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razzle-zazzle · 4 months

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Brothers

9650 Words; Between AU, pre-canon

TW for death

AO3 ver

Gristle Junior was seven months and eleven days old on the day of his first Trollstice.

Or rather, he was seven months and eleven days old on what would have been his first Trollstice, were it not for the lack of trolls. And the day had started so well, too, anticipation electric in his veins as he bounced around his father’s room. He had been so ready to taste true happiness!

But the Trolls were gone, fleeing underground despite the best efforts of Chef’s underlings. Not a single Troll had been recovered, Gristle had been told, and from what little he had been able to see of the commotion—from the swinging shovels and pickaxes he had glimpsed in the plaza as he was being shuffled away from the action—supported that notion. Surely, if Trolls were being found, then surely there would be much less frustration.

But the day passed without a single Troll eaten. Gristle’s father, for who he had been named, had taken him aside to calmly explain that with no Trolls, Gristle would never be happy. Not ever. Nothing else could possibly work.

To a Bergen less than a year old, such words were absolute. And why should Gristle doubt his father? The King had lived for decades, an extent of time which felt like an eternity to Gristle Junior. Surely, if there was anyone who could know everything, it would be the King.

Gristle was seven months and eleven days old on the last chance he would ever have to know true happiness. The date clung to his mind, the damnation of eternal misery heavy in his chest. To a Bergen so young and inexperienced with the world, there could be nothing worse.

Chef was disgraced. Not a single Troll recovered, in all of that mess? Her exile was quick and loud—Gristle watched from the castle door with his father as Chef was bodily thrown through the gates, shouting curses he strained to hear. With a sigh, Gristle moved to turn away from the door, prepared to ready himself for bed.

“Your Majesty!” Two Bergens hailed down his father, bowing the moment the King’s eyes were on them. “We found…” The Bergen on the left had his hands cupped together oddly, perfectly concealing whatever would be inside. With a nudge from his partner, he bowed again, holding out whatever it was to the King. “We found this at the tree’s edge.”

Gristle Junior turned back towards the door, pressing against his father’s legs to peer at what was so urgent it couldn’t wait for daylight. The air was thick with anticipation as the Bergen’s fingers slowly parted, revealing what was delicately clasped in his hands.

It was a Troll.

Gristle’s eyes widened. His father inhaled sharply, peering down at the tiny shape curled in the palm.

The Troll stared up at them with wide eyes, curled in on itself and shaking. It was so small. How did creatures that small even exist?

The King hummed, leaning in further. Gristle Junior was quick to imitate, peering at the tiny Troll even more intently. This brought to light a detail that had been previously overlooked—a detail that seven month and eleven day old Gristle had no filter against pointing out.

“It’s gray.” Gristle said, peering down at the thing. Tiny, too. Could something so little really bring him happiness? “Is it sick?” He poked at the Troll, and it flinched back with a hiss, tail clutched in its paws.

“Inedible.” Gristle Senior growled out. He turned bared teeth to the pair before them. “Your effort is appreciated.” He said, “But there’s no use for a Troll that’s gone bad.” The King sighed, moving to reenter the castle. “Do as you wish with it.” He dismissed. “My son and I…”

Gristle Junior reached for the Troll. “It’s so small.” He whispered, staring down at it. Small and gray and baring blunted teeth in an approximation of a snarl… He looked up at the pair, eyes wide. “Can I have it?”

The Bergen holding the Troll hesitated, before tilting his hands towards Gristle. The Troll squeaked as Gristle scooped it up, voice tiny. Gristle squealed, clutching the Troll and running back inside, the rest of the world forgotten.

The Troll turned bewildered eyes up to Gristle. It trembled, shouting as Gristle turned a corner, but Gristle paid no heed to anything but the sheer novelty of his idea. His very own Troll! There was hardly much of a plan in the toddler’s head, but a simple idea was all Gristle really needed at his age.

Gristle bounced into his bedroom, Troll in hand. He moved to set the Troll down on the desk—

“Son!” Gristle Senior’s voice was seldom so loud—but when it was, it commanded attention from everyone in the area. And indeed, Gristle Junior turned his attention to his father, the Troll still squirming in his hand. “What are you doing?” Gristle had never heard his father at such a loss.

“Keeping it.” Gristle Junior said.

Gristle Senior walked across the room and peered down at the Troll on the desk, trapped between Gristle Junior’s hands. “A pet is a lot of responsibility, son.” He pointed out.

“You say the same about being Prince.” Gristle Junior responded.

Gristle Senior jolted slightly, taken aback. “That… is true.” He conceded. “But it’s a Troll.” He poked the Troll in question, sending it stumbling backwards onto the ground. “It will just get eaten.”

“But you said gray Trolls are inebidable!” Gristle Junior lifted the Troll—his Troll, up with cradled hands, pressing it against his chest. “That they’ve got no use, which means that eating them can’t do anything!”

“Inedible.” Gristle Senior corrected gently. He lowered down, to be closer to his son’s eye level. “Son, be realistic. The kingdom just lost all of its Trolls. Trollstice has been a tradition for more than a century. The shock of no more Trollstices will make the people desperate.”

The Troll stared up from Gristle Junior’s hands with wide eyes. Tiny claws too small to do any damage dug into Gristle Junior’s hand.

Gristle Junior huffed. “But they gotta listen to you, Daddy. You’re the King.” The people had listened when the King declared Chef exiled; Gristle had witnessed just that less than an hour ago. “If you say that my Troll is inedidible then nobody will eat it!”

The King sighed, tired and heavy. “You’ll need something to keep it in.” He advised. As his son cheered, he turned to the door, and made his way across the room. Once Gristle Senior reached the doorframe, he turned back to his son one more time.

“If I wake up tomorrow and find that thing is running around the castle, I will feed it to Barnabus.” He threatened. His face immediately lightened, and he left the room with a single, cheery, “Goodnight, son!”

Gristle Junior nodded at the closed door with the utmost seriousness. He turned back to his Troll, who he set on the desk gently. “Hear that?” He asked. “You stay in here, or else.” With that, Gristle propped his face up in his hands, leaning forwards. “My name’s Gristle. Yours?”

The Troll crossed tiny Troll arms and glared up at him. “I’m not telling.” It said, in a voice that reminded Gristle of the mice Barnabus ate.

“Then I’ll just give you one!” Gristle chirped. “How about… Trolly!”

“No.”

Gristle frowned. “You’re getting a name, no matter what.” He huffed, poking his Troll in the side. The Troll stumbled a bit, but remained standing. “You’re so grumpy.” Gristle noticed. “Just like… a Bergen…” He trailed off, something approaching realization creeping up his throat.

The Troll snarled. “Not a Bergen!” It insisted, tail smacking the desk.

Gristle stared. “You…” His eyes lit up. “You and I are gonna be best friends.” Gristle decided, poking his Troll again.

The Troll’s response was simple. Gristle yelped, yanking his hand back. The Troll fell over, rubbing at its mouth with tiny paws, and Gristle stared at the tiny teeth marks on his finger.

The Troll glared mutinously, as if daring Gristle to come within biting range again.

Gristle nodded. “Yep! Best friends!”

+=+=+=+=+

Gristle Junior was nine months and two days old when he learned the Troll’s name. He had been poring through a pet care magazine, oo-ing and ah-ing over the different kinds of pets that Bergens kept. From alligator-dogs like Barnabus to even frog-crows!

He had hit the section for small pets, though none of the kinds commonly kept by Bergens were as small as a Troll. He looked over at the custom cage his father had had commissioned for his Troll, from the pod taken from the abandoned Troll Tree to the sandy substrate in the basin. As usual, his Troll was down on the substrate, pressed into the corner while it worked its way through safflower seeds.

“Look!” Gristle held the magazine right up against the cage bars, pointing at the circled bird perch. “How does a swing sound? I bet you’d have a lot of fun with it, Trolly.” He didn’t expect a response—the Troll rarely ever spoke back, content with glaring and darting away when Gristle reached into the cage.

Which meant it surprised him all the more when the tiny creature spoke. “Branch.”

Gristle opened his mouth to continue speaking—stopped. “What?”

“Branch.” The Troll repeated. “My name is Branch.” Its eyes were locked resolutely on the sandy substrate, shoulders hunched and tail thwap-thwap-thwapping against the corner.

Gristle gasped. “Oh!” He’d never thought—he—Branch—

“That’s a weird name.” Gristle finally decided, leaning in. “Are all Trolls named like that?” He couldn’t quite read well enough to digest all the books he’d found about Trolls (or that had Trolls on the covers), so his only real source of information was what former Troll-handlers Chad and Todd (or was it Todd and Chad?) could tell him, when he saw them. Which wasn’t often.

Branch gave Gristle a deer in headlights look, a helpless sort of “how-would-I-know” conveyed through body language alone. Paws clenched and unclenched against the seed held between them.

Gristle shrugged, and went back to the magazine. “So,” He said, “You never said if you wanted a swing.”

“Don’t bother.” Branch huffed. “I won’t use it.”

+=+=+=+=+

Gristle Junior was five years old when his father led him into his study for the first time. The younger marveled at the book-filled shelves and neatly organized desk, at the candle holders set into the wall and the banners hanging down—this room was his future.

“My son,” Gristle Senior began. “What you will be starting today is a time-honored tradition of Bergen Royalty.” His voice had a practiced lilt, a deep timbre made of years of self-assurance. “For no Monarch rules Bergentown alone—it is the duty of Princes and Princesses to run the kingdom in concert with the reigning monarch.”

“Whoaaa…” Gristle Junior hopped up and down to see atop the desk. “I’m a Prince!” He realized, whirling around to face his father. “So I have to help you run!”

Gristle Senior chuffed. When he spoke, there was pride in his voice. “And that is exactly what you will start learning today.” He lifted his son with one arm, sitting down behind the desk and settling Gristle Junior in his lap. “Now,” He pushed a stack of books from the edge of the desk to the center. “Here are the best volumes to start with…”

The lesson continued on throughout the rest of the morning. After lunch with his father, Gristle Junior returned to his room with the stack of books he had been given, ready and willing to learn. He pushed open the door, and made his way over to the desk right next to his bed.

“There’s so many books I need to read!” Gristle lamented. “How am I ever going to learn it all?” He’d have to, though, to be a proper Prince of Bergentown. And he would! Bergens were tough, and royal Bergens were said to be the toughest of all! So Gristle would be the best Prince! No book could defeat someone as tough as him!

He was starting with history. But there was so much! He held out the book to Branch’s cage, showing off just how thick it was—and it was all pre-Trollstice, too!

Branch squinted at the tome, then returned to his digging. He’d been doing a lot of that lately. Which was weird, because Trolls were supposed to live in trees—every book Gristle had read on them said so. But the pod in Branch’s cage—taken directly from the Troll Tree, no less—remained just as empty as it always had. There was even dust building up along the top!

“I mean, how in the world am I ever going to remember all this?” Gristle slammed the book down on his desk, prying it open. He was glad for Branch—the Troll was a good listener, in the five year old’s eyes.

The Troll in question poked his head back up, ears twitching. “Are you going to read it, or are you just gonna complain?” He asked, before going back to the hole.

“Right.” Gristle turned his attention back to the book. Slowly, he began, sounding out the words as best he could.

“The first re-cor-did history of Bergenkind dates back to… three… fow-sand years ago.” He began. “When Fow-ler the First wrote the… the first ever Law.” He continued reading, stumbling over words while Branch continued digging. Gristle let the history wash over him, entranced in the task set before him. Hours passed, and Gristle found himself being called down to dinner before he even registered that so much time had passed.

Three days later, Gristle found himself staring at a worksheet in frustration. He was supposed to fill it out without looking at his books, and he was struggling.

“UGH!” Gristle threw his head back, clutching at his hair as he seethed. “How can I remember the name of the first Bergen to write a law but not when?!” He smacked his head against the desk, groaning in frustration. The urge to go to his shelf and pull out the relevant book itched down his spine—but he had to hold strong! A good Prince knew how to look things up, but a great Prince could recall whatever detail was needed when it was needed.

Oh, how was Gristle ever supposed to be a great Prince?

“The first recorded history of Bergenkind dates back to three thousand years ago.” Branch said, casually breaking the frustrated silence. “That’s what your book said.”

Gristle looked at Branch’s cage, where the Troll was busy jotting stuff down on a scrap of paper. Gristle then looked over to the book on his shelf. Slowly, he pushed out his chair and went over to the shelf, opening the book to the first page.

“That’s…” He turned back to Branch. “You’ve got a good memory.” He said, returning the book to the shelf.

Branch muttered something that Gristle didn’t quite catch. Gristle shrugged, and went back to his worksheet. He’d have to read aloud to Branch more often, if Branch could remember stuff so well.

With a hum, Gristle continued on with the worksheet. It probably wasn’t in the spirit of the challenge to have a friend who could remember a lot of words, but Gristle wasn’t concerned at all with that notion.

He continued to talk to Branch as he worked, something light in his chest with the knowledge that Branch really was listening.

+=+=+=+=+

Gristle Junior was six years old, and he and Branch were having a real good row. The kind of row that, had they been proper siblings, would have only been able to be settled by some proper Bergen roughhousing, with weapons and property destruction. A real riot-causing dispute.

It was hardly their first disagreement—Gristle had the faint bite scars all over his fingers to prove it. But it was certainly frustrating, born from weeks of buildup over a simple fact.

“It’s not healthy! Trolls are supposed to sing!” Gristle gestured to the book in his hand, which was way more useful than all the cookbooks he’d found. It actually went a bit into Troll health and growth, detailing all the ways and times that Trolls could become inedible. As Branch was, and had always been gray—or at least, as long as Gristle had known him—the book in question proved very useful.

“Well I don’t!” And that was the crux of the situation, the simple fact from which all of this had spawned. “And I never will!” Branch’s stand was resolute, unshakeable, even in the face of all of Gristle’s Princely Rage.

“But you have to!” Gristle insisted, gesturing again to the page he had the book opened to. “Trolls that don’t sing—this book isn’t very nice about them!” He was fumbling, he knew, but he didn’t know how else to say it. The book said that gray Trolls were to be removed from the Troll Tree and disposed of immediately. It didn’t say why, and Gristle was still a child—he didn’t question the words presented as fact. As far as he could tell, a Troll that had gone gray was just… it wasn’t right!

“You’re supposed to be happy.” Gristle pushed. “You’re supposed to sing, like a regular Troll.”

“Never gonna happen.” Branch insisted. “I’ll stay unhappy, just you watch!” He crossed his arms with a huff, tail twitching angrily.

“That’s not good!” Gristle responded. “You have to get your color back eventually!” The book said nothing about whether Trolls could regain their color after losing it. But it wasn’t right, for a creature so intertwined with music to never make a single note. And if the book said to get rid of gray Trolls…

Gristle cared about Branch, more than he could feasibly admit. The castle staff were fine, and his father was his father, but Branch—Branch was a friend. Someone Gristle could talk to who would actually listen, no matter what it was.

The book said it wasn’t healthy for a Troll to go gray. Gristle was going to be King someday, in the far distant future, and he’d be responsible for all of Bergentown. Even sooner, he would be a fully fledged Prince, responsible for helping his father with Bergentown. If Gristle couldn’t even take care of one tiny troll, then what were his chances of ever being good at what he was literally meant to do?

“And then what?” Branch gripped the bars of his cage, rage in every inch of his body. “You’ll eat me?”

“Of course not!” Gristle could never! Branch was… Branch was his friend! Inedible by Royal Decree! Gristle would sooner eat Barnabus!

“You’re lying!” Branch yelled back. “The moment I become edible you or some other Bergen will be serving me up on a silver platter!” His tail lashed about wildly, tears bubbling up at the corners of his eyes. “Because that’s all Trolls are to you!”

Gristle flinched back. He… he refused to admit it, but Branch had a point. Trolls were the only way that Bergens could ever be happy, and they had spent generations with a holiday dedicated to that very thing. But…

“You’re different.” Gristle insisted. Branch was his friend. “You’re not… you never sing and you’re always unhappy.” He huffed. “It’s like you’re barely a Troll at all!”

This time it was Branch’s turn to flinch, tail falling flat against the ground. “Maybe you’re right.” He said quietly, turning away from the bars.

“Branch, I—” Gristle reached out, only for his hand to fall back down when Branch glared at him.

“Fine, then.” Gristle grumbled. “We’ll just be unhappy together.” Between the two of them, Branch was the only one who had even a chance to ever be happy—Gristle would never get to eat a Troll with all of them gone, but Branch… Branch was a Troll. If anyone would ever get to be happy, it would be the creature who was quite literally made of the stuff.

“Fine!” Branch sat down hard on the substrate, arms crossed and turned away from Gristle. “Unhappy together!”

It felt like a promise, like a finality.

It felt like Gristle was failing hard at this whole “taking care of others” thing.

+=+=+=+=+

Gristle Junior was seven years old with a form in his hand. He stood before Branch’s cage, expanded over the years to include deeper substrate and a small climbing tree. The… well, it felt weird to call him a Troll, when he was nothing like Gristle’s books, but what else could he be called?

A Bergen. At least, that was what he’d be if Gristle’s idea went through.

“I’ve been learning about law.” Gristle began, with no real preamble. Branch looked up from his orange slice, ears twitching, but made no comment. “And I found out something interesting.” He took a deep breath, and glanced at the memo in his hand. “Adoption Laws, Section Two. In the case of a non-Bergen being adopted by a Bergen or other being of Bergen citizenry…” Gristle hurriedly looked at the memo again, “They are considered, in all aspects of the law, a Bergen, with all of the rights and restrictions that such a designation entails.” He let the memo flutter down to the floor and looked down at Branch, who was staring up at him with wide eyes.

Branch clenched and unclenched his paws against the half-eaten orange slice in his lap, tail flicking behind him. “...what.”

“Listen.” Gristle leaned in close, holding up the form in his other hand. “If I adopt you, then you wouldn’t be in any more danger of being eaten!”

Branch squinted. “Aren’t you a little young to be a parent?” He asked, orange slice seemingly forgotten in his lap. “And I’m older than you.” He pointed out, somewhat bitterly.

“Ew! No! Not as a son!” Gristle waved his arms wildly, then pressed the form against the bars again. “As a brother.” He clarified. “Because… you’re more of a friend than a pet,” Gristle explained, “And it’s not fair to keep treating you like one. A pet.” He carefully gaged Branch’s expressions, watching as his face flickered through a series of emotions. “All you’d need to do is sign on this line…”

“It can’t be that easy.” Branch groused, tail flicking faster. “Bergens don’t do ‘easy’.”

“Well,” Gristle rubbed at the back of his neck, “We would have to get approval from Dad for it to go through.” He rallied, clenching his free hand in a fist. “But that’s easy! I mean, he let me keep you!”

“As a pet.” Branch stressed. He set the orange slice aside, brushing off his paws as he stood. “That’s totally different.”

“And that’s why I want to do this!” Gristle unlatched the cage door, not bothering to reach in—he had long since learned that Branch hated being picked up unexpectedly. Better to let Branch come out of the cage on his own terms. “Because what kind of Prince treats his friend like a pet?”

Branch’s expression fell, his shoulders hunching. His paws clenched and unclenched in the rhythmic way they often did, his tail flicking. Carefully, slowly, Branch clambered out of the cage, climbing down the flipped out door to settle on the smooth wood of the shelf. Gristle held out his hand, palm up, and Branch hopped onto it, letting himself be lifted over to the desk.

Gristle laid out the form. He’d double-checked every word to make sure it was exactly what he needed, and all that was left was to sign it and have it approved. Gristle had already signed it, his name penned in only slightly messy ink. Penmanship win!

Branch pulled a tiny quill from his hair, hopping up to gently dab it in the inkwell on the desk. As Gristle watched, Branch kneeled down in front of his line, and carefully signed his name.

“Think that’ll be enough?” Gristle asked.

Branch hummed. “Maybe…” He tucked the quill away and went back to the inkwell, hopping up and leaning so far in that for a moment Gristle feared he’d fall in. Branch kicked the side and lifted himself back and out, clambering over to the form and slapping right next to his name with his paws.

Two inky paw prints, right next to his name. “That should do it.” Branch decided, satisfied.

Gristle nodded, offering his hand again. As Branch hopped onto his palm and clambered up Gristle’s arm to his shoulder, Gristle grabbed the form carefully, blowing a bit to make the ink dry faster.

“Let’s get this done!” Gristle declared, running off to go find his father. It wasn’t the first time Branch had left Gristle’s room, nor the first time that Branch had ridden on Gristle’s shoulder. But it was the first time since the belled harness had been made that Branch had left the room without the jingle of bells signaling his every movement. Gristle realized it was weird, actually, to feel the weight on his shoulder and not hear the sound of bells he’d come to associate with that weight. But the harness was from when Branch was still a pet in everyone’s eyes—it wouldn’t do to make Branch wear it now.

And really, Branch was like a Bergen, in a lot of ways. He never sang or danced, he was disagreeable—even the gray of his short fur was similar to the average Bergen’s dull tones. Whenever he had something to work on, be it the den he’d dug or even old worksheets Gristle tried to downsize for him, he took to working on it just like a Bergen: with a grumble and the focused spirit that allowed Bergens to create sturdy walls and buildings. And he had interesting insights, too—Bergens disliked great heights, so even the castle couldn’t get very tall, but it was Branch who gave Gristle the idea to suggest subterranean expansion when the King presented the age-old issue of expansion logistics. Which was just funny, because Trolls lived in trees—yet Branch never once touched the dusty pod hanging in his cage.

Branch settled down on Gristle Junior’s shoulder, tucked just below Gristle’s ear. Gristle found a sudden bounce in his step, a mix of anticipation and excitement in his veins. Yeah, this whole adoption thing was a great idea! Maybe even the best Gristle had ever had!

Finding the King was easy—it was just before lunch, so King Gristle Senior would be just finishing up with the final petitioners in the biweekly levee. Normally, Gristle Junior would be sitting in his own princely throne beside his father, to listen and watch and get a general idea of how a levee worked—but he had… kinda skipped it, what with how eager he was to try out the adoption idea. Not that that was a major issue—Gristle Junior wasn’t meant to fully step into his duties as Prince until he was ten.

Still…

“Ah, there you are.” King Gristle Senior groused, shifting slightly in his throne. “Care to explain why you missed today’s levee?”

Gristle Junior stopped short, nodding his head in a bow. “My apologies, Father.” He kept his tone careful, regal, like he’d been taught. “I found something that needed attending to.” He explained, head still down.

Gristle Senior snorted. “Well, out with it, then.” He waved his hand encouragingly as his son looked up. “What grand idea did you come up with this time?”

Gristle Junior’s mouth pulled back in an odd way, and he fought the strange expression off of his face. With a simple flourish, he drew out the form, holding it out towards his father. “This.”

Gristle Senior took the form, glancing it over. His expression remained neutr—his eyes widened, as the contents of the form properly registered. The King’s expression scrunched, turning thunderous, before going down to mere annoyance. He turned that annoyance upon his son, and all but sputtered out, “What in the name of Berg is the meaning of this?!”

“It’s an adoption form.” Gristle Junior explained, pressing his hands together. He felt Branch shift slightly on his shoulder, and he held out a palm. Branch took the offer, sliding down Gristle’s arm to stand upon his hand, small and gray and steady.

“I can… see that.” Gristle Senior hissed through ground teeth. “But…” His expression became just as lost as the night that Gristle Junior had first met Branch. With a deep sigh, Gristle Senior looked down at his son and the Troll.

“Letting you keep a Troll as a pet is one thing,” The King began, “But adoption? Of a Troll? Are you insane?”

Gristle Junior felt oddly gobsmacked. “It makes sense.” He tried, unable to keep childish uncertainty from his voice. “Branch is the most unTroll Troll ever, he’s just like a Bergen and I think it’d be best if he was called as such, because then nobody would even think to eat him!”

Gristle Senior sighed, heavy and tired. “That’s not a good enough reason.” He started. “Son, do you have any idea what would happen if that… thing were to become your brother?”

“It’d be a serious crime to eat him.” Gristle Junior responded easily.

Gristle Senior brought up his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, grumbling too low for Gristle Junior to make out the words. “...of all the—” With a rumbling groan, Gristle Senior regarded his son with a firm—but not wholly uncaring—expression. “You’re a Prince, my son. You can’t just go adopting every creature you see fit.”

“It’s just Branch.” Gristle Junior pushed back, “He’s already close enough to a Bergen, what’s adding the legal distinction going to do?” He shook his head. “This will all work out, Dad, I know it. I just need you to trust me.”

“Son, be realistic.” The King groused. “If that thing becomes your brother, then that makes it a Prince. There’s no way a Troll could be a Bergen Prince! Trolls are all about loud parties and sugar and silly games—they’re simply unsuited to laws and regulations and the hard work required to run a kingdom!”

Gristle Junior’s mouth opened—to say what, he wasn’t sure, but air was being forced up from his lungs and defiance was roaring in his heart, ready to burst out what would surely be a useful and clever retort—

“I can do it.”

As one, Gristle Junior and Senior turned to look at Branch. Branch took the combined attention with hunched shoulders, his tail clasped in his paws. “You want me to learn how to help run a kingdom? Fine. I’ll do it. I’ll learn.” He dropped his tail and crossed his arms, expression firm.

“I don’t want you doing anything of the sort.” Gristle Senior growled, but Gristle Junior was already rallying.

“He can! Branch is smart, Dad, he’s where I got the idea for underground expansions from! He remembers all the stuff I read, and he listens, and he’d make a good Prince!” All of his reasons were true and proven—which meant a lot, for seven year old Gristle Junior.

“Preposterous!” Gristle Senior began—

“If you think it’s so preposterous,” Branch’s voice cut through the room like alligator-dog teeth through mice. “Then why not bet on it?”

Those three words echoed in the sudden silence of the room, bouncing off the vaulted ceiling and tangling up in the eaves. If there was one thing Gristle Junior knew his father could not resist, it was a wager.

Indeed, Gristle Senior’s face had turned contemplative, his hands steepled before him. “A bet, you say?” Something like satisfaction slithered its way onto his face. “Hmm, I think I see what you mean. A trial period, of sorts, is that it? To find out if you could even come close to being a Prince?”

Branch nodded.

“Yeah!” Gristle Junior agreed. “If Branch can prove himself then you have to let the adoption go through!”

Gristle Senior snorted. “Sure, fine.” He waved his hand dismissively, before turning his attention to Branch. “But when that little creature fails to keep up the pace, I’m burning that form and you’re going to put any wild ideas of adopting Trolls out of your head for good.” He glared down at the pair, lips curled in a derisive snarl.

“You have three weeks.” Gristle Senior declared. “Better get started.”

+=+=+=+=+

Gristle Junior was seven years old when he became a brother.

The wager had been… not as hard as Gristle expected. Branch had thrown himself into the challenge with a fervor that was only seen with master artisans undergoing hefty commissions. It had taken a lot of work, in those three weeks, but at the end of it all—

The cage had to be redone, renovated into a proper bedroom. The castle staff found itself expanded by two—Bernice and Groth, who had been hired to aid in the fiddly and sometimes frustrating art of turning tiny, Troll-sized writings into something that could be read by the average Bergen. Branch needed new clothes, and a proper bed, and a shelf for all of the Troll-sized copies he’d made and was making of the various books on Law and history and regulations, and had to attend meals and levees and lessons with Gristle, and—

It was so much. Gristle had known, when he had drafted that first attempt at an adoption form in the castle library, that things would change—but he had never quite imagined the sheer scope of it all. Suddenly, his brother was accompanying him everywhere, riding on Gristle’s shoulder or flinging himself through the halls with his hair. Gristle had heard some of the staff discussing pathways for Branch, where he’d be safe from being stepped on—

There was so much.

But…

Gristle had never had a brother. He had had a friend, in Branch, but it had taken so long for them to really get there. And now, despite how it had felt like the world was ending on that fateful failed Trollstice, all those years ago—

Gristle couldn’t imagine that day going any other way. He didn’t want to imagine a world in which he never met Branch, who was surely a Bergen in Troll skin. Branch was his friend—no, his brother.

“Hey, Branch?” Gristle rolled over and looked at the shelf that Branch’s things currently resided on, at the cage hurriedly covered with a sheet in an approximation of a proper room with real privacy. Late at night, in his unlit room, it barely looked like a cage at all. “Do you ever think about the day we met?”

Branch’s voice filtered down from the shelf. “Not really.” He admitted. “Why should I?” There was something oddly bitter in his voice. “It’s the day I was left behind. Again.”

Gristle Junior wasn’t sure how to unpack that. Or if he ever should. “I won’t leave you behind.” He promised, “‘Cause brothers stick together.” It felt like such a simple truth, to the seven year old Bergen.

There was silence from the shelf. It stretched on, almost uncomfortably so, feeding into the static of the darkness filling the room.

Gristle huffed. “You really are just like a Bergen.” He commented, “Always miserable.” He chuffed, something light in his chest that he didn’t fully register. “And that’s why you know we’ll always stick together.” He said, staring up at the darkness clinging to the ceiling.

“Unhappy together, then.” There was something soft in Branch’s voice—he must have been tired after such a long day.

Gristle sighed. Unhappy together. It sounded like a promise, like a finality.

It sounded like he was finally getting the hang of this whole “taking care of people” thing.

+=+=+=+=+

Gristle Junior was ten years old when he was properly crowned Prince.

The day had been rife with tradition, from a breakfast banquet stocked with imported delicacies to the event itself out in the plaza. The old Troll Tree, withered from its abandonment, stood tall in the center of the space, dominating the whole scene no matter how Gristle Junior tried to look at it.

He fiddled with the clasp on his cape—his Princely cape, paired with his new crown to signify the change in status. The festivities weren’t exactly celebratory—the whole ceremony amounted to more of a town meeting, but with the best catering the royal kitchens could provide. Bergens of all kinds wandered about the plaza, taking advantage of the free food while Gristle Junior—Prince Gristle Junior watched on from his father’s side.

Branch—no, it was Prince Branch, now—stood to Gristle’s side, on a small platform made entirely for the occasion. His own blue cape and silver crown had to be custom-made, instead of passed down, but neither of the brothers were bothered by that fact.

“I still don’t understand how Glixry managed such tiny details.” Gristle commented, focusing in on the silver metal of Branch’s crown. “It even has tiny metal leaves!”

Branch reached up, touching the edges delicately. “It feels so weird.” He decided. “But… not bad.”

“Of course not! You’re a Prince now!” Gristle assured him. “Stand tall and proud, like a proper Bergen.” Gristle commanded, repeating the words he had heard so many times.

“Yeah…” Branch let his paws fall back to his sides, almost hidden under the edges of his cape—but Gristle didn’t miss the way they clenched and unclenched repeatedly.

Branch was older than Gristle, true. But the fact remained that he had started learning later, so it had been decided to crown them both when Gristle came of age, and not a moment sooner. So here they were, brothers crowned together, all of Bergentown around them.

There would be so many more responsibilities, now—Princes helped the reigning monarch run the kingdom, after all. They’d still have to learn as they went, but—

Gristle breathed in deeply. The Bergens—his people—they were all miserable. But they were hardworking and honest, and Gristle would do his best to be the Prince they deserved.

Gristle turned to look back at his brother, who was fiddling with his own cape clasp. Glixry had repurposed one of the bells from Branch’s old harness for the clasp, and even now it still faintly rung as Branch slowly paced around his little platform.

There was an odd expression on Branch’s face, satisfaction and an oddly melancholy contemplation firming his brow. Gristle huffed, snapping his little-big brother from whatever thoughts he was lost in. Gristle offered his hand, and Branch rolled his eyes before hopping onto Gristle’s palm.

As Gristle lifted his brother high above his head, something proud surged in his chest, light and electric in his veins. His face twitched in that odd way it sometimes did, but Gristle ignored the feeling in favor of looking out over his people once more.

He was going to be the best Prince Bergentown had ever seen! He and his brother both!

+=+=+=+=+

Gristle Junior was eleven years old when Branch finally pupated.

His book on Troll growth said that Trolls pupated when they were twelve or thirteen. It also went on about how Trolls were utterly inedible in this state, wrapped in their cocoons as their bodies changed and matured.

That Branch’s pupation had come late according to the books was worrying. That it had come at all was a stark reminder of the fact that, for all of his Bergen-like traits, Branch was in some small way still a Troll.

Gristle peered at the dark gray hair cocoon for the umpteenth time. None of his books said anything about whether Trolls could still hear in there, or even what really happened to them outside of “maturation”—all the book really cared to go over was how to identify a pupation cocoon, and that they couldn’t be eaten.

“Even if you can’t hear me,” Gristle began, settling back down with an interesting book he’d found—some kind of romance novel where none of the characters actually got together in the end. He’d heard the librarian going on about how it was a contemplative piece about the nature of connections, so he’d picked it up to go through. “But if you can’t then I’ll just read this book to you all over again when you’re out.”

The cocoon gave no discernible response. Gristle decided that that was fine, and began to read. He made it through a chapter and a half before being summoned for dinner with his father, and he gave the cocoon one final glance as he left the room.

“I see your… brother isn’t joining us again tonight.” Gristle Senior commented, as the first course was brought out.

“I told you, Dad, he’s pupating.” Gristle Junior huffed, licking sticky roe off of his fingers.

“Yes,” Gristle Senior nodded. “Trolls do do that, I’ve heard.” He went silent as the second course arrived, digging in with royal fervor. A few moments later, and he spoke again. “Hopefully this whole thing doesn’t set him too far back.” He commented airily, dabbing at his face with a napkin.

Gristle Junior scowled over his plate as a servant exchanged it for the bowl of soup acting as the third course. “Branch always keeps up.” He asserted. “And we won that bet fair and square, so you can’t go back on your end no matter what.” He sipped from his spoon with a pointedly royal slurp.

“And I have no intentions of backing out.” Gristle Senior slurped just a little harder. “I’m just curious.” And with that, the conversation was over.

Gristle stared down at his soup. Branch would keep up. He would. He always did.

+=+=+=+=+

Gristle was eleven years old, and he was getting concerned.

Nineteen days. The books said that Trolls only pupated for a week, tops. But it had been nineteen days since Branch had disappeared into the spun cocoon, eyes glassy and unfocused. Nineteen days of a silent cocoon.

Gristle had long since finished that first romance novel, and the book on fence safety regulations, and was almost halfway into a book on the history of anchovy farming. And the cocoon still remained!

The worry was starting to affect his Princely duties, too. Maybe it was because he was used to working alongside Branch, and the absence was getting to him, but there was no denying it: Gristle was concerned. But what if trying to crack the cocoon open early ruined everything? What if he was supposed to crack it open, and he’d missed the deadline? What if being gray really was bad, and Branch…

Gristle didn’t want to think about it. He really, really didn’t.

The sun had long gone down when Gristle finally put his books away and retired to his bed. He glanced at the cocoon one last time before extinguishing the lights, worry like a rock in his gut.

The night passed. The sun rose again, creeping into Gristle’s bedroom through the window until it smacked against his eyes. With a groan, the eleven year old sat up, shading his eyes with a hand. He glared at the offending celestial body. “Every day.” He muttered. “Every day, you do this.” He was about to continue—

“Are you yelling at the sun again? Really?”

Gristle yelped, jolting hard enough to fall off of his bed entirely. He flailed wildly, scrambling to clamber back to his feet, frenetic energy in every inch of his suddenly-impossibly-awkward limbs.

“Branch!” Gristle leaned up against the shelf, examining the shredded remains of the cocoon through the door of his brother’s room. His little-big brother stood beside it, already having pulled on some pants. “You’re okay! You were in there for really long!”

Branch shrugged, walking over to his wardrobe. “Well, I’m here, so you can quit your whining.” There was a fondness in his voice that had Gristle rolling his eyes.

“Your tail’s still gone.” Gristle noticed. A lump settled in his gut, hard and heavy. “Branch…”

Branch turned around, twisting to look and confirm Gristle’s words. “Eh.” He shrugged, and turned his attention back to his wardrobe. “‘S not like it matters.” He decided, picking out a shirt to wear under his cape. “Bergens aren’t supposed to have tails anyway.”

Gristle winced. It was true, Bergens were tailless—but if they had tails, they certainly wouldn’t—

Gristle shook his head. He didn’t want to think about that. “Sooo,” He started, as Branch was securing the belled clasp of his cape. “How do you feel?”

Branch carefully placed his crown back upon his head, then walked in a small circle. “I don’t know, stronger?” He tried, holding his paws out in front of himself and examining them. “I think my balance is better, actually.” He noted. As if to illustrate the point, he did a twirl, his cape flaring slightly with the motion. “My face feels kinda… hm.” Branch pressed at his jaw with his paws, before shrugging it off. “Whatever. Are you gonna get ready, or am I doing all your work for you today?”

“Oh!” Gristle whipped back around, running for his own wardrobe. “Right!” As he shrugged on his own cape, clicking the clasp into place, he turned back to glance at the shelf holding his brother’s room.

Gristle sighed, all of his worries abated. Why would he ever worry? His family was just fine, and would be for a long, long time.

+=+=+=+=+

Gristle Junior was thirteen years old when he finally had to admit it.

He’d always hoped he’d get his father’s height, that he’d be able to stand as tall as the average Bergen in his adult years. But it had become clear that he would always be half average height, always doomed to needing steps to get onto the taller chairs.

It wasn’t the end of the world; Bergens could come in a range of shapes and sizes. That Gristle was so short wasn’t that big of an issue.

But Berg, did it feel like it! Gristle had spent his whole life looking up to his father—metaphorically and literally! And he was probably going to be stuck looking up forever!

“What are you moping about now?” And there was Gristle’s little-big brother, padding along one of the many paths set into the castle walls. The masons and carpenters had done good work with those paths—when Branch wasn’t running along them, they looked like simple wall decoration. It was real classy.

“I’m never gonna be tall.” Gristle grumbled, allowing himself a moment to lean against the wall in despair. Then he remembered who he was talking to, and hurriedly pulled away, flailing his hands as he tried to recover. “I mean—not that being short is a bad thing—”

“Okay, I’m gonna stop you right there.” Branch groused, holding out a paw. “Because from where I’m standing, you are not short.” He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms in front of him.

“I am, though.” Gristle lamented. “Most Bergens are twice my size. I mean, just look at Dad!”

Branch rolled his eyes. “At least you’re not Troll-sized.” He hopped down from the path along the wall to land atop Gristle’s head, just next to the crown. “Gotta count your blessings there.”

“I dunno,” Gristle started, swiping at his brother as the tiny Bergen pattered about on his head and ruffled his hair, “Maybe being Troll-sized would be nice. I could ride Barnabus around the halls with you.” He didn’t fully mean it—being the size of a Troll in a castle made for Bergens constantly forced Branch to find workarounds to even the simplest of things. But if anyone could manage it, it’d be Branch.

And Gristle had to admit: the idea of being able to ride on an alligator-dog, even one as old as Barnabus, was really cool. But Gristle was too big for that, and too big for his old trikes—all while being too small in so many other ways. It was like he was caught between, stuck at a size that would annoy him forever.

Branch dodged away from Gristle’s hand easily, chuffing when Gristle accidentally sent his own crown flying down the hall. Gristle growled, running after it, shaking his head in an attempt to throw Branch off. But his brother held on easily, always infuriatingly good at roughhousing despite his size.

It just wasn’t fair.

But, as Gristle replaced his crown on his head, and as Branch slid down to settle on Gristle’s shoulder, Gristle brushed away the annoyance.

It wasn’t the end of the world. Not by a long shot.

+=+=+=+=+

Gristle Junior was fifteen years old when the unthinkable happened.

His father, King Gristle Senior, who had always been an unshakeable force, strong and proud in a kingdom full of strong and proud Bergens—

Gristle Junior couldn’t believe it. It couldn’t be true. It just—it wasn’t supposed to happen like this!

But there was nothing that could be done. His father had fallen ill three months ago, and, despite every effort from every doctor in Bergentown, despite all of the King’s strength—

Gristle Junior was fifteen years old when his father passed from illness, gone overnight like a snuffed candle flame. Gristle Junior was fifteen years old when the title of King passed onto him, far too soon—he should have remained a Prince until he was a proper adult, until he was married with children who would become the Princes and Princesses that would help him run the kingdom—

Gristle Junior was fifteen years old when his world shattered for the second time. The funeral was held out in the plaza, barely a week after his father’s passing. The same plaza as Gristle’s first and final Trollstice, as his and Branch’s official crowning as Princes. It felt as though every major life-changing event in Gristle’s life happened here, the caged tree looming over it all like a shadow.

It still… it just couldn’t be possible. His father couldn’t just be… gone.

Gristle returned to the castle in a daze. Some distant part of him knew that he would have no choice but to take up his father’s crown, and soon, but—

The rest of him was sinking slowly, the grief thick in his throat and veins and head. The fog was all-consuming, pulling Gristle into depths of unhappiness he’d never thought possible.

Gristle had believed his first and last Trollstice, the day where he lost any chance to ever be happy, would be the worst day of his life. Oh, how wrong he was.

Gristle didn’t know how long he laid like that, staring up at the ceiling of his room without seeing anything at all. It was as though the world around him had well and truly shattered, and now the pieces had all fallen away out of his reach. Gristle floated on the nothing for what felt like an eternity and now time at all, the mire in his head growing thicker with every passing second.

“Hey.”

Gristle rolled over on his bed, pressing his face into the comforter to block out the rest of the world.

“Hey.”

What was the point? Gristle was never supposed to be King at fifteen. He’d probably mess it up, bungle the whole thing, and then all of Bergentown would be just as dead as his father.

“Hey!”

Gristle groaned, shoving his face into the comforter. He didn’t have the time or patience for this, his whole world was falling apart, why couldn’t he have a good cry about it in peace—

Something small landed inches away from Gristle’s head. He didn’t even need to look to know who it was—only his little-big brother could land so lightly.

“Hey, idiot.” Branch pushed at Gristle’s chin, lifting the Bergen’s head off the bed by a few inches. “Chin up.” He demanded, baring his teeth.

Gristle forced his head back down onto the comforter. “Leave me alone.” He growled.

“Mm, nope.” Branch declared, moving around to pull at Gristle’s ear. “You’ve been in here long enough,” he sniffed, “And you need a shower. C’mon.” He pulled, and Gristle had to put effort into staying in place.

“No.” Gristle grumbled. “Just let me rot.” Every inch of his body ached with the grief clinging to his bones, and the very thought of getting up and doing anything made him want to vomit. The whole world made him want to vomit.

“Can’t let you,” Branch said, his voice edging into genuine worry. “C’mon, at least eat something?” He tugged at Gristle’s ear again, darting away as Gristle irritably swiped at him.

“I said,” Gristle pushed himself up ever so slightly, just so he could look Branch in the eye, “leave me alone!”

Branch shook his head, paws clenching and unclenching. “You’ve been alone.” He said. “I can’t leave you. Brothers stick together.” There was something heavy in his words, some deeper meaning than a childhood promise.

“And how are you supposed to help?” Gristle asked, sitting up fully. “What could you possibly do to make this better?”

“Not let you smell like a rotting carcass, for one.” Branch snarked. His expression immediately softened. “You need to take better care of yourself.” He urged. “Letting yourself rot only makes it hurt worse. Please.”

“And what would you know?” Gristle accused. “You and Dad barely even liked each other!”

“You think I don’t know what grief feels like?” Branch spread his arms wide, tears beginning to bubble up in his eyes. “My Grandmother was eaten on Trollstice before you were even born! DON’T YOU DARE TELL ME I DON’T KNOW WHAT IT FEELS LIKE TO GRIEVE!”

Gristle flinched back. All of his vitriol drained as Branch panted. “You…” Branch never talked about that, about those four years he’d spent in the Troll Tree. Gristle’s throat tightened as a wave of emotion hit him anew, his eyes beginning to sting.

“It hurts.” He sobbed, for lack of anything better to say.

Branch’s anger melted away. “I know.” He said, sitting down. “It hurts, and you want so badly to just curl into a ball and wish the world away—”

“But you have to pick yourself back up.” Gristle finished. “Because people are counting on you.”

“Because nobody else will.” Branch added softly.

Gristle sobbed, breathy and uneven. “I miss him so much, Branch.”

Branch nodded. “I know.”

“I’m not ready to be King!” Gristle’s face was wet, now, hot and sticky with snot and tears.

Branch nodded again. “I know.”

Gristle sobbed again, his whole body shaking with the motion. He opened his mouth, but no words came.

“It’s not okay,” Branch offered into the silence, scooting forwards, “And that’s okay.”

“It hurts.” Gristle whispered.

Branch nodded. No more words came, and Gristle continued to cry. All of his misery poured out, raw and real and painful, and Branch remained right in front of him the entire time. When Gristle finally ran out of tears to cry, he flopped back down onto the bed, and two paws pressed against his cheek.

The silence stretched.

Slowly, Gristle breathed. In, and out. His chest was still strung taut and raw, his face was cold and sticky, and his throat stung from the effort of crying so much. He had never felt so low. He knew the grief was far from over.

As Gristle breathed, Branch clambered up onto his chest. He kneeled down, and held out a paw.

“Unhappy together.” Branch offered. “Shit sucks, but it sucks less when we work together.”

Gristle inhaled, his breath choppy and uneven. “Unhappy together.” He agreed, offering his finger for Branch to shake. He sobbed again, and Branch wrapped his arms around as much of Gristle’s hand as he could manage.

Gristle Junior was fifteen years old when his father died. And it sucked, and hurt, and Gristle wasn’t sure he’d ever really stop grieving.

But, at the very least, he wasn’t alone. It wasn’t much, but that simple fact helped.

+=+=+=+=+

Gristle Junior was twenty years old when Chef returned.

The day started as any other, really. Wake up, get cleaned and dressed, find his brother already awake and poring over details from the latest construction updates in the new quarter. Have breakfast, Branch darting about to steal off of his plate as he stole from Branch’s, like proper brothers would do. Go through the castle halls greeting everyone, Branch walking along the various small walkways lining the walls and arching up across hallways like tiny bridges. Prepare for the biweekly levee in the throne room.

It was as the final petitioner was leaving that it happened. A Bergen that Gristle only vaguely recognized emerged from behind a potted plant, swishing her cloak ominously as she all but marched towards the throne.

And then Gristle recognized her. The chef’s hat, the lavender tint, the wicked gleam in her eyes. He glanced to the throne beside his, and anxiety germinated in his chest at the sight of Branch still as a statue, eyes wide and locked onto Chef.

“Were you behind that plant the whole time?” Gristle asked, for lack of anything else to say. He realized immediately how stupid that sounded—but Branch made no comment on it, which was so unlike him that Gristle’s uncertainty ratcheted up another notch.

Chef grinned as she reached for the zipper on her fannypack. Slowly, she opened it, and a sweet harmony emerged from within.

Gristle gasped, the rest of the world forgotten. If Branch had any reaction, Gristle didn’t notice it, too entranced with the sight before him.

For in Chef’s fannypack was a handful of Trolls, bright and colorful and singing.

This… this could change everything.

No—this would change everything. For all of Bergentown! Finally, Gristle Junior could live up to his title, could be the King that brought happiness back to his people!

If he had bothered to look back at the thrones, he would have seen Chef glaring daggers into his back.

More importantly, he would have seen the look of utter uncertainty on Branch’s face.

#dreamworks trolls #gristle junior #branch trolls #king gristle jr #zaz writes #between au #death #themes of dehumanization (depersonization?)#WHY. WHY IS THIS SO L O N G #9K WORDS?????#N I N E T H O U S A N D W O R D S ??????????#anyway. here's the between au for anyone who was wondering #i wish this was smaller and easier to digest #but i jsut. kept adding scenes #EVEN AS I REMOVED THE TAIL SCENE AND SKIMPED OVER THE ADOPTION AND DIDN'T WRITE ANY SCENES BETWEEN GRISTLE SR'S DEATH AND CHEF SHOWING UP #anyway. branch is four years older than gristle (jr) in my mind #and also trolls are like bugs to me. hence the pupation #i have fish in a birdcage playing on loop rn and i think my brain is melting #it's a good song for this au tho ngl

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deus-ex-mona · 9 months

Text

eat the [redacted] anime pen, kaito-kun

#in o t h e r n e w s i brought all of my plain pens to work and now this is the only pen i’m willing to use bc i accidentally bought 2–#like heck im gonna let my family see it though what if they misunderstand and think that i like the [redacted] anime???? no wayyyyyy #the pen writes pretty decently though ngl. but again im not bringing it to work bc my coworkers would def question it/steal it #plus it’s a black ink pen and i prefer using blue inks bc it’s easier to differentiate from the bw printer ink lmaoooo—#special thanks to my bro’s gf for the pen holder though~~~~~~~~~#but i cant believe my bro remembered my rxl phase from like 2k14 bro erase it from your memory p l s i dont even ship them that much anymore #idk how much he remembered of it but. the way he said ‘the yellow one is your favourite right’ was very. aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa #i haven’t even talked about them in y e a r s man… ig the list of uncorrected misunderstandings between us will keep on growing #g od. now that i think about it. he’ll prolly assume that aizo and len are the same person if i showed him pics of them at the same time..#like heck im gonna do that. i have a nonexistent reputation to uphold g o o d b y e

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cloudyzeusy · 3 months

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Can you write Sasuke (young adult and adult) x Top male reader nsfw headcannnons/alphabet with Sasuke being shy and trying to be quiet.

ALPHABET HEADCANONS

Sasuke x Male Reader

A = Aftercare (what is he like after sex)

Sasuke loves aftercare but he is definitely too shy to say it upfront so instead he resorts to cuddling up against you. Acting like he doesn't secretly love it when you clean him up after and you take a bath together.

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs)

He loves your hands, weird i know but he just loves to play with them while doing stuff. Like he could be studying and he could be fiddling with his hands helping him concentrate on his work. Or he loves wrapping your hands around his throat, choking him.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum)

He loves your cum - a guilty pleasure of his. He loves swallowing it not that it tastes particularly good but because he loves anything coming from you.

D = Dirty secret (his dirty secret)

I feel like he was definitely a virgin before he met you so the most he has done is fuck himself with a dildo to a picture of you. He was so embarrassed after he couldn't bare to look you in the eye after.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Like I said he has never had sex before so he basically relies on you to show him what to do. He is the perfect pillow princess except when it comes to blowjobs. I don't know how but he is a natural.

F = Favourite position (what does he enjoy)

He loves a good mating press he loves the deeper penetration being fucked deeply. He also loves it because he can watch your face as you fuck his two favourite things at once.

G = Goofy (how is he in the moment?)

He's definitely more serious in the moment he tends to leave the dirty talk to you preferring to participate with his moans.

H = Hair (how well groomed is he?)

He likes his hair short, preferring to keep himself well groomed plus it's uncomfortable.

I = Intimacy (the romantic aspect)

He loves holding your hands and looking into your eyes though he may not be a very open person however since he met you he actually tries.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He can try as much as he wants but he can't get off without you there with him whispering comforting words or helping him jack off.

K = Kink (his kinks)

Has a feminisation kink - flushes every time you call him a good girl

Has major daddy issues no wonder he calls you daddy now

He loves getting praise

L = Location (his favourite places to do the deed)

Anywhere but as long as it's with you but he prefers the bedroom as he can be as loud as he wants.

M = Motivation (what turns him on)

You controlling him in simple ways like grabbing his waist or gripping his thighs. But especially when you turn up shirtless.

N = No (something he wouldn’t do/ turn offs)

He hates blood, piss and scat the usual stuff

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Like I said, he loves giving head and is so good at it. He doesn't mind receiving it either.

P = Pace (does he like it fast and rough or slow and sensual?)

He enjoys it fast and rough especially after a hard mission it helps him get out of his head. But during your anniversaries he loves it slowly, loving being together.

Q = Quickie (his opinions on quickies, how often)

He doesn't mind a quickie as you guys tend to be quite busy on missions but the more you have them he gets sadder. He loves spending time together so he forces you guys to take a day off so you both can actually enjoy sex.

R = Risk (does he like to experiment? does he take risks?)

He loves experimenting and trying new things together though he may be very shy while he does it he loves you so he tries.

S = Stamina (how long does it last?)

He can last quite long normally but against you he tires out quite quickly between your teasing and skills he's weak.

T = Toys (does he own toys? do he use them?)

He owns like 3 toys and that's normally for when he reaches his breaking point for you being away too long. Normally you guys don't use toys liking it to be just you two.

U = Unfair (does he like being teased)

He hates being teased even though it gets him going he prefers you just getting on with it.

V = Volume (how loud he is , what sounds he makes?)

He is so loud for a usually silent man you had to soundproof your bedroom. He makes the sweetest whines and moans only for you to enjoy.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon)

He sometimes wears plugs on missions full of your cum simply because he loves it. He also loves you showing possession of him like in front of Sakura when she gets a little too brave.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

5.5 inches not small but not quite big

Y = Yearning (how high is his sex drive?)

It was low but as he began to date you he started to want sex more and more with how good it was. bUt not to that addictive state yet.

Z = Zzz (how quickly he fall asleep afterwards)

Very fast you have to coax him to stay awake though he will stay awake long enough to have aftercare.

Part 1 of 2

#zeusy☁️#sub character #top male reader #seme male reader #x top male reader #dom male reader #sasuke x male reader #naruto #sasuke uchiha

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navia3000 · 1 month

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a l l m y g h o s t s

Includes : Aaron Hotchner

Genre : Angst

Warnings : Crying, sadness, mentions of bombs and terrorists, typical Criminal Minds topics, Morgan’s kind of a dick, curse words

Based on : All My Ghosts by Lizzy McAlpine

Part one Part three Part Four

A/N : This is a part two to So Long, London. I’m trying something different with my writing style, and I don’t really know how I feel about this fic overall, so, let me know your thoughts. And, yes, there will be a part three.

The headquarters of the International Operation Division of the FBI was alive with the chatter of agents and the ringing of phones. The IOD had been investigating a major threat against the United States from a major terrorist group in Iraq. There had been two bombings connected to this group, and there were more to be expected. The case is so dire, the IOD decided to call in the Behavioral Analysis Unit to aid in catching the attackers, a fact Y/N wasn’t thrilled about.

It had been two years since Y/N had left the BAU. She hadn’t told anyone of her transfer, leaving without saying a word to the team. She had gone as far as ignoring their calls and texts, and, as time passed, she eventually stopped receiving them. It had pained her to leave her friends, no, her family in that way, but she couldn’t stand having to pretend everything was fine when it wasn’t. She couldn’t be around the source of her heartbreak any longer, or she would explode. So, she took matters into her own hands.

Y/N knew her and the BAU’s paths would eventually cross again, she just hoped it wouldn’t have been so soon.

As she walked through the bullpen, she felt her heart racing. She wasn’t nervous about seeing Hotch, well, she was, but, she was more nervous about seeing her old friends. She knew they would be angry at her for the way she up and left. She would’ve been too if it was someone else on the team who did what she had.

She finally reached the doors that would lead her to the moment she most dreaded; the Behavior Analysis team would be sitting there, going over details of their profile. And, since she used to be a part of said team, her boss thought it best for her to be the one assisting them.

As she walked through the doors into the room the team had set up, she heard them grow quiet. They stared at her in disbelief, each one of them, and she couldn’t help but take each one in. Morgan looked stronger than when she had last seen him, Emily looked even more beautiful, JJ had grown her hair out, Penelope had dyed her hair cherry red, Rossi had more gray hairs than before, Spencer got rid of his glasses, and Hotch, well, Hotch looked exactly as she remembered him. Tall, handsome, and utterly exhausted. She didn’t fail to notice the missing ring on his left hand.

“Hi,” she spoke after minutes of silence. When she received no answer, she continued, “I was sent by my boss to assist you with building the profile on these terrorists.” She could feel her heart racing as the minutes wore on, and the disbelief in their eyes turned into confusion and anger. “I know we haven’t spoke in a while, but-”

Morgan was quick with his anger in cutting her off, “and who’s fault is that?”

Taking a deep breath, she continued, “Please, Morgan. I hate how I left things with you guys, but, right now, my priority is this case. So, if you could all put your feelings about me aside for the sake of our jobs, that would be great.” Morgan let out a scoff at her words, rolling his eyes and turning back to the whiteboard at the end of the room.

She made eye contact with Hotch, her eyes becoming watery at Morgan’s reaction to her presence. He didn’t seem all too different in his sentiment towards her, making her feel even worse.

“Alright, here’s what we have so far,” Hotch said. It was going to be a long night.

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

As the days wore on, the tension between her and the rest of the team grew. They kept things professional, and Penelope and Emily were nicer than the rest in accepting her back, but it was still a challenge. She understood why they felt how they felt, but, still, it broke her heart. Even worse, she tried being friendly with Hotch but he wouldn’t even acknowledge her outside of discussing the profile.

It was late at night, most of the team had gone back to their hotels, leaving Hotch and Y/N working by themselves. Her eyes kept wandering to him, her thoughts consumed by having him so close to her again. Yet, he continued to ignore her.

“How’s Jack?” She asked, attempting to make conversation whilst they went over old case files.

“He’s fine.”

“How’s the rest of the team? I’ve missed them a lot. And you, of course. But-”

“They’re doing alright.” The finality in his tone was making her hopes fall like the petals of a rose fall over time.

“That’s good. What about Haley? How’s she doing?”

“Haley’s dead. She was killed by an unsub.” At that, her head snapped up.

“Oh my God, Hotch, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

He still didn’t look up at her from the papers scattered on the table. “How could you have? You left.”

His words cut deep. Her eyes grew teary for what felt like the fifth time that day. “Hotch, I had to.”

At that, he finally looked up at her. His eyes were hard as stone as he said, “no, you didn’t. And even if you felt that way, you could have told us. I had to explain to everyone else that you left and weren’t coming back, Y/N. You were a part of this family and wouldn’t even answer our texts and calls.” No, his words didn’t just cut deep, they burned. Upon seeing her tears fall, he seemingly decided that was a conversation not worth having. “Let’s just focus on the case.” But, like that night in the restaurant, she stood up and left him at the table.

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

The next day was no different. Spencer and Morgan refused to talk to her, Hotch was cold as ice when addressing her, JJ was hesitant anytime she had to speak with her, and Emily and Penelope were trying their best to dissipate some of the tension in the room.

It all seemed to boil over when she suggested that her and Morgan go over to the last bombing site and see what they could find.

“No,” he said.

The room was so quiet, you could hear a hairpin drop. “What?” she asked, mostly because she couldn’t believe that he shut her down like that.

“No,” he repeated. At that point, she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Alright, Morgan, I get you’re upset with me. But we’re here to do our jobs. And, you have zero right to treat me like I don’t matter just because you’re upset.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Y/N. You left us! You were a crucial part of this team and you left us. Without even an explanation. Nothing! So, don’t come in here expecting everything to be the same as it was because it’s not.”

“I had to leave!” She exclaimed. “I couldn’t take being around you guys after everything that happened!” Tears were streaming down her face. Her throat burned from the lump in it. Her heart sank with the weight of Morgan’s hatred for her.

“Nothing happened, Y/N!” He yelled as he stepped closer to her. “You just up and left!”

“Damn it, Morgan, I was in love! What was I supposed to do?” That grabbed the attention of the others. “You might not have known it, but… but, me and Hotch had just broken up, and I couldn’t be around him anymore. I just couldn’t.” Her sobs racked her body as she finally admitted what she couldn’t those two years ago. Morgan seemed to finally understand. And Hotch? Hotch just stood there, staring at her with the usual expression which occupies his face.

She hated it. She hated the pitiful stares from the team. She hated the way she cracked under the pressure. She hated the way she cried in front of them. But, most of all, she hated how all those feelings she had buried deep down in a dungeon of sadness had broken out and swam up to the surface.

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

After everything blew over, Y/N decided enough is enough. She was done trying to work with the BAU, so, she went to investigate some tips on her own.

Her interest was piqued at an anonymous tip that claimed that the terrorist group’s leader was living in a house a few blocks over. She knew she shouldn’t go over there alone, but she it wasn’t like she could ask the team to go with her, they practically hated her for everything that went down.

The house was dark when she arrived. She knocked on the front door multiple times, and, after no answer, she found it to be unlocked. Drawing her gun, she went in. It was clear. As she suspected, it was a dummy tip. She let out a frustrated sigh as she stepped out of the house. They were no closer to catching the bombers than they were when they started. Walking down the front porch steps, she heard a loud boom, and everything went black.

#aaron hotch fluff #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x you #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner #criminal minds masterlist #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #aaron hotch hotchner #agent hotchner

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falling-heights · 11 months

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Yandere Sukuna Hcs

I f I l e t h i m d o t h i s t o me ,

w h a t e l s e w i l l I a l l o w ?

A n y t h i n g , a n y t h i n g , a n y t h i n g .

Two hands cusped your face tenderly. Your head hung in their hands without resisting, accepting the gesture as though it were from a mother comforting their child.

They wiped the grime from your face, lifting it skyward, and caressing your tangled hair.

Strange, how such a violent creature could display such warmth. As though their intent held no junction to the sins they bore.

The creature pulled you close, burying your tear-stricken face into their robe, allowing your tears to soak their garments. This thing was not a man.

This thing had no such humanity. And yet he mothered you so. He soothed you so. He loved you so.

Or so he claimed.

For what is love if it is not consuming?

If it does not demand proper sacrifice?

This was all a gesture of good faith, he said, proof of this… love, he self-proclaimed.

His eyes glowed with such fire, your very soul withered under his embrace. How could you possibly resist?

His hold changed, to something more of a demand, holding you up, forced to look upon him, strained against the rope that tied you down.

He wanted one last thing of you. An equal show of offering, to prove yourself to him.

His hands lost their comfort as one slid around your neck. His nails dug slightly in, adding enough pressure for you to feel your own pulse around his fingers.

With his other hand, he produced a mummified forefinger, frayed at the ends like twisted bark.

Swallow, he demanded. He wanted you to eat it.

It was obvious to him. He wanted you for himself, forever. He could simply consume the finger himself, regain his strength, and ensure himself that you would not be able to overpower him. However, this would never solve his greatest desire. It would have never been enough.

He wanted to be a part of you, to be with you. He wanted to have every part of you be his, in every way and form. There was no other way, in his eyes. Your body, your thoughts, your very soul would be within his grasp to control.

He forced your mouth open, lodging his claws between your jaw. The limb slid down your throat slowly, its sharp fingernail scraping along the walls of your esophagus as it descended.

He didn't give you time to recover from eating his last remaining finger, stooping down to capture you in a hungry kiss. He couldn't help himself.

Finally.

You were his, inside and out. And now absolutely nothing could stop him from having you.

I'd like to announce that I can start writing for jujutsu kaisen now!

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere headcanons #jjk #yandere jjk #yandere sukuna #sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna headcanons #jjk hcs #jjk sukuna #jjk x reader

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schrodinger-swriter · 5 months

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Hazbin Fluff alphabet

Greetings, in between requests I've decided to give this little... thing.. a go! I want to give credit to my friend @the-s1lly-corner for giving me the idea, and for allowing me to use their list as a reference.

To keep things easy on my end, I only ask that you only use one character per ask with a maximum of 9 letters per ask. Of course, you can send in multiple; this is mostly to limit how long a post is and because I feel this will be easier on me if I kept it to one character.

Other than that you may request to your hearts desire!

Only character off the table is Valentino. Not all characters are tagged, but it's not exactly a limit of who I will and won't write for. If there is any additional character I do not feel confident or comfortable writing for I will let it be known.

A- ATTRACTION (What they look for in a partner/find desirable, their type)

B- BONDING (What activities do they do with their partner?)

C- CUDDLING (How do they feel about it? Who's big/little spoon?)

D- DATES (What does a romantic night look like for them? Do you stay in or go out?)

E- EMOTION (How emotional are they in the relationship? Do they wear their heart on their sleeve or pick up a cool and collected mask?)

F- FAMILY (Do they want children? If so how many?)

G- GIFT GIVING (What gifts do they bring to their partner? What gifts do they like receiving?)

H- HARSH (How often do you two get into arguments or misunderstandings? Who tries to patch things up first?)

I- INJURY (How do they cope when their partner gets hurt? Are they able to care for their partner? Or if the roles were reversed, would they want their partner to take care of them?)

J- JEALOUSY (How jealous do they get? How do they handle it?)

K- KISSES (Their favorite place and way to kiss you, and their favorite place to be kissed)

L- LOVE LANGUAGE (How they show their love)

M- MARRIAGE (Do they wanna get married or are they content with a long term relationship? Marriage isn't the end all be all, after all)

N- NO (What are their deal breakers? What can and will break the relationship apart?)

O- ODDITY (What are their quirks or habits?)

P- PET NAMES (What do they call you? What do they like to be called?)

Q- QUESTION (Curiosity! What common questions do they ask you?)

R- RISK (How far are they willing to go for you?)

S- SHH (What/How many secrets do they hold?)

T- TUNES (Your song! What song do you guys associate with the relationship?)

U- UPSET (What is it like when one of you are upset? How do you cheer the other up?)

V- VALENTINE (How is the holiday spent?)

W- WARRIOR (How they feel about you working alongside them in their work/fighting)

X- X-RAY (How well can they read you?)

Y- YEARN (How do they cope with separation, if they struggle at all?)

Z- ZZZZ (What's it like to share a bed with them?)

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sunlight-fics · 1 month

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Hiii can you do a fluff alphabet for Hozier ? It's okay if u don't, love youuuu

YES!! Absolutely and here you go!! I’m so sorry for making you wait so long for it, I got super busy with life. I hope you enjoy and I tried my best!🤍

———————————————————————

Fluff Alphabet

Hozier X reader

A = Acts of Kindness

* He would definitely bring home flowers after a long tour. Before leaving the house he would write little notes and leave them all over. If it’s been a long stressful day for you and you have no motivation he would cook dinner for you and it would could either the best dinner or the worst.

B = Boyfriend

* He really wasn’t sure if he would make a good partner, but damn he was the best. He’s the type to take it slow and just enjoy the little moments.

C = Cuddling

* THE CUDDLING KING, let’s rest your head on his chest and either rubs your back or runs his fingers through your hair.

D = determined

* Absolutely determined to do anything that makes you feel comfortable after a long day. It doesn’t matter what but he is determined!

E = encouragement

* “Darling I know it seems hard, but you’re a tough person. You’ve got this, and I believe in you no matter what!” Would hands down something he would say!!!

F = funny

* Making little jokes here and there after a stressful situation or even just making jokes about his past mistakes and just laughing with you about them.

G = gentle

* Let’s say you’ve got some trauma from a past relationship or something and you’ve moved on to Andrew. If you ever just so happened to have a trauma reaction or response from something he accidentally did or said, he would notice and instantly fix whatever was wrong. After it was all fixed he would be the most gentle person you’ve ever met. Gentle cuddles, kisses, hugs, ect.

H = hugs

* Bear hugs or the most gentle hugs. No questions asked. Just that.

I = ideal boyfriend

* Would and probably is the ideal partner.

J = journeys

* Spontaneous and random journey. Whether it be into the forest behind his house or “Hey I just bought us plane tickets to Brazil. Let’s get packed because we’ve gotta get to the airport soon.”

K = kindness

* the kindest person to everyone he’s ever met. But especially kind to you, no matter what he’s always been great about showing kindness.

L = love

* “My love” he would whisper gently to you in the late night hours while running his fingers through your hair and when the world was asleep, but he was still awake.

M = motivation

* What type of motivation? Well either Ted talks or random. It can be the most inspirational and motivating thing you’re ever hear or it could be motivational.

N = neat

* Is he a neat person? Great question. But probably on the weekends or when he’s not on tour he would probably take the time to clean.

O = Observational

* You would observe him as he goes through a normal day not on tour. See what he likes, what he doesn’t, and in between. He would do the same for you

P = protective

* A fairly protective partner, always watching out for you and you do the same for him. (NFWMB)

Q = quite

* After a long stressful and loud day it’s nice to come home to peace and calm settings. Specially when it’s just listening to the records and cuddling on the couch or just laying in bed with your head resting on his chest

R = respect

* Even if you both just started dating he would have already have so much respect for you. But the thing is, show respect to earn respect and in the end his respect for you grows and your respect for him also grows.

S = sleep

* Sleep is important for the both of you, especially after long weeks. Lazy weeks tend to happen a lot, just some so simple as laying cuddled up next to him or admiring him as he sleeps.

T = trust

* Trust builds a relationship, and you both trust each other so much. He trust you with a lot. For example, his house when he’s on tour, his dog (Elwood), his phone, and so many other things.

U = unique

* What type of unique interest does he have or any random unique facts or traits.

V = vulnerable

* It takes AWHILE for him to open up to you but once he finally opens up and becomes more vulnerable and comfortable with you, a lot of actions makes more sense. You feel like you can finally help him and help him see that he a wonderful person and deserves nothing but the best and nothing but love. Real love.

W = wisdom

* Both of you are equally wise and great at giving advice to each other. But sometimes the wisdom isn’t taken in the way that was intended so that leads to one of you feeling offended or upset. But because they’re such a strong relationship it’s easy to talk through it.

X = (couldn’t find a word😐👍)

Y = yearning

* The yearning for you when he’s away or even when you’re away is insane. It gets to the point where he starts right letters or poems to give to you once you return.

Z = Zealful

* You both show nothing but passion for each other and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#andrew hozier byrne #hozier #celebs #fanfic #hozier fanfiction #i love him #live laugh hozier #he’s so pookie #love #hozier x reader #hozier x you #fluff #fluff alphabet #the hoziest #fanfics #we love him #irish man

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moraxsthrone · 1 year

Note

OK I HOPE YOU'RE HAPPY AND PROUD OF YOURSELF BC YOU SINGLE-HANDEDLY GAVE ME ITTO BRAINROT HOW?? WHY?? W H A T???? DFCVHBNJNKMLAG

Indulge me with this little thirst

Imagine you're wearing the cutest lacy frilly lingerie set (bonus if it matches his colors black/purple/red) that just accentuates all the right curves and spots, crisscross stripes over your skin aND WHEN HE SEES YOU HE JUST GOES 👀!!!!!!! jaw hits the floor blushing drooling and repeating "babe" your name and freaking out, brain stops working just pulls you up on his big strong arms and sits you on his lap (and BOI his not-so-little friend downstairs is already excited huh)

and you just go :3c all coy and cute and delicate leaning in pressing your chest against his, scooting closer "Itto baby you gotta be careful unwrapping your present, it would be a shame to tear up something so pretty... right?" finger drawing circles on his skin making him SHIVER

AND IMAGINE HIM JUST S T R U G G L I N G TO KEEP IT TOGETHER and be delicate untying the lacy strings like NAH MAN he's got BIG HANDS NOT MADE FOR THIS TASK LMAO

plus you're making it REAL hard kissing and chuckling at his neck and rolling your hips against his crotch slow and sensual

by the time those panties come off they're soaked through with a mix of his pre and your slick asxdcvghjbnjkl

*HSAKING BITING MY PILLOW HORNY GRIP*

MA'AM I WROTE AN ENTIRE FIC WHAT HAVE YOU D O N E i think.... i think you gave me a size kink........ BUT GODS YOUR WRITING IS SO!!!!! *rabid horny crys noises*

i’ll have you know i am quite pleased with myself for making you (and anyone else who will listen) foam at the mouth for arataki mf itto.

‧₊˚ pairing — arataki itto x f!reader

‧₊˚ wc — 1.3k

‧₊˚ cw — nsfw. mdni. fem!reader. praise. oral (m. & f. rcv'ing). implied squirting.

‧₊˚ a/n — okay, so crys sent me this WEEKS AGO and every time i sat down and tried to answer, the words just wouldn't come out right? BUT THEN i realized itto's bday was only a few weeks away (at the time) and since she describes you as being his "present" IT HIT ME LIKE A TON OF BRICKS...THIS WOULD MAKE THE PERFECT BIRTHDAY IDEA FOR OUR ONE AND ONI KING ARATAKI ITTO!!

poor itto’s just sitting there, looking down between his claws and the cute frilly bra you have on, his big oni head full, debating with himself over whether he should try to be delicate and slowly work the lacy underthings off of you, or throw caution to the wind and get the things off of you as quickly as he can by Any Means Necessary™️. as ravishing as you look in that dainty lingerie, he decides it's worth sacrificing in the name of getting his mouth on your tits as quickly as possible. his hands are trembling a little and his cock is throbbing underneath your thigh when his pretty crimson eyes meet yours, full of unspoken apologies.

but then he gets another idea. a better idea.

what if he can do everything he wants with you without taking the lingerie off at all????

itto grabs two handfuls of your ass, squeezing your plush flesh between his big fingers as he guides your hips, rocking them back and forth to feel the heat of your cunt dragging along his clothed length. he’s so hard and big you can feel the ridge of his cockhead through the thin material of your panties, which are getting wetter with your slick by the second.

you huff a breathy laugh against his neck, shuddering a little when your clit catches on the front seam of his pants. you’re moving on your own when he captures your chin between his thumb and index finger, guiding your face away from his neck so he can press his lips to yours. his kiss is needy and passionate, a quiet groan escaping his throat when you push your tongue into his mouth. oh, he likes that very much, especially when you lick at his fangs with a playful moan.

he cups one of your tits in his hand and gives it a gentle squeeze, making you whine a little in his mouth. he can feel your hard nipple through the lacy material and pushes the cup of the bra down to let your tit spill out into his hand. he temporarily abandons your fervent kiss to trace the tip of his tongue around your pebbled bud before closing his lips around it to suckle, his tongue still swirling. You push your fingers into his hair, holding onto his horns as your head falls back in pleasure.

he picks you up and puts you on your back before getting on his knees and pushing your open legs back, spreading them wide so he can see the dark wet spot that has formed in the fabric that's covering your juicy cunt. he can smell you and it’s making his cock drool inside his pants. he kisses your folds through the flimsy cloth, the tip of his nose nudging your hard clit as he goes. soft presses of his lips turn into open-mouthed kisses just before he teases your sweet little pearl. he flattens his tongue against your cunt, making you moan at the feeling of his hot, wet muscle as it makes pinpoints of contact with your skin through the lacy panties.

“mmm baby, your pussy tastes so good…fuck,” itto mutters, his voice heavy with lust.

hooking his finger inside the crotch of your panties, itto moves the lace over to one side, exposing your pink, glistening slit. the sight of your beautiful pussy has him licking his lips...then slowly licking yours. you flinch beneath him, heels digging into his hard shoulders when he flicks and rolls your tiny hard-on around with the tip of his tongue before wrapping his lips around it and sucking it in. your oni may not be the smartest guy, but he knows how to eat pussy like no other. he pulls off long enough to stick his middle finger in his mouth and get it wet before carefully pushing it in your hole, watching your face with a mischievous grin as your back arches for him when you feel the slight stretch of his thick digit. he slowly fucks you with his finger before adding another.

and you certainly don't have to take anything off to be able to swallow his thick cock. he thinks it’s so sweet when you choke on it bc it shows how much you wanna please him and make him feel good. so he brushes his thumb over your hollowed cheek and there’s so much adoration in his fiery eyes when he groans and tells you how good you are to him. you treat him like a king and he dotes on you bc you’re his queen.

and when he's ready to fuck you, he just rolls you onto your belly and pushes those purple little panties to the side. the thong is hooked around his thumb as he holds onto your hips and pushes his leaking cockhead inside you. little by little, inch by inch, he fills you with his thick oni cock and starts hitting it from the back. your whimpers and gasps of his name spur him on, driving his big dick in and out of your juicy cunt. he watches the way your tight little hole stretches open around his wide shaft, his fang leaving an indentation where he bites his lower lip to keep from cumming too fast. “nhnnn…fuck yeah, baby! takin’ my cock so well…” he praises you as the front of his muscular thighs clap against the back of yours.

a few more thrusts and he pulls out, making you whine. but before you can protest, he’s got you on your back and his huge hands around your ankles, pulling them against the hard plane of his chest. itto’s bedroom eyes are burning into yours when the tip of his tongue swipes across his lower lip as he guides his fat tip back to your hole. he pushes inside you again, his open-mouthed groan harmonizing with your pretty sigh as your wet heat stretches around him, tight and welcoming like he’s right where he’s supposed to be. leaning forward, he puts you in a press and starts fucking you again, but this time it’s slow and deep. irises of molten rock peer into your watering eyes as he tells you how beautiful you are, how good you are to him, how much he appreciates you and the way you’ve given him the best birthday present of all:

you. you, and your love.

your legs are hanging helplessly over his beefy, marked arms. the red straps of your bra have long fallen off your shoulders, your tits spilling out of the flimsy cups and bouncing with every hard thrust of itto’s strong hips. his long, white hair has fallen over his shoulders to tickle your skin, and your eyes soften.

“mmm, happy birthday, my king…” you sigh.

he leans in closer, pressing your knees to your chest, his hips still snapping into yours as he cups your jaw in his big hand. “i love you, my queen…love you so fuckin’ much,” he breathes, then kisses you hard. your tongues swirl and his hips begin to stutter. “fuck, m'so close. cum...cum with me, baby…”

with the way his thick, bulbous cockhead has been tugging at your sweet spot for the past few minutes, you don't need to be told twice. you place your hands on either side of his face and nod, panting. he buries himself deep and grinds into you, his coarse thatch of white pubic hair rubbing your clit as his heavy balls draw up tighter and tighter against your taint.

“oh gods…” he sighs, “...fuck…”

“cum for me, itto,” you gasp, beckoning him as your own orgasm takes hold and he feels you gush all around him, soaking his lower abs and crying his name.

he plants his lips against one of your palms and squeezes his eyes shut, grunting, “cumming…i- nngghhaa fuck!” his hips twitch and jerk into you as the first jet of his hot semen erupts inside you. his oni ancestry ensures that he cums in massive loads, filling you to the brim and spilling out of you before he’s even done emptying himself inside your womb.

‧₊˚ itto m.list || happy bday you big sexy oni *kisses his horns, one at a time*

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duckchu · 8 months

Text

Last one for today, Aphelios <3

Like always nsfw, fem bodied reader etc etc

I honestly love this gif of him he's so sassy lglrvkrqgk

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Will usually prepare a bath for you both and cuddle you to sleep after

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He like his hands and how he can make you release so many cute noises with them ~ and on you, your breasts, no matter the size he like to lay on them

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Doesn't really care, if you want it inside? Sure. Outside? Ok, though he prefers to do it inside by a really slight margin

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He has recorded your moans and will maybe use them in a song someday, but for now it stays in his headphones~ also he'd love to be sandwiched between you and Kayn or Sett

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Not really, you need to teach him everything

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary, doesn't like to complicate things and it's comfortable for you

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

If you laugh, he'll get flustered and red as a beet, prefers to keep it serious

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Not any, he likes to be relatively hairless

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Aphelios is secretly a romantic at heart, he keeps you close and leaves kisses all over your body

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Doesn't really need to, but will if he feels really horny (that's why he has the moans recorded)

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Not sure if that's a kink but he really likes biting and fingering you

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Bedroom, he wants to be able to enjoy you fully

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Seeing your breasts in a tight shirt is enough to get him rock hard

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He doesn't really enjoy roleplaying and hitting you

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He prefers to give but doesn't mind receiving, a 69 is perfect for him

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on the day honestly, he can go either way depending on his mood

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Doesn't mind then but would rather have a longer session with you

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Not really, though he enjoys the though of fucking you in a place where someone could find you, he's way too shy to do that, though he does sometimes stream the music making process with you doing some work with your mouth under the desk

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Only 1 round, but he has no problem fingering you afterwards

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

No, but can get some if you'd like

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Not really a tease, however if you really get on his nerves, he will edge you for hours just to get back at you

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He's a loud moaner, really loud in bed

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He gets inspired by you and writes...pretty interesting songs, but those are kept only for him to see

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Long, 14 cm and average thickness

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He's surprisingly horny, though he can just wait it out but if he can, he would like to have you take care of it

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

After the bath he doses off pretty quickly

#heartsteel #league of legends x reader #league of legends #aphelios x reader #league of legends smut #lol x reader #lol smut #lol #aphelios #Aphelios smut

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vintagevixyxol · 3 months

Text

The old language: the alphabet and some patterns

from the books Dark Rise by C.S.Pacat

----------- ✶ -----------

The old world holds many attractions for the readers: its mysterious history, culture, characters and language. There are inscriptions and phrases in old language in the books. At first glance, they look scary and inexplicable. Nevertheless, at second glance, the language opens up. In this analysis, I hope to show that the old language is amazing and share the delight I had researching it.

First of all, disclaimer. I am not a true linguist and, moreover, not Kettering, but a person who loves to find out patterns and tries to explain them. This article is just my theory, hypothesis and my point of view. It can be different from the canon.

There were phrases in the old language and their translations in the first edition of the Dark Rise. They inspired me to reconstruct the old language alphabet and to start my research. The inscriptions in the Dark Heir, the second book, proved the alphabet to be correct.

----------- ✶ -----------

The alphabet

As I have already mentioned, the alphabet is based on the translations of the old language in the first edition. I will use one phrase as an example to explain a deciphering algorithm. As I have applied the same algorithm to all inscriptions, I will only mention other phrases in the old language to show the letters they contributes to the alphabet.

The phrases from the Dark Rise: Decoding the alphabet

Step 1: selecting similar letters

Here is the phrase “Rassalon the first lion”.

There are two S in “RaSSalon”; there is also S in “firSt”

Double S is between two A

The first word begins with R, and R is also present in“fiRst”

L — “Lion”

O —“liOn”

N — “lioN”

“...the First Lion”

T — in “The” and “firsT”

i — in “first” and “lion”

!(why “i” is small I am going to explain later)!

Step 2: non-repeating letters

New letters: H, e (!) and F.

Other phrases

He is coming (Dark Rise, chapter 11)

New letters: C, M, G

I cannot return when I am called to fight So I will have a child (Dark Rise, chapter 2)

New letters: U, W, D, V, I(!)

I and i are different. In my opinion, it might be because “I” is a pronoun.

Enter only those who can (Dark Rise, chapter 15)

New lettres: Y, E

E and e are different. Perhaps, it is because “E” is in the beginning of the word “Enter”.

The horn all seek and never find (Dark Rise, chapter 15)

The new letter: K

Note: The letter design in the figures is a little different from the original design due to qualities issues.

The phrases from the Dark Heir: Proving the alphabet relevance

There are also inscriptions in the Dark Heir. If I use the same strategy here, it does, here are the proofs.

The first proof

One of the inscriptions is the name Undahar. Names are not translated. All letters in Undahar match the letters of my alphabet except U. It turns out to be V in the previous inscriptions, so I will write two variants U/V because I am not sure which one is correct.

The Eclipse/Finem Solis (Dark Heir, chapter 26)

The second proof

Here is the phrase: “He is coming.”

(Dark Heir, chapter 2)

Although there is one unknown letter, we can identify it by using the similar phrase:

He is fighting — Ar ventas

He is coming — *r uentas/ventas

The new letter is A. I think this A is different from the regular A because it is the first letter of a pronoun. Pronouns start with capital letters to avoid confusion with other words that include “ar”.

The result: alphabet

Of course, I admit the possibility that not all letters comply with the original alphabet as it is in the U/V case.

Issues in deciphering

The same phrases in the old language are written differently in the Dark Rise and the Dark Heir. I do not know whether it is due to errors in the first two editions or it means something else.

He is coming, Dark Rise (chapter 11), edition 2021

He is coming, Dark Rise (chapter 11) edition 2022

He is coming, Dark Heir (chapter 2)

The past cries out, but the present cannot hear, Dark Heir (chapter 2)

Only a Steward may enter, Dark Heir (chapter 37)

Dark Rise (chapters 2, 10, 11, 15), edition 2021

----------- ✶ -----------

The structure of the language

There is more to the old language than the inscriptions. Here are my thoughts on the other aspects of the old language. The old language is likely to be the parent language to all languages in the books, the language from which modern languages have derived. The old language has similarities to Latin and Sanskrit, borrowings from Sindarin, Quenya and some unidentified languages.

Vocabulary

Analyzing new information, I have found patterns that helped me to identify word classes. The word classes of the old language are shown in the table below.

Data summary sheets

----------- ✶ ----------- Nouns and names

Most nouns end with “ar”, but there are two nouns that end with “or/er”. The pattern is pretty apparent, so I am going to discuss only the nouns that do not fit the pattern.

Aladharet and adharet

My suggestions about meanings and forms of the word “adharet” are based on this dialog:

‘He said, ‘I am not aladharet.’ <...> ‘I cannot do magic,’ he said. ‘I have never trained with the’ – there was no other word for it – ‘adharet.’ <...> ‘I only know what I have seen, watching the adharet cast spells as I fought to protect them.’ (Dark heir, chapter 38).

There are two variants of the word: aladharet is singular and adharet is plural. Perhaps, “al” is the marker of a singular form, I would no more touch on single/plural forms because we do not have enough information.

The closest meaning from the context is a wizard /enchanter. This noun is interesting because “ar” is in the middle of the word. I think it is a verbal noun (a noun derived from a verb), such as spell – speller, enchant – enchanter.

Kishtar

According to the book, “Vara kishtar” is a shadow hound. “Kishtar” is highly likely to mean a hound or hounds. (Chapter 21)

The root “Kisht” means field, sown-field, tillage, cultivation, (at chess) check in Sanskrit. Of course, the meaning of the word in the old language is different, but it is still quite an interesting coincidence.

Similarities to Latin

There are some Latin names in the books like “Finem Solis”. Besides, some words in the old language are very similar to Latin (see the examples below).

“Callax Reigor” (The Cup of Kings) (Chapter 46)

“Callax” reminds Latin “Calix” (the Cup).

Reigor (Kings)

The root “reig” resembles the Latin root “reg” in “regio,-are”, “regium” (to rule/ royal).

Valdithar

English translation is “dauntless”, it is the name of Sancean`s horse. It has the ending “ar”, probably, because this adjective plays a role of a noun as abstract adjectives can be nouns in English. Synonyms of the “dauntless” are valorous, valiant. They derived from the Latin word “valens” – strong, powerful. This meaning of “val” seems to be suitable for Valdithar as well.

Similarities to Tolkien`s languages: Sindarin and Quenya

As some readers know, C.S.Pacat is a big fan of the J.R.Tolkien, so I decided to compare Tolkien`s languages with the old language and found out some borrowings from them. Several names look like Elvish words in which some letters are altered.

The ending “ion” is typical to Elvish.

Anharion

He is the Light’s greatest fighter who served the Sun King. That name consists of two parts: “Anar” is the Sun and “ion” is a son in Elvish. The sound “h” is pronounced with exhalation, so it might be omitted. Anharion means the son of the Sun in this case. In addition, the name was given to him by the Light side (the Sun King) and it is not his true name.

Ekthalion/thalion

Ekthalion is the Sword of the Champion.

Although “Fermaran, katara thalion” (Dark Heir, chapter 29) does not have a translation, “thalion” is a hero/a dauntless man in Sindarin. In my opinion, the coincidence is not an accident. “Thalion” is the part of the Sword`s name and the meaning seems relevant in context of the books.

Moreover, Ecthelion`s fate in the Silmarillion is quite similar to the fate of the Sword. Ecthelion slayed Gothmog, Lord of Balrogs, at the cost his life. The Sword`s fate is described in the book as follows:

…As a weapon to kill the Dark King. It’s said that a great Champion of the Light rode out with it to fight him <…> but could do no more than draw a single drop of the Dark King’s blood. That’s all it took to corrupt the Blade… (Dark Rise, chapter 13).

The name Ecthelion had its own evolution: its Qenya cognate was Ektelion.

Another thing

Veredun

One of the characters mentioned this name in the following dialog:

‘This isn’t my first time at sea.’ Visander <…>. ‘Atlantic? Pacific?’ ‘The Veredun,’ said Visander. He looked out at the night expanse of black water. This did not feel like the Veredun, or like any sea he had known (Dark Heir, chapter 34).

Names are not translated, but I wanted to know more about this old world sea/ocean. There is no word which is exactly the same in any language relevant to my research, but there are analogs to its parts.

Vere/verus is “truth” in Latin

Dun is “dark/deep/gray/gloomy” in English

Dun is “West” in Sindarin

My translation is “The deep truth” or “The dark truth” or “The West truth”, but I do not pretend to know the truth.

Verbs

All verbs that we know end with “as”.

Aragas

Aragas means “open” in the old language. I have not found any Latin roots. However, separate parts of this word exist in Sindarin: “ara” is “royal” and “gas” means a hole/gap/opening. Aragas is used for opening gates that connected the Kingdoms, for opening the oubliette under the Sun King`s throne and in the metaphor of opening the door of the Dark King`s magic. All these cases are associated with something “royal” and “opening”. I might have gone a bit too far here and read too much into it.

Ar ventas

Ar ventas – He is fighting (The translation from the text, Dark Heir, chapters 27, 29)

Ar uentas/ventas – He is coming (The translation of the inscription, Dark Heir, chapter 2)

There is a possibility that these verbs are borrowed from Latin. The root of the word “uent” is the same as in the Latin verb “uenio/venio” (to come). Thus the ending “as” indicates a tense and a person (is coming). My guess is that V and U are interchangeable in Latin. Therefore, “ventas” means “is coming” and “is fighting” at the same time. I think “uentas” is right, because U turns into V.

Vala!

One of the characters used this word in the following dialog:

With a tug of her horse’s mane, she [Visander] said something that sounded like Vala!, and they burst out of the stable doors (Dark Heir, chapter 21).

I think it is the command “walk/run” for a horse and the verb could be in the imperative mood. In my opinion, there is a parallel to Latin. Singular imperatives are formed by removing the ending “re” from verb roots, for example, monstra̅re (to show) – monstra (show). Nevertheless, “Vala!” could be another command, e.g. “gallop/forward/ahead”.

Adjectives

I think the ending “ra” indicates adjectives. Valdithar looks like an exception, but I think it is not an exception because it is a noun (see the section about nouns).

Vara

The translation of “Vara kishtar” given in the books is “a shadow hound” (Dark Heir, chapter 21).

It also means “soiled” and “dirty” in Quenya. As far as we know, “Vara kishtar” is a creature of the Dark side, and all shadow creatures could be “soiled” in the Light side`s opinion. By the way, there is the Sanskrit word “vara” that means “the best, excellent, the eldest”. The meaning is opposite to the meaning in the old language, but the Dark side could use the word differently.

Katara

“Fermaran, katara thalion”(Dark Heir, chapter 29).

Katara ought to be an adjective because it ends with “ra” and because of its position in the sentence (before a noun). The text does not give a translation, so I decided to consult dictionaries.

Latin and both Elvish languages did not help, but Sanskrit has the adjective “katara”. It has several meanings:

Which (of the two)

Mean, poor, miserable

Timid, shy/cowardly, cowardly/fearful

I have never mentioned Greek before, but it also contains “katara”, but as a noun: κατάρα is a curse or a calamity/disaster.

----------- ✶ -----------

Other observations

I noticed other patterns as well, but I need more examples to confirm them.

Structure of sentences

Like in English, a subject goes before a predicate:

Ar ventas – He is fighting

Ar uentas – He is coming

An adjective precedes a noun:

Vara kishtar – a shadow hound

Katara thalion – a shy hero (?)

My own hypothesis

Old language adjectives agree with nouns in gender, case and number.

There is evidence that verbs conjugate and have different tenses. So far I managed to identify only one verb form (continuous, third person, singular). I suppose that the inscriptions contain other verbs as English translations provide other verb forms including modal verbs, various tenses and person.

The reconstructed translation

Only one phrase from the Dark Heir has no translation: “Fermaran, katara thalion” (Dark Heir, chapter 29). We know the hypothetical meanings of the words from the analysis, so the translation might be reconstructed.

Fermaran

Ar ventas fermaran (Chapter 27)

Ar ventas, fermaran (Chapter 29)

In this case, “fermaran" is not used to address someone because there is a variant without a comma. Catalan has the verb “fermar”. It means “to stop”. The form “fermaran” is “they will stop” in indicative future, plural, third.

The reconstructed phrase goes as: “They will stop, mean/timid/poor hero”. It can fit in the context but it is still pretty questionable.

Inscriptions

Unfortunately, I have not achieved my goal to identify words in the inscriptions from the Dark Heir. As I mentioned there is not enough data. For example, the words we know from the translations such as the adverb “only”, the negation “cannot”, the modal verb “may” and the English phrase verb “cries out” remain unidentified. These inscriptions are still the Phaistos disc:

The past cries out, but the present cannot hear (Dark heir, chapter 2)

Only a Steward may enter (Dark heir, chapter 37)

Dark Rise paper editions 2021-2022

----------- ✶ -----------

The conclusion

Roots of the old language lie in Latin, Sanscrit, Sindarin/Quenya and, perhaps, something else. Four Kingdoms, four language families: Latin for the Sun/Undahar, Sanskrit for the Serpent or the home of the Lions, Elvish or unknown one for the Tower or the Rose.

I hope the third book will provide new data that will allow me to decode all inscriptions and get more profound understanding of the old language. Meanwhile, I am going to entertain myself with guesses, theories and attempts to decode the inscriptions.

----------- ✶ -----------

Acknowledgements

I would like to express my thanks to my aunt for being my editor, for all help and discussions about the old language, to my sister for all figures and to my friends from Undahar for the support and help! Thank you all very much!

All information is from the Dark Rise, the Dark Heir and dictionaries: Latin, Sanskrit, Sindarin and Quenya.

----------- ✶ -----------

The article also was written for the C.S.Pacat fanbook "Undahar" made by people from the discord server Undahar.

Please, credit me if you want to share the analysis.

#c s pacat #cs pacat #dark rise #dark heir #old world language #books

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jeannineee · 11 months

Note

Hi hi! Would you be interested in writing a Eris NSFW alphabet? ❤️

NSFW Alphabet (Eris Vanserra)

a/n: requests are open!!

nsfw under the cut (18+, minors be gone)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Very very gentle with you. He can be quite rough, so he’ll ask over and over again if you’re okay. He’ll bathe you, massage your sore muscles.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

For him, probably his arms. He’s very well-built. He loves holding you up against the wall as he fucks you, or using his arms to pins you. Also loves when you dig your nails into them.

For you? He strikes me as a leg man, idk why. He loves your thighs, how they feel wrapped around his waist, or when you squeeze them around his head when he goes down on you. He loooves marking them, too.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Prefers to come inside of you. But when you take him down your throat, he likes to finish on your tongue, and watch you swallow. (I’m disgusting sorry LMFAO)

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He’d definitely be down to share you. Maybe even with someone he hates. (read: Azriel or Cassian)

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Remember in ACOWAR, when Brannagh says, “Autumn Court males have fire in their blood. And they fuck like it too.” ????

Eris can FUCK. No question about it.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

When he’s feeling more gentle, missionary.

But his favorite is probably doggy, or reverse cowgirl, with him thrusting up into you. He can slap your ass and pull your hair easily in those positions.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

I don’t see him being goofy, honestly. Unless you’re a one night stand.

If he’s with you long term, though? He takes it seriously.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Yes the carpet matches the drapes. He’s well trimmed, just a small patch of hair above base of his cock.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Eris can definitely be intimate with you, and he enjoys that.

But he prefers fucking you senseless.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Rarely ever does it after he meets you. Unless you have to be away from each other.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Oh boy!!!!

Brat taming, Wax play (the man has fire powers, come on), pain play, spanking, degradation, praise, bdsm in general

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Prefers your bedroom, but if you’re being a brat he’ll yank you into an empty closet or corridor and remind you who you belong to.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

When you’re bratty, or giving him attitude. He likes the challenge.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything is on the table, but he won’t do anything you’re uncomfortable with.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

I think he’s fairly equal, here.

Loves taking his time between your thighs, lapping at your folds, sucking your clit until you’re begging him to stop.

But!! Also loves seeing your lips wrapped around his cock. He likes throatfucking, if you let him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Generally pretty rough, but he does have moment when he’s gentle and slow with you.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Doesn’t prefer them, unless you’re teasing him or being a brat.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Yes!! Has definitely bent you over the table in his study while people mill about in the hall only several feet away.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He can go all night, easily. He’s fae, come on.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Uh, duh.

Blindfolds, rope, vibrators, dildos, leg spreaders, etc. he has anything you can imagine, and will buy anything you want.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He is MEAN. He’ll whisper in your ear alllll day.

“Can’t wait to feel you wrapped around my cock.”

And then he’ll pretend like nothing happened, the ass.

He’ll touch you under your dress during meetings, fingers barely ghosting over your clit. He is veryyyy unfair.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Not super loud, until he’s close. Mostly grunts and groans.

He’s loud when you go down on him, though.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

This isn’t nsfw, but I think he’s bisexual. I will die on that hill.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s PACKING. Long, and thick. It takes a minute to get used to his size, every time the two do you have sex.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Very very high. He could take you anytime.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He falls asleep pretty quickly, but he always makes sure that you’re asleep, first.

#acotar #acotar headcanon #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fanfiction #acotar smut #smut #acomaf #female reader #Eris Vanserra #Eris Vanserra smut #eris vanserra x reader #acosf #acowar #acofas

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h-harleybaby · 1 year

Note

princess reader x main 4 (seprate) including butters

I swear- my formatting is always changing in some way because I always find something wrong with it

It's a smidge short because I started running out of ideas

I swear it feels like I lost the ability to write

General hcs w/ Princess!reader x main 4 + Butters

Eric Cartman, the Grand Wizard

• You guys totally have tea parties when no one’s around, don’t ever tell anyone tho or Cartman’s gonna say you’re delusional and probably not talk to you for a couple hours

• He insists that you’ve put some kind of love spell on him because now he wants to hang out with you all the time and he’s always thinking about you

• You didn’t, he just has the biggest fattest crush on you

• To be fair, you have a huge crush on him too so it's not as bad as he thinks it is

• He definitely tries to put a bunch of spells on you under the guise that it's for research but he's trying to put a love spell on you because he doesn't believe you have a crush on him

Kyle Broflovski, the Elf King

• Elf King Kyle doesn’t wanna admit he has a crush on a human princess for like, a really long time

• Stan has to talk sense into him

• Like no honey- you getting butterflies, thinking about her all the time, and getting all red when you see her isn’t you despising her

• He does all sorts of romantic Romeo and Juliet bullshit to try to impress you and get you to like him

• Y'all hang out in his big ass tree under the stars that's where y'alls first kiss is

Stan Marsh, the Knight

• I saw some fanart when Stan gets called Marshwalker and I thought it was the CUTEST thing- you probably call Stan your Marshwalker, only in private tho

• You're probably the elf princess and that gives him an excuse to be around you and protect you

• He definitely goes to Elf King Kyle like "H e y m y l i e g e I h a v e a c r u s h o n t h e p r i n c e s s- can I have your blessing?"

• It backfires very, very badly. But you know what?! You like him and he's still your knight so that's all that matters!

• You guys probably date in secret because Kyle wouldn’t exactly happy that y’all are dating

Kenny McCormick, the Princess

• Cartman definitely yells at you and Princess Kenny when y’all flirt like he does his cat

• Cartman’s literally yelling “THATS GAY- BAD PRINCESSES, BAD >:( THATS MY PRINCESS KENNY” and you guys literally will not stop laughing about it

• It really just gives Princess Kenny the courage to flirt more, especially because she likes seeing the smile on your face when Cartman turns red from anger

• So flirting is something that happens very often between y’all-

• You guys are badass together, just 2 warrior princesses doing warrior princess things (Princess Kenny tries convincing you that kissing is totally a warrior princess thing)

Butters Stotch, the Paladin

• I can guarantee you, Butters has forgotten that he’s mid battle and gets hit because he started thinking about how pretty you are

• It’s kinda sweet how he’s willing to protect with his life

• Expect him needing a lot of healing kisses on the cheek

• He’s the sweetest tho, Butters also always brings you flowers every time he sees you

• He insists on making you flower crowns because a princess needs a pretty flower crown that’s equally as pretty as her

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savnofilter · 10 months

Text

Wet Dreamz | Katsuki Bakugo

Pro Hero!Katsuki Bakugo x Pro Hero!Black![FEM]Reader

CONTENT WARNING(S): sexual content, mutual (?) pining, hint of infidelity, bakugo & reader are a duo, reader is in their head a LOT, clubbing, grinding, shifty hands mentions of perversion, voyeurism, fingering (m->f), making out, blue balling, mentions of infidelity, slight sero x reader, bakugo & reader are basically playing cat and mouse.

WORD COUNT: 10.8k words (45 mins).

I/B: wet dreamz by j. cole | wired interview w/bts

READ MORE: masterlist + [bakugo & students masterlist]

KEY:

y/n = your name.

l/n = last name.

h/n = hero name.

h/n/n = hero nickname.

c/n= country name.

g/s= grading system.

h/t = home town.

"italics" = words in full quotation marks is indicated as English.

bold = words in full quotation marks is indicated as your native language.

A/N: just because ie didnt want reader to just be a american, i left things like talking in native language to be up to interpretation. almost everything is up for interpretation in this one lol. slowly tryna get used to writing real stories instead of just fuckin. makes me wish ie was doing this earlier because it's actually really fun to think stuff up for stories. not rushing and getting smt out to have it out lol. the lyrics are… interpreted in a different kind of way, sort of play on words if you will. anyways hope y'all like it! i sure did. 🫶🏽 thank you anon!

"Cameras rolling in—"

The camera crew were finishing the set up in the background, the makeup stylists were adding their additional touches and you only had a few seconds to mentally prepare for your filming.

"Three, two …. !"

Snap.

"Hi! My name is Y/N, better known as H/N!"

"And I'm Bakugo Katsuki, also known as Dynamight."

"And we are here with WIRED to answer the web's most searched questions!" You two finished the cut unanimously.

The camera cuts to you as you turn to him with a nervous jitter, still with the joyful appearance you always kept. "I'm pretty nervous, people are wild these days."

H/N.

A hero that represented what it means to be a young, headstrong role model. A hero that was from a country outside of Japan whom Bakugo was immediately infatuated with upon first meeting.

L/N.

His interest in your last name marked your own culture, despite being foreign to him. The name you didn't say as you introduced yourself to the camera.

Y/N.

Your first name that he is always itching to say, practicing day and night how it'd finally roll off his tongue when you two could get to that stage. Today seemed to be that day.

You two had been paired up as a duo for about over a year now for some hero promotions and the chemistry between you two had been gradually growing. Indeed, you did not speak much as you had initially expressed not being confident in your Japanese abilities when you moved to Japan, but he is deeply impressed by your determination to continue learning the language.

"Oh! The boards are in English, I might excel in this." You joke, towards the camera.

"You excel in a lot of things, H/N/N." Bakugo promptly responds and he's just as quick to move on after he pulls up the cardboard and tilts it to the side, ready to officially start the interview off. Your lips purse together as you swallow the budging feeling to crack a smile at the personal nickname. Bakugo always had a knack for nicknaming people, but hearing yours out loud in front of everyone else gave you an entirely different feeling. One you couldn't place.

"Who is in…?" The blonde-haired male tilts the board as he reads it, proving his dexterity as he also rips the label off to reveal the rest of the first search. You could tell he was struggling a bit and you move your head to read it as well.

"Firecracker," You finish off with a smile, sitting closer to the edge of your seat as you look at it. "Although we just introduced ourselves, I'm sure we can spruce it up a little?"

Bakugo takes the initiative with a subtle nod, using his other hand to gesture to you as he introduces you for the repetitive round of introduction.

"This is, Y/N or "better known as" H/N. One of, maybe, only heroes I can tolerate."

You can't help but laugh at his rendition, nodding your head as you adjust yourself in your seat. "The honesty, wow! We have, uh," You turn more to your side, looking him up and down before looking into his eyes. "Lord Explosion Murder: Dynamight? But you may know him as just Katsuki." You look back at the cameras as you finish, a bit of sass as you conclude.

Katsuki.

The way you said it just sounds so much better than when anyone else says it.

An unexpected chuckle comes from him as he teases you back. "I think I liked my intro better than yours." He rips off the next label and turns the board for you to read.

"Who in Firecracker got their quirk first? " You hum and look up at him, face full of concentration now. Bakugo's gaze is completely focused on your face as you go into deep thought, scarlet eyes taking in your change of expressions. His gaze follows your body and takes in the details of your outfit, the volume in your hair, and the way that the makeup stylist (fortunately) did you justice that properly accentuated everything beautiful about your skin tone and features.

Bakugo was starting to like everything about you, and he was starting to crush hard.

"I think I got mine in, uh…" You roll your eyes to the right as you look back at the camera, perking up as it comes to you. "I guess at five years old… you guys would call it during yōchien. For me it's called, "G/S". How about you, Katsuki?"

He's smug in response, puffing up his chest as he looks into the camera with pure arrogance. "Four years old. That means I win this question."

"I didn't know we were competing." You joke back.

He soon peels off the last question for the section, turning the board to him to keep it to himself. "I want to read it."

"Oh, okay…"

"Who is the strongest in Firecracker? " Before he's finished with the question you're already grinning and pointing towards Bakugo. He scoffs and rolls his eyes, throwing the bit of paper on the floor and adjusting himself in his seat, his demeanor flustered if you were paying close attention to him.

"We're both fuckin' strong. Give yourself more credit."

You double-blink as you try to rack something up to say. Bakugo has never complimented you before—at least nothing more than "good work today" or a "nice job out there" or something along the lines of that. You did notice lately he's been more communicative with you, but you chalked it up to the fact that maybe he can tolerate you more now with the fact your Japanese is getting better. Still, you had no compass or direction to tell what he was feeling at any given moment.

To your rescue, an exasperated callout comes from behind the cameras, making you laugh out as well as the camera crew behind the director.

"Watch the potty mouth, Bakugo-kun!"

You give Bakugo's shoulder a light push, immediately going to grab the next board for a visual excuse for your nervous fiddling. "We both know how incredible your strength is! I'm being real."

— ✮ ★ ☆ —

The rest of the recording went pretty well, and the chemistry between you two was undeniable. It seemed as though the longer the shoot went, the more comfortable you two got with each other. It hadn't hit you until now that you and him never really talked before.

Of course, it's not like you two ignored each other, no, that wasn't the case. But finding out things like what his favorite meal is during a movie, or why he loved hiking so much made you want to learn more about him. He is also much funnier than you had thought.

You were pretty aware of the rabid fanbase that followed him consistently. The fan edits, the stans, the ones who truly believed they were going to marry the young man. The thought made you cringe as you thought back on your first reaction upon hearing that you two were being paired together for this joint project.

"This will be a great opportunity to reach a further fanbase across the globe in countries that love to support their favorite superheroes!" Your manager exclaimed in excitement before wiggling her brows as she nudged you. "And by support, you know what I mean…"

"Financially?" You finished her sentence, an uninterested look on your features.

"Yes! This will be such a big break for you. Think about it -- they see you paired with one of their top heroes. One, they'll think you can keep up with him. Two, this is an opportunity to grow your exposure as a fairly new hero on the scene. But third, and most importantly the country relations." She looked at you with a serious look this time, her gaze strong.

You scoffed at the implications of the "perks". You were sitting still in the comfort of your manager's old office, your unmoving reaction giving her an insight into how you had truly felt.

"Look, I know you like to be on that 'I can do this myself' tirade, but this will look great. For both of you."

"But at the expense of me though," You crossed your arms and looked down at your feet as you couldn't help but feel blindsided. "I mean, you didn't even ask me. I have never been to Japan, and I don't even know this dude. He could be a fucking creep for all I know!"

"Y/N." She said it as a warning for your tone. She sighs and softens up a bit, but still maintains her composure. "This is something that could be good for you. Think about the titles, the awards, hell even the recognition. Isn't that what you want?"

Not when it sounds like that, no. You didn't become a hero and train this much for the fame of it. You weren't an idiot, and you knew that part of the job is to get your face out there. But a part of you feared that you could become a person who would only go for things that will look good without actually doing the part.

"Do you seriously think you'll be some big-shot hero while staying a nobody in here? We need to expand."

You scoffed at her wording, eyes flickering up to look at her in offense. "So you think I can't be successful on my own?"

"Y/N-"

"I get that there isn't much of a demand here, but I feel as though I am fulfilling my duties. I don't need to be famous to make an impact. I like it here."

"You aren't thinking long term. There simply isn't enough demand, and that has to change. I know it's hard but you have to trust me." She reached across the desk to hand you the papers, the gesture not received on your end.

Sasha called out your name as you muttered a dismissal from the meeting. You stood up as you gathered your stuff from her desk, packing up the discarded papers and other supplies. You knew you were being dramatic, but rightfully so. This was never discussed, nor did you ever think you would have to live in a foreign place. It was so painfully random and left field that you couldn't help but feel slighted that such a big decision was already made for you. Especially where foreigners weren't exactly welcomed and that thought alone made you nervous.

That night was hazy if you remember correctly. You didn't have anything to attend to, you just wanted out. You were worried sick about this new endeavor. You would have to say goodbye to everything you had built at home. The community, the friends, the experiences. All for this opportunity. You were an emotional mess and honestly, as you cringe thinking about it now, it wasn't that serious but it sure felt like it. You were only given a year to brace yourself for the inevitable, train, say goodbye to the people you were used to seeing every day, and on top of that, learn a whole new fucking language.

One thing you did remember correctly though was your manager calling you to check up. When it had slipped up that you were currently out drinking and sad about yourself, she hopped in her car and immediately came to your rescue to pick you up before you could do something stupid. The car ride was silent as she didn't want to chew you out then and make you feel any worse than you already did. When the time was right, she had thought up something to say. It was her words that stuck with you that made you start to reconsider this business decision.

"Listen, if I told you, I know that you would say no," Sasha said as she held your hand, voice softer than ever. "But I know you deserve better and bigger than this." She sits up a bit in her chair that sat on the side of your bed and properly tucked your hair back into your hair cover. "It's not because I don't think you're incapable. It's because I know you would stay here in this small town without growing and staying in your ways."

"But I like it here… I like the people. My family is here… the community needs me…" Your voice cracked at the end as tears started to spill from your eyes. "I can't just leave. it's more than the accolades, the fame. I want to make a change and I c-can't do that if I'm not here."

She hums as she brings you in for a hug, a twinge of hurt coming from her. Sasha felt awful seeing you like this, and she was aware that even when in her best intentions her decisions could be harsh. Even if she wanted nothing but to see you succeed, she wanted you to be happy too.

"Listen," She starts as she wipes your tears. "We'll figure something out, okay? You won't be abandoning this place. If I can secure a deal like this, I'm sure I can sway some more from the company to get you happy. Alright?"

You meekly nod, your overflow of emotions never stopping as you can't calm yourself. You were too destroyed to come around to the idea. You were terrified of the turn of options and all the drinking you did that night did not help one bit. You are so used to being well-liked, what would the world offer when you change from a small hero in your H/T to a big international one? To what lengths did you have to keep giving yourself up to make the higher-ups happy? Were you in over your head choosing this path?

These questions were justified, but it all came back to the same common theme: boxing yourself in. If you didn't want to do this, you would've called it quits long ago. But here you were, and even with all the villains you've taken down, this seemed scarier. Nothing is more frightening than putting yourself somewhere you are emotionally vulnerable. And for the lack of a better word, alone.

You'd have to start again, meet new people, start a new routine. How would you be able to adapt?

"You'll have a year and some change before you go over. I've already been scouting for the best Japanese tutors out there." She pulled back when it seemed as though your sobbing had subsided and she smiled. "I'll get you the best of the best and I'll be damned if you're not taken care of."

You nodded wordlessly and wiped the tears from your cheeks. She handed you your water bottle once you sit up, a hand on your back for support.

"So think about it, please. I know it's scary to think about, but this can help you. Seriously." She stands up and tidies up the area before gathering her stuff. "And you won't be alone, remember that."

She smiles before closing your bedroom door leaving you to your muddled thoughts.

Later on, it was revealed that your pairing would have the "organic" formation. You two would be put together for a few big missions and soon enough when the public would notice, that's when the process of being in a semi-duo would take effect. Your manager made sure to stress how it was important the two of you kept your individual identities to cover all basis. No fan will be completely pushed out of their comfort zone while you two could rely on each other when the job needed it. The other part of the deal was that you would be able to work almost more than half of the year in Japan whilst being able to use the other days to visit back to your country and most importantly your home town.

It was a win-win and you couldn't thank Sasha any more than you did when she relayed the news. When recounting it, you can vividly remember the amount of relief that washed over you to the point it made you emotional again. The feeling of embarrassment had also risen to the surface and you profusely apologized about the prior outbursts to the initial news. In manager fashion, she hushed you before reassuring you that it was her job to get her client right and out there. If you didn't have her, you honestly weren't sure where you'd be right now.

But unfortunately, the things you overthought about weren't exactly wrong either. Most of the things that popped up in your head had come to fruition, some worse than others. Being in a duo with a male counterpart was rough. Especially if he was hot young and (seemingly) a bachelor. People didn't like to see their fave with the opposite sex who seemed to be of that same description with the added addition that they don't come from the same background as well.

Recently after the WIRED interview, the fans were starting to come along to the idea much more than it seemed. Many more positive comments were starting to pop up online and now the public perception of your pairing was really starting to kick off.

There was a mixture of comments that ranged from, "Wow! They look so cute together" "You have to admit they do get the job done" to "I fucking hate XYZ" and we don't need to address the vulgar ones…

Of course, at first, you use to read those comments for hours. You'd be stuck on an unhealthy loop, emotions from high to low as it seemed there was never a day that didn't have all kinds of comments and interactions. Some days are better than others, and some days you'd have to force yourself to log off and do other things in your life. But all in all, the interview seemed to be a hit so now both your agencies are scrambling to book more to boost engagement.

You sigh as you stretch out onto your couch, thinking about how two years have been both hell and a blessing. You stare up at your ceiling as your phone locks, setting it on your coffee table.

The idea to message Sasha as you recounted past and recent memories started to poke at you. You still hesitate on the action though considering the fact you know she's always busy with her schedule. You feel a buzz and you pick up your phone, the text catching your attention.

Sasha-Sama 👯‍♀️

Are you up for going out today?

[->] Sent 13:34.

'speaking of the devil….' you smile and swipe up to correspond to her message.

You

depends. what am I leaving for?

[✓] Sent 13:35.

Sasha-Sama 👯‍♀️

I've got a client I want you to get closer with.

Management says it'll be good for you to get more acquainted with the heroes here. You might actually like her.

[✓] Sent 13:41.

You hum in curiosity, thinking about it a bit before replying.

You

who is it?

[✓] Sent 13:42.

Chat bubbles pop up on your screen and you watch as she types up her response. Today you were taking a very much-needed break for the week and you weren't too sure if you wanted to go out and do some crazy amount of networking.

Sasha-Sama 👯‍♀️

Mina and a few others are in the top 10 for Japan.

You may have met her already, at those galas a few times.

[✓] Sent 13:47.

Your brows quirk up at the name. You're quick to open Instagram, wanting to see a more personal image of her than the one you would see from a search engine.

Oh.

Yeah, you remembered her. She was lively for sure and everyone around her seemed to like her as well. Her page was a mix of official posts and personal ones, perfectly balancing out professional and niche drives to curate an audience. There were even a few posts that were shitposts too.

You were intrigued. Now that you thought about it, you didn't have any friends here… like at all. You spent most of your time focused on work, and if not that, then interacting with your fans in person and online. When you weren't doing either of those things, you were studying Japanese. Surely the studying paid off though with the additional advantage of living in the environment to grasp the content. One could even call your behavior shut-in, but could you blame yourself? Even with your determination to get yourself out there, it was hard. You were still trying to adjust to all of this, and you haven't hit your time mark to visit home just yet. Hell, you can't even remember the last time you got laid.

Your phone dinging catches your attention again and you realize that you hadn't got back to your manager yet.

Sasha-Sama 👯‍♀️

So is it a yes? I will be forwarding your number to her.

[✓] Sent 13:56.

You think a bit before coming to a decision but you need a bit more info first.

You

yes for now, but who else will be there?

you mentioned something about a few others.

[✓] Sent 13:59.

Sasha-Sama 👯‍♀️

Well, I know that Bakugo will be there, but I am not sure who the other people are. Just got in that it's actually not just the top 10, just a few other heroes around the province as well.

[✓] Sent 14:02.

You hesitate at the information on your screen. Bakugo is going to be there? You're not sure why, but a sense of anxiousness starts to flood you as you start to think about him in such a casual setting. You blink a few times as you rub your forehead, now starting to rethink your decisions.

Sasha-Sama 👯‍♀️

Y/N, you will be fine. I'm sending a car to pick you up at 18:30. Wear something… "cunty" and cute. There might be paps there so look good pls. 👀

[✓] Sent 14:05.

You groan loudly at her text and almost want to throw your phone. Is she for real? Even when you need to go out to meet people, it's still about your image. You wanted to text her your thoughts, but a better part of you knows that this outing is probably for your good. You just hoped that these people weren't controversial and this wouldn't be hard work to clean up anything that comes along with their bullshit. You doubted the idea as you remember how much your agency wants to push you to the public. Anything that could be a blip in your appearance was always scrapped and replaced. They were your last safety net to coast safely in this whole hero-ing thing if you were being honest.

You

Sasha… 😐

"cunty"??? PLEASE.

[✓] Sent 14:09.

Sasha-Sama 👯‍♀️

↳ Liked your picture.

🤷🏾‍♀️

Love you, N/N! And stay safe, you know to call me if anything is going on. 💪🏾

[✓] Sent 14:11.

You jokingly send a thumbs down in retaliation to her message, albeit hearting the message as you know she means well. Turning your head to the side, you find yourself staring back at your TV's black mirror. You still had a lot of time left so you decided to at least start prepping for the evening ahead of time.

To prevent the inevitable disruption of hunger, you make your way into the kitchen and decide to get something to eat. You prepare leftover protein to eat with noodles that you've wanted to try all week. It's like when you think of mixing a food combo but take forever to put it into fruition. In anticipation of your ingenious meal, you eagerly await its arrival as the smell taunts you as you wait.

Once it's done you are in no rush to scarf down your food. You even sit down at one of the high chairs on your island with a half-awake presence. It was no surprise that you woke up late today due to the fatigue that comes along with being a pro-heroin. You couldn't even recount the last time you sat down and ate a meal like this. Back in the day (why did you age yourself like that?) when you were in, H/T, you always had enough time to do everything. To experience everything. Yes, you felt blessed to be here even with how hard it's been, but to be able to just sit and relax was a whole new feeling of euphoria you haven't felt in a while. The feeling was pretty nice.

You scoff as you try to think about how things can change so fast. As you blankly stare at your surroundings, you map out the different things you should get to make your penthouse more "homey". It was a very nice and very, very, very expensive place. One that you were definitely not paying for yourself, one that your company took the liberty to do. You have only been able to get the basic things you need for a living space, and only some decorations to truly make it yours. Hell, you even had more clothes than furniture and dishes combined. But that was thanks to sponsors and of course, having to properly ration your paychecks. You had to admit your living space being taken care of for you was an immense help to begin with so you didn't want to complain too much.

Your phone buzzing on the couch successfully gains your attention and you can't help but sigh in annoyance. One thing to also note about being in Japan is that you were practically on call all the time. There was a reason you couldn't leave your phone on silent. You finish up your current bite before hopping down from your chair and trudging your way to your device. You light up upon the contact on your screen. It's an unknown number but the person messaging you makes themselves known in their message.

XXX-XXX-XXXX

hiya! this is Mina!! heard you were coming out with me tonight! 🤟

hope this is the right number lol

[✓] Sent 14:39.

You

Hey! Yes, this is the right number, haha.

My name's Y/N :)

[✓] Sent 14:40.

Mina

your name is SO CUTE! it really suits you <3

[✓] Sent 14:41.

Your heart flutters as you receive the compliment, a giddy grin spreading across your lips as you get more eager to contact her.

You

Thank you! I could say the same for you 🫶🏽

[->] Sent 14:42.

Your thumbs hover over your screen as you try to think of something else to say, not wanting the conversation to die so fast. She hasn't seen your message yet and hopes something comes out of this interaction. Deciding not to stress about it too much, you resume finishing your meal.

So many thoughts run through your mind as you try to prepare yourself for tonight. Even in your hometown, you didn't frequent clubs or bars often, especially not with well-established individuals your age either. It seemed as though Mina was nice enough but you had to factor in the fact Bakugo was going to be there. Then it was also the added stress that other people you didn't even know would be there as well.

You still have no real idea of Bakugo. He seemed pretty reserved, almost goody-two-shoes-like. But honestly, you're sure you gave off the same image as well. Something about him just gave… in the clean. Saying innocent felt like a stretch but you were starting to lean towards that with his mostly clean record. But that could easily be attributed to the fact there was no doubt his agency was probably paying out-of-pocket to keep the shit he does on the low. Maybe you should take it upon yourself to look into him…

Amid your inner thinking, you had decided to clean up the kitchen after your brunch. Having just finished eating, you are now cleaning your dishes. Some dishes were left in the sink and strewn about, but the place thankfully wasn't a pigsty. You rest your hands on the edge of the sink, thinking about the many ways tonight can go before reminding yourself that any time you have tried to predict the future, shit has always gone left field. You hum as you shut the tap water off when you finish and push off the sink to find a towel to dry your hands with. You make your way back to your phone and sit down on one of the high-up chairs as you check your phone.

Mina

this is sort of sudden, but do you want to go shopping with me tonight? figured you don't have that many friends anyways

we can get to know each other!

[✓] Sent 14:57.

Well damn. She ain't have to say it like that. You feel a tad embarrassed at the wording but make up your mind anyway. You itch the back of your neck as you reply immediately.

You

Of course! I would love to. When should I get ready?

[✓] Sent 14:59.

Mina

i figured you'd say yes lol. omw what's your address?

[✓] Sent 15:00.

Your brows shoot up at the late notice and hesitate a bit. You look at the time before deciding to go along with it anyways.

You

000-0000 Shibuya-ku

[✓] Sent 15:03 P.M.

Mina

sweet! will be there soon 😉

[✓] Sent 15:04.

— ✮ ★ ☆ —

"Hey!" Mina calls out from her car as soon as the windows are rolled down. "You are so much cuter in person!" She unlocks her doors and gives you a wink as you bashfully laugh at her friendly flirting.

"Thank you, you too." You smile as you get in and adjust yourself. You look around as you get settled and admire the layout. You still have yet to get your license and being driven around could sometimes get tiring.

"I was thinking that we should go to that new store in that big shopping district mall in the district. They usually have cute stuff on sale there." Mina suggests. She expertly pulls off and looks over at you with a grin before reaching over to playfully nudge you. "No need to be so tense around me! I totally get you are probably really nervous. Don't worry, I can get you hooked up." She smirks as she looks back at the road, giving you a small glance before she finishes her thought. "In more ways than one…"

"A-Ah, I'm not too sure about that one." You nervously laugh. "If I'm being honest I haven't done anything at all since I've been here… especially, that."

With the gasp she let out, you would think that you just told her you work for the League of Villains. As she reaches a red light she looks over at you with a shocked look, completely flabbergasted at your admission.

"Are you serious?!"

"Completely."

"Not even joking?"

"I am so serious."

"...how?" She looks away completely in silence and scoffs. "Doesn't matter anyways, we'll get you laid in no time~"

You chuckle at her determination and shake your head. "To be honest I'm not really in the mood for that stuff… I kind of like being by myself. It's way less stressful."

"Well, no one said you have to be committed. A little fun once in a while doesn't hurt."

You hum in agreement and rest your arm on the armrest. Mina wasn't completely wrong, but you were totally out of the loop by now. You had to leave behind all of your suitors and sneaky links in H/T. Even then you were too busy with work. There were moments when you wanted to get out there for some sort of excitement to ease your boredom, but nothing ever came of it. Your desire to relinquish your needs always ends with you, your toys, and your imagination. A bit devastating if you think about it too hard.

The bustling shopping district Nina talked about isn't too far from your place and you have also learned that Mina lived pretty close to you as well. There are so many people moving about; lots of people doing their things and plenty who seemed to recognize you both. Luckily, she knew of some ways to avoid crowds.

By the time you two had made it to the mall, basically half an hour and then some had passed. Mina sucked her teeth as she looked at her phone to check the time, her manicured nails tapping against the screen as she spoke to you.

"Ah, who cares? The place is pretty laid back. Being a little late might make you look cooler."

Mina had persuaded you to stop by her favorite boba cafe near the newly opened stores. And surely after reassuring you a bit, she had convinced you to let her take care of the spending for today (although you decided in your head that you'd pay her back).

She grins at you as she finally puts her phone away to look at the menu board. You watch as she effortlessly orders her usual at the kiosk. You attempted to keep up with her movements but it proved to be a difficult task. This pink-haired girl was much more assertive and bold than you thought she would be. Everything she did was done with such confidence and carefree energy that you felt mesmerized by how she carried herself. Though her bluntness did shock you a bit from time to time. The way she talks to you is like you two have known each other for years instead of the fact you two have only greeted each other in passing at formal events. It was her unique sense of being a girl's-girl that made it much easier to get more comfortable with her.

The wait for the drinks doesn't take that long and soon enough you two are on your way to the clothing store. You admired everywhere around and swore to yourself to go out more often. You hadn't realized all the cool stuff you had been missing by just focusing on furthering your career. You were pretty amazed at how the store you were visiting occupied two whole floors, with another giant store on top of it as well.

You and Mina were separate in the store since you two were looking for different things. You were looking for a new pair of bottoms while she looked for accessories on the floor below. You mindlessly sifted through the clothes on the racks not sure what you were looking for specifically. Periodically you'd look out the window and admire the view outside, the day's sky shifting to a more dreamy sunset tone. The music you couldn't recognize softly played in the background, but the ambiance of the 2000-early 2010s feel certainly encapsulated the store.

You find yourself humming softly to the tunes though, a bit shocked that you could understand some of it. Some songs and artists you could recognize while some seemed to be either Japanese or from a different place entirely. As you paid half attention to the clothes while the other half tried listening to the music, the next artist that comes in makes you stop. You're unmoving in your spot and look around as you listen closely, a smile spreading across your lips as the tune properly makes its way to your ears.

It was a song from J. Cole and shockingly enough it was uncensored too. You lightly laugh to yourself as they tend to do this, playing foreign songs with the cuss words on full blast without a care in the world. You couldn't quite place your finger on which song it was though and it seemed as though the song was about to finish anyways.

Soon enough you can find a pair of pants that would suit the outfit and idea you had in mind have half a mind to try it on. You find your way through the options as the song unfolds, looking at the different clothes on your way to the dressing rooms. You softly hum along to the song although making sure not to be too loud. Lord knows you already stick out like a sore thumb, but god, you did love a good J. Cole song.

As the unnamed song comes to a finish, you are on your way to find the dressing rooms. A courteous attendant asks normal customer service questions before leaving you to be in your presence. It's not long before the next song plays and it so happens to be another J. Cole song, except you knew this song very well.

You breathe out a laugh as the intro starts to play and you have to keep your excitement in. You could hear the song much clearer in this section as it was more closed in than the rest of the other area. Despite the music being clearer now, the faint chatter around did indicate you were not alone, and many people liked this store as well.

'note to self: find the furthest stall to avoid any confrontation with anyone else.' You thought to yourself and continued your venture to the furthest spot.

By the time you had made it to the back, it seemed like there was one last stall at the end of the hall. At first glance, it seemed as though it was empty, but as you grew close, you noticed the door was ajar. You had half a mind to barge in but what you saw in the changing room made you freeze.

A familiar tuff of blonde hair and a toned figure dawning in a dark green tank that complimented his tan skin caught your eye. Your gaze followed the chain that adorned his masculine neck, his strong shoulders were next to fall into view, and his well-defined back that his shirt that perfectly molded to his skin was last. You could see he was hunched over in a position that didn't seem as though he was trying something on, but still moving nonetheless. A soft gasp that's immediately hushed makes you look up and your eyes widen. The sound was way too feminine, and it certainly was not from you. Another noise makes you squint, trying to see what was going on.

"Stop teasing me," She whispers to him and that's when you finally realize what the hell was going on.

Before you could turn around a pair of eyes makes contact with yours through the reflection of the mirror and you suck in a quiet breath at the fact now you have been caught. The reflection of his deep scarlet eyes showed no direct emotion and you couldn't read what he was feeling, much less thinking. His movements continued without faltering though and another soft sound of encouragement followed his actions. One thing was clear and there was no mistaking it: you could see him and Bakugo could see you. You know that you should leave. However, now you are dangerously curious and confused. The worst part is that you were frozen in shock.

Prettily manicured fingers lightly glide over his shoulders and trace his tanned skin before finding its way to lose itself in his hair. You could hear her question what he was looking at before guiding him to pay his full attention to her once again. It's when he breaks eye contact you can finally break out of your trance.

It was at that moment that the song over speakers reached your ears again and the irony that hangs through the air is almost laughable. No longer wanting any part in listening or seeing this go down, you swiftly turn around and walk away pretending nothing happened in the hope to find the furthest stall away from him.

When you find a stall you immediately close the door and throw the store's clothes onto the side. You rub your temples and close your eyes, another sigh leaving your lips for the millionth time today. Much to your dismay, closing your eyes didn't ease the impending headache that was about to hit, nor did it halt the memory of what you just witnessed. Your mind only brought the visualization of what you just saw to the forefront. You purse your lips as it didn't help that her voice accompanied the memory.

'it started off real innocent my ass.' You thought to yourself as that part of the song over the speakers made its way to your ears. When you open your eyes you're met with your reflection in two mirrors and have no other choice but to look at yourself. You felt like you were going crazy and rightfully so! You weren't innocent yourself, no, but have some damn grace. To be so careless like that, you're starting to realize that the coworker you thought you had a general idea of is way off.

But what did this make you? You stood there and watched them. Not for long, but long enough. Long enough that he saw you. Bakugo knew you were standing there and didn't do anything about it. At first, you thought that his expression was unreadable, but the more you thought about it, you had completely missed the challenging look in his eyes.

The piercing look of instigation with a hint of his curiosity. It was as if it was a look of provocation. As if… beckoning you to try something. Or are you desperately trying to justify why you watched two people doing lewd acts to each other while you just stood there in shock? One of them being your partner in fighting against crime.

You harshly scoff and turn around to avoid looking at yourself to hopefully put off letting it run through your head any longer. You start to strip your clothes off and face the door as you get undressed. As your mind starts to clear, you hear the song playing over the speakers and can't help but humorlessly laugh at the fact the song was about to finish. It had only been what? Almost four minutes and this whole thing had you in shambles. It would've been easier to handle if you didn't have to see him so soon—as in literally a couple of hours—but nope, your dumbass decided to go out today. To, "network". To have fun.

After finishing your haul you have long forgotten any songs playing over the speaker and now you just wanted to leave this store without encountering those two ever again, actually. Unfortunately, never seeing them again isn't an option, and making sure not to cross paths with them for now will be quite the challenge.

You slam the door open and accidentally startle the other shoppers due to your outburst. While apologizing profusely you hear a familiar voice call out to you, a wave of relief hitting over you once you realize it's Mina.

"Ready to check out?" Mina asks, completely unaware of what just happened. You wordlessly nod your head as you follow behind her, ready to get out of this place as fast as possible.

— ✮ ★ ☆ —

The club's music did not disappoint. Admittedly, you have been to a few clubs here and there that completely sucked. Like… really bad. The clubbing scene is totally different and it was clear that the culture here was adversely opposite of what you were used to. Not to say that every club you went to back in H/T was spectacular, but you could at least anticipate people having a ball and throwing ass. Consequently, you were pleasantly surprised by the one you were invited to since you chalked it up to cultural differences. However, it may have just been that you needed to find places that worked for you.

As aforementioned, you and Mina did end up arriving late but it seemed as though many of the other people in your party were milling about and having fun anyways to pay attention to that fact. You met a few others that your manager had briefly mentioned and had the pleasure to meet.

The first was Momo, a hero that had lots of prestige and was very kind. She often modeled but did other charity work as well. She had offered to put in a good word for you as she deeply admired your beauty. The next was another woman, Hagakure. You had heard about her before, and somehow her outgoing presence and energy rivaled Mina's. The downside though you knew to keep your distance since she seemed a lot more.. chaotic which is why you had already known about her prior.

Then there were the other guys there. Denki who was practically Mina's partner in crime, and another one whose name is Sero. He was pretty chill, not going to lie pretty cute too. He had a level of nonchalant charm that had you intrigued. The top hero of the country who everyone knew and loved was also rumored to make an appearance, but Sero advised you not to hold your breath. It was a whole workaround just to get the top three heroes in a public setting like this even when they could find refuge in the V.I.P section such as this one. It was a miracle that the second top hero—Dynamight A.K.A Bakugo Katsuki—was in attendance that night as well. Women and even men were always trying to find opportunities to throw themselves onto their desired hero, hoping that they'll be, "the one". The thought always made you laugh at the insanity of it all. Throughout the interaction, you did find yourself swayed to chat it up with him. He seemed sweet and Sero was honestly a calm breath of fresh air compared to the vibrant personalities that you have met so far. Even with how well you two were kicking it off, it did feel like something was looming around. Almost as if someone was watching you.

You assumed that you'd be safe on the terrace as there were a handful of people out there too. When you looked around you couldn't see anyone, and it seemed as though everyone was doing their own thing and partying. You're not sure how but at a certain point you two had gotten closer in distance, thighs touching and personal space becoming slim. You'd lean into his ear so he could "hear you better", his calloused hand resting on your knee that touched his and you had to admit that you didn't want it to stop. The small amount of liquid courage was making this easier for you. The alcohol gave you a level of confidence that made your words have a lighthearted cadence to them, much more fluid than when you are sober and worrying if your vocabulary is fluent and with the trends.

"D'you wanna dance?" Sero proposed. There was a playful grin on your face and you were more than welcome to oblige.

"I'd love to."

Both of your bodies are close and you can feel his strong hands on your hips. There is no space in between and there was no mistaking that you could feel his,,, friend down there. But you welcomed it. You even pulled his arms closer and ground against him. It had been a while since you have danced like this and he was cute enough for you to let this continue.

While feeling the rhythm (and his obvious boner and shifty hands) you catch the attention of someone you weren't expecting. You're too into feeling the motions of your environment to properly be stunned but it was no mistake that it was the same guy you vowed to avoid until further notice, Bakugo. You two never break eye contact as you tilted your head to the side, the horny male behind you taking it as a sign to kiss your neck. Your brows scrunch in pleasure as his lips are undoubtedly skilled, his teeth teasing your skin numerous times but not deep enough to leave any marks. Your hands find their way to tangle in his hair, egging him on to continue.

Bakugo's eyes are intense just like you had witnessed in the changing room. It seemed as though he had no plans on breaking eye contact with you and it scared you in a way that he was unwavering. While you cowered coming across him and his presumed girlfriend, he openly stared at you. Another challenging look with confidence oozing from him. Just when a hand starts to wander a little south on your body, he starts to move towards you and now you're starting to get anxious.

Breaking eye contact, you're quick to turn around in Sero's hold, an apologetic expression on your face.

"Too much?" Sero asks, his hand coming up to wipe a strand of hair from your face and you shake your head.

"I have to run to the restroom real quick, okay?" You squeeze his hand before leaving and take a few steps before actively making your way in the opposite direction in which Bakugo was going.

Your eyes search desperately for the bathrooms and much to your relief signs were pointing in that direction. Despite all of the dancing bodies and other people trying to make it around as well, you can find refuge and go into the restroom. You immediately walk up to the sink on the furthest side of the room and place your hands on the ledge of the sink. A deep sigh comes from you as you try to calm yourself down knowing that you were starting to get too cocky outside.

What the hell even was that?

You have had your fair share of rendezvous' and sneaking around, but never have you made eyes at someone's boyfriend or whatever the fuck he was to her. Everything about today was going way too fast, and you were sure you were going to need another drink.

You turn on the water and grab a paper towel to wet, applying the wet paper to clean off your face and skin. You were right about one thing though: Sero was pretty skilled and you wondered how he was able to contain himself and not mark your skin. Had it been any other bumbling idiot, you would've had to be covering up your neck and shoulders with makeup for a good few days or so.

You bend down to catch the water instead, fully committing to the idea that you'll reapply your makeup, if any, before leaving the bathroom to get yourself together. As you try to sober yourself up you hear the door open and close behind you and pay it no mind. The running water of the sink distracts you for a hot minute before it hits you that there was no movement at all after the door had initially opened. You turn off the water and turn around, a sharp gasp coming from you as you fully take in who's at the door.

"Having fun?" Bakugo asks in a tone you've never heard before. It was deeper, a light husk to it rather than his regular monotonous or rambunctious tone. He steps closer and you back up, trying to create more space between you. He scoffs at the action, stepping forward again and watching as you have nowhere else to go. You have no other choice but to watch him slowly make his way up to you, and you aren't sure what to expect.

"Bakugo," You start but fail to continue. What do you even say to him, how do you even start? Your mouth opens and closes as you try to collect yourself making him chuckle.

"Keep going and you might turn into a fish."

His mockery successfully makes you close your mouth and glare at him. Bakugo's calloused hand reaches out and softly touches your neck, tracing where Sero's lips once were. His thumb lightly traces your skin, a low hum in approval at how his work is pretty much unnoticeable.

"You shouldn't be in here." Your voice is low and timid. He grins at your words and places his hands on your hips, pushing you to sit back on the counter behind you. You curse yourself for choosing the last sink in the corner and you curse yourself for responding so easily to his touch. "And we shouldn't be like this either." You try to reason more with yourself more than anything.

He scoffs out a laugh and leans in close to your ear, lips brushing against your skin. "Why not? It's just us."

"But that… girl?" You lightly pull away from him and place your hands behind you to support yourself. His face shows confusion for a split second when he merely pulls inches away from you.

"Camie?" Bakugo's cocky demeanor returns as he slides his hands from your hips to your thighs, parting them enough to fit himself between them. "So it really was you at the store, eh? Didn't know my partner was such a pervert."

The nerve. He was the one who left the door ajar. If anything, you should be calling him the pervert.

"I-I wasn't trying to, you left the door open." You counter back, eyes narrowing in response. He lightly shrugs before moving in to kiss the opposite side of your neck Sero left untouched and places an open kiss on your skin.

"Must've forgot."

A humorless laugh comes from you in reaction to his answer, a soft gasp following in its footsteps. His teeth sink into your skin and you are sure that, unlike your first pick for the night, Bakugo definitely left a mark. You softly whimper as he places his right hand on your waist to press your body closer to his. Your back arches into his and you move your head to welcome his rough kisses, the stimulation undoubtedly reawakening the lust you had on the dance floor. His hand on your hip grips your thigh and slips its way to the middle of your legs, wasting no time pressing the pads of his fingers against your heat.

You moan at the pressure and hurriedly press your lips together in embarrassment. Your eyes are closed to avoid making eye contact with him as you already know he was gearing up to tease you.

"Shit, when was the last time you got fucked, princess?" Bakugo grips your cheeks and forces you to open your eyes. There's no way he expects you to answer with his grip, and you're sure he's not expecting it anyways. "Soy sauce face ain't do it for ya'?"

You look up at him with a dazed and confused look, the look in your eyes making him groan. The nicknames he picked were certainly unique, and you can't quite pinpoint why he coined Sero that; much less what their connection to each other is. He was under the assumption that like him you were actively 'busy' in your free time. You certainly weren't if that wasn't evident with how receptive you are to his touch.

"I'll get you all fixed up, baby," Bakugo leans in close to your lips, "make you forget all about that dunce's face." He finishes the declaration with a kiss, his grip softening on your cheeks and then moving to your neck.

The kiss, albeit sloppy, intoxicated you. His lumps were plump and soft, a hard contrast to his strong and calloused hands that held your thigh and waist. His tongue brushes against your lower lip asking for an entrance and you gladly allow him entrance. You moan as his tongue dominates your mouth, his wet muscle caresses yours with passion.

Your hands now gripped onto his strong shoulders like that other girl once did. You can't help but think about her, your thoughts starting to cloud about the two of them. You pull away as you start to feel guilty, a string of saliva connecting you two as you part.

"What's wrong?" Bakugo wipes the string of saliva away, a soft pant to his words as he collects himself.

"I just can't, Bakugo. You have a girlfriend."

"She's not my girl, not like that," Bakugo reassures, his thumb pressing against your lip before moving his finger to press various pecks against your lips. "I ain't never did this before, but I've had my eye on you for a while." The confession shamefully made you blush. You had always thought he was attractive but never thought deeper about it. Even a few days ago from the WIRED interview you never made the move to ask or even care about getting to know him. But here you were, sitting on a random club's sink with him between your luscious thighs.

Your cumbersome thoughts start to lose their way as he leans in to kiss you again, your worries washing away when his soft lips find yours. His kiss is overwhelmingly commanding and you love it. You were used to guys taking a more passive approach with you and the lack of control his kiss held undoubtedly made you more responsive to him. Even with that distinction from before, the kiss now is more controlled this time and his composure shows he meant business now. His tongue works smoothly against yours and doesn't shy away from wrestling with yours. You were so enraptured by the kiss you hadn't noticed his left hand had slipped into the front of your bottoms, the feeling of his fingers pressing against your clothed cunt making you buck into his hand.

You whimper as he continues his stroking, your hands never letting up their hold on his strong shoulders. His fingers welcome your grinding and he pulls away from the kiss to look down at the spot between your hips and watches in interest.

"Bakugo—"

"Katsuki," Bakugo corrects you and tilts your chin down to maintain eye contact with you once again.

You bite your lip and your eyes flutter closed once he presses his fingers against your clit eliciting a breathier moan from you.

"Say it and I'll put them in, Y/N." He lets his fingers slip down to collect your slick, the tips of his fingers lightly pressing at your entrance before tracking back up to play with your clit again.

"K-Kat," Your jaw locks up at his diddling, a frustrated pout adorning your features as you try to keep up with him. "I—thought you said you haven't done this before, hm?"

He lightly laughs at your accusation, softly shaking his head at your confusion. "Messin' around like this, princess." His eyes flicker down at your movements and softly groans.

"So it's not about me being a foreigner?"

"That too," The question gets a genuine laugh from him, his brow raising in amusement as he slips in a finger whilst he answers. "used to stealing other people's girl's, not the other way around."

"Shit!" Your fingers grip his tank top and you bring him in for another kiss. His experience is clear in the way he maintains his rhythm in both his kiss and fingering your sopping cunt. Bakugo slips in another finger when you start to lubricate more, a lewd squelch welcoming in his digits.

He curls his fingers to find your soft g-spot, his touch delicate but rough at the same time. You were a vocal one for sure and he loved it. When he presses his palm against your once abandoned clit, your sounds let him know how much you appreciated the attention again. You two break the kiss when you both need time to breathe, lips still very much pressed against one another as you two take each other in.

"Katsuki, fuck-"

"You're close aren't you, pretty girl?" He hums and you nod your head in confirmation. He barely reacts when your nails press into his skin, his eyes scanning the way your body reacts to his movements and how unabashedly expressive you were. So many other women were always focused on how pretty they looked and wanted to be prettier and more memorable than the last the young man encountered. You seemed so natural and into it and he greatly admired it. His crush that he has developed on you for some time now was growing for sure and it was all by chance that it was panning out like this. At this point he didn't care if you were using him to get your rocks off, he wanted to see you like this more often.

With bliss written across your face, your orgasm washes over you in an artful visual. Bakugo had grown to love all your expressions and this one by far might be his favorite. Your brows were scrunched as you released, eyes closed and your mouth shaped like an "O". When you opened back up your eyes to look at him, he knew what you were asking for. Bakugo softly sweet-talks you as you come down, his fingers slowing to a stop before pulling from your pants to lick his fingers.

You're a mess, a light pant to your breath as you watch him lick up your essence from his digits. You move to palm his hard-on, but his other hand immediately stops you.

"Fuck me, Katsuki." You mumbled against his lips, the look in your eyes showing nothing but a lustful plea.

"Not yet, princess," Bakugo answers back in the same manner, his lips brushing against yours as a way to tease before pulling away. "Can't spoil you too much now, can I?" He gives you a look over and scoffs at your dumbfounded seemingly fucked out state.

You call out his name as he washes up and leaves you behind in the bathroom.

You sit on the counter and stare at the door in shock. Your body felt like it was on fire. Your panties were now soaked and to add fuel to the fire you were left horny as fuck.

You slump against the corner and roll your eyes in exasperation. You no longer wanted to go back out and the pull to get another drink quickly died once you found yourself getting drunk on lust from what just occurred. You press your thighs together and groan at how Bakugo successfully blue-balled you both. You knew he was hard as fuck too the way his dick pressed against your thigh confirmed it.

You tilt your head to the side to observe yourself and have to admit you look a hot mess. Your eyes are half-lidded, you weren't sure how but your hair was a mess and now your once clear neck is now adorned in marks from Bakugo's rough kisses. You look away from the mirror and begrudgingly hop off the counter, the need to go home and take a shower finally reaching its way to your nervous system.

You

hey girlie, I'm heading out for the night. thanks for hanging out with me! 🫶🏽

[->] Sent 1:24 A.M.

You make sure to text Mina to avoid any miscommunication of you randomly disappearing during the night. You took your time to gather yourself not wanting to leave until you were ready. Once you leave the bathroom, you make a beeline towards the terrace needing to grab your things before having to leave in a cab for home.

"Leaving already?" A male's voice behind you makes you turn around.

"Ah, Sero," You smile apologetically as you properly face him. "I just… I'm not feeling well all of a sudden…" It was a shit lie and you knew it. You couldn't think of a better excuse but it wasn't a complete lie either. After your encounter with Bakugo, you needed to spend the night preferably alone.

Sero nods his head and gives you a warm smile. "I get it. Could I uh… get your phone maybe? Only if you're comfortable."

"Oh!" You light up and nod your head. "Yeah, of course."

After searching his pockets, Sero pulls out his phone and hands it to you. You quickly type in your number right before getting the notification on your own device that your ride is ready.

"It was nice meeting you, Sero." You lean up to kiss him on the cheek, leaving not too long after. It was a bit hard moving through the crowd but you were able to leave, and hopefully, you would be able to go home without any trouble tonight.

But what you didn't know was some people were paying attention and saw that whole exchange.

Quite a few, actually.

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha smut #mha smut #bnha x black!reader #mha x black!reader #bnha x poc!reader #mha x poc!reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #pro hero! bakugo katsuki x reader #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #bnha imagines #mha imagines #bnha scenarios #mha scenarios #n/sfw #sav's saucin'

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lokisbiiiitch1993 · 7 months

Text

I can't decide if I should do that too ?

Maybe send me an ask with a letter and I write a Headcanon or Fic about it

Dirty A-Z Loki

Template link

A - Alone time (how do they get off when they’re all by themselves? do they watch porn, is it all in their imagination, do they jerk off, do they use toys?)

B - Bondage (do they like it? do they not? do they prefer to be the one being tied or the one doing the tying?)

C - Crying (is it a turn on? a turn off? do they cry during sex? have they cried during sex? what was the reason?)

D - Dominance (do they prefer to dominate, or be dominated? do they have experience as a Dom? Do they have a Dom that they trust already? What kind of things do they enjoy as/with their Dominant partner?)

E - Extra info (any other fetishes? feet? leather? role playing? blood? fantasies that they might want to experience not on this list?)

F - Food play (do they like using food in the bedroom? are there any foods they prefer to use during sex or foreplay? any they’d like to try?)

G - Group sex (would they have a threeway? four? an orgy? do they put on a show for spectators? or do they like to keep it just between them and their partner?)

H - Humiliation (does degradation and insults get them hot? do they get off on humiliating someone else? what kind of humiliation is good for them?)

I - Impact play (here’s where talking about things like spanking, paddles, canes, floggers and the like.)

J - Jelly (what kind of lube are they using? is it flavored? have they tasted it? do they prefer to use something other than real lube during sex?)

K - Kissing (what parts of their body do they like having kissed? what parts of their partner do they enjoy kissing? do they like leaving marks / having marks left on them?)

L - Lighting (are the lights on? off? do they have some kind of mood lighting set up?)

M - Masochism (do they like pain? scratching? biting? being bossed around? spoken down to? choked?)

N - Not yet (orgasm delay? orgasm denial? do they tell their partner not to touch themselves for a certain amount of time or under certain circumstances? do they delay or deny other things like bathroom usage or food? do they need to beg first? do they like being denied / delayed?)

O - Outdoor sex (have they ever done it in public? would they? where?)

P - Photography (are cameras allowed in the bedroom? do they send nudes? do they ask for nudes? would they ever record themselves having sex / being caught up in a sexual act?)

Q - Quiet please (what’s the volume like in the bedroom? are they quiet? do they scream? do they like a loud partner? do they prefer if their partner is more soft spoken?)

R - Routine (do they have a routine when it comes to picking up one night stands? do they have scheduled sex with their partner? are things spontaneous or planned ahead of time?)

S - Sleepy sex (do they give oral to wake their partner up? do they like receiving oral to wake up? do they like fucking their partner awake? being fucked awake? how about being fucked to sleep at night? do they have lazy morning sex?)

T - Top or bottom (self explanatory...)

U - Underwear (what kind of underwear do they put on in the morning, if any at all... do they own any sexy underwear or lingerie?)

V - Voyeurism (do they like to watch, or are they more hands on? are they more of an exhibitionist?)

W - Water (pool sex? bath / shower sex? are they into watersports at all?)

X - X-dressing (do they crossdress as a part of teasing / foreplay? does crossdressing turn them on? turn their partner on? do they prefer to do it or watch their partner crossdress instead? do they use other costumes? cat ears, tails, etc?)

Y - Yes, Master (what kinds of names are used during sex? do they like being called master / mistress, daddy, etc...? what names do they call their partner?)

Z - Zones (what are their erogenous zones? what spots on their body should be touched, bitten, kissed, when someone wants to get them in the mood?)

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taintandviolent · 10 months

Text

le petite mort; James March x Reader

summary: After checking into one of the Hotel Cortez, a conversation with the bartender plagues your mind with dirty thoughts. Some guy catches you pleasuring yourself in the hotel room - and that some guy happens to be the owner of the Hotel. w a r n i n g s: 2k words! shameless smut! female masturbation, accidental voyeurism, slight humiliation, choking / asphyxiation, mentions of death (kinda). a/n: this is one of the first JPM fics that I started writing, and I felt that it finally needed to be finished and out of my drafts. hopefully it's not ASS. this is s shorter one, which feels alien to me, but c'est comma ça. hope everyone enjoys it!

full fic & taglist under cut!↓ / ao3 link here!

“Most people who check into the Hotel Cortez are hipsters wanting a taste of the art deco, or junkies and prostitutes looking to have a quick night in a cheap room.” She set the glass down carefully on the ornate bar, sliding it towards you with one finger.

The bartender didn’t hesitate in striking up a conversation after you’d sat down, angling your two suitcases on one side of the stool. The thought immediately manifested itself between your legs, and you shifted. If only. It had been so long since you’d had a good fuck that at this point, you’d even take a quick night. Maybe not with a junkie, but….

“I guess I kind of fall into the first category. But, I am here for a friend’s wedding. I didn’t want to stay where everyone else was staying.” You tilted your head back, letting the remainder of the amber slide down your throat. “I wish I was in the second category… maybe minus the junkies and prostitutes bit. But…” You trailed off with a shrug.

“Oh believe me, sweetheart. I know exactly what you mean. Women have needs.”

As you gathered your bags, your peripheral caught someone with dark hair watching you. Naturally, when you turned to look at them, you were met with an empty bar. Of course, because this is an old hotel and probably haunted.

“Thanks, Liz. It’s been a treat.”

She said nothing, only bowed her head with her long arms resting widely on the bar. You made a mental note to come back to the bar for another drink. But for now, it was time to unwind in your hotel room.

After getting settled, and a much needed hot shower — washing that airplane sludge off you was mandatory — you were finally relaxed. The wedding wasn’t until Saturday, so you had plenty of time to do whatever made its way into your mind. Maybe order some room service. Maybe peruse the hotel for some history, spend hours reading the informative little plaques that decorated the wall — every old hotel had them. Maybe masturbate…. Oh. Yes. Definitely that. That was first on the list, actually.

Dropping your towel to your feet, you pulled an old tattered t-shirt over your head, and hurried to the bed. Silly that you had any sort of modesty in an empty hotel room, it was after all, your hotel room. Could’ve and should’ve just bolted across the floor naked.

Suddenly, the radio on the table across from you crackled to life, the speakers expelling a high-pitched voice singing jovially amongst violins and some sort of wind instrument. After a few moments, it switched off with a burst of static. Lids heavy with arousal, you stared sleepily at the radio, resolving to unplug it before you went to sleep that night. Old wiring could be tolerated, but things turning on in the middle of the night was nightmare fuel.

You pressed the pad of your middle finger between the folds, delving further down to your entrance, where you pulled up some of the slick to lubricate your clit. The sensation made your eyelids flutter. Jesus, that conversation with the bartender had really gone straight to the cunt — you were clearly longing for something. Someone who would bring something new, something exciting to the table. You already dreaded the polite flirting that was going to occur at the wedding.

Your fingers circled your clit, bringing the sensitivity as high as you could for as long as you could before you felt the hot clench of an orgasm rush over you. Expelling a high pitched moan, you slipped your middle and ring finger inside, pumping in and out to bring yourself over the edge. You let out a few hoarse breaths as your hips dug into the creaky mattress, riding out the pleasure.

“My, my…”

You stared wide-eyed up at the ceiling, trying to figure out if that had been some weird, orgasm-induced hallucination.

“La petite mort, as the French call it.”

You yelped, pulling your wet fingers from your cunt. Unless the bartender had slipped something in your drink, the man at the edge of your bed was definitely not a hallucination. Dark hair styled so that not a single strand was out of place, no facial hair save for a thin moustache that decorated his upper lip, and a suit so pristine, you wondered if he’d just come off a film set. It was LA after all.

“Jesus Christ,” you sputtered, panting unevenly. “What?!” The way he stood at the edge of the bed, hands layered atop a cane was so paternal and overbearing it made you feel like a child caught watching porn on a school night. There was nothing to be embarrassed of; you were a grown woman in a hotel room that you paid for.

“A little death,” he replied. “A temporary weakness, a loss of consciousness. It became a poetic euphemism for orgasm in the late eighteen-hundreds.”

“Thanks for the history lesson,” you murmured, mouth curling downward in irritation. “Have you ever heard of knocking!?”

He pushed his bottom lip into his top, pulling his chin up in a challenging expression. One eyebrow quirked. “You wouldn’t have heard me if I had.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but promptly snapped it shut. He had you there. A soft, melodic rapping on a door would’ve been lost amongst your whimpers and groans. Laughably so.

“Who the fuck even are you!? I’m going to call front desk — this is weird.” Frustrated, you wipe your slick fingers on the sheet beneath you before reaching for the phone. Suddenly, he was beside you, and the energy that radiated off of him made your leg muscles spasm.

The woman on the other end sounded annoyed.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” she repeated, sounding like she was trying to suss out if this was a prank call.

“I would um, like someone removed from my hotel room. Security, or something.”

“We don’t have security.”

“Okay, that’s outrageous, but — there’s just some fucking guy in my room.”

You’re met with silence. The old plastic of the receiver creaked in your grip, your eyes darting back to him. He was smiling. Proudly.

“Tell them my name.”

You jerked your head forward, contorting your face in defiance, and wordlessly asking for clarification.

“Repeat after me, ‘The man in my room is James Patrick March, and I’d like him removed at once.’”

You felt your eyes narrow into slits, confused. Somewhere deep inside your core, you felt a clench at his sternness. “Go on, my dear.” He urged.

You cleared your throat resentfully.

“The man in my room is… James Patrick March and I’d like him removed at once.”

The line crackled. Instead of the usual static one would expect, terrifying sounds blared through the receiver; hisses and condescending sniggering. Eventually, you make out the harsh sound of a full bellied laugh. The woman was laughing.

“The owner? The owner of the hotel?” The laughing continued.

The tip of his cane came clunking down into the switch-hook, where he held it for several seconds — for poignancy? Dramatic effect? The dial tone startled you.

“I paid for this hotel room, okay? I do—“ You started, stiffly returning the receiver to the cradle.

“You did, did you?” He asked, his voice raising gleefully. The change in tone unsettled you. Deeply. Keeping your eyes locked on his, you reached for the edge of the duvet, scratching your nails at it to bring it up around your bare legs.

He watched you intently, almost smiling. Was he waiting for you to say something? Jesus.

“Ye-yeah… I paid for it.”

“Ah!” He exclaimed.

You jumped.

“I own this hotel, you see.” He gestured enthusiastically to the room, your eyes following it as though you hadn’t already spent a night in it. “I own it all. Down to the sheets you were pleasuring yourself on moments ago.”

You glanced at them. “Finished on, actually.”

“Yes — I know. Shame. I would’ve taken great pride in doing that myself.”

Your jaw dropped, and you pressed your legs together until you felt the pressure against your cunt. Your stomach tied itself in knots.

“Is the thought odious to you?” He inquired, almost softly, like he was trying to appeal to your gentler nature.

You remained silent, rubbing at the veins in your wrist. Eventually, after mulling it over (or gaining the confidence to do so), you shook your head.

“I thought not.” He may have been a complete stranger, but the way melodic way he crooned and growled every word made you dizzy. With the back of his hand, he swept a strand of hair from your brow, his knuckles ghosting over your cheek.

“Show me,” he ordered, running a single finger along your collarbone.

His hands wrapped around your throat, and heat blossomed in your cheeks. At first, his fingers were pressing on either side of your throat and the arousal flowed freely again, delighted by the concept of a mysteriously sexual one night stand. Admittedly, he wasn’t going in easy, but you weren’t a saint. You’d had your fair share of dudes who thought they were a Dom. This guy though… he wasn’t that. He didn’t get his tendencies from sneaking peeks at his girlfriend’s Cosmopolitan. He certainly hadn’t killed your arousal with his decision.

He shifted his weight on top of you, pulling the breathiest moan from your lips. The way his pointer finger roughly traced your jawbone drove you wild. His hands were just cold enough to feel unusual, but they were soft and possessed an unanticipated strength.

All at once, the pressure shifted to the front, his palm compressing against your trachea. Your brows furrowed at the sudden discomfort. His gaze was locked on your face, raptly watching the changing expressions.

You grasped at his hand, flailing as the oxygen started dwindling. Your head felt heavy and the sensation of your vision darkening around the edges frightened you. Your muscles tensed instinctively. He didn’t let up, and the panic wound itself in between your ribs like a snake. With your heart pounding, you began fighting recklessly, desperately trying to reach for anything.

James saw the nearly final change, and with a delighted gaze, eased up. “Exhilarating!”

You gasped, your lungs moaning as they sucked in air. The sound was disturbing to you, and sounded inhuman. “You almost killed me…”

“Hardly, my dear! Brain death occurs in four to five minutes. You triumphantly endured a mere ten seconds!”

“A…little… death.” He whispered each word delicately over your lips, hovering mere centimetres above yours. He was intoxicating, whatever it was he was putting off. Unbeknownst to you, your legs dropped open, hungry for more.

He looked down, eyes scanning over your thighs, your knees, and to the lush, inviting garden between them. One hand returned to your throat, compressing it slightly. You whimpered at the now-familiar sensation, and scooted your body down further on the bed, through his legs.

“Good! Yes,” he praised. “Succumb to your urges.”

As though he’d reached into your brain and simply made you do it, your fingers were on your cunt, playing with your wet folds before you had a second to process that you'd even done it. It was already sensitive, your touches had you galloping towards a second, overstimulated orgasm. With his free hand, James enveloped your hand with his large one, cupping it easily. You writhed uncontrollably, whimpering. He growled in delight at the feeling of your vocal cords humming beneath his palm.

“St-stop,” you cried out weakly, the pressure on your throat making you sound altogether pathetic.

“Very well then, I will.” He said, abruptly releasing the pressure on your throat. “I will, but you won’t.”

You almost protested the action, though that would’ve been an embarrassing blow to your ego had you actually done it. Begging him to stop then begging him to continue? Shameful. How much more of a desperate whore could you be, honestly? “Go on - since you’re so fond of it. Show me.”

He took in a seat in the velvet chair directly parallel to the bed, one leg crossed casually over the other. His dark eyes were aflame with interested, erotic hunger. You slipped one finger in, making a slutty show of how wet you were. Two fingers, and you arched your back, moaning loud.

“Another,” he crooned. You obeyed, wincing at the fullness. You curled your fingers up, pressing into the spongy flesh that made you writhe like a worm on a hook. You began leaking onto the mattress below, a mess of cum and sweat. James watched you as you fingered yourself again and again, pleasuring yourself over and over in every way you knew how until your legs were quivering with the overstimulation.

“Die a little death, my darling, go on…”

You came. Hard. Screaming, shaking and spilling out onto the sheets beneath you. With your hand laying limp over your damp cunt, twitching every so often, your breathing gradually slowed. Of course, when you lifted your head, the man was gone, leaving nothing but the quiet echo of his satisfied ‘Mmmm…’

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