary: You were forced to marry on of the biggests mobsters in the town: Castiel, but, that doesn't mean he likes you

I dont own the character or the gif

TW: sexual assault

Beta’d by @chaoticgaysstuff

The Novak family was one of the most notorious gangs in the City of Kansas. Dominated everything and everyone in this city. Everyone was afraid of that family, and there wasn't a single soul that didn't know about them, or the reputation they had. They made their name known with how dangerous they are along with the blood spilled and steel, purging all other mobsters in this city.

But they still had enemies who could be just as dangerous and notorious as them and that was The Y/L/N Family, another gang in the neighborhood who was one of their rivals. Both families wanted the conflict between them to end, but both didn't want to be the one to submit to the other first.

When they finally decided to come together and agree to settle everything that an idea was born. An agreement between the two families was reached to finally have peace with one another.

The youngest child of the Novak family, Castiel would marry the daughter of the Y/L/N family who had yet to be born yet.

Castiel was anything, but happy when he heard about the deal. After all, an arranged marriage would take away every ounce of his freedom, but he did want to end the conflict between both families.

And it was definitely a shock to everyone when the child was finally born, a boy was born instead of a girl like everyone was expecting it to be.

The tension in the room had risen considerably, but with the legalization of same-sex marriages, the agreement was still fully intact and still planned on having it.

Castiel was pissed. Not only was he being forced to marry someone that he didn't even know, but he would have to marry a man.

Honestly, he thought about running away with his girlfriend and living in hiding for the rest of his life if he needs to.

But, he knew that would be considered treason and the gang wouldn't think twice about killing him.

He could only enjoy the next 18 years of freedom before Y/N turned 18, and they would have to get married.

Castiel already hated that poor boy.

Y/N was only created for the sole purpose of marrying Castiel who he has never seen before in his entire life.

He never really saw his parents a whole lot, and spent most of his time indoors, being taught how to cook and clean.

The few times he was allowed outside, he went to the park where he used to play when he was a kid, and can relax now as an adult.

When the wedding had finally come, it was the first time that he would be meeting the famous Castiel.

He has heard countless stories about the man. All good things and how handsome he was with the intention of making Y/N as submissive as possible.

When he arrived at the altar, Castiel looked at him with hatred in his eyes that made Y/N flinch as the priest said that wedding vows they always said at weddings.

You said the two famous words "I do" with a small kiss. Cheers and applauds ranged throughout the crowd. The rest of the party, you sat next to Castiel who really hated you. Everytime you tried to talk to him, he would sit there with his lips shut into a thin line. If there wasn't so much noise and you were outside, you bet crickets could be heard in the background.

You moved into the Novak's mansion at the end of the party, and Castiel still refuses to speak to you, no matter how many times you have tried.

The Novak's family came to properly meet you for the first time as Castiel left the room.

You were still being polite to everyone despite everything going on with Castiel and introduced yourself to everyone with a smille. Just how you were taught.

Honestly, you hated all these stupid rules that you had to learn, but you didn't want to piss of anyone in the Novak family, especially now that you were living with them.

You introduced yourself to Castiel's father and his brother, Gabriel who were the only two at the house at the time, so the introductions were very quick and soon, Gabriel offered to show to your room which you greatly accepted.

He took you to the other side of this huge mansion, and stopped outside of a room with a very large golden door that looked fit for a king. He opened the door to reveal a huge bed in the center of the room. There were two desks with lamps on both sides of the bed with a small chair next to one of the windows. There was a door that led to the huge, shiny bathroom, and another that led to the walk-in closet that someone could practically live in.

The room was nice, but you noticed how Castiel wasn't here. You were confused and asked Gabriel where he was.

"The two of you won't be in the same room together. Castiel has asked to sleep alone."

You nodded, and didn't know why hearing that caused a feeling of sadness to wash over you, but it did.

Of course he wouldn't want to be in the same room as you. The two of you didn't know each other. You both were practically strangers and it made sense that we wouldn't want to sleep with you.

But, all your life, you had heard stories about Castiel and kept being reminded over and over again that you were going to marry him. You couldn't help, but create a version in your head of what you imagined this man would be like. The version where you fell in love with him and everything was okay between you two.

Gabriel said goodbye and walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him as you threw yourself on the huge bed, and fell asleep in seconds.

This was really your new life.

---

The next day after you moved in, their butler woke you up from your sleep to let you know that breakfast would be ready soon and to get ready.

You got ready for the day, and headed towards the dining room soon after.

Until you remembered that you didn't know where the fuck it was.

You were definitely lost in this huge mansion, walking from what felt like every damn hallway in this place. Seriously, how many hallways did they have?

Suddenly, you felt someone place their hand on your shoulder.

You turned around to see a tall man with green eyes, wearing what looked like clothes that just came out of the 20th century.

Ew, who dressed him?

"Who are you?" The man suddenly asked in a very deep voice.

"Y- Y/N." You stuttered out, feeling a little nervous.

"Oh, Castiel's husband," The man said, looking at you, "What are you doing in this part of the mansion? You shouldn't be here."

"I don't mean to be here," You admitted, "I was just looking for the dining room."

"Oh, allow me to take you there." He held out his hand to you, which you gracefully took.

The man walked down endless corridors which felt like an eternity until he took you to a large room with a huge table and a large chandelier hanging over it. The rest of the members of the Novak family were already seated at the table.

Everyone greeted you as you sat down in one of the chairs at the table. The man who took you there was about to leave the room.

"Thank you." You thanked loudly and politely, as the man smiled at you and left the room.

You were looking around looking for Castiel when his father, Chuck noticed your gaze and told you that Castiel is usually late for breakfast all the time.

You started eating your food when Castiel entered the dining room.

He changed out the clothes from last night and into other dressy clothes with a trench at 7 AM.

You didn't understand why people in this place decided to wear what they were wearing. Their fashion sense was horrible and Castiel looked like an accountant.

Castiel ignored your good morning and sat far away from you at the table.

You were silent for most of breakfast while one of Cas brothers spoke to you which you replied with one word answers, or gave a few nods.

When Castiel was finished eating, he left the dining hall and you decided to follow him.

You called out to him as you followed him, but he ignored you like always.

Once they were far away from the dining hall, he pushed you up against the hall, his hand wrapped around your throat. Not tight enough to hurt you, but enough to scare you.

"Shut the fuck up!" He snarled, staring at you in the eyes, "I want you to leave me alone. You destroyed my fucking life!"

"I-It's just that w-were married now, a-and I wanted t-to get to know you."

Castiel let out a dry laugh, "I don't give a fuck about us being married, or this shitty deal. You mean absolutely nothing to me, understand? Stop annoying me before I make you." He released you and went into his room.

You gasped for air once he released you, and rubbed the sore spot where he choked you, trying as hard as you can to stop tears from falling.

---

The following days at the mansion has been very boring.

You weren't allowed to go anywhere and when you tried to sneak out of the window, they were barred unfortunately.

Castiel's brothers were nice to you, but didn't try to befriend you, or even talk to you all that much.

More and more days have passed.

You spent your time walking around the house and reading books in their library.

Despite there being people here in this mansion, you honestly felt alone.

---

When nightfall came, you had trouble sleeping. Tossed and turned for most of the night and even closed your eyes tighter, hoping that you would fall asleep, but you just couldn't.

Guess insomnia was kicking in.

You let out a sigh before getting out of the bed, and deciding on getting a glass of water from the kitchen, but that wouldn't be an easy task due to the fact that this mansion was basically a maze.

Hell, you didn't even remember where the dining hall was which was near the kitchen.

"Y/N?" A voice said from behind you which caused you to turn around. Standing before you was the same man with green eyes who led you to the dining hall, "What are you doing up at this hour? It's 3 in the morning and you shouldn't be in this part of the house, again."

Well, I couldn't sleep, so I decided to get a drink of water, but I got lost." You replied, "Again." You added in which caused the man to let out a little laugh as he gestured for you to follow him.

Finally, the kitchen was insight.

You entered the large kitchen. The green eyed man took two cups out of the cup board, and a mug filled with water out of the refrigerator. He poured you and glass and handed it to you.

"Thanks, uh..." You trailed off, hoping that you could get his name since you didn't know it.

"Michael." He introduced himself to you, and you froze when you heard his name.

This was Michael Novak.

He was the most feared man in this city with his cold, calculating stare that could freeze anyone in their tracks with only a single look. Rumors had it that he would kill anyone who looked at him the wrong way and one time, someone accidentally bumped into him, not knowing who he was and went missing that same day. He was way more terrifying than his father.

You were scared of this man from everything you heard.

Noticing the scared expression on your face, Michael laughed, placing a gentle kiss on the back of your hand, and all you could do was laugh along with him.

"Gosh, I love that reaction when people know who I am," He exclaimed, "But, you can relax. They are just rumors. Well, some of them are true, but I'm not going to hurt you. You're family now, and I don't hurt my family."

You let out a sigh of relief, and relaxed a little bit though you were still cautious.

Michael offered you a cookie and you really weren't sure where he got it from, but accepted it and hoped that it wasn't poisoned.

"I wish Castiel thought that way." You muttered softly, hoping that Michael wouldn't hear you, but he did.

"Does he not think of you as family?" Michael asked curiously, "You? His husband."

You shook your head and told him about what's been going on. How Castiel has been ignoring you all the time and how you two sleep in separate rooms, and how much he hates you, but made sure to leave out the part about him choking you.

Michael gave you a look of sympathy, a look you didn't think this man could ever give someone and wrapped his arms around you.

You were shocked by this, but relaxed into his arms. You didn't really hug very many people, but hugging this man felt good. Really good.

"Don't worry, okay? My brother is..." Michael looked for the right words to say, "Well, he's complicated and has some problems, but it's not your fault. I can talk to you for him if you want." He offered, but you denied that offer. You didn't want to possibly make the situation worse by bringing his other family into it. You both stood there for a moment still wrapped in each other's arms, enjoying the peaceful silence before he broke it, "You should go back to your room now. I'll take you there."

He took you back to your room and both said goodnight to one another.

Thanks to that conversation you had, you managed to sleep peacefully.

---

The next night was once again, another sleepless night. You decided to go back to the kitchen and actually remembered where it was this time.

And Michael was also there.

"Hey, little one. Couldn't sleep again?" He asked once he noticed your presence.

You mumbled a small yes under your breath and got a glass, and poured yourself some water.

"I take it you have insomnia?"

"That I do," You answered, "And it doesn't help that there's absolutely nothing to do here. Can't exercise, can't watch TV, I can't even go outside."

Michael chuckled, "Well, the game room and the huge library is in the part of the mansion where you aren't allowed to enter along with the gym." He paused, "You're right. There's not much to do around here."

"You got that right and why can't I enter that part of the house?" You questioned, "What's over there that I can't see?"

"It's where we do business." He said, using air quotes around business, "Dad and I don't want you involved in any of this."

You rolled your eyes, "I'm fine with hearing people get tortured if it means that I can watch some Netflix." You stated seriously which made him laugh.

"I'm sorry to say this, but you still aren't allowed to go in that part of the house. But there's a TV in my room and I have the day off tomorrow. If you want, we can watch something together." He offered and you agreed to that offer without a second thought.

"Thank you. You're saving me from dying of boredom in this place." He chucked before leaving you alone in the kitchen.

---

Finally, breakfast was over and you could go watch TV with Michael today.

He took you to his room and it was nothing like how you imagined.

You imagined there would be guns planted on the walls with knives and other deadly weapons they used to kill people. A dark room with black wallpaper that would scream evil.

Instead, it was a nice room with a huge bed in the middle and a TV on the other side of the room, across from the bed. A blue wallpaper and a couple of bean bags planted in the room. A lamp next to the TV along with a bookcase.

It was nice. Basic, but nice nonetheless.

There were pictures of his family on the walls. You looked over them, and one picture stood out to you.

Someone who you didn't recognize.

"Who's the punk in this photo?" You pointed to the picture with a tall male who had a mohawk, green dye added in his hair. He was wearing a shirt that said "surf naked" and a pair of biker pants.

Michael looked at the photo you pointed to before looking back at you, "We all go through some stages in life. It just had to be me who went through a punk phase."

Your eyes widened upon disbelief.

Michael, the most feared man in this city who wears such formal clothes on a daily basis, had gone through a punk phase? That's something that you weren't expecting.

Before you knew it, you busted out laughing at the way he used to look.

"Hey! That's not funny!"

You let out another laugh, "Sorry."

Looking through the other pictures, you saw pictures of his family from their younger years. Gabriel and Castiel when they were children and Chuck when he was a few years younger. Pictures of them at birthday parties and special occasions.

One photo really caught your eye and in that photo was Castiel himself. He looked to be a few years ago. Maybe about 6 years younger, standing next to a beautiful woman with pale skin and dark hair.

"Who's the woman?" You asked, as Michael sighed.

"That's Meg. Castiel's ex fiance."

Ex fiance, huh. You feel like you had a pretty good idea why they broke up, but needed to hear it first for confirmation.

"They broke up because of me, didn't they?"

Michael sighed once again, "Yeah. But that was for the best, even though he didn't see it that way," Michael sat on the bed before he continued, "Meg was a very toxic person. She cheated on Castiel several times and only dated him because of his surname, but he loved her too much and always forgave her for everything that she did wrong. When it was time for you and him to get married, my father forced her out of town and made her break up with Castiel, even though Castiel didn't want that to happen."

Well, now you can kinda see why he hates you. He's in love with someone else and had to get married to a stranger.

"So, that's why he hates me so much?"

"Pretty much," Michael nodded, "But, you are a much better fit for him than her."

"But, you don't even know me well enough to even know that."

"I'm a pretty good judge of character, but enough talking about this. Let's watch something." He patted the spot on the bed next him, telling you to come over and sit down. You sat down next to him and you turned on the TV.

You two spent all day watching TV and talked about everything and nothing. From your childhoods to stories that you both had endured to your favorite hobbies.

You found out that Michael loved Disney and that he was the oldest Novak along with being the funniest.

Hanging out in Michael's room with him had become a routine for you both whenever he had the day off.

Spending time with Michael made you forget all about your "husband" and the problems you had with him.

But, he didn't forget about you.

Castiel hated you with every fiber in his being for being the one to separate him from Meg, but he definitely found it weird that you kept going to Michael's room.

Were you and Michael in a secret relationship? Were you seriously cheating on him with his own brother?

He felt jealousy coursing through his veins, but tried to push it down and ignore it. He doesn't like you, after all.

But, he couldn't help but overhear the conversations that you and Michael have. How soothing your voice sounded, your intoxicating laugh, and those stories about your life.

How the two of you were similar in a lot of things and how every single detail of your life seemed to be amazing.

You definitely peaked his Interest.

Soon, it wasn't just you who got excited when Michael had a day off from work.

---

You quickly walked to Michael's room with a cup of coffee in one hand, and some pancakes in the other. The older man had a terrible habit of not eating, so you decided to make some food and bring it to him.

When you knocked on the door, Michael opened it, dressed in a suit with an opened suitcase on his bed that he was putting clothes into.

"Oh, good morning, little one! Thanks for the food, but I have leave right now. I have to deal with some unfinished business." He grabbed his suitcase off the bed and walked over to you, kissing you on the forehead, "My key to the room is on the table and you can use it while I'm not here." He ran out of the room before you could say anything.

A smile made its way onto your face. You had Michael's room all to yourself.

You set the food and coffee down on the table and flopped onto his bed, reaching for the remote and turning on the TV. About a half hour later, your eyes started drooping and you ended up falling asleep.

---

You woke up to the sound of someone opening the door.

"Michael what the fuck are you-" Before the person could finish speaking, he noticed that it wasn't Michael in the room, but that you were in the room, Y/N? What are you doing in Michael's room?"

Castiel stood on the side of the bed, wearing that trench coat again.

"Oh, Michael let me stay in his room."

Anger and jealousy could be shown on Castiel's face, "Get out of his room!"

"What? No! I can be in here if I want to be in here! Michael actually likes me and allows me to stay in here!"

"Well, why didn't you marry him then?!"

"Oh, I wish I could've married someone amazing like Michael, and not to a spoiled playboy who gets pissed off because he can't marry his girlfriend!" You exclaimed, "You are pathetic Castiel!"

Castiel was so angry that he looked ready to kill. To kill you, and honestly you thought that he would, but he left the room instead and slammed the door shut.

You sighed and went back to watching your favorite movie, trying to ignore your husband's existence.

---

When dinner time came it was only you, Castiel, and Gabriel.

It was mostly silent. Gabriel had made some jokes which were funny, but none of you laughed.

Castiel was the first to leave and you left soon after, heading towards your room, but their butler stopped you.

"Master Y/N, you will be sleeping in Master Castiel's room from now on."

You froze, 'Oh, no. He's gonna kill me in my sleep.' You thought.

"Master Y/N? Are you okay?" The butler asked, trying to get your attention, "Please follow me to Master Castiel's living quarters."

You followed the butler to Castiel's room and he stopped outside of his room door.

"Here's his room and your belongings are all inside his room. Have a good day, Master Y/N." He said and walked down the hall.

You gulped before opening the door.

Castiel's room didn't look different from yours at all. The only thing that was different was the wallpaper.

Castiel was in the room and looked at you when you entered the room, but soon turned his attention back to his cell phone.

You approached the bed like you would approach a lion. Fearful and cautious.

"Lay down and don't make a sound." Castiel's deep voice demanded and slightly startled you.

You laid down on the bed with your back to Castiel, eyes staring at the wall.

It was still pretty early, but you wanted to sleep soon, afraid of what Castiel might do or say and you didn't want to be awake for that.

"Aren't you going to brush your teeth before bed?" Castiel questioned, poking you in the shoulder.

You got out of bed and went to the bathroom where you found your toothbrush and then brushed your teeth.

"Finished, happy now?"

He rolled his eyes, "No, I'm not happy now. Are you going to sleep in that outfit?" He pointed at the outfit you were currently wearing, "All your clothes are here and where did you get that hoodie?" He demanded to know.

"Michael gave it to me." You answered his question.

"Take it off now!"

"No!" You responded, pulling the hoodie closer to you.

"Take it off now, or I'll do it myself." He warned as he approached you.

"Over my dead body." You replied, and soon regretted it since he could make your death quick and painless.

Castiel took the hoodie off your body, and you let out a sigh of annoyance.

'What the fuck is his problem? It was just a hoodie!' You thought.

You didn't wear a shirt underneath, so you put your arms over your stomach as Castiel stared at your upper body.

"Stop looking at me and you don't deserve to see me without a shirt on." You told him, as he rolled his eyes and went to the closet, taking a white t-shirt and threw it at you.

He sat on the bed and started doing something on his phone.

The shirt was his and you honestly didn't want anything from him, but you just put on the shirt and laid on the bed, turning your back to him and hoped that he wouldn't kill you in your sleep.

---

You woke up in the middle of the night to hear Castiel grumbling about something.

"Michael... not... yours..." He murmured into his pillow.

"Sleeptalker. Great." You thought sarcastically, as you tried to go back to sleep, but Castiel's constant talking was making it pretty hard for you to do that.

"Y/N… mine." He said before going completely quiet.

You just ignored whatever came out of Castiel's mouth and went back to sleep, but was curious to know what he meant by saying that.

---

The following days were basically the same as the last. You would wake up, have breakfast, go to Michael's room and then go back to Castiel's room.

The two of you didn't speak to each other at all.

---

You were watching TV in Michael's room when the bedroom door opened. Michael stood there wearing those awful clothes. You hopped off the bed to give him a hug.

"Oh, hello Y/N." Michael greeted, hugging you back, "How are you?"

You told him about everything that has happened the week he has been gone and he talked a little about what he's been up to as well. Of course, Michael didn't say much at all. You told him how you were now sleeping in the room with his brother and you didn't know if there was an actual smile on Michael's face, or if that was your imagination.

"Master Michael and Master Y/N?" You heard the butler address you both before Michael allowed him to enter "Master Gabriel asked you both to get ready because you will be leaving shortly."

"Leaving? Where are we going?"

"Today is Gabriel's birthday and we are going to one of our family's nightclubs to celebrate." Michael explained to you and you left the room to change your clothes.

---

The club was very loud and noisy.

There were a lot of people you’ve never seen in your life, not that you’ve seen many people other than your family and the Novak's.

Michael was gone. He said that he had to resolve an unforeseen event, but you were sure he was just having sex with someone and he looked like he needed to release some sexual frustration.

You saw Michael as an older brother. Nothing more and nothing less. You really wanted him to meet someone and get some rest. He needed it.

Gabriel had disappeared with someone and Castiel was sitting in a chair with a girl on his lap, and they were obviously flirting with one another.

You felt pain, but made sure not to show it.

So, you decided to go to the bar on the other side of the club to get something to drink and to get away from them. You weren't old enough to drink yet, but no one will say no to a Novak.

You took your drink and went outside, and sat on the bench outside with a Martini in your hand. You were drinking it when you suddenly felt a hand touch your thigh, causing you to jump slightly.

You looked to your right to see an older man who was obviously drunk.

"What's a pretty boy like you doing out here all alone?" He purred, rubbing his finger up and down your thigh.

His breath smelled of alcohol and you tried to remove his hand from you, but he wouldn't budge.

"Dude, fuck off!" You yelled, and stood up, wanting to get away from this creep.

The man pushed you against the wall, putting a hand inside your pants with one hand squeezed your ass while trying to kiss you.

You tried to get this bigger man off of you, but he wouldn't go away. Then suddenly you felt the man being pulled away from you.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" You heard someone's deep and opened your eyes to see Castiel holding the man by the throat "Who do you think you are to touch my fucking husband, you motherfucker?"

Castiel dropped the man to the ground and pulled out his gun, aiming it at him, "Never step foot into this town again because if I see you here, I will kill you and that's a promise that I'll keep." He punched the man in the face, blood on his knuckles from the punch.

Castiel turned to face you who had a scared expression on his face, "Are you okay?" He asked, feeling concerned for your well-being.

You didn't answer that question, still in shock from everything that had just happened.

"Come on. Let's go home." He took your hand and led you to his car.

---

Castiel took you to his room and laid you on his bed, taking off his trench coat and putting over you.

"Do you want to talk about what happened today?" He asked softly, sitting next to you on the bed.

You just looked at him for a second before looking away. You felt Castiel's rubbing his finger over your jaw.

"It's okay now. He can't do anything to you, okay?" He spoke softly, "I won't let him. Michael won't let him. None of us will let him, okay?" He kissed you on the forehead and was about to get up when you stopped him.

"Can you please stay?" You asked. You didn't know why, but you wanted Castiel to stay here with you.

He was confused at first, but nodded and laid behind you with your back pressed against his chest.

That's how the rest of the night happened. You wrapped in his arms in complete silence.

---

You woke up the next morning with Castiel's arms still wrapped around you.

You didn't want to leave because it was really comfortable being in his arms, but your moving caused Castiel to wake up.

"Good morning, Y/N." He greeted and you mumbled a good morning in return, "Let's eat something, shall we?"

You stood up and got ready for the day, but before you left, you placed a hand on Castiel's shoulder.

"Thanks for saving me last night." You told him, and his only reply was pressing a kiss against your forehead.

"It was nothing and," He looked down at the floor before looking back at you, "I'm sorry for how I've been treating you. You didn't deserve to be treated that way." He apologized, and you accepted it.

He went to open the door but turned to look at you.

"Y/N, I..." He sighed, "I want to give us a chance." He spoke confidently.

Your eyes widened in shock, "What?"

"I was an asshole to you and I really don't deserve another chance, but I've watched you from afar these past few months and I'm ashamed to admit it, but I listened to you and Michael's conversations, and I started falling in love with you, even though I am one stubborn idiot and didn't want to admit it. When that asshole touched you yesterday, I couldn't hold it in anymore. I know that I don't deserve it, but can I-" Before he could finish you leaned over and kissed him.

"Okay, Castiel." You smiled at him and left the room.

You two sat next to each other at breakfast this time and Castiel gave you a huge smile.

Gabriel and Michael were happy that you two are finally getting along together.

---

"Come on, Y/N. We'll be late for our date!" Castiel said from downstairs at the mansion entrance.

"It's not like someone is gonna take our place at the restaurant, Cas." You replied, walking down the stairs and kissing you on the cheek. "Lets go."

When Castiel opened the door, you saw a woman standing there with a kid in her hand. She was about to knock on the door before he opened it.

"Hello Castiel." The woman greeted.

You recognized her from somewhere, but couldn't place it until realization dawned on you. This was Meg, Castiel's ex fiance.

"I need help with our son."

In that moment, you felt your world stop and fall apart.

#x male reader #castiel x male reader #castiel x reader #supernatural x male reader #supernatural x reader #castiel x male!reader #male reader #Misha Collins x male reader

314 notes · View notes

thesmutshewrote · 3 years

Text

Shh

Boyfriend!Kuroo x F!Reader (feat. Kenma/Nekoma)

Genre: fluff, smut

Prompt: “you better be quiet, princess”

Warnings: punishment, vibrating toys, overstimulation, oral sex (both receiving), degradation, public masturbation, choking, swearing, voyeurism, lingerie, name calling (slut, daddy, master)

Words: 10.4k

A/N: This is a College!AU! where Nekoma is Kuroo’s college team, therefore all characters have been aged up! I don’t see Kuroo as a fuckboy sex god, but I do think he knows exactly what he’s doing in the bedroom.

---

Summary: After your boyfriend Kuroo finds out his team will be having a dinner party after their first day at the National Tournament, you offer a little extra motivation. Little did you know, you’d be suffering in a deafening silence before the night ends.

---

Spending time with your long term boyfriend Kuroo has been your source of comfort, happiness, and simplicity. He’s an attentive lover, so much so that you wonder if he lives inside your brain, accurately reading your every thought. The pair of you met in high school during your second year and shortly became a couple afterwards, adored by your peers. As loyal as they come, Kuroo is loved by all who meet him. He has always motivated you throughout all your days, easy and difficult, helping you grow alongside him. Every morning that you wake up and pry your sluggish body out of bed to leave for school, every extra unnecessary purchase you decline yourself, every assignment you force yourself to finish is all for the sake of becoming a stronger partner for your accomplished boyfriend. He makes every inconvenience an opportunity and his ability to change the mood of a situation amazes you. That’s why it comes as no surprise to you when he’s able to create chaos within you at a moment’s notice.

He’s no stranger to fabricating playful competitions between the two of you which result in complete and utter pleasure for you, usually. The way he tempts and taunts you ever so slightly for weeks on end allowing you no release creates a hunger within you so insatiable even Kuroo himself can’t deny it. He knows exactly which buttons to press to make your face flush a bright rosy pink. How to conjure a heat between your thighs like magic at the will of his speech. Knowing he doesn’t even have to touch you to make you frustrated gives him an immense amount of pleasure. He loved corrupting you into the kinky succubus you’ve become, thanks to his overwhelming talents. You boast that your boyfriend is an absolute god in the bedroom, the best you’ve ever had, since he’s had a lot of practice with you. So when he creates bets and games that end in sinful pleasure, you can’t help but accept his offer and gamble with your body in hopes of a sweet reward.

---

“Babe, you’ll never guess what coach just texted us!” says a wide eyed Kuroo, leaning next to you on the bed to reveal blue and grey chat bubbles from the Nekoma volleyball group chat.

You read the latest text from Coach Nekomata announcing that they will be having a team dinner following their first day at Nationals, followed by excited texts from the other boys asking if there will be meat. Typical.

“Wow, that sounds like it’ll be really fun! You’ll deserve it after your match tomorrow,” you say, excited for your boyfriend.

“It sounds like a good time, but I had other things in mind as a celebration instead,” he says in a low voice, smirking and putting his hand on your thigh.

“Noooo sir,” you snicker, removing his hand. “It’s getting late and you need to get plenty of rest. We don’t have time for any of that tonight.”

“Is that so? Daddy wants to win tomorrow and in order to do that, I need to relieve some of this stress. You’ll be a good girl and get on your knees for me, won’t you?”

The look in his eyes is dark and moody while the corner of his mouth turns upwards in a sadistic smirk. You knew this means he has a strong desire to be pleased and won’t be satiated until he’s been properly taken care of by his submissive slut. You also knew this was the best time to tease him and make him even more aggressive with you, but tonight was different. The usual hunger that constantly dwells within you has dissipated and a new sensation is causing an uproar in your mind you cannot shake; torment him.

Moving towards your raven-haired lover with a sensuous grin swept across your face, you crawl over top of him and lean down only inches away from his lips and get ready to utter the words that could easily be your demise. Wrestling with the need to satisfy your own cravings and carry out your bratty ploy, you hover over him a few seconds longer enjoying the sight of his full lips. Deciding to stay strong in your idea to tease him, you gently kiss him before pulling away and laying back down on the bed next to him.

“No thanks,” you retort as you watched the dismay fill his face. Witnessing a sight so rare made it difficult to contain your laughter until sheer devilishness contorted his face. Before he could utter a word about your disobedience, the brightest idea flooded your brain.

“Instead, let’s play a game.”

“Don’t test my patience,” he warns. “You better think long and hard before you explain this little game of yours because if it doesn’t satisfy me, you will have a long night ahead of you.”

Knowing how serious and restless he’s becoming, you create a deal that will entertain you while giving him enough pleasure in the long run that he won’t torment you too much.

“If you win tomorrow, I will let you do whatever you want to me for one night; any of your wildest fantasies you’d love to try on me and I won’t tell you to stop. However if you lose, I get to use you in any way that pleases me,” you explain hoping he will agree to this deal knowing you’ll win either way.

Kuroo stares at you confused for a moment before busting out in a deep laugh.

“Chibi-chan, that isn’t such a fair deal.. for you. We both know I’m going to win tomorrow on the court and then I will take you as my prize,” he taunts. Just the thought of him immediately coming to scoop you up in his arms after winning the game and taking you to the locker room to claim you has you biting your lip.

“..in straight sets. You have to win in straight sets.”

“Deal,” he says with a sly grin, pulling you closer and positioning your leg bent over top of his, giving him a perfect handful of your ass.

“Watch your hands, lover boy. You can wait until tomorrow to have your fun with me,” you tease.

“Just be prepared because I’m going to punish you thoroughly for being such a disrespectful little brat when I win tomorrow and I’m going to enjoy every last second of watching you come completely undone at my touch.”

“Promise?” you smirk, biting your lip.

“Promise,” he glares at you with sultry eyes.

---

The next morning you wake up feeling drowsy, the excitement of your bet kept you awake leaving too many thoughts running through your head waiting to be sorted. Noticing the cool feeling of the sheets behind your back, you turn around to notice Kuroo missing from your bed. “How long has he been gone?” you thought. As you check the time on your phone, you smell the disgustingly delicious aroma of a familiar scent coming from the kitchen. Bacon.

Mustering the strength to stand up, you quickly stretch before wrapping yourself in your blanket like a burrito to contain the warmth of your body. In the kitchen you discover Kuroo slaving himself over the stove cooking up a full breakfast for the two of you to share together. His generosity knows no bounds, but with the distress you caused your horny boyfriend last night, you became skeptical about the intentions of this homemade meal.

“Good morning, beautiful. I hope I didn’t wake you,” he says smiling.

“What’s all this for, baby?”

Kuroo finishes plating your food and places it on the table next to a large glass of cranberry juice. He gently kisses your cheek before sitting down across from you. “Can’t I make my girlfriend a nice breakfast?” he pouts.

“Since when did we have this?” you ask, taking a sip of your cranberry juice.

“I went out this morning and bought some. I want my dessert to taste extra sweet tonight,” he snickers.

You roll your eyes at his filth while trying to hide your excitement, reminiscing how absolutely divine his tongue feels on your sensitive bud. Attempting to ignore the ungodly thoughts plaguing your mind, you quickly chug down a few sips of your juice, before instantly being brought back to reality by the mildly acidic taste. Kuroo hasn’t taken his eyes off you once since you’ve sat down and you’re hoping he didn’t notice the effect he had on you with the insinuation of being given such an intimate gift, but nothing gets past the trained eyes of the captain.

“Isn’t it a little too early to be making a mess of yourself, love?” he teases looking up at you before taking a bite of his food. The way he dangles his fork loosely in his hands in front of his mouth gives you a perfect view of the veins slightly embossed in his knuckles. You clench down your teeth in a feeble attempt at cooling yourself down. A pink flush radiates across your cheeks as you realize a second later that your panties are already slightly wet with your slick. Your eyes shut closed slowly as you sigh and bite your lip, aggravated that he caught you so easily.

“I’ll allow it this time, but don’t even dream of touching yourself before this little game of yours has claimed its victor.” He lifts himself off his chair and approaches behind you, resting his hands on your shoulders, gently squeezing them with his strong hands. He whispers in your ear, “if I can’t have you, you can’t either.”

After taking a hot shower to make an attempt at calming yourself down, you can’t seem to make any leeway as your imagination runs wild on possibilities for tonight. Running through every lustful dream you’ve been waiting to try with Kuroo if you win and wondering what he could possibly want from you if he wins. You manage to obey his one simple request and refrain from touching yourself, but the way he got you worked up so easily made you so frustrated. Upon finishing your shower, you pat yourself dry and head back to your room where you find Kuroo almost ready to leave.

“I have to head out early for warm ups and a little meeting so I’ll have to meet you at the gym. You have the directions, right-” he stops as he turns around and watches your towel fall to the ground, leaving your bare ass before his eyes. He looks you up and down, biting his lip, imagining all the things he wishes he could do to you if he had the time.

“Oops, my towel fell,” you flirt as you bend over to pick it up, exposing your folds for a brief moment before you straighten up again.

Suddenly you feel his clothed body pressed against you and his length hardening against your back, while he leans down and whispers in your ear, “I will have no mercy on you tonight. You want to act like a slut so desperate for this cock, I’ll make you beg for it.” He leans down and gives you a quick peck on your bare shoulder before collecting his things and making his way out the door.

---

You finally make it to the gym and are able to score a seat in the front row of the stands with some Nekoma alumni Kuroo had introduced to you before. The boys finished their first match in straight sets, taking the victory as you cheered them on through every play. You could tell Kuroo was putting in extra effort at blocking today, glancing at you every now and then with an expression that says “prepare yourself.” He must be intimidating up close, since this team had trouble spiking against him, not that you’re surprised by your boyfriend's skill.

After finishing up on the court, the team joined you up in the stands waiting for the next team they’d be playing to finish their game. Kuroo made his way over to you only to be cut off by a tall, silver haired boy you were close friends with.

“Y/n! Did you see me out there?” Lev asked you excitedly.

You looked up at your boyfriend who was attempting to hide his disappointment, but sat behind his teammate for you to catch up. Noticing the expression on his face, you decided to rile him up a bit and test the boundaries of his temper.

“Of course I saw! You’re the ace so everyone is watching you,” you say charmingly while putting your hand on his shoulder and looking back at Kuroo with a smirk. His eyes bulge staring at you, but he tries to play cool.

Lev looks at you with stars in his eyes, adorably excited by being noticed as the ace. “Really? Thanks y/n!” he says as he hugs you tightly.

Kuroo’s eyes flare up even more and he starts looking visibly angry. You look up at him helpless with innocent eyes that say “I didn’t do anything wrong”, loving the reaction you were getting from your flustered captain. Before either of you knew what was happening, Lev received a slap to the back of his head and immediately pulled away from you.

A feisty blonde stands above Lev with an expression that looks to be a mixture of fear and anger. “What the hell are you doing, baka?! Kuroo is going to murder you for that!” he exclaims.

Obviously unaware of his surroundings, Lev turns around to see your boyfriend staring at him while he cracks his knuckles in his hands, his eyebrows furrowed. “S- Sorry Kuroo-san. I couldn’t help it. She called me the ace!” he exclaims, earning a glare from Kuroo who still looks unamused at the tall boy’s antics.

“Don’t touch her,” he says sternly. Kuroo normally isn’t quite this possessive, but you think back to his words this morning and realize why he’s acting this way. “If I can’t have you, you can’t either.” The thought of anyone touching your body before he’s allowed to makes his blood boil.

In perfect timing, the next round is about to start so the boys start heading back down to practice their serves and spikes before they face their new opponent. As the team makes their way out, Kuroo stops by and gives you a kiss on the cheek before he whispers in your ear, “one more dirty trick and I will punish you right here for everyone to see since you seem to like an audience so much.”

Before you can say anything in response, he leaves to join the others out on the court. You wonder if you’re pushing him too far, but quickly justify your actions with reason. He’s more than capable of staying focused during games and as for your teasing, the worst he can do is punish you which was expected either way. You had nothing to worry about, or so you thought.

Kuroo seemed distracted during this match. They were barely able to take the first set and you weren’t sure if that was because their opponent was simply better than the last team or if you’d really gotten into his head when you flirted with Lev. All you can do now is cheer on your man, you think to yourself, and accept your punishment later.

Approaching the back right corner of the court in a fresh rotation is none other than Kuroo, preparing to serve during their match point in a very close game. He looks over at you and the look on his face makes you freeze, knowing just how he’s feeling. The most stressful serve of the game rests upon his shoulders.

“Kuroo, nice serve!” you cheer, as you stare at your boyfriend with eager anticipation. He nods at you and for a moment, the corners of his lips turn upwards.

The whistle blows and Kuroo serves a perfect ball right to the opponents setter, limiting their options during the play. After a few short volleys, the ball goes back to the opponent and they make their last efforts to win the game. Their setter sends the ball left, just as Kuroo had anticipated, as the spiker lines up for the kill. Jumping at the perfect time, Kuroo and Lev leap up to block the ball. The spiker aims for a cross and sends the ball right into Kuroo’s hands. He completely shuts the ball out as they watch it fall on their opponents side. Their libero vaults towards the falling globe, extending his arm out as far as he can. Managing to get close enough to receive it is already slightly annoying, but the match is settled when their libero is unable to connect with the ball, just a fingertip away.

The boys burst out in cheers, running to each other for a team hug while everyone frantically jumps, excited to play the sport they love for at least one more game together at nationals. You run down to the court as fast as you can and run to your boyfriend who opens you with arms wide open, jumping up to hug him.

“I’m so proud of you,” you exclaim with a smile stretching from ear to ear.

“Thank you, my love. You know what this means?”

You wait for him to make a smart remark about punishing you, but instead he answers, “this means we’re going to dinner.” The smirk radiating on his face has you confused. You assume this means he’s going to surprise you after dinner with whatever he has in mind for your punishment. Little did you know he had already planned every minute of the rest of your night.

You give him a kiss before he retreats to the locker room with his teammates and gets cleaned up for dinner. After staying back to talk to the alumni that came to the match while you waited for everyone to finish, Coach Nekomata approached the group.

“It’s so nice to see you again,” he says to his former students. “and y/n, always a pleasure. Please keep cheering for us. Your presence brings us great strength.” His words are warm and comforting, especially knowing he means exactly as he says. “We’re having dinner together tonight as a team. All of you are more than welcome to join us,” he says before taking his leave.

The alumni talk amongst themselves and decide they will all be attending the dinner since they have extra time and miss their former teammates. You maintain conversation with the alumni, asking questions about Kuroo and his past on the volleyball team. It’s not every day that you get to hear first hand from an outside source all about the mannerisms of volleyball player Kuroo.

Finally the doors to the locker room open and we wait in anticipation, but only your boyfriend walks out. Approaching him, you ask why he came out alone.

“I have a present for you. Go put it on,” he orders.

“This is so sweet. What is it for?” you wonder.

“Decoration for my prize,” he whispers, shooting you a wink.

Your eyebrow lifts up as your smirk matches his. Brushing past your lover, you make your way to the restroom for some privacy. Knowing his tendencies, you couldn’t even imagine what was in the bag, but you knew you probably didn’t want to unveil it on the gymnasium floor while other teams and camera crews were on their way out. Your boyfriend was the classic boy-next-door type. He does well in his studies, he’s laid-back and kind, and loves spending time with his friends. This dominant side of him only comes out in fragments when he teases, occasionally referred to as a provocateur, but no one would believe you if you told them how much he loves treating you as if you were a whore so needy for his cock. If you were honest with yourself, that’s exactly what you were.

Pushing aside the tissue paper, you see red fabric curled up at the bottom of the bag. Removing it carefully, it feels heavier than you had imagined. You unfold the lacy thong to feel a weighted object at the front end of the crotch. “Oh no,” you thought.

Holding up your end of the deal, you slip on the panties and put the ones you were wearing in the gift bag. Making your way out of the restroom, you’re surprised to find Kuroo standing outside the door waiting for you. He grabs your hand and pulls you towards the exit. “Come on, everyone is waiting for us to go eat. You sure took your sweet time, love. Does that mean you’re excited?”

---

Before you knew it, you were at the restaurant being seated with the rest of the team. You sat down next to your boyfriend and began socializing about their matches and catching up with the rest of the team. While you're in the middle of a conversation with Inuoka, you feel the little vibrator inside your panties turn on and rattle against your clit just enough to surprise you and make you jump. Your leg hits the underneath of the table as you yelp, gaining a few startled stares from the team.

“Y/n, are you okay?” Inuoka asks with a worried expression.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a leg spasm,” you cover, shooting a glance at your boyfriend who looks very pleased with himself, leaving the vibrator turned on.

You reach down to grab more food and lift it to your mouth, blowing on it to prevent your mouth from burning, but also using it as a cover for the sighs leaving your lips. Taking a bite, you purr “mmngh this is so delicious!” You glance over at your boyfriend who looks a little agitated that you’ve managed to find a way to cope with the situation so quickly. Every time he increases the level on his remote controlling the vibrator in your panties, you take a bite of food and moan into it, disguising your pleasure as an erotic lust for food. You may appear strange to others, but this is the best you can do under the circumstances to ride out your high without being caught.

Kuroo leans next to you and whispers in your ear, keeping his volume loud enough that the people close to you could hear if they paid attention to you. “You better keep quiet, princess.”

“But it’s so good!” you whine, dipping your fingertip in sauce before kitten-licking it clean.

“You’re making such a mess of yourself,” he growls, wiping a bit of sauce leftover on your lower lip with his thumb.

“Ew, get a room,” a disgusted Lev shrieks.

---

The rest of the night proceeds as expected. Every time you try to speak to anyone when there’s a considerable amount of attention on you, he turns the vibrator on and shocks you.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” asks Fukunaga. “You’ve been jittery all night.”

“I’m just excited to see you guys play again tomorrow. Can’t help myself from shaking with excitement!” you explain, slightly lying and exaggerating to circumvent the tension building. You glance at your lover with a hint of annoyance, knowing he’ll pick up on your impatience for dealing with this punishment. In response, he turns up the power level to the third of seven settings, shooting you a glance that reads “I’m not done with you yet.” You clench your legs shut in search of relief only to gain the opposite. Your fingernails dig into the soft palm of your hand attempting to prevent a reaction as the pressure builds at your core.

As embarrassing as it would be for you to be caught doing something like this, especially in the presence of someone as respected as the Coach, it’s turning you on immensely being in the presence of so many people whilst having your sensitive bud being toyed with by your boyfriend. Discreetly, you move your hand to his lap and rub your hand over his bulge, earning you an increase to level four. Your hand naturally retreats away from him as you flinch, taking the change in speed as a warning not to be too bold since this is your punishment after all, but you can’t resist and you reach your hand back over, palming him through his sweatpants.

Looking mildly flustered, Kuroo allows you to touch him and ease some of the stiffness he’s feeling from the confinement of his pants. You glance up into his dark eyes and you smirk at each other, enjoying the scandalous situation you’re both in, before turning your head back to the table to avoid suspicion. Just waiting for one of you to slip up and be too obvious is sounding more and more like a challenge than he had ever intended it to be. A glutton for punishment, you take his hand under the table and slip it under your skirt, guiding his fingers to the wet slick seeping through your new panties and he lets out a small sigh. You bite your lip at the thought of what he’d do to you if you were at home, and Kuroo noticed this too. He saw you were lost in thought so he used it as the perfect opportunity to change the rhythm of the vibrator. Still on level four, the tempo of the vibrations shifted as he moved through the three options the device had. As he stumbled on the third, a wave of pleasure ran through your body and you couldn’t hold back as a whimper escaped your swollen lips.

Luckily the group was getting a little rowdy since the alumni at the end of the table were already drunk. This time you barely managed to hold yourself back, but the increasing swarm of pleasure rising through you was pushing you dangerously close to your climax. You shot your boyfriend another expression, warning him you’re almost at your limit, but he just smiled at you knowing exactly what you meant.

Due to all the pulses your throbbing clit is receiving, it’s almost impossible to eat anything now. You’re trying your best to avoid suspicion, but every time you have a piece of food up to your mouth, he zaps you and your hand shakes. You could handle everything else, but not being able to eat was frustrating you more than words could describe. You were going to need a lot of energy to keep up with him tonight and he wasn’t providing you with any sustenance.

Looking up, you see the teammate sitting across from you staring at your boyfriend. The setter glanced at Kuroo and back in your direction before averting his attention back to another conversation. “Did he notice something he shouldn’t have?” you wonder, but quickly dismissing the question as your folds begin throbbing from the intensity of the vibrator on your clit.

You took a sip of your water, draining your cup, trying to avoid eye contact with the boys. Kuroo hasn’t experimented with the remote while you were drinking thus far so you thought of it as your safe haven when you need to take a brief break. However, you’re now completely out of water and have to ask for more.

“Excuse me, could someone pass me more- ahh!” you yelped. Everyone was looking in your direction now, not only the group you came in with, but people seated at nearby tables as well. Your head ran completely blank as the embarrassment took over. You feel like everyone knew your dirty little secret of how your boyfriend was viciously toying with you in public, even in front of his respected elders.

The setter who was staring at you earlier broke the silence. “Sorry, y/n. I didn’t mean to kick you.” You were startled by the sudden apology, especially because you were both aware he didn’t touch you.

“That’s okay, Kenma. I was just surprised, that’s all,” you explain. Everyone calmed down after they heard his apology, but it only makes your heart beat faster. You turn to Kuroo and notice him staring down at his phone, typing away at something. You sneak a glance and see messages to Kenma.

“Do you know?”

“Do I know that you’re messing around with your girlfriend at a team dinner? Yeah, I know.”

“How did you figure it out? You’ve been single for as long as I’ve known you.”

“I’m single, not blind. Just go easy on her. If Coach finds out what’s going on, you’ll be doing diving drills as punishment.”

“The only punishment I’m focused on is hers.”

After he sends that final text, he puts his phone away and suddenly, the most powerful surge of vibrations you’ve felt this whole night came rushing to your core, forcing you to grip the table and bite down on your lip hard to suppress the moans attempting to escape from your tightly locked lips. You grip your boyfriend’s thigh with the other hand and shoot him a look that says everything he needed to know. You were about to cum right in the middle of the restaurant.

Knowing this, Kuroo didn’t dare change the level and interrupt the waves of pleasure being released through your lower half. Instead he leaned in to whisper in your ear words that made you blush.

“Since you like an audience so much and he already knows your little secret, I want you to look at Kenma when you cum for me.”

You look up at your boyfriend smirking as he nods his head in the direction of Kenma who was already staring at you. His gaze was different than when you first locked eyes after he had protected you from getting caught. Instead, his eyes are piercing as if to undress you with his eyes. He knows exactly what’s happening to you and for some reason, you find it unbelievably exciting. You bite your lip and ogle his movements, knowing he’s trying hopelessly to conceal his hardening length underneath his sweatpants.

“Do you see what you’re doing to him, y/n? I can only imagine how fucking sexy you’d look taking him in your mouth,” he hums.

The idea of your boyfriend watching as another man takes advantage of you has come up in your fantasies before. Maybe if you had won the bet, you would’ve asked for a threesome, but you push that thought to the back of your mind as your orgasm washes over you. You grip Kuroo’s leg hard, feeling like you were about to crush his bones. Obeying his orders, you look directly into Kenma’s eyes as you struggle to prevent your face from contorting and giving up your secret to the rest of the table. Kenma bites his lips as he gets drunk off the expressions you’re giving him. He’s unable to pull his eyes away from you and his arousal increases steadily. You see his hands move over his crotch, slightly palming himself.

You lean over to Kuroo and without taking your eyes off his best friend, you whisper, “Seems to me like he’s being punished just as much as I am. You won’t allow him any release?”

‘I know you like an audience, baby, but you’re mine and only mine. He can look and dream all he wants, but can’t touch,” he whispers back at you. For challenging him, he finally increases the device to its highest level. An overwhelming flash of white comes to your vision as you’re now shaking uncontrollably. His firm hand grips your thigh, steadying you to prevent speculation in your final moments. Kenma watches you closely as his deep lust washes over him and he’s forced to quickly announce his departure to the restroom, obvious to the pair of you that he needs to finish himself off in private.

As you ride the wave of pleasure until completion, you’re left feeling filthy in your chair. Heaving and out of breath, you look at your proud boyfriend and mutter the words he’s been waiting to hear.

“We need to go home. Now,” you say quietly, yet stern, the fire of your lust still ablaze in your eyes.

Smirking at you and putting his hand on your leg once more, he rubs his fingertips on your inner thigh, dangerously close to your dripping entrance. His eyes drift to his teammates as he speaks, “Coach, if it’s okay I think I should take y/n home now before it gets too late.” His hands squeeze your thigh slightly, letting you know he hasn’t stopped paying attention to your needs.

“Rest well tonight so you’re prepared for the games tomorrow. The competition will only be getting harder from here on out, okay? Take her home safely,” Coach Nekomata replies.

Standing up to leave, you smile at the team as you try to cover yourself up as much as possible, trying to keep yourself from getting caught when you’ve already gotten this far. Your slick has already seeped through your panties and coated your thighs in sweet juices so you try keeping your legs closed as much as possible.

“Thank you, Coach. We’ll be leaving now.” Your boyfriend says his goodbyes for the night and walks behind you out the door.

---

You walk out the front door of the restaurant and no sooner does Kuroo have his hands on your waist. Smiling at his touch, you turn around and look up at your boyfriend giving you a pleased grin.

“You did so well in there, princess. Although I’m going to discipline you for being such a brat,” he leans down pressing his lips to your ear. “Do you have any idea how badly I wanted to fuck you right then and there, for everyone to see that you’re mine?”

You bite your lip upon hearing his words, knowing you were able to offer a little torture to him as well made you lean against him, your body pressed against his. A sigh falls from his lips and he starts walking forward slowly, letting you know he was ready to start walking again. On your way to the bus stop, you can’t help but mention a thought you had while in the restaurant.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course you can, dummy. What’s on your mind?”

“Would you ever be interested in a threesome?” you ask quietly, turning your head from him to avoid letting him see how bashful that thought made you.

“Hm, I’m not sure. I never seriously considered it because I like having you all to myself, but maybe that’s something we can try. Seeing how wet you got when Kenma watched you was really hot,” he explains.

You smile slightly looking down at your footsteps in line with your boyfriends. Worried that the question would make things awkward for a moment, a swarm of relief fills your troubled mind. Kuroo had always been ready to try new things, especially if you mentioned you wanted to try it first, but this felt different. As adventurous as he is, he is also very protective of you. You thought he might get jealous and neglect the question entirely, but you were happy he’s even considering it. Suddenly all your worries fade away, not sure why you even had them in the first place with a boyfriend as amazing as him.

“Who would you want to join us?” you ask, the question sounding very light as your tone shifts.

“How could you ask me that?” he jokes. “You’re the one who’d be getting railed by them.”

“What about Kenma?”

“No, absolutely not. I think his heart would combust from the excitement of the situation, baby.”

You both laugh, joking together about fantasies you may act on one day. Talking to your boyfriend like this was so comforting, knowing you could confide in him about anything, but it also really turned you on. Hearing all of his kinks and fantasies spilling from his lips only makes you want to fulfill those dreams for him. You know he’d do anything to please you and acting on your own fantasies brings him immense amount of pleasure. As long as he can make you cum, he’s game for anything you desire.

---

On the bus ride home, you rest your head on his shoulder. There weren’t many people around so you didn’t feel the need to be as careful when initiating skinship. You were seated in the back corner, far from the gazes of other passengers who chose to stand in the front. Feeling your touch, he kisses your forehead before resting his cheek on the top of your head. Enjoying the feeling of his warmth, you close your eyes and allow yourself to get lost in thoughts of your lover. He wasn’t a perfect man by any means, but you knew he’d always try his best to take care of you and make you happy. You were lucky to have found a man who is not only your lover, but your best friend as well. The time you’ve spent by his side made you realize that he was the only one you could ever call yours. No one else could compare to the love you held in every corner of your heart for him.

“Baby,” you call.

“Hm?” Kuroo lifts up his head to look at you as you do the same.

“How did I get so lucky to have you?”

A smile creeps onto his face as he chuckles at your question. “You know, I still get butterflies when I look at you? Every morning I wake up with you by my side and I wonder what I did to deserve this life I’ve been given.”

“I love you so much, Kuroo Tetsurou,” you say, smiling as you stare into his hazel eyes.

“I love you too, chibi-chan,” he said, smiling back at you. He leaned in and kissed your cheek, but instead of pulling away, he leaned in close to your ear and whispered. “I can’t wait to show you how much I love you when I make you see stars tonight.”

“Oh my god,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Go to horny jail, you perv!” You can’t help but laugh as you swat your boyfriend’s toned thigh.

Both of you spend the ride home laughing and joking with each other. You listened as he shared stories about his teammates and he listened to your stories about Karasuno that you heard from Kiyoko and Yachi, your best friends. Nearby passengers gaze at the pair of you with jealous eyes, unbeknownst to you, as they admire your relationship. An old woman seated a few rows ahead has been listening to you banter and enjoy each others’ company as she stares out the window, watching the city lights pass her by. “Oh, young love. What I wouldn’t give to remember that feeling again,” she thinks to herself as she smiles.

---

As you finally arrive at your shared apartment, you both enter and shut the door behind you, kicking off your shoes. Suddenly you’re swept off your feet, being held in the arms of Kuroo who is now carrying you bridal style towards your bedroom. You giggle and wrap your arms around his neck to secure yourself to him. He turns on the light as he enters the doorway and carefully places you at the edge of the bed, leaning down to kiss you. His lips feel soft against yours, pulling you into a passionate kiss before stepping back. He stands up and makes his way to the candle on your dresser, lighting it before turning off the bedroom light.

He approaches you slowly, “Since we won our matches in straight sets, just as you asked, it’s time for me to claim my reward.” His knee comes between your legs as he leans down on you, forcing you to move backwards on the bed and spread your legs to either side of his body to allow him space to crawl up with you. The warm glow of the candle highlights the outline of his body as if the sun itself kissed his skin and allowed him to possess its radiance. You can’t help but admire his breathtaking features as he hovers over you, and with this he explains the details of his promised reward between soft kisses.

“I want to take my time with you,” he finally says, peppering kisses on your jawline. “I want you to feel my desire for you raging through me.” His kisses move down your neck slowly. “I want to make love to you,” he admits before his kisses become harder. “And I want you to be a good girl for me.” He sucks carefully on your neck as you close your eyes, enjoying every honey-drenched word uttered from your boyfriend’s mouth. Your hand creeps up the back of Kuroo’s neck as you run your fingers through his raven hair. An airy moan escapes your lips when he bites at your neck, leaving a bruise.

He leans up and looks in your eyes with a serious, yet sultry expression plastered on his face. “Do you think you can do that for me, kitten?” The corner of his lips pulls up into a smirk that has you questioning what awaits you, but as promised, you must comply.

“Of course, master. Anything for you,” you say as sweetly as you can muster. You can see the glimmer in his eyes at the name you unexpectedly called him. “If you’re going to have full control over me, then master is a fitting title for you, am I wrong?” you ask.

Kuroo bites his lip as he processes your words, his eyes veering down to examine your body sprawled out underneath him. He notices the dark hickey he’s already painted on your neck and he smiles, admiring his work. Your shirt lays flush against your skin, accentuating your curves, begging for attention as it strains against your chest. Those red panties he bought for you, still drenched in your own cum, peek out from the hem of your skirt.

His hand reaches down to caress your inner thigh, moving closer to your heat. “You’re so sexy,” he whispers as his other hand pushes up your skirt to get a better look at the mess you made for him earlier in the restaurant. His fingers press against your clothed slit and he groans at the feeling. “Fuck, chibi-chan, you’re still so wet for me. I can’t wait to eat you,” he growls. Removing his finger from your panties, he lifts you up and pulls them off of you. You scoot backwards on the bed to give him more space, which he wastes no time filling. He lays down in front of you and spreads your legs with both hands.

Suddenly you feel his soft lips on your thigh, kissing your supple skin, and you twitch slightly at the chills it sends through your spine. His lips attack your skin rougher, allowing his teeth to slip through and nibble at your delicate thigh. Your back arches and you whimper, feeling a tinge of both pain and pleasure. Kuroo smiles at your reaction and rewards you with a gentle kiss over the abused area before moving to the other side. The kisses on your opposite thigh immediately trail directly to your bare core, eventually making their way to your throbbing bud. All of the overstimulation you experienced at the restaurant made you sensitive, forcing you to overreact at the slightest touch. You gripped the sheets next to you as he kitten-licked your clit gently and you moaned. His eyes peered up at you, not wanting to miss a single move you made, and you watched them darken as you held eye contact when he began sucking on the little bundle of nerves he’d already set on fire.

“Fuckk, Tetsu, that feels so good,” you whimper, your brows furrowed together at the intense movements of your boyfriend's tongue. The fist firmly gripping the sheets found its way to the black hair falling messily over Kuroo’s eye to push his hair back for a better view of his face as he ate you out. His tongue rolled over your folds sloppily, letting his saliva mix with your juices to keep you drenched. He could feel you clenching around nothing as his tongue danced along your slit.

You throw your head back against the bed as you feel the pad of his thumb beginning to gently rub against your throbbing clit. Kuroo enjoys the lewd moans he’s pulling from your swollen lips as he picks up the pace of his thumb, allowing his tongue to slip inside of you. Unable to control yourself, your body convulses under his touch, making you grind against his mouth. You could feel yourself getting ready to come undone all over again and try your best to look Kuroo in the eyes when you cum all over his tongue. He notices you staring and pulls his mouth away, only to add two fingers inside of you, curling upwards to hit your sweet spot.

“That’s right, kitten. Watch me while I destroy you,” he groans deeply. The tone of his voice taunts you, challenging you to defy him. His fingers piston in and out of you at a cruel pace, carefully positioned to continue abusing the same spot. Your hands come down on either side of you to curl the sheets into your fist as you squirm underneath his grip, your orgasm quickly approaching. Even the noises flowing from your mouth couldn’t be controlled anymore, the once cute sounds becoming cries for release of an animalistic nature.

“I can feel your needy pussy gripping my fingers,” he hums. “Cum for me, baby.”

With those words, your head pushed down against the bed and your eyes shut tight as you finally released all the tension he’d built up inside of you. Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you attempted to catch your breath and you looked down to see his face and arm dripping wet. You hadn’t even noticed you had squirted, but Kuroo looked up at you with a devilish grin as his tongue peaked out to lick his lips.

“Such a good girl for me. Now, open,” he orders as he rests his fingers on your lips. You happily oblige and stare deeply into his eyes, sitting up as you suck your juices off his fingers. He uses his other hand to pick up the hem of his shirt and dry his face, wipe your juices off his face lazily as he watches you. Your hands take advantage of his newly revealed torso as they slide up his toned abdomen, pushing up his shirt even more. He pulls his shirt off for you in one swift motion while you get up on your knees and pull him into your lips. The kiss is passionate and slightly rough, your lips fighting for more attention. He bites your lip and tugs on it, allowing you a moment to break away from his lips and trail your own down his neck.

He groans slightly at the unexplored area suddenly being given attention, your tongue dragging a line up his neck before you suck on it. Your kiss is gentle, unable to leave marks on him wherever his uniform doesn’t cover, so you move lower to his chest. His toned chest is left with a trail of wet kisses as you go lower, your hands reaching up to find the waistband of his pants. You palm his hardening cock over his sweats and he groans, admiring how hot you look worshipping his body in the way you know he loves. Your kisses pepper over his happy trail before you pull his pants down just enough for his large cock to spring free from the constricting grip. You’re down on your hands and knees in front of him, legs spread wide with your ass in the air, your skirt lifted enough to reveal your ass. He groans at the sight as you take his length into your hands and begin to stroke him.

“Any special requests, master? It’s my turn to please you.” Your flirtatious, bratty tone makes him want to put you in your place, teach you who exactly is in control.

“Suck.”

You stick out your tongue and run it from the base to the tip before swirling your tongue around it. You kissed it gently, moving your lips to the side of his shaft. His hand reaches down and grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back and forcing you to look up at him. “I said suck. Now,” he threatens. The sheer dominance in his tone pooled wetness at your core again as you obeyed. You spit on his shaft and rubbed it in with your hand before wrapping your lips around the tip. You bobbed your head down slowly, trying to coat every inch with your spit. Each time you pulled your head back as you bobbed, you rolled your tongue out to lick the underneath of his shaft and you watched as his head lolled back.

As his cock got wetter, your mouth got sloppier, bobbing your head quickly with your cheeks hollowed. His groans slipping through his mouth were nothing short of sinful and you loved hearing the reaction you earned from him. He gripped your hair in his fist, gently forcing you to take more of him and fucking your throat. You tried to look up at him as the tears pooled at the corners of your eyes, threatening to fall from the harsh movements of his hips. He allowed you to pull your head away as you gasped for air and smiled up at him with your tongue out, stroking his length with your small hands. He looked down at you in awe, the little slut he made for himself smiled so pretty for him after being face fucked. He couldn’t have asked for anything more.

He pulled you up and took off your shirt before gently laying you back on the bed. Leaning down, he peppered kisses over your left tit while his hand came up and squeezed the other. His tongue flicked around your nipple before sucking and pulling at it. You sighed and ran your hand through his hair as he continued playing with your tits. He removed his lips from your left and moved onto the right, giving it the same attention with his mouth. Your back arched into him as he sucked on your nipple, rutting against him to find more friction on your aching core. As much as you loved the attention he was giving your chest, your aching hole clenching around nothing yearned for it more. He kissed down the valley of your breasts, leaving hickeys in his wake before sitting up and hovering over you. He wiped his thumb across your lips, hooking it in your mouth as he positioned himself over you again. “What do you want me to do to you? I want to hear you say it.” You try to respond, but his thumb makes it hard for the words to come out of your mouth, your reply mumbled. He removes his thumb and grips your face instead.

“I want you to fuck me, Tetsu.”

He smirks and groans, “beg for it, kitten.” He lines up his aching cock to your pussy, slowly rubbing the tip against your folds.

“Please fuck me. I need to feel you inside me and I want you to be rough. Please, master. I need it.” Those vulgar words slipped from your pretty mouth as he thrust into you, bottoming out all at once. You gasped at the new feeling as you clenched around him, your back arching off the bed as you searched to hold onto something. You reached for his arm and you squeezed it as he starts to fuck you to a rhythm, not letting you adjust to his size.

His hips thrust into you hard, shaking your whole body from the force of it. He pushes your legs down towards your chest and leans himself on top of you. The angle he’s pressing into you makes you clench down around him as he deeply thrusts directly at your sweet spot.

“Shit, yes, please fuck me just like that,” you whimper, the intense pleasure pooling in your stomach. Hearing you beg for it only made him thrust harder into you, loving the way you sounded when you were so needy for him. You quickly felt your third orgasm of the night threatening to escape you as he mercilessly pounded into you, grazing your cervix with every pump. You grabbed his arms with both of your hands, squeezing them while you stared into his darkening eyes.

He watched every quirk your face made as it contorted with pleasure, adoring how beautiful you looked being fucked out. His hand came up to your neck and squeezed the sides of your throat gently, just barely cutting off your air flow. Your mouth hung agape as you stared up at him, brows furrowed as you focused on the sensation flowing through your body. Your moans became shrill as your orgasm washed over you, squirting all over your sheets and Kuroo’s torso. Your juices dripped down him deliciously and you felt it dripping down your thighs as well.

Kuroo looked down at the pleasant sight with a devilish grin, pulling out of you as you caught your breath. “You’re so wet for me tonight, babe. Now turn around so we can cum together this time.” Getting up on your hands and knees proved slightly more difficult than you had anticipated. Your legs already feel shaky from the intense position he’d kept you in and you can hear him chuckle as he helps you position yourself in front of him, satisfied with his work. He pulls your skirt off, finally leaving you completely bare, and he looks down at you, biting his lip. You can feel him lining the tip up to your entrance again, but he pushes it in very slowly and stops when just the tip is in.

“Be a good girl and bounce on it.”

You quickly follow orders as you push your ass back on him until every inch is inside. His groan echoes in the room behind you as you start grinding yourself on his cock. There’s something about the feeling of using him to get yourself off that makes you feel so dirty and both of you love that sensation. You bounce back faster, slamming yourself against his hips and moan for him. Before you can continue, Kuroo’s hand lands on your lower back and pushes you down against the bed before taking control. He pistons his hips into you as he stuffs you full, your head now pushed against the pillow. His hand comes down hard on your ass, spanking you a few times in a row, leaving your ass red and tender.

The sensations you’re experiencing all at once become overwhelming, but he’s making you feel so good and you don’t want it to stop. You match his pace and continue bouncing back on him slightly in an attempt to keep your needy hole filled with him. He bites his lip as his grunts become more staggered, approaching his end. He leans down and reaches his fingers around you to rub your throbbing clit. Your body immediately becomes limp at the touch of his finger as you scream. The sensitive bud feels as if it had burst into flames all over again.

“Where do you want my cum?” he asks breathlessly. You can tell he’s dangerously close to his release, but so are you with the way he’s toying with you.

“Inside me! Fill me up, master!”

He groans deeply, “Fuck, such a good slut for me.” With a few more thrusts, his pace becomes faster and uncontrolled. In a final thrust, he paints your insides white and you cum around him as he slowly thrusts into you to ride out your highs. A symphony of heavy breathing fills the room accompanied by the sight of sweaty luster on your skin. You fall down completely on the sheets and try to rest your abused body as you feel him fall on the bed beside you, trying to catch his breath.

“Did you get what you wanted, Tetsu? The prize you were after?” you questioned, already knowing the answer.

Kuroo curled up next to you and pulled you close, cuddling you into him. “I always want to make love to you,” he says, kissing your forehead. “You’re so beautiful and sexy like this.” His hand gently comes down to your ass, rubbing circles over the red marks he made earlier from spanking you. You always loved his gentle after care, especially since he loved being rough with you. He knew you needed to be pampered a bit to compensate for his power, even more so on nights he doesn’t hold back.

“Can we lay here for a minute before we go get cleaned up? Frankly, I don’t think I can move,” you say laughing, knowing that you were only half joking. He chuckles, looking down at your legs proudly.

“Don’t worry, chibi-chan. Just lay here and I’ll get you all cleaned up, okay?” He kisses your forehead again before walking to the bathroom to get a warm, wet towel. He comes back to you and asks you to spread your legs for him, which you obey. He smirks as he sees his seed dripping from your aching pussy before wiping away both of your juices. His washes you gently as you try getting your energy back. You sit up in bed and grab the cloth out of his hand.

“It’s okay, Tetsu. Let’s go get a shower. We need to change the sheets so I have to get up anyway,” you gesture to the large wet spot in the middle of the bed from your cum. He helps you off the bed and walks with you to the shower.

“Start showering without me. I’ll prepare the bed for us before joining you.”

You nod and get in the shower, cleansing yourself of the remnants of the intimate act you shared with your partner. You reminisced over the time you spent together as a couple, your love never wavering. How could it when you had such an amazing boyfriend? He’s stayed consistent through thick and thin, always taking care of you, as if the honeymoon phase was forever. You smiled to yourself thinking about how he used his opportunity to have you in whichever way he wanted to make love to you, as you often do. Although the vibrator was a sneaky little trick, you didn’t put it past him since you’ve tried many scandalous things over the years to add some spice into your sex lives. Reminding yourself of just how lucky you were was something you did daily, always making sure to remind Kuroo as well that you were grateful for him. Your relationship was healthy and fun. It was the kind of love that made everyone around you jealous as they patiently waited for their special someone to arrive.

Kuroo joined you in the shower after cleaning the bed and putting on new sheets. You both washed each other, admiring the sudsy curves on each other’s bodies. The warm water rinsed the soap off your bodies and you dried up before hopping into bed. You spent the night wrapped up in each other as you cuddled up to sleep, sharing the warmth of your blanket.

---

The next morning you woke up earlier than Kuroo who was sound asleep beside you. “He must be tired from all the energy he used up yesterday,” you thought to yourself. You decided it was your turn to make him a big breakfast. Being well fed and energetic would surely aid in his upcoming matches and Coach Nekomata would kill him if he was ill-prepared. Kuroo made his way into the kitchen before you had even finished cooking, so he helped you set the table. After eating, you both got dressed and left together for the gym.

“How’s your condition?” you ask, your boyfriend seeming more lively.

“I feel good! Your cooking certainly helped me wake up. Although you know I’m going to win today regardless,” he winks.

“Ah, yes. My big, bad boyfriend is gonna tear up the court!” you joke sarcastically. You both laugh and banter as you enter the gym and meet up with the rest of the team. They greet you and Kuroo before he retreats to change into his uniform, leaving you alone with the boys. You can feel their eyes on you, which was strange, especially since you’ve grown so comfortable with them. What could they possibly be staring at? Sudden realization flooded your mind that your neck was covered in hickeys. You pulled your hair down to cover your neck, avoiding eye contact with the team and trying to feign innocence. A few laughs burst through the silence, their owners being Lev and Yaku.

“Hey, what are those?” Lev teases. “Is that why you and Kuroo left dinner early last night?”

“Y/N, I thought you were more innocent than that,” Yaku pouts, looking flustered.

Your face flushed pink, attempting even more obviously to hide them now that they’ve noticed. The commotion caused the rest of the team to look over, curious as to what was going on. Your eyes panned over the familiar faces, but stopped as you landed on one face in particular who was staring at you, his gaze different from the rest. Kenma. The rosy flush raged into a full tomato red at the hungry eyes of your boyfriend’s best friend who was gazing upon your neck.

“I can’t believe you left without me,” he whispers under his breath.

Kuroo approaches the team, fully changed and ready for practice, “What’d I miss?” The boys disperse except for Kenma who was still staring a hole into you. Kuroo caught on to what was happening after seeing your neck and walked over towards his best friend. Before completely passing him, he stops and mutters something to him loud enough for only you and Kenma to hear.

“You’re lucky my girl likes you. Maybe next time I’ll share.”

#kuroo tetsuro oneshot #kuroo tetsuro #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo smut #kuroo x reader #anime smut #haikyu smut #haikyu x reader #haikyu fanfic #haikyu fanfiction #anime fanfiction #kuroo fluff #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo fanfiction #thesmutshewrote

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themousefromfantasyland · 3 years

Text

How the Tooth Fairy Became a Guardian

Extracted from Toothiana, Queen of the Tooth Fairy Armies, third book in the Guardians of Childhood series by William Joyce.

In this series, which served as inspiration for the DreamWorks' Rise of the Guardians, William Joyce managed to create one of the craziest and most epic origin stories for the Tooth Fairy. If I'm not mistaken, in one interview, he himself admitted how crazy it was, and how it was inspired by jungle movies he watched as a kid.

The bookworm bowed and told them, “The story of the Queen of Toothiana lies in volume six of Curious Unexplainables of the East.”

“Of course! I should have remembered that myself,” Ombric said, nodding. “Mr. Qwerty, please enlighten us.” (Ombric, the Wizard,and Qwerty, the literal bookworm, are characters that only appeared in the books)

The Guardians sat around the table while Mr. Qwerty began his tale.

“To know the story of Queen Toothiana,” he said, “you must first hear the tale of the maharaja, his slave Haroom, and the Sisters of Flight.”

“Sisters of Flight?” North interrupted.

“Sisters of Flight,” Mr. Qwerty repeated patiently. The image of a beautiful winged woman appeared on one of Mr. Qwerty’s pages. She was human-size, with long, willowy arms and legs and a heart-shaped face. But her wings were magnificent, and she held a bow and arrow of extraordinary design.

The Sisters of Flight were an immortal race of winged women who ruled the city of Punjam Hy Loo, which sits atop the steepest mountain in the mysterious lands of the Farthest East. An army of noble elephants stood guard at the base of the mountain. No humans were allowed to enter, for the mountain’s jungle was a haven for the beasts of the wild—a place where they could be safe from men and their foolishness.

Toothiana’s father was a human by the name of Haroom. He had been sold at birth into slavery as a companion for a young Indian maharaja. Despite being slave and master, the maharaja and Haroom became great friends. But the maharaja was a silly, vain boy who had his every wish and whim granted. Yet this did not make him happy, for he always wanted more.

Haroom, Toothiana's father

Haroom, who had nothing, wanted nothing and so was very content. Secretly, the maharaja admired his friend for this. For his part, Haroom admired the maharaja for knowing what he wanted—and getting it.

The maharaja loved to hunt and slay all the animals of the wild, and Haroom, who never tired of watching the powerful elegance of wild creatures such as tigers and snow leopards, was an excellent tracker. But he hated to see the animals killed, so when that moment came, he always looked away. As a slave, he could do nothing to stop his master. And so, with Haroom tracking, the maharaja killed one of every beast in his kingdom, lining the palace walls with their heads as trophies. But the one animal the maharaja coveted most continued to elude him.

In the mountain land ruled by the Sisters of Flight, there dwelled one creature that no slave, man, or ruler had ever seen: the flying elephant of Punjam Hy Loo.

The maharaja was determined to do anything to have one for his collection, but every time he tried to force his way up the mountain, the elephant army at its base turned him back. He realized that he must find another way to reach Punjam Hy Loo.

In those ancient times no man had yet discovered the mystery of flight. But after demanding advice from his wizards and soothsayers, the maharaja learned a secret: Children can fly when they dream, and when the Moon shines brightly, their dreams can become so vivid that some of them come true. Sometimes the children remember, but mostly they do not. That is why children sometimes wake up in their parents’ beds without knowing how they got there—they flew!

The wizards told the maharaja a second secret.” At this, Mr. Qwerty lowered his voice, and all the Guardians leaned closer. “The memory of everything that happens to a child is stored in that child’s baby teeth.

And so the maharaja’s wizards gave him an idea: fashion a craft of the lost teeth of children and command it to remember how to fly. The maharaja sent out a decree throughout his kingdom, stating that whenever a child lost a tooth, it must be brought to his palace. His subjects happily complied, and it was not long before he had assembled a craft unlike any other the world had ever known.

Meanwhile, the maharaja ordered Haroom to make an archer’s bow of purest gold and one single ruby-tipped arrow. When the weapon was finished, the maharaja ordered Haroom to join him aboard the craft. Then he said these magic words:

‘Remember,

remember,

the moonlit flights

of magic nights.’

And just as the royal wizards had promised, the craft flew silently through the sky, over the jungle, and past the elephants who guarded Punjam Hy Loo.

They descended from the clouds and flew into the still-sleeping city. In the misty light of dawn, the maharaja could hardly tell where the jungle ended and the city began. But Haroom, used to seeking out tracks, spotted some he had never seen before—tracks that could only belong to the flying elephant, for although they looked similar to a normal elephant’s, his keen eye saw one addition: an extra digit pointing backward, like that of a bird.

It did not take long to find the flying elephant, sleeping in a nest in the low-lying limbs of an enormous jujube tree. The maharaja raised the golden bow and took careful aim. The tip of the ruby arrow glittered in the first rays of morning sunlight. Haroom looked away.

Suddenly, there came an intense, cacophonous alarm, as if every creature of Punjam Hy Loo knew of the maharaja’s murderous intent. Charging down from the towers above came the Sisters of Flight, wings outstretched, with all manner of weapons at the ready—gleaming swords, razor-sharp daggers, fantastical flying spears with wings of their own. It was a sight so beautiful, so terrifying that Haroom and the maharaja froze.

Then the maharaja raised his bow again, this time aiming it at the Sisters of Flight. ‘Look, Haroom, an even greater prize,’ he exclaimed.

In that single moment Haroom’s whole life changed. He knew, for the very first time, what he wanted. He could not bear to see a Sister of Flight harmed. He ordered the maharaja to stop.

The maharaja paid his servant no heed. He let loose the arrow. Haroom blocked it. Its ruby tip pierced his chest, and he crumbled to the ground.

The maharaja stared in shock, then kneeled beside his fallen friend. Weeping, he tried to stop the flow of blood but could not. Haroom was dying.

The Sisters of Flight landed around them. The most beautiful of the sisters, the one the maharaja had meant to kill, approached them. ‘We did not know that any man could be so selfless,’ she said. Her sisters nodded.

With one hand, she grabbed the arrow and plucked it from Haroom’s chest, then kissed her fingertips and gently touched his wound.

Haroom stirred, and his eyes fluttered open. All he could see was the face of the Sister of Flight. And all she could see was the brave and noble Haroom.

He was a slave no more.

She took his hand, and in that instant her wings vanished.

The other sisters lunged toward the maharaja in fury. They raised their swords, and Haroom could see they meant to kill his former master. ‘He will no longer harm you,’ he said. ‘Please, let him go—send him on his way.’

The sisters looked from one to the other, then agreed. But they declared that the maharaja must leave all he brought with him. The golden bow, the ruby-tipped arrow, the flying craft of teeth, and Haroom, his only friend.

‘And one thing more. You must also leave your vanity and cruelty behind so that we can know and understand them.’

The maharaja was heartbroken but agreed.

The flying elephant glided down from his nest, and with his trunk, he touched the maharaja’s forehead, and all the vanity and cruelty went from him.

But once these things were gone, there was little left—the maharaja was as simple as a baby monkey. In fact, he even sprouted a tail and scampered away speaking gibberish, shrinking to the size of an infant.

His vanity and cruelty would never be forgotten—the flying elephant had them now, and an elephant never forgets. As for Haroom and the beautiful Sister of Flight, they were married and lived on in Punjam Hy Loo. Within a year, a child was born. A girl. Selfless like her father. Pure of heart like her mother. She was named Toothiana.

The child of Haroom and Rashmi (for that was Toothiana’s mother’s name) seemed to be a normal mortal child. As there were no other human children living in Punjam Hy Loo, her parents thought it best to raise her among other mortals, and so they settled on the outskirts of a small village at the edge of the jungle. The young girl was well loved and protected and lived a simple, happy life until she was twelve and lost her last baby tooth. That’s when all her troubles began.

“Troubles?” Katherine asked nervously. (Katherine is also another book only character. She is friend of the Guardians and future guardian herself, Mother Goose, guardian of the stories)

“Yes, troubles,” Mr. Qwerty said. “For when she lost her last baby tooth, Toothiana sprouted wings. By the end of this first miraculous day, she could fly with the speed of a bird, darting to the top of the tallest trees to choose the ripest mangoes, papayas, and starfruit for the children of the village. She played with the birds and made friends with the wind.

But while the children delighted in Toothiana’s new skill, the adults of the village were bewildered, even frightened, by this half bird, half girl. Some thought she was an evil spirit and should be killed; others saw ways to use her, as either a freak to be caged and paraded about, or to force her to fly to the palace of the new maharaja and steal his jewels.

Haroom and Rashmi knew that to keep their daughter safe, they would have to pack their few belongings and escape. And so they did, deep into the jungle. The village children, all of whom adored Toothiana, tried to persuade their parents to leave her alone. But it was no use. The grown-ups of the village had gone mad with fear and greed.

They built a large cage, hired the best hunters in the land, and asked them to capture the young girl. Among these was a hunter most mysterious. He spoke not a word and was shrouded from head to foot in tattered cloth stitched together with jungle vines. The villagers were wary of him, and even the other hunters found him peculiar. ‘He knows the jungle better than any of us—it’s as if he’s more a creature than a man,’ they remarked quietly among themselves.

But Haroom and Rashmi were as wily as any hunter. Haroom, knowing everything there was to know about tracking, could disguise their trail so that no one could follow it. And Rashmi, who could converse with any animal, enlisted their aid in confounding the hunters. Tigers, elephants, even giant pythons would intercept the hunters whenever they neared. But the hunters, eager for the riches and fame they’d receive if they caged Toothiana, would not give up.

Rashmi, Toothiana's mother

The children of the village were also determined to thwart the hunters. They defied their parents, sending word to Toothiana and her mother and father again and again whenever the hunters were stalking the jungle. Toothiana, wiser still, hid in the treetops by day, only visiting her parents in the darkest hours of the night.

After weeks of the best hunters in the land failing to capture Toothiana, the cunning villagers became more sly. They secretly followed their children and discovered where Toothiana’s parents were hiding. They left a trail of coins for the hunters to follow. But only one hunter came—the one they almost feared. It was then that the Mysterious Hunter finally spoke. His voice was strange, high-pitched, almost comical, but his words were cold as death. ‘Seize the parents,’ he snarled. ‘Make it known that I will slit their throats if Toothiana does not surrender. That will bring this child of flight out of hiding.’

His plan made sense; the villagers did as he suggested. They attacked Haroom and Rashmi’s camp. With so many against them, the two surrendered without a fight. They had told their clever daughter to never try and help them if they were ever captured.

But the Mysterious Hunter had planned for that. He shouted out to any creature that could hear, ‘The parents of the flying girl will die by dawn if she comes not!’

The creatures of the jungle hurried to warn Toothiana that her parents were doomed if she did not come. Toothiana had never disobeyed her parents, but the thought of them at the dubious mercy of these grown-ups filled her with rage and determination, and she flew straight to her parents’ aid. She dove down from the treetops, ready to kill any who would try to harm her parents.

But Haroom and Rashmi were brave and cunning as well. Haroom, who had never harmed a living creature, was prepared to stop at nothing to prevent his daughter from being enslaved. And Rashmi, like all Sisters of Flight, had been a great warrior. As Toothiana neared, they slashed and fought like beings possessed. Toothiana flickered back and forth, hovering over her mother and father, reaching for them, but she did not have the strength to lift them up over the angry mob. Rashmi thrust a stringed pouch into her daughter’s hands. ‘Keep these to remember us by. Keep these to protect yourself,’ she pleaded to her child.

'Now go!’ commanded her father. ‘GO!’

With a heartrending cry, the winged girl did as her father ordered. She flew away but stopped, unsure of what to do. Her ears filled with the sound of the vengeful mob falling upon her parents.

‘Go!’ shouted her mother.

Toothiana flew wildly and desperately away. And as she went, she screamed from the depths of her soul. It was the scream of two beings: human and animal. It was a scream so pained and fierce that it caused all the villagers who were attacking her parents to go briefly deaf. All except . . . the Mysterious Hunter. He screamed back to Toothiana. His was a scream equally unsettling—a scream of rage and hate that was more animal than human. Toothiana knew in that instant that she had a mortal enemy—one who she must kill or be killed by.

But for now she would grieve. She flew to the highest treetop and huddled deep inside its foliage. She had no tears, only the blank ache of a now-empty life. She rocked back and forth in a trance of disbelief for a full day and night. Then she remembered the pouch her mother had thrust into her hands. Trembling, she opened it. Inside was a small box carved from a single giant ruby. It was covered in feathery patterns, and Toothiana knew that the box had once been the ruby-tipped arrow that had nearly killed her parents. Inside this beautiful box was a cluster of baby teeth and a note:

Our Dearest Girl,

These are the teeth of your childhood. If you have them under your pillow as you sleep, or hold it tightly, you will remember that which you need—a memory of happy days, or of deepest hopes, or even of us in better times.

But one tooth is not yours. It is a tooth of amazing power, and from what being it comes from, we do not know.

Use it only in times of the greatest danger or need.

Your Dearest Parents

Toothiana still did not cry, not even after reading the note. She slept with her baby teeth under her pillow and took solace in the dreams and memories it gave her.

Toothiana stayed in the jungle. She began to hate her wings. Once, she had thought them wondrous things, but now she saw them as the reason for the death of her parents. Her grief and loneliness knew no depths. The creatures of the jungle did what they could to help her, by bringing her food and making her treetop sleeping places as comfortable as possible. The children of the village tried to aid as well, but they now had to be doubly cautious of the village grown-ups.

As for Toothiana, she became more and more convinced that she belonged nowhere—not among the creatures of the jungle and certainly not among the humans of the village. She was alone. When she was at her very saddest, she would take one of her baby teeth from the carved box she always carried in her mother’s pouch she now wore around her neck, and hold it until it revealed its memories.

As the lonely years passed, Toothiana saw that the village children lost much of their innocence and some of their goodness as they grew up. She began to collect their teeth, so that, in the future, she could give them back their childhood memories and remind them of their kindness, just as her own parents had done for her.

Soon the children, not wanting their parents to find out, began to hide their lost teeth under their pillows for Toothiana to find. And she, cheered by this new game of sorts, began in turn to leave behind small bits of treasure she had found in the jungle. A gold nugget here. A sprinkling of sapphire chips there.

But you can imagine the curiosity that is stirred when a five-year-old sits down to breakfast with an uncut ruby in her palm, or when a ten-year-old boy comes to the table with a pocket full of emeralds. Once again the hearts of the grown-ups filled with greed, and it wasn’t long before they forced their children to tell them how they had come upon those treasures. Soon enough they had laid a new trap for Toothiana.

One dark, cloudy night Toothiana flew to the village to make her nightly rounds. A boy named Akela had lost his two front teeth, and Toothiana had a special treasure saved for him: two beautiful uncut diamonds. But as she entered his open window, it wasn’t Akela she found. Instead the Mysterious Hunter leaped toward her. From behind his shroud of rags, she could see the strangest eyes. Close together. Beady. Not entirely human. And cold with hate.

Toothiana’s rage clouded her keen intellect. All she could think was, I must get rid of this . . . thing! But before she could act, a steel door slammed down between her and the Hunter. She glanced around with birdlike quickness. The room was not Akela’s bedroom, but, in fact, a cleverly disguised steel cage.

She was trapped! The villagers cheered as the Hunter hauled away the cage. His platoon of slavelike helpers pulled the wheeled prison away from the villagers and into the jungle. The helpers were as strangely shrouded as the Hunter who commanded them was, and seemed excited by the capture. The children wept, begging their parents to let Toothiana go free. But they would not. The Mysterious Hunter had promised them riches beyond their dreams when he sold Toothiana.

Toothiana flung herself wildly against the cage, like a cornered eagle. But it did no good. The Hunter and his minions traveled swiftly through the night, deeper into the jungle. They knew the creatures of the wild would try to help Toothiana, so they carried the one weapon every animal fears: fire.

Torches were lashed to the roof of Toothiana’s cage. The Mysterious Hunter himself carried the brightest torch of all. The animals kept their distance, but they continued to follow the eerie caravan and keep watch over Toothiana, waiting for a chance to strike.

After days of travel they arrived at the base of the steep mountain of Toothiana’s birthplace—the kingdom of Punjam Hy Loo. The great elephants that guarded the mountain were standing at the ready, shifting back and forth on their massive feet. Toothiana’s jungle friends had warned them that the Mysterious Hunter was headed their way.

The Hunter did not challenge the elephants. He ordered his minions to halt and made no move to attack. Instead, he held his flaming torch aloft. ‘I bring a treasure to the Sisters of Flight and the flying elephant king who dwell in Punjam Hy Loo!’ he shouted into the night sky. The sky was empty; there was no sign of either the winged women who ruled there, or of the flying elephant.

The Hunter called out again. ‘I bring you the half-breed daughter of Haroom and Rashmi.’ At this, an otherworldly sound—like a rustle of trees in the wind—was heard. And indeed wind did begin to blow down from the mountain. It grew stronger and more furious, with gusts that nearly put out the torches.

Toothiana knew instinctually that this wind was sent by the Sisters of Flight and that they did not trust the Hunter. She also knew that it was time to take out the box her parents had left her.

As the winds continued to rise, the Hunter grew increasingly nervous, as did his minions. They began to chatter in the oddest way, not in words, but in sounds.

Then a chorus of voices, all speaking in unison, rang out bright and clear above the howl of the wind: ‘Tell us, Hunter, why cage our child? Where be her father and mother? What trick of men do you bring us? What do you seek, you who seem of men and yet are not?’

The Hunter rocked on his feet, seething with undisguised hate. He held his torch high and stepped forward, leaning into the wind. The elephants raised their trunks but took a step back. Fire was a fearsome thing, even for these mighty beasts.

The Hunter laughed, then threw down his tattered cloak. He was no man at all, but a massive monkey. ‘A maharaja of men I once was,’ he screamed, ‘and by your doing, I am now a king of the monkeys!’ Then his troops dropped their cloaks as well. An array of monkeys revealed themselves, all armed with bows and arrows.

The Monkey King shrieked above the roaring wind, ‘You ask about her parents? Dead! By my doing! What do I seek? Revenge! On all who made me thus!’ Then he threw his torch into the herd of elephants and grabbed a bow and arrow from one of his men. He had it drawn in an instant, aimed directly at Toothiana’s heart.

Before he could let loose the arrow, the wind tripled in strength. Toothiana knew what to do. She held the ruby box tightly in her hand. ‘Mother, Father, help me,’ she whispered furiously, clenching her eyes shut. She pictured them clearly in her mind, letting herself feel the bond they had shared so deeply, letting herself remember how much they had sacrificed for her.

Suddenly, she was no longer in the cage. She was no longer a single entity, but several smaller versions of herself.

Bow drawn, the Monkey King hesitated, bewildered. How can this be? He could not remember the power of love—even though it had been this girl’s father who had loved him best—and his own memories were now fueled only by hate.

So the world turned against him once again.

The Sisters of Flight circled overhead. It was the flapping of their wings that made the great wind. It grew wilder and stranger, like a tornado. Leaves snapped off trees. Dirt swirled like a storm, and the Monkey King’s torch blew out.

Now the only light came from the Moon, and no jungle creature fears that guiding light. In an instant the elephants stampeded forward. Toothiana’s animal friends attacked. Toothiana’s mini-selves charged the Monkey King. The monkey army screamed and ran.

The king tried to grab the Toothianas, but he could not catch them. Then all the fairy-sized selves merged back into a single being. Toothiana was mystified by her new power, but she didn’t think on it. With one hand, she grabbed the Monkey King by the throat. It was as if she now had the strength of a dozen. The Monkey King cried out in terror and pain.

For an instant Toothiana felt the rage within her swell. She would snap his neck and be done with him. But the little box glowed in one hand, and the memory of her parents made her stop. She would not end this monkey man’s life. Let the jungle choose his fate.

So she let him go.

He fell to the ground, and she did not look back as she flew up to join the Sisters of Flight.

As they sped away, Toothiana and her kindred could hear the creatures of the jungle do as they saw fit with the fallen Monkey King. And his cries could be heard all the way to the Moon.

Mr. Qwerty then shut his pages. The tale, as it was written, was done.

#rotg tooth #rotg #rise of guardians #guardians of childhood #william joyce

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mymegumi · 3 years

Text

aere perrenius

pairing: akaashi keiji x gn!reader

genre: fluff, strangers to lovers, writer!akaashi and librarian!reader

word count: 2.7k words

warnings: disgusting amounts of fluff

summary: more lasting than bronze. a once in a lifetime opportunity turns into a twice in a lifetime chance, and before you realize it, it just turns into a potential lifetime

dedicated: to miss issy ( @cafemiya ) kind beyond words, incredible beyond compare

You’d once thought that life was cruel to you, a single librarian that ended up helping children find picture books and nasty teenagers that had to pay their overdue library fees. You often just moved through the movements, walking to the library every single day, picking up coffees for everyone that worked with you that day, and nothing ever really changed.

Until today.

Today, when you walked into the coffee shop that was only a block away from the library—a small little out of the way place that served the best croissants with chocolate butter you’d ever had before—you were shocked to note that there was another singular figure in the shop with you.

Typically when you went in, it was early enough in the morning that you beat out the high schoolers and people who went to their 9-5 jobs, yet you always managed to miss the people who worked night shifts, so the barista often told you.

Today, however, there was a singular figure sitting at a table, laptop on the table with a small white mug of coffee in his hands, glasses perched precariously on the bridge of his nose as he seemed intent to read whatever it is was on his screen.

His hair was curling over thin golden frames, flowing over his forehead and spilling against his ears as he pressed his lips to the coffee mug, blue eyes focused on the words before him. The morning light had not yet seemed to crest the mountains of skyscrapers that littered the Japanese skyline, so the warm lights of the cafe seemed to soften the edges around him, making him angelic as he just relaxed there.

Perhaps it was the pure shock of seeing him, or even just the lack of sleep you always seemed to suffer from in the mornings following a weekend, but something led to your mistake of forgetting to conceal your admiration of him.

In your trance of adoration, you simply forget the cafe has a bell over the door.

He glances his up when he finishes taking a sip from his drink, offering a smile your way in the way that two people up way too early would share a smile with each other—as if only the two of you knew the secrets that the sunrise would whisper if only you would wake early enough to listen.

“Your usual?”

The barista, a sweet girl named Akira who seemed to be pumped full of espresso for she was way too peppy for this time of the hour, draws your attention away from the man sitting by himself at the window table.

“To go, right?” When you shake your head, she laughs slightly, inputting your usual order into the computer just for her to end up making it only a few seconds later, “What’s with the change today, you always take it straight to the library.”

When she sees you steal a glance at the mysterious stranger, she leans in with a hand cupped around her mouth, devastatingly wicked glint in her eyes as she whispers to you, “He came in a couple of minutes of go, saying he’s new in town. A writer, if you could believe it. Maybe you could warm him up to the area?”

“I have to go to work soon,” you hiss back softly, feeling the warmth take over your cheeks as you resolutely refuse to look back at him in case he heard her gossiping.

“Yet, you’re taking your coffee here?”

She, unfortunately, raises her eyebrows suggestively at you as she slides your drink to you in a small white mug resting on a dish, steaming and hot with a less heated croissant on a separate dish. You make a noise of disbelief as you carefully adjust your bag on your shoulder, taking your breakfast with you to a seat, not too close to the writer and yet not too far away that you are unable to admire him.

Pulling out a book from your bag, you are content to just read and settle in for a few minutes that you would normally spend in the library doing random work until the doors unlocked. It’s a newer novel you’d just picked up from a bookstore, and it was only because the author would be visiting the library soon, so you wanted to get a feel for the writing style, in case there were any questions that the people had for the staff.

“A good read, is it?”

You don’t really register that anyone is talking to you, at first, instead intent on just reading In Regards to Aces before it clicks in your mind two facts; one, that you are indeed holding a book and reading, and two, that you are only one of three people in the establishment, not to mention one of the three was just a barista making herself a coffee.

When it hits you that the stupidly attractive man at the window is indeed talking to you, you shove a bookmark in the spot you were reading as you turn to him, “Ah, yeah, it is, though I don’t have much to say on it considering I just started reading it.”

“Initial thoughts, then?” His smile soothes you a bit, making you relax from the initial tension you’d felt, “I’ve found the author tends to use verbiage that rambles on, but that’s my own opinion on it.”

“Well, from what I have read so far,” you set the book on the table, star embellished cover twinkling in the lights of the cafe, “I like the way that the author describes the character’s feelings—it felt really authentic, and added to the atmosphere for the story.”

“Well, just wait until you read the ending,” he raises an eyebrow at you and a playful look comes across his face for a second before disappearing, “it’s a real gutwrencher, honestly, I’m surprised the author had decided to take it in that direction.”

“Well, hopefully I’ll be able to read a good part of it before the end of the day,” you muse, hand running idly along the edges of the pages, “I’m hoping to be able to talk to the author during the meet and greet later today at the library.”

He makes a thoughtful noise, a small content smile on his face as he sets his mug down on the saucer. There’s a look in his eyes, something that says that he knows something that you don’t, and yet when you go to ask about it, he says instead, “Tell me what you think of it when you finish it, I’d love to hear your thoughts on it.”

You watch as he begins to pack up his things, tucking the laptop away into a sleek black backpack, all while sipping gingerly on your drink, “Of course, perhaps I’ll see you again, I’m usually here before work.”

“I look forward to it.”

He shoots you a smile over his shoulder as he leaves the cafe, throwing away his things and setting aside his dishes before he exits. Watching him walk down the street, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Gosh,” Akira’s voice makes you jump in your seat slightly, “he was really pretty; you think he was a model?”

“I don’t know, but he could be if he wanted to be,” you smile to yourself as you check your phone, swearing as you realize you might be a few minutes late, “I gotta get to work, I’ll see you tomorrow morning!”

Chugging the rest of your drink, of which has cooled significantly, you end up rushing out of the door of the coffee shop, leaving a good tip for Akira before you go.

A meet-cute. Is that what that would’ve been considered?

Walking into the library, you have a dopey smile on your lips, and the meeting from the morning lets you float your way through work as if your feet haven’t touched the ground.

The writer meet and greet wasn’t for another few hours so when you were putting books back on the shelves, and when the flow of people tended to slow down, your nose was tucked gently into the pages of the book you’d picked up.

It was wonderfully written, with words that seemed to suck you in and captivate you, unable to truly pay attention to what you needed to be doing. You were so ecstatic to be meeting the author, to be able to see what sort of person they’d turned out to be.

They had been pretty secretive, declining interviews left and right and no one has been able to figure out who they were. No one really knew if Akaashi Keiji was their real name, or just a pen name either, a ghost writer who wanted to leave their mark on the world without claiming any credit for the impression they’d leave behind.

Truth be told, it was something you admired in them.

There was something special about someone wanting to create something, and yet walking about their daily life knowing that not a single person would recognize them for it. They weren’t doing it for fame, or for money, but because they truly enjoyed writing and creating books for people to enjoy.

“If you keep yourself in that book, you’ll never get these shelves done,” shit, you’d thought you tucked yourself far enough into the autobiography section that your coworker, Kaori, wouldn’t be able to find you, “what book is it this time?”

“In Regards to Aces…”

She raises an eyebrow at you, glancing at the big poster of the book’s cover displayed only a few feet away from the pair of you, “Uh-huh, gonna suck up to the writer? Get you a rich, anonymous sugar daddy?”

“Pft,” you smile at her with a crooked grin, “let’s be inclusive here, we don’t know if they identify as a guy, Kaori.”

She shrugs a shoulder at you as you begin to push the cart filled with returned books into the aisle, making your way to the front of the library, “Actually, Akaashi and I went to high school together. When he got famous, everyone at our school, like, made a silent pact to respect his privacy.”

“You know the Akaashi Keiji?” You give her an incredulous look, feet planting firmly in front of the help desk of the library, “As in, coming to our library, has won multiple National Book Awards in a row for their novels Akaashi Keiji?”

“Yeah,” she picks something off of her shirt with a sour look on her face, “I’m pretty sure Bokuto threatened a guy that said he’d leak Akaashi’s school name, but it might’ve been the whole group of them, honestly.”

“Bokuto…” you look at her with a bewildered look in your eyes, “Bokuto Koutarou, MSBY wing spiker, Bokuto?”

“Yeah,” she smiles brightly at you, which you quickly erase with a hand smacking her firmly in the arm, “Oh my god, what was that for?!”

“For not telling me you were surrounded by future celebrities in high school?!”

“Oh, as if there isn’t one person from your school that got famous,” Kaori levels a glare at you as she rubs her arm.

The pair of you are sitting at the reception area now at the front of the library, watching people flow into the seating area set up for the meet and greet. A copy of the book’s cover is set up next to the author’s seat, which is on a small raised platform behind a small red barrier.

“I’m pretty sure a kid in the grade above me moved to Argentina?” She laughs at your answer, a hand over her mouth as someone steps up to the desk, taking both of your attention away from the conversation, “Hey, how can we help yo— oh! Hi, again, how are you?”

Standing before you, straps of his backpack slipping off of his shoulders and glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. There’s a little bit of a smile on his lips as he sighs, “Oh. Hello, I’m good. I rushed here because I was worried about being late—Kaori?”

“Akaashi,” she smiles at him, hand reaching out to shake his hand easily as you stare at the both of them flabbergasted, “Didn’t you get my text earlier about you coming to the library?”

“No, I was busy with the moving vans,” he turns his gaze on you and you swear your mouth dries up a little bit, “After I got a cup of coffee, I was arguing with the movers about a van of stuff that got lost. Turns out they were on the wrong side of town.”

“You mean to tell me,” you interrupt, hand coming up to stop Kaori from speaking, eyes trained on the wavy-haired man in front of you, “that you asked for my opinion on your book? Your own book?”

He gives a cheeky grin, teeth showing as he raises an eyebrow, “It’s easier to hear honest opinions if people don’t know I’m the author.”

You roll your eyes at him before he turns back to Kaori for a quick second, “Kaori, would you mind getting me some water, oh and maybe even a snack?”

She nods easily, hair swishing lightly as she pats you on the back and leaves, “‘Course, meet you up on the stage, bigshot.”

When she leaves, there’s a bit of an awkward silence, something like you don’t know what to say, and yet you know if you were to say anything, something might change. It’s only a feeling, but you suddenly want to spend as much time with this man as possible.

Now in the late afternoon light, you study him in a way you didn’t get to before. The warm sunlight that filters in through the windows makes his hair seem a bit light, but still just as unruly as it was this morning. His eyes are inquisitive, sharp in a way that observes and analyzes all within a moment’s notice.

There are patches of red and blue light dancing along his shoulders, refractions from the sun through the stained glass windows. His shirt is a little wrinkled but otherwise neat, one of the sides untucked as his loose tie hangs from around his neck.

He’s even prettier in the daylight, you decide.

“I’m sorry lied to you this morning,” his voice drops a little bit, inflection careful as he looks at you, “I promise I won’t lie to you anymore, if that means anything.”

“Well, if I catch wind of you lying,” you start, sidestepping the swinging door of the counter to start walking towards the stage area, “I’ll make your life a living nightmare, I know where you get your coffee, sir.”

“Oh, not the coffee,” He holds his hands up in surrender, “I loved their dark roast, where else in the town am I supposed to get it?”

“That, mister, sounds like a you problem,” you want to see him smile more, is the first thing you think when he laughs, “but only if you get on my bad side.”

“Do you think going out for dinner sometime might put me on your good side?”

There are moments in life that can shatter and alter the way that you think and perceive things for the future. For instance, that one time a teacher had given you a recommendation on a book had jumpstarted your love of reading which had turned into a job with lovely friends. If not for that one teacher, who knew where you would be now, because life is funny and doesn’t work out the way you think it will when things aren’t set exactly in motion.

This is one of those moments, and you know it is, because as he asks you out on, assumably, on a date, you envision a life for yourself.

A life filled with moments and snapshots with Akaashi Keiji at your side. He kisses your cheek one morning as you both make coffee for each other, his hand is warm on the small of your back as he leads you through the grocery store, and his voice is loving as he whispers to you at night before you fall asleep.

Now, you’ve always been somewhat a romantic, but you think this is the first time you’ve ever envisioned a life like this upon a second meeting. As Akaashi waits for your response, face neutral but content, you smile to yourself.

“Yeah,” you respond, leaning close to bump your shoulder against his gently, “I think getting dinner might boost your standings with me.”

#akaashi keiji fanfiction #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi keiji x you #akaashi x you #akaashi x reader #akaashi keiji #hq!! akaashi #hq!! fluff #haikyuu!! akaashi #haikyuu!! fluff #grind for the wealth

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hellyeahbakubby · 3 years

Text

“just a drawing” | sero h.

♔ - Running an NSFW art patreon, the reader has lost their motivation. Maybe Sero can help them find their inspiration, or be it. {wc: 1870} pairings - sero hanta x reader tags - SUGGESTIVE ONESHOT, mentions of sex, nothing explicit but be warned, fluffy bf sero, like I want boyfriend sero, pls, gimme a/n - thank you for requesting this, I had a really fun time writing it, and even though it took a while to put out I hope you enjoy it :) masterlist ▬ WARNING: SLIGHT NSFW, nothing explicit or graphic but proceed responsibly if you are under the age of 16.

For weeks now, your inspiration had abandoned you and your motivation extended to nothing more than staring at a blank screen. The hundreds of suggestions from your avid followers had begun to pile up and the hope you had of actually drawing something had been lost. None of the characters that usually stirred you to create were giving you any enthusiasm and you feared that you’d lost your spark for good.

“Hey,” Hanta greeted you as he entered the room, munching on his lunch, “Whatcha up to?”

Flicking around to face him, you instinctively flipped your tablet to your chest as if to hide the screen. “Just some drawing,” you replied as if you’d actually made any progress

“You’ve been doing a lot of that lately, huh,” he said leaning again the doorframe, digging his fork back into his dish, “Working on something big?”

“Uh, not really, just drawing,” you lied, smiling up at him. He smiled back. You sighed, you were getting nowhere with your drawing. Sitting there, lying about your progress to your boyfriend was just dumb. “Except I haven't been able to draw for weeks. I’ve lost my mojo for good.”

He watched your shoulders slump at the admission and couldn’t help but feel sympathetic to your cause. He knew just how much you admired creativity and to have lost your own would be weighing on you more than a bit. “I’m sure it won’t be forever, babe,” he said coming to sit in the chair beside you. Turning in his chair so his body was facing you, he placed a warm, reassuring hand on your knee. “Maybe instead of just sitting staring at your screen, we should go get you some inspiration. Yeah?”

You stared down at the device in your hands, the blank screen. Hanta went back to chewing. He watched your expression avidly. You were always so cute which only made seeing you so down worse. So used to your usually happy attitude around him, he wanted to fix whatever was bugging you.

Taking a deep breath in, “Yeah,” you said. He grinned.

“Nice. Why don’t we just go for a walk? And since I’ve got patrol tonight we can grab dinner after. Sound good?”

“Yup.” Even if you didn’t manage to find any inspiration you were grateful to be spending time with him. Since his schedule wasn’t exactly a typical 9 to 5 he was often working resulting in you being able to spend less time with him.

“I’ll finish my lunch then we can be off,” he said, “There’s a new park across the city that I saw last night. It’s beautiful, plus lots of flowers and stuff that might spark something.”

You smiled up at him. “Sounds good.” He was so considerate. You’d really lucked in with this one. And although you really needed to post on your patreon, maybe drawing something basic for yourself first would help get you back in that mindset. Leaving your tablet behind you went to get a drink before you left the house.

Hanta had been right. This park was beautiful. The grass was greener than you’d ever seen in person. The trees that edged the park created an atmosphere that separated the park from the outside world. It was its own little world. And the flowers. Hundreds of them. All different colours and types. The variety was astounding. You blinked a couple of times, making sure what you were seeing was real. It was captivating.

“Cool, huh?” he said with a cheeky smirk. Watching your expressions made him chuckle. He was secretly relieved that your mood had taken such a dramatic change.

“Real cool,” you said softly, nodding. You turned back to him and smiled. Throwing your arms around his neck you pulled him into a suffocating hug, kissed his cheek. He returned the hug with a laugh, wrapping his own arms around your waist in turn. Holding you in place after you loosened your grip he looked at you, thoroughly enjoying the spark of joy in your irises. “Thanks, babes,” you said.

“Anytime, doll,” he said before placing a kiss on your nose, “How about we go walk around and you can get some photos, eh?”

“Of course.”

Not a second after you’d taken his hand and begun to walk down the path when you heard someone call out from behind you. Both you and Hanta turned to look.

“Cellophane! Wait! Please!” A young woman ran towards the both of you, only slowing to halt right in front of you. She looked utterly exhausted, panting heavily.

“You’re… you’re my favourite Pro,” she managed to get out, standing up straight and looking up at Hanta with a look of admiration you’d never seen before. “Would you mind taking a photo with me?” she pleaded.

“Oh, sure,” he said with a smile, letting go of your hand to stand beside her as she pulled out her phone, “It’s nice to meet you.” She blinked at him in awe, her cheeks reddening.

“You too,” she squeaked out. Holding up the phone as he leaned in to get in the frame, she snapped a couple of photos.

You were oddly surprised by how you felt watching the interaction. It wasn’t jealousy or any sort of possessiveness. You knew that it was just an interaction between a fan and a hero so it wasn’t like she was gonna make any moves, or rather that he simply wasn’t interested. Instead, it was almost like a realisation. You were that lucky person, that lucky fan, who got to hold him, who got to be held by him. Your life was someone else’s fantasy, it was your own fantasy. There it was.

You knew exactly what you were going to draw to get your rhythm back.

“You good there?” Hanta asked returning to you as his fan walked away, every now and again turning back as if making sure he was real. “You look a bit zoned out.”

“Always,” you replied with full sincerity, squeezing his hand. His lips curled up at your response.

“Huh? Oh, I’m fine, just thinking,” you said, taking his hand again.

“About me?” he joked.

As Hanta retrieved his hero costume, preparing himself for the night of hero work ahead, you returned to your drawing room, knowing exactly what the finished work was going to be. You were one hundred per cent assured that this would cure your art block and although you had no intention of posting it, you were both anxious and excited for the one person you’d show it to, to see it.

Peeping his head around the doorframe, he grinned at seeing you already back to work. He did feel responsible for your returning motivation and was delighted with his achievement.

“I’m off now, babe,” he said. You got up, placing a kiss to his cheek for good luck before pulling his face towards your own. Pressing your lips to his, you relaxed momentarily into his arms. He was so warm, all-encompassing. You felt so safe with him, so secure, so free of judgement. He was everything you’d ever wished for and so much more.

“Be careful,” you said, running a finger down his cheek.

“Whatever you say,” he gushed, leaning to kiss your forehead.

“See ya later, handsome.”

Walking him to the door, no sooner than he was gone you were back at your desk, sketching out the picture already finished in your head. You were almost surprised you’d never thought to draw something of this flavour before. God, just thinking about it made you flush. He was a well-known, well-desired Pro-hero; surely you weren’t the first person to concoct such a lewd creation of him. And well, it wasn’t like you were a stranger to him. You knew him up close and personal and you knew exactly what made him tick. You’d never post such a thing but you couldn’t think to draw anything else now that the idea was in your head. Not to mention you couldn’t help but imagine his reaction when he saw the finished product.

Stretching your muscles, you turned in your bed, waking slowly. Hanta wasn’t beside you despite having said he’d return at around four am but it didn’t worry you. He usually fell asleep on the couch, even after telling him countless that you didn’t mind him waking you when he came home. You made your way down the hall, careful to miss stepping on the floorboard that always groaned under your weight. If Hanta was indeed asleep on the couch you didn’t want to wake him. You knew how much hero work took out of him, especially if he’d had a busy night.

Creeping into your drawing room to continue working on your piece your heart plummeted to your stomach when you saw the empty space on your desk where you’d had your tablet last night. Come to think of it you didn’t remember going to bed which could only mean that Hanta had moved you to your bedroom after you’d fallen asleep midway through drawing. Oh god, that meant he had your tablet.

“Fuuuck,” you heard him drawl from behind you. Frowning you spun around.

“What?” you said before you saw your tablet in his hands and you felt heat rush to your cheeks.

“That’s my line right, babe?” he teased, tongue between his teeth, “At least that’s what I’m saying in this drawing, aren’t I?”

“I…” you couldn’t find any words.

“No, no. Your line’s ‘Oh please, god’ and then I think you’re meant to moan.”

You opened your mouth to reply but you didn’t know what to say.

“It’s a really good drawing, just not what I expected.” He returned his gaze to the image in front of him. Although he was hiding it really well you noticed the pink tips of his ears.

“You… inspired me,” you said sheepishly.

“Clearly,” he said grinning again, “Just not in the way I thought I did.” You scowled at him.

“I just needed something to get my motivation back.”

He looked up. “Huh? Oh, I’m not complaining. I just didn’t know you drew this kinda stuff, makes sense why you hide your drawings from me. I mean bondage? Heh. Kinky.”

“Stoppp,” you begged, one hand on your face in embarrassment. You inhaled, trying to steady yourself. “It’s just a drawing,” you said defensively.

“Pretty sexy drawing though,” he mumbled. You looked up at him. His flushed cheeks said more than his words as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“If I knew what you wanted I would’ve given you a different kinda inspiration.” He was definitely as nervous about the whole thing as you were. He placed the tablet on the pile of boxes by the door. “I mean I’m happy to help you out.”

“Really?” you replied softly, “That’s sweet of you.” You sent him a sly grin and he swallowed quickly. He reached out, grabbing you by the hips.

“‘Just a drawing’,” he said mocking what you’d said earlier, “You gonna show me your others.”

“Maybe later,” you said in his ear as he lifted you onto your desk,

“Right now I’m feeling the inspiration for something different.”

#sero hanta #sero x reader #sero smut #sero x you #sero bnha #sero mha #sero hanta x reader #sero hanta x you #sero hanta x y/n #sero hanta mha #sero hanta bnha #hanta sero #hanta sero x reader

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buckyownsmylife · 4 years

Text

Catch me - Tom Hardy smut

The one where you’re Tom’s neighbor and he comes to your place after he’s locked out of his house on a rainy night. Requested by anon. + Dry Humping also requested by different anon ask

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, cursing

A/N: okay, so here it is! My Tom Hardy requested smut! I’d also like to announce that I’ll be attempting to partake in this years’ Kinktober, and this is my first fic, fulfilling the prompts dry humping + face sitting. I’ll post the list of prompts I created for myself, along with the characters they are paired up with, a bit later. I also say “attempting” because I actually had a pretty bad accident last night and I’m still unable to do regular things like sitting or walking, so it’s been a struggle to get this done. If in anyday I am unable to write, I won’t force myself to do it. But that’s all, please enjoy this fic and let me know what you think of it! My requests are now empty, so feel free to send me any ideas you might have - I can either integrate them in one of my fics for the kinktober challenge or work on them in November.

Tom’s P.O.V.

I had watched with only partly concealed interest as the new neighbor slowly grew more comfortable at her place right next door to me. At first, it truly was just a slight curiosity founded in my observation of just how beautiful she was. But then, one day, right after she moved in, she caught me staring, and opened up the most beautiful smile I’d ever seen. Just like that, I was stuck with a teenage-boy crush that left me blushing and stuttering every single time she so much as looked my way.

If there was one thing people knew about me, was that I was not the blushing, stuttering type.

But things only got worse as time went on. She turned out to be just the perfect neighbor, usually coming around to offer me cookies or other baked goods precisely when I needed it the most.

“How do you always know when I’m feeling down or hungry, sweetheart?” I even ended up asking as I accepted yet another tray of brownies from her tiny hands. Her sweet little giggle went straight to my pants, instantly hardening my severely ignored member.

“It’s not that hard to figure out, Tom. Anytime you get back home this late, I can pretty much assume you barely had anything to eat all day, and it’s very clear you won’t have the energy to whip up anything right now.” My eyebrows raised up at her comment, but before I could satiate my curiosity, she quickly added, “And before you ask, no, I don’t spend my life looking out of the eyehole, you just have pretty loud steps when you’re tired, I can easily hear from my living room when you walk the hallway during the evening.”

Chuckling, I nodded, granting her that. I knew that she meant no harm, but I couldn’t help but to feel embarrassed. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’ll try to be more mindful next time.” Her eyes widened at my apology, and she immediately waved my words away, clearly mortified by the fact that I had interpreted it as a complaint.

“Gosh, Tom, no, that’s not what I… Please, don’t worry about it. I’m just a terrible insomniac, and I have good ears. It’s not like you’re waking me up every time you come home or anything. That would be a bummer, but also highly improbable, since I’m a very heavy sleeper…” I had come to understand that she was very capable of maintaining a conversation completely by herself, but everytime she took notice of it, she scrambled to get out of my sight. I figured someone in her life must have told her she talked too much, but personally, I’d do anything to witness her little monologues at least a bit more. She just seemed so interesting, and selfless despite the constant stream of consciousness that poured out of her lips whenever she was nervous.

I liked knowing I made her nervous. It made me feel less terrible about wanting to know more about her. Did that make me a creep? Hell, probably. But I couldn’t pretend like I gave a damn. I felt this inexplicable attraction to her, her personality and body, and that was it. I wanted to uncover what it was about her that had me so engrossed.

And one night, the opportunity presented itself to me. I had gone out of my car in a hurry because of the rain that had decided to pour all over the city and didn’t look like it was stopping any time soon, so I only noticed that I had locked my keys on the trunk of the car when I was already in front of my own apartment’s door, dripping all over the hallway.

Fuck, that was just so typical of me. Why did I even bother to get my backpack out of the car, when I was already arriving home close to midnight and would be back at work early in the morning? It wasn’t like I would have the time to use my computer or anything.

Sighing, I ran a wet hand over my face in an effort to figure out my next move. Obviously I would need to get someone to open my car for me, but in the middle of the night, it’d be hard to know who would come. It would definitely be easier to find someone in the morning, and I could very well get an Uber to some cheap motel and spend the night there.

I was about to do just that when suddenly the door behind me opened, and a delicious smell of lasagna filled my nostrils, making me aware of just how hungry I was. “Tom?” Her sweet, sweet voice instantly calmed my tense muscles, making me open a smile at the sight of her despite the series of events I had just lived through. “Is something wrong?”

A low chuckle escaped my lips at the awareness of just how pathetic my situation was, but there was no real humour in my tone. I looked down at my wet shoes before gathering the courage to look her in the eye again, giving her a small smile. “I locked myself out,” was all I said, and before I could even further explain my situation, her eyes had widened and she was reaching out to me, holding me by my wrist and pulling me inside of her place.

“You poor thing. And right on the worst night for it to happen? Here, sit down while I go look for something you can change into. Wouldn’t want you catching a cold, would we?” I briefly considered offering some kind of protest, explaining how I intended to go spend the night in a motel, but the truth was, I didn’t want to. It was late, I was tired and I was really fucking cold and just by being in the close proximity of this beautiful creature, I already felt a little bit better, so I’d just shut up and wait to see how this would play out for me.

She came back with some sweatpants and a large cotton shirt, a bashful look on her face. “I bought these sweatpants from the male’s department because they’re usually comfier than the ones I find in the female department, they should fit you well.” I accepted the small bundle of fabric she offered, one eyebrow raised as I stared down at her in curiosity.

“What about the shirt?” I asked, and she blushed five different shades of pinks and reds, making her just that much cuter. It made me want to eat her whole, and the fact that she stood a few good feet under me didn’t help that at all. I knew I could break her so easily.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I felt like I could slap myself over how silly I was behaving over something so ordinary. Why would Tom care about me having an ex? It was only natural, it’s not like I was a blushing virgin nun who never did anything slightly out of the ordinary. Sex was ordinary. I’ve done it before. I’m sure Tom wouldn’t assume I hadn’t.

Oh, what am I saying? There’s no way he has even considered this subject when it comes to me. Why on Earth would he be thinking about my sexual past? What is going on with me? I feel like I’m going insane.

I could feel just how warm my face had gotten, but I still had some amount of pride in me to salvage the situation, so I managed to roll my eyes as I pushed Tom further inside my house, in the direction of my bathroom.

“You’re a smart man, you can figure out where the shirt came from.” His chuckle shouldn’t be so sexy, but what about this man wasn’t?

“That’s not the answer I hoped for.” And with that mysterious sentence, he locked himself in my bathroom and left me alone with my thoughts. Granted, most of them revolved around him, so I couldn’t really say I was that alone, but the lack of someone to talk to only meant that my mind was swirling and a lot of different things I shouldn’t be thinking about managed to dominate my head.

Just what did he mean by what he said? Could it be that he… No, of course not. There was no reason for him to be jealous of me. It’s not like he could possibly want me. Right?

I spent the entire time he was taking a shower stuck in the same pattern of thoughts, so much so that I didn’t even notice he had come back to the kitchen and was watching me from the doorway until he cleared his throat, making me jump out of my skin while carrying a plate full of very hot lasagna.

“Oh,” was all I said as I felt some of the sauce spill on my hand and my chest, some even managing to get on my face. But Tom’s rough ‘Shit’ brought a giggle to my lips, despite the discomfort of the slight burning sensation on my skin.

“‘M sorry, sweetheart. I thought you’d noticed me standing here.” While he assured me of his lack of intention to hurt me - as if I didn’t already know- he had grabbed the plate I was still holding onto and placed it on the counter, quickly procuring an already dirty rag and eagerly starting to clean me up, first my hand, and then…

Before he pressed the fabric to my chest, he looked up at me, his beautiful eyes catching mine and making me suck in a breath. “T-that’s alright,” I managed to get out, trying to look away from his hypnotizing gaze. “It doesn’t really hurt that bad. I think with a bit of cold water it might calm down.”

He nodded, agreeing with my words, but his gaze still searched mine for something I didn’t understand. “I sure hope so,” was all he said initially, his eyes finally dropping from mine to focus on the task at hand. “But I must say, I’m very disappointed.”

The comment puzzled me, rendering me useless for the time being. I could only tilt my head as I looked down at him, still crouching in front of me to clean my chest before he finally stood up on his full height and grabbed my face, gently engulfing it in one of those huge palms of his.

“I was really hoping that you were single, but I guess that would be expecting too much from the universe, considering how beautiful you are.” My eyes grew twice their normal size as I immediately tried to push him away and hide my face from his view, suddenly incredibly shy. But of course, he didn’t let me, instead pressing me against the counter and his very hard body, while he very carefully wiped away the few drops of sauce on my cheek.

For a few seconds, I let him work in silence, still trying to gather my nerves so I could say something. I should say something, shouldn’t I? I mean, here lies an opportunity that I never thought I’d experience, and here I was, being all silly about it. Finally, when he had at last finished slowly rubbing the rag against my skin, and seemed to be about to separate himself from me, I sprung into action, pulling him to me again by his forearms.

“I-I am,” that’s all I managed to say, immediately cringing at my own lack of social skills. “Single, I mean.” Very smooth. Well done, Y/N. But despite my stupidity, it seemed that I was able to achieve my intention, since my sentence made Tom finally get rid of the rag and hold my face between both of his hands now, his thumbs softly running over my cheekbones.

“Oh, is that so?” He breathed out against my skin, our lips inches away from one another, and I shivered against my best wishes. That reaction caused a predatory smirk to appear on his face, and I knew then and there that I was in way over my head. “Good to know,” he whispered, and then his lips were on mine, forcing me to accept his tongue, eating me whole.

He tasted like peppermint and coffee and I was already addicted to his taste, hoping to God I tasted as great to him as he did to me. At least, he didn’t complain. In fact, by the way he sucked on my tongue, forcing his deep inside my mouth, I’d go as far as to say that he did like what he tasted.

Before long, he had pulled me up on the counter, his hands holding me by my waist as his lips ventured from my mouth to my jaw, until they found a spot on my neck that made me gasp and hold his shirt tightly, and then he was sucking, rolling his tongue on the spot where I could already feel a bruise forming, before his teeth carved their own impressions on my skin, imprinting himself on me.

My head swirled with the force of the emotions bursting through me. My legs wrapped themselves around his strong body, and I was happy that my hands knew what to do when my mind hadn’t still managed to catch up to this turn of events. When his tongue came out to lick right over my collarbones, the response gasp he elicited from me came out sounding much more like a sob than anything else.

“You’re so sensitive, princess,” He teased me, still otherwise occupied with marking my skin as his. “I’ve barely even started and here you are…” His hands ran through the expanse of my body, like he was showing his proof to an audience. “... a mess already.”

He wasn’t wrong. I was somehow dripping already. I could feel it, dripping from inside of me, slowly ruining the panties I was wearing. They were so not appropriate for the activities I was currently partaking in, but how the hell would I have known this was going to happen?

All I knew was that Tom had lit the fire inside of me, and now the flames were threatening to swallow us both.

Tom’s P.O.V.

She was just too cute, so out of breath and trembling with desire with the little I’d done to tease her. It just made me want to ruin her even more. My little neighbor, so perfect and sweet, so needy for me.

She didn’t even realize she had started to grind herself against me, in search of some sort of release. Well, I wasn’t about to cut her off. Unstead, I took advantage of my grip on her, pulling her body until I was the one keeping her up, trapped between my body and the counter.

“Rub your tiny wet cut against my jeans, love,” I ordered in a demanding whisper right on her ear, making her shiver. She obeyed without any sort of hesitation, looking up at me underneath her eyelashes with her eyes glazed over with lust. “That’s it…” Fuck if the pressure wasn’t exactly what I needed to help ease up some of the tension from the need I was feeling in my veins. “Rub yourself against my hard cock, don’t be shy.”

My words seemed to be gasoline for her, giving her the push she needed to grind herself even harder against my bulge. I decided to help her, pushing her more firmly against the counter and following the movements, rejoicing in the pleasure gasp that escaped her lips as the added pressure provided more friction to her clit.

“Fuck…” She whispered, and I think that in the entirety of the four months of conversations I’d entertained with her, that was the first time I’d heard her cuss. The four letter word I was so familiarized with had a new, unexpected effect on me, making the situation inside my pants so difficult I had to stop my movements and slow hers down by her hips, so I wouldn’t just jizz on my pants like a fucking teenager.

But Y/N didn’t stop, despite accepting my silent request to decrease the fervor of our activities. When I finally managed to get control over myself again, I realized why. She had gripped the counter behind her and was using it to better control her movements, and it was clear by the way her head hung back and her mouth fell open that she was about to cum just like that.

“Shit,” I cussed just as the realization hit, and it felt like all of the control I’d managed to build in the last few seconds I closed my eyes had suddenly escaped through the window. My cock was painfully hard again, and all I could think of was that I needed to get out of these fucking jeans.

Who could blame me, though? When she looked like that, creaming her panties with her clothes still on? Shit, I couldn’t wait to get her naked and underneath me. I needed to feel her from the inside, explore her wetness with my hard cock.

But first, I was desperate to get a taste of her. So as soon as her breathing came back to a somewhat regular pattern, I was careful to put her on the ground again, making sure she was able to stand on her own legs, before dropping to my knees in front of her.

“What are you… Oh.” I couldn’t help but to chuckle at the innocence of her mind that stopped her from immediately understanding what I intended to do, but then I was pushing her skirt up and away from my view and her panties were in front of me and they were drenched, absolutely ruined by the sticky liquid that made my mouth water.

“Fuck, princess…” I moaned as I carefully peeled the cotton fabric down her legs, keeping it pooled around her ankles as I pushed her legs open as far as they could go. She was dripping, a single line of her wetness connecting both of her thighs, making me groan at the sight. “You might just kill me…” I commented before reaching up to pull her to me, effectively burying my face on her.

“T-Tom!” The sound of my name escaping her lips with that reverent tone left me even hungrier for her, as did her exquisite taste. It painted my tongue with its sweetness, embedding itself in my cells, making sure I’d never be able to forget it. I already knew I’d be hungry for her again the second I pulled away from her cunt.

Nonetheless, I forced myself to stop for a moment to gather my senses, as her taste made it harder and harder to control my need to relieve my aching member. I needed to be inside of her, and quickly.

Abruptly rising up to my full height, I picked her up by the back of her thighs so she’d wrap her legs around me and took us to where I’d assumed her bedroom would be, considering I was familiarized with the general layout of the apartments. The second I laid her on the bed, my hands were struggling with my own belt, as I watched her pull her dress over her head, now completely bare before me.

“You’re so fucking hot.” When my pants dropped to the floor and my cock slapped my lower stomach, I pounced on her immediately, crawling on the space between her legs and pulled her by the back of her neck to connect our lips once more. “Do you want to be railed tonight, pretty neighbor?”

She fucking whimpered in response, repetitions of “yes” and “please” escaping her lips as she tried to pull me closer to her by the legs she embraced me with. Not having it in me to stop this moment any longer, I gripped my member with one of my hands while I held her hips down with the other, briefly rubbing the blunt head of my cock over her sensitive clit before pushing myself completely inside of her.

“Oh, fuck,” I groaned, blindsided by the tightness, wetness and warmness that now surrounded me. “I knew your cunt would be fucking delicious.” I watched her as I pulled out until just my tip was inside of her, only to push it back in as forcefully as I could.

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, her hands flew up to hold my shoulders, almost as if she wanted to push me away or tell me to take it easy, but as her legs continued to pull me even deeper inside, I knew what she really needed was to be properly fucked.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

Tom was not exaggerating; he really did pound me against my mattress, immediately setting up the most brutal of paces. It hurt, especially with how much he was stretching me, but it felt too fucking good to complain about it.

The only thing I could do was to relax and accept this invasion, this possession of my body by my next-door neighbor. I knew I must have been quite a vision, my arms thrown up in search of something to hold on to, spit escaping the corner of my lips by the intensity of the thrusts, my breasts shaking as he pulled me back to meet his thrusts by my hips. I hoped I’d have some bruises on the shape of his fingertips to remember this night.

Not like I would ever be able to forget, anyway. Only a lunatic would expel the visions of Tom looking like this while fucking them, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, the sweat gathering over his eyebrows. I wanted to kiss it away. I wanted to taste its saltiness.

Just as my head began to twirl in time with the growth of arousal in my lower belly, Tom’s eyes travelled upwards from the point where his cock was buried inside of me to find my breasts, one of his hands immediately following suit. When his pull on my nipple was accompanied by the feeling of his warm mouth engulfing the other one, I screamed as I came all around him, my head thrown back and eyes closed as I relished in the feeling of being so perfectly filled, so perfectly touched.

“Fuckin’ tight.” Tom fucked me through my orgasm, but at the sight of my eyes blinking back open, he pulled out, easily manhandling me into turning around and rising on all fours. “This fucking ass… Do you have any idea how long I dreamt about fucking you like this?”

I didn’t know how, but his words and the way his huge hands sprawled over the cheeks of my butt reignited the flames that had just been fed, and I found myself pushing back against him, offering myself up to him. Anything to get his cock inside of me again.

“Please…” I all but begged, and I heard his breath hitching behind me. “Just… please keep fucking me.” Perhaps that was all that he needed, because in a second his cock was tearing me open again, so fucking deep that I could feel it in my stomach.

“Fuck… If I had known how it would look to have my little perfect neighbor begging for my cock, I would have fucked you ages ago.” Every single thing that came out of that man’s mouth was like sin. He wrapped my hair around his fist, suddenly using it to pull me back to him as he raised one of his legs to the mattress, the new angle making each of his thrusts hit that spot inside of me that made everything just a little more satisfying.

I could feel tears running down my cheeks, falling on my spread out hands as I struggled to keep breathing through his assault on my senses. “Are you gonna cum again, love?” I could hear him asking, and I wanted to answer, I really did, but every time I opened my mouth, only sobs came out. “Are you? Here, let me help you out.”

The feeling of his rough fingers softly caressing my clit was such a stark contrast to the way he was still brutally pounding into me that instead of trying to push him away from my much too sensitive lower region, I opened my eyes in surprise as another orgasm took over me, somehow even stronger than the previous ones.

“Yeah, that’s it… Fuck. Come for me, sweetheart. Wanna feel your cunt milking my fucking cock.” His words did nothing to help ease my arousal, and just when my arms started to give out, I felt him spilling inside of me. “FUCK!” He shouted, following my body’s motions until he was covering me with his own torso, still very much inside of me.

His thrusts finally coming to a stop after he had slowly fucked his cum inside of me, I felt his thumbs caressing my hips as I remained face planted on my mattress. “Well, this isn’t how I expected this night to go, but I can’t say I’m not satisfied.”

A snort was all I could give him as he finally pulled out and allowed his body to fall by my side, giving me a quick kiss on the shoulder that was closer to him. “You ok?” He asked, and I snorted again.

“More than okay. You still haven’t eaten though.” It was the truth. After all of this… incredible distraction from my cooking plans, he still hadn’t gotten around to eat dinner. I heard him take a deep breath next to me as he pondered his answer.

“Really? ‘Cause I remember eating some very delicious pussy a few minutes ago.” It took me a few minutes to process what he had said, but when I did, I turned around to playfully hit his chest while feeling my face warm up from the reality of what we had just done.

“You’re impossible.”

“And you’re hot.” And when he put it in such simple terms, as he pulled me in his arms so that I could cuddle his chest, how could I feel embarrassed?

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taylorswifthongkong · 3 years

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Taylor Swift broke all her rules with Folklore — and gave herself a much-needed escape The pop star, one of EW's 2020 Entertainers of the Year, delves deep into her surprise eighth album, Rebekah Harkness, and a Joe Biden presidency. By Alex Suskind

“He is my co-writer on ‛Betty’ and ‛Exile,’” replies Taylor Swift with deadpan precision. The question Who is William Bowery? was, at the time we spoke, one of 2020’s great mysteries, right up there with the existence of Joe Exotic and the sudden arrival of murder hornets. An unknown writer credited on the year’s biggest album? It must be an alias.

Is he your brother?

“He’s William Bowery,” says Swift with a smile.

It's early November, after Election Day but before Swift eventually revealed Bowery's true identity to the world (the leading theory, that he was boyfriend Joe Alwyn, proved prescient). But, like all Swiftian riddles, it was fun to puzzle over for months, particularly in this hot mess of a year, when brief distractions are as comforting as a well-worn cardigan. Thankfully, the Bowery... erhm, Alwyn-assisted Folklore — a Swift project filled with muted pianos and whisper-quiet snares, recorded in secret with Jack Antonoff and the National’s Aaron Dessner — delivered.

“The only people who knew were the people I was making it with, my boyfriend, my family, and a small management team,” Swift, 30, tells EW of the album's hush-hush recording sessions. That gave the intimate Folklore a mystique all its own: the first surprise Taylor Swift album, one that prioritized fantastical tales over personal confessions.

“Early in quarantine, I started watching lots of films,” she explains. “Consuming other people’s storytelling opened this portal in my imagination and made me feel like, Why have I never created characters and intersecting storylines?” That’s how she ended up with three songs about an imagined love triangle (“Cardigan,” “Betty,” “August”), one about a clandestine romance (“Illicit Affairs”), and another chronicling a doomed relationship (“Exile”). Others tell of sumptuous real-life figures like Rebekah Harkness, a divorcee who married the heir to Standard Oil — and whose home Swift purchased 31 years after her death. The result, “The Last Great American Dynasty,” hones in on Harkness’ story, until Swift cleverly injects herself.

And yet, it wouldn’t be a Swift album without a few barbed postmortems over her own history. Notably, “My Tears Ricochet” and “Mad Woman," which touch on her former label head Scott Borchetta selling the masters to Swift’s catalog to her known nemesis Scooter Braun. Mere hours after our interview, the lyrics’ real-life origins took a surprising twist, when news broke that Swift’s music had once again been sold, to another private equity firm, for a reported $300 million. Though Swift ignored repeated requests for comment on the transaction, she did tweet a statement, hitting back at Braun while noting that she had begun re-recording her old albums — something she first promised in 2019 as a way of retaining agency over her creative legacy. (Later, she would tease a snippet of that reimagined work, with a new version of her hit 2008 single "Love Story.")

Like surprise-dropping Folklore, like pissing off the president by endorsing his opponents, like shooing away haters, Swift does what suits her. “I don’t think we often hear about women who did whatever the hell they wanted,” she says of Harkness — something Swift is clearly intent on changing. For her, that means basking in the world of, and favorable response to, Folklore. As she says in our interview, “I have this weird thing where, in order to create the next thing, I attack the previous thing. I don’t love that I do that, but it is the thing that has kept me pivoting to another world every time I make an album. But with this one, I still love it.”

ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY: We’ve spent the year quarantined in our houses, trying to stay healthy and avoiding friends and family. Were you surprised by your ability to create and release a full album in the middle of a pandemic?

TAYLOR SWIFT: I was. I wasn't expecting to make an album. Early on in quarantine, I started watching lots of films. We would watch a different movie every night. I'm ashamed to say I hadn't seen Pan's Labyrinth before. One night I'd watch that, then I'd watch L.A. Confidential, then we'd watch Rear Window, then we'd watch Jane Eyre. I feel like consuming other people's art and storytelling sort of opened this portal in my imagination and made me feel like, "Well, why have I never done this before? Why have I never created characters and intersecting storylines? And why haven't I ever sort of freed myself up to do that from a narrative standpoint?" There is something a little heavy about knowing when you put out an album, people are going to take it so literally that everything you say could be clickbait. It was really, really freeing to be able to just be inspired by worlds created by the films you watch or books you've read or places you've dreamed of or people that you've wondered about, not just being inspired by your own experience.

In that vain, what's it like to sit down and write something like “Betty,” which is told from the perspective of a 17-year-old boy?

That was huge for me. And I think it came from the fact that my co-writer, William Bowery [Joe Alwyn], is male — and he was the one who originally thought of the chorus melody. And hearing him sing it, I thought, "That sounds really cool." Obviously, I don't have a male voice, but I thought, "I could have a male perspective." Patty Griffin wrote this song, “Top of the World.” It's one of my favorite songs of all time, and it's from the perspective of this older man who has lived a life full of regret, and he's kind of taking stock of that regret. So, I thought, "This is something that people I am a huge fan of have done. This would be fun to kind of take this for a spin."

What are your favorite William Bowery conspiracies?

I love them all individually and equally. I love all the conspiracy theories around this album. [With] "Betty," Jack Antonoff would text me these articles and think pieces and in-depth Tumblr posts on what this love triangle meant to the person who had listened to it. And that's exactly what I was hoping would happen with this album. I wrote these stories for a specific reason and from a specific place about specific people that I imagined, but I wanted that to all change given who was listening to it. And I wanted it to start out as mine and become other people's. It's been really fun to watch.

One of the other unique things about Folklore — the parameters around it were completely different from anything you'd done. There was no long roll out, no stadium-sized pop anthems, no aiming for the radio-friendly single. How fearful were you in avoiding what had worked in the past?

I didn't think about any of that for the very first time. And a lot of this album was kind of distilled down to the purest version of what the story is. Songwriting on this album is exactly the way that I would write if I considered nothing else other than, "What words do I want to write? What stories do I want to tell? What melodies do I want to sing? What production is essential to tell those stories?" It was a very do-it-yourself experience. My management team, we created absolutely everything in advance — every lyric video, every individual album package. And then we called our label a week in advance and said, "Here's what we have.” The photo shoot was me and the photographer walking out into a field. I'd done my hair and makeup and brought some nightgowns. These experiences I was used to having with 100 people on set, commanding alongside other people in a very committee fashion — all of a sudden it was me and a photographer, or me and my DP. It was a new challenge, because I love collaboration. But there's something really fun about knowing what you can do if it's just you doing it.

Did you find it freeing?

I did. Every project involves different levels of collaboration, because on other albums there are things that my stylist will think of that I never would've thought of. But if I had all those people on the photo shoot, I would've had to have them quarantine away from their families for weeks on end, and I would've had to ask things of them that I didn't think were fair if I could figure out a way to do it [myself]. I had this idea for the [Folklore album cover] that it would be this girl sleepwalking through the forest in a nightgown in 1830 [laughs]. Very specific. A pioneer woman sleepwalking at night. I made a moodboard and sent it to Beth [Garrabrant], who I had never worked with before, who shoots only on film. We were just carrying bags across a field and putting the bags of film down, and then taking pictures. It was a blast.

Folklore includes plenty of intimate acoustic echoes to what you've done in the past. But there are also a lot of new sonics here, too — these quiet, powerful, intricately layered harmonics. What was it like to receive the music from Aaron and try to write lyrics on top of it?

Well, Aaron is one of the most effortlessly prolific creators I've ever worked with. It's really mind-blowing. And every time I've spoken to an artist since this whole process [began], I said, "You need to work with him. It'll change the way you create." He would send me these — he calls them sketches, but it's basically an instrumental track. the second day — the day after I texted him and said, "Hey, would you ever want to work together?" — he sent me this file of probably 30 of these instrumentals and every single one of them was one of the most interesting, exciting things I had ever heard. Music can be beautiful, but it can be lacking that evocative nature. There was something about everything he created that is an immediate image in my head or melody that I came up with. So much so that I'd start writing as soon as I heard a new one. And oftentimes what I would send back would inspire him to make more instrumentals and then send me that one. And then I wrote the song and it started to shape the project, form-fitted and customized to what we wanted to do.

It was weird because I had never made an album and not played it for my girlfriends or told my friends. The only people who knew were the people that I was making it with, my boyfriend, my family, and then my management team. So that's the smallest number of people I've ever had know about something. I'm usually playing it for everyone that I'm friends with. So I had a lot of friends texting me things like, "Why didn't you say on our everyday FaceTimes you were making a record?"

Was it nice to be able to keep it a secret?

Well, it felt like it was only my thing. It felt like such an inner world I was escaping to every day that it almost didn't feel like an album. Because I wasn't making a song and finishing it and going, "Oh my God, that is catchy.” I wasn't making these things with any purpose in mind. And so it was almost like having it just be mine was this really sweet, nice, pure part of the world as everything else in the world was burning and crashing and feeling this sickness and sadness. I almost didn't process it as an album. This was just my daydream space.

Does it still feel like that?

Yeah, because I love it so much. I have this weird thing that I do when I create something where in order to create the next thing I kind of, in my head, attack the previous thing. I don't love that I do that but it is the thing that has kept me pivoting to another world every time I make an album. But with this one, I just still love it. I'm so proud of it. And so that feels very foreign to me. That doesn't feel like a normal experience that I've had with releasing albums.

When did you first learn about Rebekah Harkness?

Oh, I learned about her as soon as I was being walked through [her former Rhode Island] home. I got the house when I was in my early twenties as a place for my family to congregate and be together. I was told about her, I think, by the real estate agent who was walking us through the property. And as soon as I found out about her, I wanted to know everything I could. So I started reading. I found her so interesting. And then as more parallels began to develop between our two lives — being the lady that lives in that house on the hill that everybody gets to gossip about — I was always looking for an opportunity to write about her. And I finally found it.

I love that you break the fourth wall in the song. Did you go in thinking you’d include yourself in the story?

I think that in my head, I always wanted to do a country music, standard narrative device, which is: the first verse you sing about someone else, the second verse you sing about someone else who's even closer to you, and then in the third verse, you go, "Surprise! It was me.” You bring it personal for the last verse. And I'd always thought that if I were to tell that story, I would want to include the similarities — our lives or our reputations or our scandals.

How often did you regale friends about the history of Rebekah and Holiday House while hanging out at Holiday House?

Anyone who's been there before knows that I do “The Tour,” in quotes, where I show everyone through the house. And I tell them different anecdotes about each room, because I've done that much research on this house and this woman. So in every single room, there's a different anecdote about Rebekah Harkness. If you have a mixed group of people who've been there before and people who haven't, [the people who’ve been there] are like, "Oh, she's going to do the tour. She's got to tell you the story about how the ballerinas used to practice on the lawn.” And they'll go get a drink and skip it because it's the same every time. But for me, I'm telling the story with the same electric enthusiasm, because it's just endlessly entertaining to me that this fabulous woman lived there. She just did whatever she wanted.

There are a handful of songs on Folklore that feel like pretty clear nods to your personal life over the last year, including your relationships with Scott Borchetta and Scooter Braun. How long did it take to crystallize the feelings you had around both of them into “My Tears Ricochet” or “Mad Woman”?

I found myself being very triggered by any stories, movies, or narratives revolving around divorce, which felt weird because I haven't experienced it directly. There’s no reason it should cause me so much pain, but all of a sudden it felt like something I had been through. I think that happens any time you've been in a 15-year relationship and it ends in a messy, upsetting way. So I wrote “My Tears Ricochet” and I was using a lot of imagery that I had conjured up while comparing a relationship ending to when people end an actual marriage. All of a sudden this person that you trusted more than anyone in the world is the person that can hurt you the worst. Then all of a sudden the things that you have been through together, hurt. All of a sudden, the person who was your best friend is now your biggest nemesis, etc. etc. etc. I think I wrote some of the first lyrics to that song after watching Marriage Story and hearing about when marriages go wrong and end in such a catastrophic way. So these songs are in some ways imaginary, in some ways not, and in some ways both.

How did it feel to drop an F-bomb on "Mad Woman"?

F---ing fantastic.

And that’s the first time you ever recorded one on a record, right?

Yeah. Every rule book was thrown out. I always had these rules in my head and one of them was, You haven't done this before, so you can't ever do this. “Well, you've never had an explicit sticker, so you can't ever have an explicit sticker.” But that was one of the times where I felt like you need to follow the language and you need to follow the storyline. And if the storyline and the language match up and you end up saying the F-word, just go for it. I wasn't adhering to any of the guidelines that I had placed on myself. I decided to just make what I wanted to make. And I'm really happy that the fans were stoked about that because I think they could feel that. I'm not blaming anyone else for me restricting myself in the past. That was all, I guess, making what I want to make. I think my fans could feel that I opened the gate and ran out of the pasture for the first time, which I'm glad they picked up on because they're very intuitive.

Let’s talk about “Epiphany.” The first verse is a nod to your grandfather, Dean, who fought in World War II. What does his story mean to you personally?

I wanted to write about him for awhile. He died when I was very young, but my dad would always tell this story that the only thing that his dad would ever say about the war was when somebody would ask him, "Why do you have such a positive outlook on life?" My grandfather would reply, "Well, I'm not supposed to be here. I shouldn't be here." My dad and his brothers always kind of imagined that what he had experienced was really awful and traumatic and that he'd seen a lot of terrible things. So when they did research, they learned that he had fought at the Battles of Guadalcanal, at Cape Gloucester, at Talasea, at Okinawa. He had seen a lot of heavy fire and casualties — all of the things that nightmares are made of. He was one of the first people to sign up for the war. But you know, these are things that you can only imagine that a lot of people in that generation didn't speak about because, a) they didn't want people that they came home to to worry about them, and b) it just was so bad that it was the actual definition of unspeakable.

That theme continues in the next verse, which is a pretty overt nod to what’s been happening during COVID. As someone who lives in Nashville, how difficult has it been to see folks on Lower Broadway crowding the bars without masks?

I mean, you just immediately think of the health workers who are putting their lives on the line — and oftentimes losing their lives. If they make it out of this, if they see the other side of it, there's going to be a lot of trauma that comes with that; there's going to be things that they witnessed that they will never be able to un-see. And that was the connection that I drew. I did a lot of research on my grandfather in the beginning of quarantine, and it hit me very quickly that we've got a version of that trauma happening right now in our hospitals. God, you hope people would respect it and would understand that going out for a night isn't worth the ripple effect that it causes. But obviously we're seeing that a lot of people don't seem to have their eyes open to that — or if they do, a lot of people don't care, which is upsetting.

You had the Lover Fest East and West scheduled this year. How hard has it been to both not perform for your fans this year, and see the music industry at large go through such a brutal change?

It's confusing. It's hard to watch. I think that maybe me wanting to make as much music as possible during this time was a way for me to feel like I could reach out my hand and touch my fans, even if I couldn't physically reach out or take a picture with them. We've had a lot of different, amazing, fun, sort of underground traditions we've built over the years that involve a lot of human interaction, and so I have no idea what's going to happen with touring; none of us do. And that's a scary thing. You can't look to somebody in the music industry who's been around a long time, or an expert touring manager or promoter and [ask] what's going to happen and have them give you an answer. I think we're all just trying to keep our eyes on the horizon and see what it looks like. So we're just kind of sitting tight and trying to take care of whatever creative spark might exist and trying to figure out how to reach our fans in other ways, because we just can't do that right now.

When you are able to perform again, do you have plans on resurfacing a Lover Fest-type event?

I don't know what incarnation it'll take and I really would need to sit down and think about it for a good solid couple of months before I figured out the answer. Because whatever we do, I want it to be something that is thoughtful and will make the fans happy and I hope I can achieve that. I'm going to try really hard to.

In addition to recording an album, you spent this year supporting Joe Biden and Kamala Harris in the election. Where were you when it was called in their favor?

Well, when the results were coming in, I was actually at the property where we shot the Entertainment Weekly cover. I was hanging out with my photographer friend, Beth, and the wonderful couple that owned the farm where we [were]. And we realized really early into the night that we weren't going to get an accurate picture of the results. Then, a couple of days later, I was on a video shoot, but I was directing, and I was standing there with my face shield and mask on next to my director of photography, Rodrigo Prieto. And I just remember a news alert coming up on my phone that said, "Biden is our next president. He's won the election." And I showed it to Rodrigo and he said, "I'm always going to remember the moment that we learned this." And I looked around, and people's face shields were starting to fog up because a lot of people were really misty-eyed and emotional, and it was not loud. It wasn't popping bottles of champagne. It was this moment of quiet, cautious elation and relief.

Do you ever think about what Folklore would have sounded like if you, Aaron, and Jack had been in the same room?

I think about it all the time. I think that a lot of what has happened with the album has to do with us all being in a collective emotional place. Obviously everybody's lives have different complexities and whatnot, but I think most of us were feeling really shaken up and really out of place and confused and in need of something comforting all at the same time. And for me, that thing that was comforting was making music that felt sort of like I was trying to hug my fans through the speakers. That was truly my intent. Just trying to hug them when I can't hug them.

I wanted to talk about some of the lyrics on Folklore. One of my favorite pieces of wordplay is in “August”: that flip of "sipped away like a bottle of wine/slipped away like a moment in time.” Was there an "aha moment" for you while writing that?

I was really excited about "August slipped away into a moment of time/August sipped away like a bottle of wine." That was a song where Jack sent me the instrumental and I wrote the song pretty much on the spot; it just was an intuitive thing. And that was actually the first song that I wrote of the "Betty" triangle. So the Betty songs are "August," "Cardigan," and "Betty." "August" was actually the first one, which is strange because it's the song from the other girl's perspective.

Yeah, I assumed you wrote "Cardigan" first.

It would be safe to assume that "Cardigan" would be first, but it wasn't. It was very strange how it happened, but it kind of pieced together one song at a time, starting with "August," where I kind of wanted to explore the element of This is from the perspective of a girl who was having her first brush with love. And then all of a sudden she's treated like she's the other girl, because there was another situation that had already been in place, but "August" girl thought she was really falling in love. It kind of explores the idea of the undefined relationship. As humans, we're all encouraged to just be cool and just let it happen, and don't ask what the relationship is — Are we exclusive? But if you are chill about it, especially when you're young, you learn the very hard lesson that if you don't define something, oftentimes they can gaslight you into thinking it was nothing at all, and that it never happened. And how do you mourn the loss of something once it ends, if you're being made to believe that it never happened at all?

"I almost didn't process it as an album," says Taylor Swift of making Folklore. "And it's still hard for me to process as an entity or a commodity, because [it] was just my daydream space."

On the flip side, "Peace" is bit more defined in terms of how one approaches a relationship. There's this really striking line, "The devil's in the details, but you got a friend in me/Would it be enough if I can never give you peace?" How did that line come to you?

I'm really proud of that one too. I heard the track immediately. Aaron sent it to me, and it had this immediate sense of serenity running through it. The first word that popped into my head was peace, but I thought that it would be too on-the-nose to sing about being calm, or to sing about serenity, or to sing about finding peace with someone. Because you have this very conflicted, very dramatic conflict-written lyric paired with this very, very calming sound of the instrumental. But, "The devil's in the details," is one of those phrases that I've written down over the years. That's a common phrase that is used in the English language every day. And I just thought it sounded really cool because of the D, D sound. And I thought, "I'll hang onto those in a list, and then, I'll finally find the right place for them in a story." I think that's how a lot of people feel where it's like, "Yeah, the devil's in the details. Everybody's complex when you look under the hood of the car." But basically saying, "I'm there for you if you want that, if this complexity is what you want."

There's another clever turn-of-phrase on "This is Me Trying." "I didn't know if you'd care if I came back/I have a lot of regrets about that." That feels like a nod toward your fans, and some of the feelings you had about retreating from the public sphere.

Absolutely. I think I was writing from three different characters' perspectives, one who's going through that; I was channeling the emotions I was feeling in 2016, 2017, where I just felt like I was worth absolutely nothing. And then, the second verse is about dealing with addiction and issues with struggling every day. And every second of the day, you're trying not to fall into old patterns, and nobody around you can see that, and no one gives you credit for it. And then, the third verse, I was thinking, what would the National do? What lyric would Matt Berninger write? What chords would the National play? And it's funny because I've since played this song for Aaron, and he's like, "That's not what we would've done at all." He's like, "I love that song, but that's totally different than what we would've done with it."

When we last spoke, in April 2019, we were talking about albums we were listening to at the time and you professed your love for the National and I Am Easy to Find. Two months later, you met up with Aaron at their concert, and now, we're here talking about the National again.

Yeah, I was at the show where they were playing through I Am Easy to Find. What I loved about [that album] was they had female vocalists singing from female perspectives, and that triggered and fired something in me where I thought, "I've got to play with different perspectives because that is so intriguing when you hear a female perspective come in from a band where you're used to only hearing a male perspective." It just sparked something in me. And obviously, you mentioning the National is the reason why Folklore came to be. So, thank you for that, Alex.

I'm here for all of your songwriting muse needs in the future.

I can't wait to see what comes out of this interview.

This interview has been edited and condensed.

For more on our Entertainers of the Year and Best & Worst of 2020, order the January issue of Entertainment Weekly or find it on newsstands beginning Dec. 18. (You can also pick up the full set of six covers here.) Don’t forget to subscribe for more exclusive interviews and photos, only in EW.

#ew #entertainment weekly #article #interview #folklore promo #folklore interview #quote #aaron dessner #jack antonoff #joe alwyn

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lets-steal-an-archive · 3 years

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'Golden Girls' Polishes Its Scripts: Daily Revisions Geared to Sharpen Story and Hone Those Laugh Lines

TRUE OR FALSE:

Actresses Bea Arthur, Estelle Getty, Rue McClanahan and Betty White write their own dialogue for "The Golden Girls." (FALSE)

Older female writers write all 25 episodes each season because no one else could understand the problems of older females. (FALSE)

In order to keep the shows consistent from week to week, one writer prepares all the episodes. (FALSE)

Ten staff writers work together to prepare a season's worth of scripts. (TRUE)

It's a Monday morning in early October and on a sound stage at the small Renmar Studios in Hollywood, the "golden girls" have gathered to read a new script. This will be episode No. 60 of the series and it will air about three weeks later — on Halloween.

Everyone in the room has heard about this week's story line: Rose writes a letter to Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev. But apart from the writers, no one has seen the final script until now. It was completed on a Saturday, photocopied 150 times on Sunday and distributed this morning to NBC; co-producer Touchstone Pictures; the show's creator, Susan Harris; the show's lawyers and researchers, and the "Golden Girls" cast and crew.

"Hopefully, they'll laugh," murmurs head writer Kathy Speer as she prepares to hear the "table reading." "If they don't, we'll be here fixing the script for a long time."

The table reading really is at tables — eight of them arranged in a rectangle. The actresses and guest actors sit on one side, facing the writers. To the actresses' left are director Terry Hughes, executive producers Paul Junger Witt and Tony Thomas and co-executive producers/head writers Speer and Terry Grossman. To the actresses' right sit NBC representatives, the show's casting director and props and wardrobe personnel.

They begin. Director Hughes reads the stage directions: Interior, kitchen — day. Sophia is seated at table. She is reading book entitled 'Magic Made Easy.' Dorothy enters.

Bea Arthur, as Dorothy, reads: "Hi, Ma."

Estelle Getty, as Sophia, reads: "Give me your watch."

Another week is under way. As the actresses go through their lines, everyone else listens intently. They laugh (or don't laugh) and take notes. By the Friday-night tapings, this script will need to play at 22 minutes. But Friday is a long way off.

As soon as the table reading ends, the writers, producers, director and an NBC program executive huddle to discuss script changes. Then, while the actresses begin rehearsals using the first draft, the writers rush off to their yellow stucco two-story building nearby to begin rewriting.

"The secret of TV half-hour comedy shows is the revisions," explains Dean Valentine, NBC director of current comedy and also the program executive on "Golden Girls." "What they start out with is 75% away from what they end up with."

"I don't think this episode is going to need much work," co-head writer Terry Grossman announces cheerfully on his way back to his office. "It got a good response at the table. We just have to cut it, smooth out transitions and clarify some story points. New jokes will be the tough thing." He anticipates a few hours' work.

"Early in the first season we were throwing out whole scenes," he recalls. "Now we know what works for each lady and what she does best. That's the advantage of being in the third year of the show. The disadvantage is that stories are harder to come by."

Grossman heads into the office he shares with his wife Speer, who is also his writing partner. They are in charge of the writing staff. "That means we are the two who get yelled at the most when something goes wrong," he jokes.

Also piling into the conference-sized room are supervising producers Barry Fanaro and Mort Nathan and producer Winifred Hervey. Despite their titles, Grossman explains, "We're all writers."

"We are the five most dull people," Nathan insists.

"We're much funnier on paper," Hervey adds.

These five, all in their 30s, met when they worked on "Benson," an earlier Witt-Thomas-Harris series. They have been with "Golden Girls" since the beginning, and every Monday they jointly rewrite the script being taped that week. They jokingly call themselves The Gang of Five.

While they start rewriting, the show's other five staff writers — Chris Lloyd, Jeff Ferro, Frederic Weiss, Robert Bruce and Martin Weiss — go back to their own offices to work on new scripts.

"To keep quality, you like as many writers as you can afford," Speer explains. "This year, we have six 'entities' (writing teams) — four sets of partners and two individuals. And we also use a few free-lance scripts each season."

Approximately 25% of the show's budget goes to the writers, executive producer Tony Thomas says. Staff writers on a comedy series earn a weekly salary plus separate payments for completed scripts. A free-lance writer who does a story outline, a first draft and a second draft can earn about $11,000. (Note: All outside script submissions must come through agents.)

"A good comedy requires a lot of teamwork, a lot of people sitting in a room working together," Thomas emphasizes. "A good team is rare, but it's not extremely rare. It's like winning the NBA title. We had it in 'Soap,' and we had it for some years in 'Benson.' Obviously this is one of the most successful staffs we’ve ever put together."

Both Witt and Thomas deal with day-to-day details on "Golden Girls." Harris, who created the series, is less involved this season because, according to Thomas, "She is working on a feature for Disney with us. But she reads all the scripts and is familiar with most of the stories."

Flashback to the previous Friday, a week when "Golden Girls" wasn't taping. Every fourth week during the season, the show shuts down, giving the actors and crew a rest and allowing the writers to catch up.

The Gang of Five is trying to explain how their writing process works. They insist on telling, rather than showing, because, as they say, they're shy. "At the beginning of the season, even having our new writers in the meeting made me a little uncomfortable," Grossman admits. "It slowed down the process."

"One of the most important things that exists with this group is that the bottom line is making the show as good as possible. It's still very difficult when your script is read for the first time and the material doesn't work. It hurts for a moment. But there's no time to take it personally. It didn't work, and the clock is ticking. You better keep moving and get it right."

Like all sitcoms, "Golden Girls" has a "bible," a book that synopsizes everything that has happened on a series. Thus, new writers don't have to watch all the previous episodes. But there is no master plan of what will happen in the future.

The idea for "Letter to Gorbachev" surfaced last May at a beginning-of-the-season meeting of the writers and producers. "It was one of 20 or 30 story notions kicked around," Barry Fanaro recalls. The obvious similarity to Samantha Smith's letter to then-Soviet leader Yuri Andropov isn't mentioned.

"Most of them didn't work,” adds Fanaro's writing partner Mort Nathan, "but this one sounded amusing. Because Rose is a childlike character, we wondered what would happen if she wrote a letter to Gorbachev about world peace. We started fleshing it out, but we couldn't think of a second act. We went round and round, and finally six weeks later we came up with a way to make the story work."

"The five of us went over it scene by scene and agreed it was workable," Fanaro continues. "Then Mort and I went off and wrote it. It took about 10 days because we were also working on other things."

Each "Golden Girls” episode is written to a formula: "the idea, the act break and the resolution," Grossman explains. "Usually there's an 'A' story and a 'B' story going. It's the natural structure."

Although Fanaro and Nathan, who won a writing Emmy last year for a "Golden Girls" episode, wrote the basic Gorbachev script, the story the audience will see has gone through the usual "Golden Girls" grinder: The Gang of Five read and dissect the first draft, adding new scenes, new lines, new jokes. "It's really a team effort," Grossman stresses.

The jokes can be the easiest part — or the hardest. "They're only hard to write when you've got one that isn't working," Grossman says. "A joke in the middle of a scene can be weak, but the 'out joke' — a snappy one-liner that ends the scene on a laugh — has to be strong."

"We may decide a scene needs a new opening," Speer explains. "There will be a long moment of silence. Then someone will ask if anybody's eaten at some new restaurant. In the course of conversation, somebody will say, 'Wait a minute. I have an idea.'"

"With five of us, at least one of us is paying attention," Hervey deadpans.

"Good writers should be able to write for men, women, old or young," Grossman says. "We all draw on other people in our lives — parents, grandparents. Part of the reason for the show's popularity is that these are very vital people. The very same story you've seen 100 times on every sitcom takes on new light with characters in this age group. That makes life easier for us.

"Also, these four actresses are sensational. To have the entire cast be able to give such high-caliber performances means you don't have to adjust your material. You write the material, and they deliver. If they can't make it work, there's something wrong with the material."

The week goes by quickly. On Tuesday morning, the "golden girls" read over the revised script and discover that one scene has changed considerably. Some lines have been cut, while others have been sharpened. There are several new jokes. A press conference scene has been shifted from a hotel room to the ladies' living room.

On Tuesday night, the Gang of Five works late. During the day's rehearsals they realized that the revised scene didn’t play well so they jettisoned it and added some new dialogue and a few more jokes.

Following Wednesday's rehearsals, they hone the script a little more. Time is pressing. By the Thursday afternoon dress rehearsal, the actresses try to be script-perfect, although they often aren't. By now, the original 52-page script has been reduced to 50 pages, and almost every page has had at least one alteration.

For instance, on Monday when Blanche accidentally spat Coca-Cola on a Soviet Embassy official, he responded by saying, "No apology necessary." Now he says, "No need to apologize. In Moscow, we have to stand in line four hours to get this."

Late Friday afternoon, the audience files into Renmar Studios to watch the first taping. The writers are standing by, just in case a last-minute problem occurs. During the 90-minute dinner break, while a new audience is arriving, the cast, writers and producers calmly discuss how to improve the second taping. A few lines are cut, the taping is completed, and it’s on to the next week.

Source: Mills, Nancy. 1987. 'Golden Girls' Polishes Its Scripts: Daily Revisions Geared to Sharpen Story and Hone Those Laugh Lines. Los Angeles Times, October 30, https://www.latimes.com/archives/la-xpm-1987-10-30-ca-11702-story.html

#the golden girls #how the sausage is made #from the archives #tv writing #i just thought it was neat #long post

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beewolfwrites · 3 years

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And When I am Formulated, Sprawling on a Pin - Chapter One: The Edge of a Diving Board

Hello everyone!

So I haven’t used my Tumblr account in years, but I recently binge watched Alice in Borderland not too long ago and like any sane person, I realised that it was pretty darn amazing.. and that Chishiya was hands-down one of the best characters in the show.

So while I'm still riding the AIB wave, I decided to dig out my old Tumblr and write something!

This is just the first chapter, and you can find it here on AO3 too. To be honest, it’s probably better on AO3 because the formatting is a little funny on here.

I’ve written it in first person, but avoided giving the main character a name, so it can either read as a Chishiya x OC or as a reader-insert depending on how you prefer :)

Please let me know what you think, and if you do read it, thank you!

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It was David Foster Wallace who put it best. The world was one big queue leading up to a diving board. You took your place in line, climbed the rankings, and once you got to the top? The end. Process over. Because that’s how life really is: breathe, work, jump off the edge. You fulfil a function and then you’re gone forever.

At least, that’s how I’d always seen it. But the Borderlands changed all of that. Suddenly I was being pushed towards the edge of the diving board when I had thought I was still in the queue.

It happened all at once. I had been in an apartment, laughing over drinks with my brother and his friends. It was our first time in Japan, and we were only visiting for a four-day summer trip. I had only been allowed to go on the premise that he was there. Looking back now, I wish we had chosen Brussels or Amsterdam.

The last time I saw my brother, he was laughing with his friends as I closed the bathroom door behind me. I had turned to the sink, taking a moment to splash cool water on my face.

And that was when the lights went out.

‘Power cut’, I muttered, fumbling around for the door handle and re-entering the living room.

The apartment was dark and cold. I was alone.

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Tokyo almost looked beautiful without electricity at night, like a ghost city paused in time.

‘Hey!‘ I yelled through the empty streets. ‘誰か’ Anyone?

My Japanese was limited at best, but I had to try. I had to find someone. There was no way this could’ve been a prank. A whole population doesn’t just vanish into thin air, it’s simply not possible.

‘Hey, Is anyone there?’ I tried again.

As if on cue, a light cut through the darkness. I couldn’t help but squint at the large white screen projected across a desolate building. I couldn’t read any of the kanji, but there was one word that stood out clear as day.

GAME

What is this? I asked myself.

Suddenly, the screen changed, this time sporting an arrow pointing to the right. I tried to read the hiragana, but it seemed there was no need. Another light appeared in the distance, glowing ominously over the tops of buildings.

I guess I have to go that way, I thought. Perhaps there’s some kind of big event on and everyone’s gone to watch.

I made my way to the source of the light, which turned out to be an old furniture store. In this sea of darkness, it was as if the electricity had pooled entirely into one two-storey building.

There can’t be an event in a place like this. Where is everyone?

On a wall was a smaller sign with an arrow pointing into the store.

GAME – こちらです

Hesitantly, I followed the arrow up the steps leading to the door. Inside, the hallway was fully lit. The walls were decorated with mirrors and printed canvases, their price tags and sale stickers still attached. Passing beneath an arch that led into a large room, I heard a tiny bleep. It was almost inaudible, but I knew I hadn’t imagined it.

As I peered around, looking for the source of the noise, a voice spoke.

‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you.’

I jumped, turning on my heels.

Leaning inconspicuously against a wall, a man was staring at me curiously. He was wearing a sleeveless grey top and looked to be in his thirties. He didn’t look like it, but perhaps he was the shop owner?

I stepped forward, intent on asking for help. However, I must’ve moved too quickly in my excitement, as my arm wavered, knocking a tiny vase with an artificial flower off a table.

It rolled across the ground, but before I could apologise and pick it up a neon red laser cut through the vase, leaving a singed hole in the plastic soil.

‘I told you not to do that,’ the man repeated, huffing.

I stared, wordless, at the destroyed flower. Lasers? What the hell kind of game was this?

‘Newbie, hm? This’ll be easy.’

It was a new voice this time. Another man, slightly younger, was reclining back in an armchair. I hadn’t noticed him until now as his green shirt blended into the furniture fabric.

‘A foreigner, too. How lucky,’ Green Shirt said.

My mind scrambled to piece together what Japanese it could.

‘すみません… 何がこれ？皆んながどこですか’ Excuse me, what is this? Where is everyone?

Green Shirt raised a brow, whereas the first man huffed once more.

‘It’s a game. You’ve just got to follow the rules.’ He gestured his thumb to a small side table where there were a several phones lined up. ‘You need to take one before registration closes.’

On second inspection, I noticed that they were both clasping phones tightly in their hands. Maybe this was part of the game? Approaching the table, I picked up a smart phone, finding that it sprung to life immediately with a face recognition screen.

‘FACE REGISTRATION IN PROCESS.

PLEASE WAIT FOR THE GAME TO COMMENCE’

A timer on the screen began to tick down from two minutes. Around me, I could feel the two men watching my every move. They seemed to be sussing me out, although I couldn’t figure out what for. Surely, since everyone in Tokyo disappeared, we should all band together and find others.

‘REGISTRATION CLOSED. THE GAME WILL NOW COMMENCE.’

This time, the voice came from everywhere and nowhere at once, as if through an invisible sound system. I looked around at the ceiling, trying to find the speakers, when I realised that at the back of the room all of the furniture had been moved aside to make way for a large circular table and four chairs. In the centre of the table was a stack of cards.

‘GAME – RUMMY

DIFFICULTY – FOUR OF DIAMONDS

TIME LIMIT – ONE HOUR’

Four of Diamonds?

I looked at the phone in my hand, where a picture of the aforementioned card flashed up. None of it made sense. And what did playing cards have to do with this?

The first man and Green Shirt both got up and made their way to the table at the back, leaving me no choice but to follow. They seemed to know what was going on better than I did. The three of us each took a seat, only I chose to a sit as far as possible from the other two. Judging from the deck in the middle of the table, we’d be playing a card game, and I didn’t want anybody close enough to see my hand.

The overhead voice continued.

‘RULES –

PLAYERS MUST COMPLETE A SINGLE GAME OF RUMMY.

THE OBJECTIVE IS TO CLEAR ALL CARDS FROM YOUR HAND. THE FIRST PLAYER TO CLEAR THEIR HAND IS THE WINNER.

THE DECK HAS ALREADY BEEN SHUFFLED.

PLAYERS MUST DESIGNATE ONE PERSON TO BE THE DEALER.

TURNS ARE TAKEN COUNTER-CLOCKWISE, FROM THE LEFT OF THE DEALER.

EACH PLAYER STARTS WITH SEVEN CARDS. AFTER THE CARDS HAVE BEEN DEALT, THE FIRST CARD IN THE DECK MUST BE TURNED OVER AND USED TO START A SEPARATE DISCARD PILE.

PLAYERS MUST ALWAYS DRAW ONE CARD FROM THE PILE, AND DISCARD ONE CARD PER TURN.

PLAYERS MAY PICK UP A CARD FROM THE DISCARD PILE, HOWEVER YOU CANNOT DISCARD THE SAME CARD IN THAT TURN.

PLAYERS MUST CREATE SEQUENCES OF THREE TO FOUR CARDS ARRANGED BY EITHER NUMBER OR SUITE. IF A SET OF THREE OR MORE CARDS IS CREATED, THE PLAYER MAY CHOOSE TO LAY IT DOWN IN FRONT OF THEM.

PLAYERS CAN ADD TO OTHERS’ SEQUENCES PROVIDED THEY HAVE BEEN LAID DOWN ON THE TABLE.

ACE MAY ONLY COUNT AS ONE.

JOKERS CAN BE USED IN PLACE OF ANY CARD.

CLEAR CONDITION – BE THE WINNER.’

Okay, I thought, mulling it over. Okay…

I hadn’t understood most of what the voice had said, but I could pick up enough that I figured it was just a game of standard Rummy. I had never played the game before, and I only knew of it through John Steinbeck’s characters. But I had played something similar, a card-melding game that my parents had taught me when I was a small child. I’d played it countless times, and I knew it like the back of my hand. Sure enough, these rules were slightly different, but it was still a card-melding game, all the same.

I looked up at the two men opposite me. They appeared confused, despite their attempts to hide it. Green Shirt gazed at me curiously, then smirked.

Oh…

‘A foreigner, too? How lucky.’

His previous words rang in my memory. Judging by the way the two men were looking at me, they were both counting on my inability to understand the rules. They were assuming I had no idea how to play, or even what rules were just read out. And yet, the brief glimpses of confusion in their expressions told me everything: they had never played a card-melding game before.

So they’ve already decided that they have the advantage?

I tried not to smile.

‘Do you know how to play?’ the first man asked me.

I paused, considering how I should answer. I didn’t know exactly what the stakes were, but judging by the laser I had just seen, losing the game couldn’t be good. In any case, I decided to keep my cards close to my chest.

‘このガームは知らない.’ I’ve never heard of this game before.

I was aware that my Japanese probably sounded like it came straight from a textbook, but in this situation, I couldn’t care less.

The first man nodded. He looked at Green Shirt, and said, ‘I’ll be the dealer then, if that’s okay?’

Green Shirt just shrugged and sat back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. ‘Hurry up then. The clock’s ticking.’

Sure enough, my phone displayed a timer which read 57 minutes. I didn’t want to find out what happened if we didn’t have a clear winner by the time it hit zero.

The first man picked up the deck, dishing out seven cards each before returning the stack to the centre. He took the first card and turned it over on the table, beginning the discard pile. Picking up a card from the deck, the first man began his turn.

I didn’t pay attention to what he was doing, as I needed to focus on the cards currently in my hand.

King of Spades

Three of Hearts

King of Diamonds

Five of Clubs

Ace of Hearts

Nine of Diamonds

Eight of Clubs

It wasn’t bad. Or at least, it could’ve been a lot worse. The two kings stuck out immediately as a potential meld. I could certainly build around them. However, another thought came to mind. If Rummy was anything like the game I had learned as a child, it meant that players could add to each other’s melds once they were on the table. In that case, I would have to avoid creating sets of consecutive numbers within the same suite, as a three-card combination in this kind of meld would leave two openings for the others to get rid of their cards, rather than just the one.

Glancing up, I noticed it was Green Shirt’s turn, promptly ended as he threw an Ace of Spades into the discard pile.

That meant it was my turn next.

I eyed the Ace he just discarded and remembered hearing the overhead voice say something about Aces. But there was no time to think about it; the other two were watching me closely and waiting for me to pick up a card.

I reached out to the deck.

Seven of Diamonds.

Technically I could’ve used it in conjunction with my nine, but it was too risky. I didn’t have time to wait around in hopes of picking up an Eight of Diamonds. Plus, I’d already decided against consecutive sets.

I tossed it into the discard pile.

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The game continued for longer than I would’ve liked it to. The clock was ticking, ticking, ticking, and now read 17 minutes.

So far, my hand had started to come together.

King of Spades

King of Diamonds

King of Hearts

Nine of Diamonds

Nine of Spades

Five of Clubs

Ace of Hearts

I could’ve laid down my kings on the table. But there was only three cards in the meld, meaning one of the others could add the remaining king from their own hand. Across from me, neither of the other two had laid down any cards, and until they did, I couldn’t add anything to their melds either.

Green Shirt then took his turn and picked up a card. He glanced once at me, then threw a Nine of Diamonds onto the discard pile.

I must’ve regarded it a second too long because Green Shirt then spoke up.

‘You’re collecting Diamonds, aren’t you?’

I tried not to smile.

‘どうして知っているのですか’ I asked, playing along. How did you know that?

‘Because you always stare at the cards whenever I discard a Diamonds one.’

He must’ve gotten the wrong end of the stick, because whenever he discarded a Diamonds card, my heart sank. The last thing I needed was a Diamonds card.

‘I’ll try and keep a poker face from now on,’ I muttered.

Green Shirt frowned in response and checked the timer on his phone.

Nine minutes.

Nine minutes until game over.

That’s 540 seconds I had to land a good card.

Come on, I thought. Please be a nine. Please be a nine.

I picked up a card from the deck. It was a Two of Spades. I discarded it immediately.

In the back of my mind, I was starting to panic. Judging by this whole setup, we were playing for our lives. After all, what kind of game would have an invisible barrier that kills those who try to back out?

The first man threw away a Six of Clubs. Green Shirt stared at it and scowled. He must’ve been looking for extra cards to add to his meld on the table.

By now, the two men were starting to become antsy. The first man kept scratching his eyebrow, whereas Green Shirt kept dragging his nails on the table in impatience.

He picked up a card from the deck, then grinned from ear to ear. He proudly lay down a consecutive suite consisting of the Seven and Six of Clubs and a Joker used to represent a five.

Carelessly, he tossed down a Nine of Clubs.

My heart jumped, and adrenaline shot through me.

He still thinks I’m collecting Diamonds. That’s why he tossed it.

My hand shot out and snatched up the card from the pile before Green Shirt could figure out his mistake. And figure it out, he did, because his eyes widened slightly.

I looked at him squarely.

‘I have something to confess,’ I said in English. ‘I lied. I’m not collecting Diamonds.’

Green Shirt’s smile dropped. He didn’t understand, but he would soon enough. The thing about Jokers is that they’re always a double-edged sword.

Laying down my new trio of nines, I reached over to Green Shirt’s meld and inserted my Five of Clubs, swiping his Joker for myself.

He made a noise of protest, whereas the first man watched on with disbelief, as if hoping that his intuition was wrong.

I added the Joker to my two Kings, creating a new meld which I down on the table.

Their faces told all. They had no idea that Jokers could be swapped. Even though I hadn’t understood the rules outlined at the beginning, it was evident that this was a rule that hadn’t been mentioned.

Watching them shake their heads, wide eyed… it was like watching a penny drop.

‘ごめんなさい,’ I said.

I’m sorry.

I threw the Ace of Hearts onto the discard pile.

The two men shot out of their seats, yelling frantically. I tried to tear my eyes away, but couldn’t, as two lasers pierced through the ceiling and struck them where they stood.

The two bodies crumpled to the ground, and all was still.

‘GAME CLEAR – CONGRATULATIONS!’

I don’t know how long I remained seated in my chair, but I felt that if I moved, I would collapse too. Swallowing, I took two fingers and pressed them to my jugular, feeling for my pulse.

I had won. I was still alive.

I was still here.

The phone on the table beside me flashed with a message. According to this game, I had a four-day visa, whatever that meant.

It didn’t matter though, all I needed right now was to sleep.

Rising unsteadily, I cautiously approached the where the invisible barrier had been. For all I knew it was a one-way system, and I didn’t want to make a stupid mistake after all my effort in the Rummy game. So, as a test, I picked up a tiny vase and threw it across the entrance.

Nothing.

It was like the lasers had just disappeared altogether.

Tentatively reaching my fingers through, I deemed it safe, and made my way back down the hall to the store entrance. I didn’t know where to go, or how to live in a world like this, but if books and movies had taught me anything, I needed to make some kind of camp, perhaps even head to a food store to collect some supplies –

I stopped.

On a small side table near the entrance doors, a card lay facing up. The Four of Diamonds. The same Four of Diamonds that had flashed on the screen on my phone. The game’s difficulty.

But when did it get here? Perhaps someone had come by whilst I was still playing.

Shrugging, I pocketed it and stepped outside into the ghostly darkness of Tokyo. Behind me, the electricity in the furniture store shut off completely.

Whatever kind of games these were, I had a feeling they were only just getting started.

#alice in borderland #chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya x oc #chishiya x reader #chishiya alice in borderland

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