Ten To None (Gojo X Reader/Soulmate AU)
Ten to None (Gojo x Reader/Soulmate AU)
*GIF not mine*
Summary: Soulmates’ markings add up to ten so soulmates know just how much of a danger their soulmate is to them. You have a ten on your wrist, so you know your soulmate must have a zero. There’s just one problem: no one in history has ever been worthy of a danger rating of ten, so who the hell is the supposedly “invincible god” were you fated to?
A/N: yikes that summary. Anyways, nobody got a soulmate au gojo out there that tickles my fancy, so here I am writing my own. Hope y’all like it! (Side note: this took me fucking A G E S)
Word count: 10406
“A ten. Dear God.”
“Oh-Oh my God, what do we do?”
“Nobody’s ever had… Jesus.”
A nurse had fainted when she saw the ten on the inside of your soft, newborn right wrist. The font was curling and slanted, almost as if it had been written nonchalantly with a few flicks of the wrist. Two black digits marred the plump flesh, unmissable.
Unmissable no matter how much your parents averted their gaze each time they saw it.
It wasn’t until kindergarten when your local bully ripped off the bandaid your parents pleaded with you to keep secure over your right wrist that you realized just how odd your number was. A circle of curious, mumbling five-year-olds formed around you, each one holding out their own wrists to compare.
Threes, twos, a couple fives and perhaps even a seven appeared in your vision. None of their wrists had been abraded by a freshly torn-off bandaid.
“Hold on, doesn’t it go one, two,... three, um…”
“No, no, it’s one, two, four-”
“Hey, what’s going on over here?”
Your swarming flock had gathered the attention of a recess aid. Her neon yellow fanny pack almost blinded you as she pushed through the crowd and towered over your cowering form.
“They’re m-making fun of me,” you whimpered, snot dribbling down onto your upper lip
“Why’s her number so big?” Another child cut in, pointing an accusatory finger at your forearm.
The aid never responded to the other child’s question, nor did she defend you from them. Instead, when her gaze locked on the number on the inside of your wrist, she gasped.
Profanities your whole class had never heard were exposed to them that day, which they promptly repeated at any given chance out of the watchful gazes of adults. The recess aid had whispered them under her breath, eyes wide behind the sunglasses drooping on her nose. When she grabbed at your arm, she wrenched you up and glanced at your wrist once more, blinking a couple times as if to make sure it wasn’t the blinding sun in her eyes.
“Jesus Christ.”
“Hey, I know him!”
Then she hauled you off to the principal’s office, who promptly contacted your parents and told them of the incident.
You were homeschooled from then on, and while other kids participated in afterschool clubs like soccer, basketball, and volleyball, you took classes in self-defense. When other kids were learning how to pass and set, you were learning seven ways to take down a man if he had you in a chokehold.
Weak points of the human body that, if struck quickly and at the right angle, would leave it paralyzed. The most efficient techniques for attacking opponents bigger than you. How to debilitate an attacker from behind; from the front; from either side. This was the foreign language you learned while others your age studied Spanish, French, even Japanese.
You couldn’t remember the last time you’d encountered a boy your age without the intent to use him as a sparring partner. You doubt you even knew how to carry a conversation with one--yet another everyday part of life you’d never been taught.
When you’d hit puberty, it seemingly shook your parents to the core. It was like they forgot they were raising a daughter and not a warrior--at the sight of blood, you could see they fought their inner instincts to ask how you would defend yourself against an attack like such at a later date.
It was one of the many battles they’d never thought to prepare you for--the many battles of everyday life.
“What is it?”
“It’s called a pad, dear.”
“Where do I put it?”
“In your underwear, dear.”
“Why am I bleeding?”
“I-er, didn’t you read that book we gave you, dear?”
You gave that book a dismissive glance the night before, skimming past chapters labeled “Periods,” “Hair Everywhere,” and “Boys, Boys, Boys” before tossing it aside and picking up Sun Tzu’s Art of War.
“Yes, I did.”
“Good, dear. Then you should know why.”
Your parents had never intended to be as cold and distant as they were; it was just a side effect of raising a child they had always viewed as destined for death.
After all, surely that’s what the ten on the inside of your wrist meant, right?
10.
Ten.
十.
Diez.
Dix.
X.
You knew it in every language. It was easy, since people from all around the world were curious about you. Your parents received emails from scholars and historians on a daily basis, either with new inquiries or old news. Everyone always had the same thing to say: this has never happened before.
People have come close, of course. The strong paired with the weak had soulmate numbers paired eights-to-twos or sevens-to-threes. Humans destined to become curses even found themselves with soulmates whose wrists contained nines, while theirs held ones.
One figure you’d grown particularly interested in was the King of Curses, Ryoumen Sukuna. The most powerful curse to have ever lived, and even he only had a one on his wrist when he was a human. In every drawing or depiction you’d ever seen, at least one of his four arms had the single digit in black ink on his wrist, if not all of them.
So if even he was not worthy of a ten, what kind of unknown monster were you destined to be with?
~~~
Jujutsu sorcery. The next--and most difficult--form of combat you planned to master. It interested you mainly because it offered a wide variety of mediums with which to focus your power. Though you’d mostly trained with only your body your whole life, occasionally you’d dabbled in using weaponry.
Cursed energy, it seemed, was something that you had a large amount of. Born from negative human emotions, the more cursed energy a human harbored, the more damage they could inflict upon others.
This was the key to protecting yourself from the unpredictable dangers of your soulmate. Learning and mastering it seemed so easy--get angry, project that anger onto opponents, win the fight. The only problem was that many of your prior training encouraged restraint and objectivity. On the surface, your moods could be flicked on and off like a switch, but deep down you struggled to truly revel in any emotion.
You practiced in the dim, dark dojo you often borrowed from a local karate class, slashing through mid-air with a bo staff. Sweat dripped down your temple as you envisioned some form in front of you. A shadowy monster of sorts, eyes glowing in its own darkness, dodging each and every one of your swipes.
It laughed at your attempts, its translucent body of black smoke shifting and gliding around the room. This was the enemy you always imagined, teasing and taunting you as though you never had a chance to defeat it. Whenever you attempted a vanquishing blow through its heart, whether by fist, bo staff, or wooden sword, it would encircle your blow, forming around it in an oval.
A zero.
It only took one fight, you battling your shadow creature with a cursed-energy charged bow and arrow, to realize that the monster you’d been picturing was your soulmate. Blue streaks of energy darted around the shaft of every arrow you fired, zipping around faster and faster the more you missed.
“C’mon,” you hissed under your breath, swiping a hand through your hair and tugging out a few strands in the process, getting them caught on the finger tab of your leather glove. Silence choked the atmosphere of the dojo, the moon long being the only lighting of the room. A bead of sweat dripped down into your eye, blurring your vision as you nocked another arrow.
Another chuckle filled the room, incoherent yet achingly familiar. You stayed low, one knee against the ground while you leant forward on your other, bare foot. But as you searched for your opponent, the dojo seemed to grow.
The sparring pads beneath you stiffened, and fresh blades of grass began sprouting up and licking at your bare feet. The white walls and glassy mirrors blurred, giving way to miles and miles of flat, green plain. A gray sky took the place of the low-hanging ceilings, clouds rumbling in the air but never giving off anything more than a light mist that flattened the strays on your scalp.
“What the hell…” you trailed off, taking in the new landscape before you. A concentric circle of stark white roses surrounded the large plain you sat in the middle of, and far beyond that was a wall of trees. Fresh air filled your lungs instead of the dank staleness you had been accustomed to during any fight. Now, with so much free space around, you felt so much more relaxed, no longer afraid of damaging the dojo while practicing your cursed energy techniques.
“But where the hell am I?” you wondered aloud. It wasn’t like you had teleported anywhere. If anything, it wasn’t you who had changed at all--it was the world around you that had begun to take a new form. You let the leg you kneeled against collapse, slumping to the ground in a figure four. The bow in your hand lay long forgotten beside you.
It was a new… domain. You knew that word. But from where?
As you racked your brain, the grass beside you melted away, an object pushing its way to the surface of the soil. A book sat face up, its spine familiarly crinkled from your recent weeks of flipping through it.
Cursed Techniques for Dummies.
Though droplets of rain fell against the paperback book, they never wrinkled the pages. Instead, they slid right off as though the pages were laminated, sinking back into the soft soil underneath you.
Sticky notes stood out at the top of the book, small labels written on them in your own handwriting for each chapter. A blue slip with the word “domain” caught your eye, and you snatched up the book, flitting past chapter after chapter of techniques.
“‘A confined environment created using large amounts of cursed energy. Within personal domains, the creators are granted greater power at the cost of using an exhausting amount of energy. The longer a creator maintains his or her domain, the more fatigued he or she may become.’” You stopped the pad of your finger at the edge of the sentence, glancing up and around at the space before you. It seemed by the sheer size of your “domain,” your amount of cursed energy was greater than what you expected.
Your only concern was how to get out. No part of you felt weary like the book had warned; there was no pressing headache or tiring muscles. In fact, you felt more energetic like you had in ages. Perhaps it was the boost in your powers that your own domain had promised, or perhaps it was something else entirely.
“All right, all right,” you glanced around, critiquing the area, “definitely seems like my kinda place.” Pushing yourself up onto your feet, you reached low for your bow, patting your back and feeling for your quiver. After you found it, you tugged an arrow out and nocked it, pulling back the string with a deep breath in and searching for your target.
“Come on out, buddy. May as well play while the going is good, eh?”
But your shadow never appeared. The familiar black mist you always seemed to summon while practicing alone never manifested before your eyes no matter how many times you spun yourself dizzy.
It was gone. In your domain, it was gone.
The thought seemed to leave your chest a little lighter, and the blue streaks of lightning dancing around the shaft of your arrow sizzled and melted away. You let your arms fall to your sides, rolling your shoulders back and finally letting out your breath.
Then your eyes returned to the book still lying on the ground, open as a small breeze ruffled the pages. “Cursed energy, huh?” you hummed thoughtfully, setting the bow back on the ground while reaching for the book. Rustles and crackles sounded behind you, and when you fell back with the book in your hands, you collapsed into a cushioned sofa, somewhat out of place among the grassy plain.
“What else ya got for me?”
~~~
“Domain expansion!”
The dank alley’s downpour faded away into a fine spray of droplets, and the sky lightened from pitch black to slate gray. Crumbling asphalt and busted blue Dumpsters blurred away, replaced by a field of green grass and blossoming white roses. In the distance, the trees shivered with the force of the curse’s blows.
But they never made it any farther than that. You’d spent five years mastering that technique after accidentally slipping into your domain on your eighteenth birthday. An insurmountable wall of trees barred any enemy from entering your domain, allowing you time and distance to steady yourself and recover during a fight.
In all of your ventures through books on cursed energy techniques, you’d never once come across anything like it. Domains were made to be advantageous fighting grounds, not havens for rest and recovery. But due to your lack of official training in any form of jujutsu sorcery, you had to use mostly unconventional tactics in many of your battles against curses throughout the last few years. And, you had to admit it worked quite well.
Another strong blow shivered your barrier of trees, their branches swaying from the force, but it only served to worsen your growing headache more than anything else. You crumbled onto your hands and knees, completely missing the leather sofa you kept summoned for quick naps or reading times, and curled up into a ball on your side, cradling your ribs beneath your palms.
This cursed spirit was unlike any other you’d ever faced. It crawled on all four of its twisted arms with jagged bones tearing out of the leathery skin of its back, forming points like spades. At least three times your size, the monstrosity had three eyes forming an upside down triangle and a mouth layered with three rows of shark-like teeth. The drool spilling from its mouth was frothy and green, and when it had hit the asphalt of the dead-end alley in which you’d found it, it bubbled against the ground and melted the tar.
Inside of its wrist lay a “1.”
“What the fuck,” you wheezed, squeezing your eyelids closed hard enough to see stars. “What the fuck kinda steroids is that thing on?”
There was a constant ache in your side from when it had first slammed you into the concrete, no doubt leaving a rib cracked and broken. You just hoped there was no internal bleeding.
“Holy shit.” You scrambled up onto your hands and knees, coughing and sputtering on a sudden flood of metallic liquid climbing up your throat, painting the patch of grass crimson. Subconsciously, you acknowledged the black and blue knuckles on your dominant hand, no doubt caused by trying to throw the first punch after the cursed spirit had dodged your arrow.
10.
Son of a bitch.
“Fuck!” You slammed a bare palm against the grass, teeth gritted and gaze narrowed. “Who are you?!”
Like usual, you expected no response.
Except something had changed.
That damned laugh you had always heard but could never make out echoed in the distance, perking your ears. The same one that had haunted your dreams since you first realized what your soulmark meant. The same one you envisioned battling each time you trained.
The laugh that promised defeat.
With haste, you fumbled onto your feet, ignoring an oncoming wave of nausea that resulted, and eyed the wall of trees encapsulating your domain.
Your body wasn’t ready to leave its refuge, bones and muscles aching, crying out with every movement. When you stepped forward, your knees wobbled. When you released your domain, a splitting headache blinded you for half a second.
Panic struck when you patted down your body only to remember the curse had crushed your bow to splinters, sparing only the lone arrow in your quiver on your back for self-defense.
Apparently, though, you didn’t need it. The cursed spirit, still snarling and chomping its slobbering jaw at you, had each of its palms stuck to the large puddle of melted tar that had formed beneath it in your absence. When more of its own saliva dripped from its mouth, it slid down the dip in the alley the puddle had formed and made contact with the hands of the spirit, who screeched in pain. Welts rose from where the saliva made contact, and it dawned on you that the curse wasn’t immune to its own acid.
Without a second thought, you reached back for the arrow, not bothering a glance at the serrated tip before slicing it through the soft tissue of the monster’s throat. Black blood coated your hand by the time you tugged the arrow from its flesh, hot and sticky against your skin but otherwise harmless.
The cursed spirit crumpled to the ground with a silent cry, more and more dark liquid pooling around it and spilling into the cracks of the asphalt. The first time you had encountered and gutted a spirit, you wanted to hurl at even the sight of such a deformed monster.
Now, you gave in to that urge, especially when a small, long object slithered out of its slashed neck, riding a fresh wave of blood that carried it all the way to your feet and thumping against your combat boot.
“Dear God.” You wiped the back of your unbloodied hand against your mouth, grimacing. “What in the Goddamn fuck- is that a finger?!” You stepped away, reeling back and kicking the monster in the stomach one last time. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”
The slumped form jolted from the force of the kick, but otherwise remained still. You studied it long and hard one last time before turning away. “Yeah, you know what? Never mind. Dumb question.”
Your gaze found the finger once more, eyeing the long, sharp nail and the bone sticking out of its amputated end. It looked nothing like an average human’s finger, the skin far too wrinkled and ragged. But then what was it? And why would the cursed spirit eat it?
Of course, there was always the chance the curse had an affinity for such snacks.
But you had also read that some objects interwoven with enough cursed energy could grant anyone immense power when used or consumed.
You guessed, with it being a finger and all, the cursed spirit had chosen the latter route.
“Ugh, am I really gonna do this?” You squatted next to the finger, lip curled as you reached out your hand.
In one quick breath, you snagged the finger, hucked it back into your empty quiver, wiped your hand on your pants with a “gross, gross, gross,” and sprinted back to your apartment to take a two-hour long decontaminating shower to rid yourself of the days events and more.
~~~
The plane, you’d decided after being thirteen minutes into a fourteen-hour long flight, was too stuffy. Of course, you shouldn’t have expected much. When the principal of Tokyo Jujutsu High had called and offered you a teaching job for future jujutsu sorcerers, he had been a little hesitant to shell out the money for a twenty-thousand dollar first-class flight for someone he had yet to interview.
The call had been… interesting, to say the least.
“Is this YN YLN?” a man with a monotonous voice had asked with a hint of a Japanese accent.
“This is she. Who’s asking?”
“My name is Masamichi Yaga, and I’m calling on behalf of Tokyo Prefectural Jujutsu High School. Recently, I’ve gotten word that you’ve come across a cursed object we’ve been searching for.”
“You mean the finger?” Ah shit, maybe you were supposed to keep quiet about that.
“Yes… the finger. We were impressed to hear you defeated a cursed spirit in possession of the object all on your own, as well.”
“Shi-uh, I mean, thanks.”
“One of our teachers witnessed the fight and reported back to us about your natural skill in jujutsu sorcery despite any professional training. If you’re open to it, we’d like to interview you for a potential job at our school, if only to introduce our students to your technique. How does that sound?”
Expensive as hell is what it had sounded like. But also… “Hold on, someone saw that fight?” The laugh…
“Yes, one of our best. And if the ten on your wrist is any indication, we think you’ll want to come meet him.”
You had tensed up on the sofa, pulling the phone away with wide eyes and pinching yourself to make sure you weren’t actually asleep. While holding your phone, your bare wrist faced up, the bold, black ten almost grinning at you.
The Ten. He had watched you in that fight.
The fucking laugh.
“Ms. YLN?”
“Sorry,” you hurriedly pressed your phone back to your ear, heart rattling around beneath your ribcage. “Sorry, what did you say?”
“Would you like to come over for an interview? All expenses paid.”
A potential job served up on a golden platter. It was almost too good to be true. Almost. Your soulmate obviously had some sway at this school, and the thought made you nervous. His number obviously made him a physical threat, but if he also had a whole school for jujutsu sorcery under his thumb…
Obviously, you were soulmates with a highly intelligent, professional individual. Just your luck.
But who were you to reject the benefits from such a man? You’d barely been scraping by with the money you’d gathered while eradicating curses for the last few years. The evident favoritism, no matter how much it bothered you, was, in the end, giving you a once-in-a-lifetime chance at a career.
“How could I say no?”
And that’s how you found yourself on a fourteen-hour flight to Tokyo, sitting stiffly in the blue-leather chair next to and surrounded by several people with personal space and snoring issues.
The mark on your wrist burned, and out of nervous habit you ran the tip of your finger over the number repeatedly. Your head pounded along with your growing anxiety, begging for release, and with one more sip of the water the flight attendant had offered you, you sank into your domain, allowing the cramped cabin full of people to fade away into a flourishing plain of lime green grass and pale pink roses.
~~~
Tokyo--you’d discovered after seven hours of wandering--was gorgeous. After getting off your flight, you’d quickly realized you’d jumped the gun, having completely glossed over the necessary prerequisites for traveling to a foreign country.
To be fair, it wasn’t completely your fault. The Duolingo app wasn’t doing you any favors, what with struggling to download and all.
And so stumbling on and off several subway trips, wedging yourself between and through hundreds of random strangers, and battling with your phone for cell reception and data, you’d slowly and carefully traversed over every inch of Tokyo except for Tokyo Jujutsu High.
Perhaps it was an exaggeration, but your feet were certainly sticking to those claims. Despite reveling in and among the glowing billboards, advanced architecture, and homemade delicacies that seemed to line every main street, your body--and wallet--could only handle so much indulgence. After walking around what you were almost positive was the same park for the third time, you decidedly gave in to the blisters forming on your heels and the cramps biting at the bottoms of your feet, collapsing against a wooden bench and moaning in relief.
Your first debacle with Google Maps ensued prior to you finally escaping the Tokyo Airport, a fiasco in its own right. It was then that you remembered jujutsu sorcery and even sorcery in general was considered fictitious nonsense, and that googling a school that centered around said nonsense was futile.
When you checked your phone, you noticed that some deity had finally taken pity on your soul. A message from the same man that had contacted you, sent three hours ago with a link labeled “Directions to Tokyo Prefectural Jujutsu High School.”
You’d never been so frustrated yet relieved at the same time. Three hours ago? A demon that had formed deep in your belly from your lack of sleep within the last two days combined with the rumbling in your stomach and the aching in the entirety of your body swelled and grew ten times the size, blurring every rational thought in your mind.
“FUCK!” You slammed a curled fist into the bench, reeling back in shock when the wood beneath you split in two from the force. Pain radiated from your knuckles, one of them split and bleeding. Just the sight of it pulled you back to all those days of sparring with other people--other boys--and accidentally playing too rough.
It was a habit--all your life you’d been pitied for your perceived lack of natural strength. All of the historians and soulmark recorders who’d ever called your parents to tell them about your never-before seen phenomenon had ended every conversation with a “Maybe she should take some self-defense classes. Just in case, you know?”
You had black belts in seven kinds of martial arts, but instead of being labeled a prodigy, everyone who ever saw the 10 etched in deep black ink inside your wrist viewed you as a poor, unfortunate soul. Every match you’d ever had ended with a bow followed by a “Does your wrist really say ‘ten’? That’s insane!” A gold medal would be placed around your neck or a trophy in your hands, but a simple glance at your wrist and everything you’d ever worked for was stolen from you.
“Oh, that’s why.” You knew that’s what they thought. And you hated that it was partly right.
However, the opportunity to work in a new country with a school full of people who didn’t know of your infamous soulmark (or at least you hoped they didn’t) felt like a breath of cool air for the first time in your life. These people didn’t know you. All they knew was that you were coming to their school with a cursed object and large amounts of potential.
That’s why you liked jujutsu sorcery over any other fighting technique you’d done; it prioritized mastering your own fighting style. So, how could someone ever beat you in a fighting style they’d never even seen before?
They couldn’t. And you loved that.
What you didn’t love, though, was the mile-long walk up an extensive trail of white bricks leading you through what should have been the pearly gates of Tokyo Jujutsu High. The second you reached the opening to the school, you felt like army-crawling the rest of the way to the main building where your interview was to take place.
You couldn’t though, wanting to save face in front of the…student? Teacher? Whatever he was, he was walking toward you. White hair stuck up from the top of his head, matching oddly with his long, slender body not completely unlike a paint brush. While you battled to catch your breath near the entrance, he approached from about forty feet away. From there, you gauged he was about a head and a half taller than you, his hair only helping aggrandize his height.
There was a kind of dignity in the way he walked, confidence oozing off him and curling a corner of his lips. With his hands shoved in his pockets, he was dressed in a fitted, all-black uniform you’d immediately assumed was the mandatory attire for students at the school. He must have felt your wandering eyes because his smirked lips cracked open a sliver, revealing blinding white teeth and a tongue bitten between them.
Your feet began moving before your mind realized what was happening and took over. You swerved out of his path and trekked onward in the opposite direction, only realizing that the staggering heartbeat pounding in your ears was practically deafening when his head tilted back to cackle and you couldn’t hear it. The thought saddened you, and a wave of embarrassment overtook that sadness. Head dipping to hide your blush--What the hell was wrong with you!--you let your gaze study the ground, only catching a glimpse of the ants he was about to crush just before his foot steamrolled right over them. Then the chuckling grew louder.
Yep, definitely some sort of held-back senior.
You turned back to watch him as he walked away, fluffy hair bobbing with each step, and it finally clicked. “Was he wearing a blindfold?” you mumbled, eyes wide and arms dangling helplessly by your sides. The suitcases you’d been lugging around for what must have been eight hours now rolled to a stop beside you, and you placed a palm on one of the handles to steady yourself. Your body was buzzing at the sound of his deep chuckle.
Just who the hell was that guy?
“YLN YN?” A deep voice suddenly spoke beside you, shocking you out of your stupor with a flinch. You struggled to drag your gaze to the man who loomed beside you, another absolutely terrifying colossus with broad shoulders, sunglasses, and deep lines in his brow. While you wondered what the hell was in the water, the man, who introduced himself as the principal you’d spoken to over the phone, asked, “What’s your first impression?”
“Of what?” You glanced around, suddenly nervous he meant the school layout you’d been too distracted to observe yet.
He gestured his head toward the man still strolling away, who was now whistling a tune. “Gojo Satoru. That’s the teacher who recommended you, the one we believe has your matching soulmark.”
Your mind fell blank, and your eye began to twitch.
10.
“That was him? That’s the guy who’s worthy of a freaking ten?!”
“People tend to say that,” he remarked monotonously. In utter disbelief, you looked at the principal, then at the man, then at the principal again, investigating his face for a hint of jest, but it soon became apparent he wasn’t that kind of man.
“Are you serious?” The words still slipped out without your volition.
He didn’t respond. Instead, he nodded towards the ground where the man had walked earlier.
No ant massacre. No little ant workers losing their little ant minds and scrambling around the trampled bodies of their little ant friends. Just a perfectly organized, studious line of tiny black dots holding salvaged crumbs in the same orderly way they’d done it just before the man had--evidently not--stepped on them.
“How the hell…”
You’d seen it. With your own two eyes, you’d watched him step on them. At the very least, if somehow his ginormous feet had managed to miss all fifty or so of them, you’d think they’d at least be scurrying around trying to find better cover.
“It’s one of his techniques,” the principal commented, piquing your interest. “It makes him relatively invincible, almost untouchable. It’s called- er, what are you doing?”
You stay crouched beside your open suitcase, rifling through the folded clothes and toiletries to get to the zipped up, hidden compartment of the hardshell reserved for valuable items. When you fished out what you had been looking for, the principal hummed in thought, but stayed otherwise silent.
Rising from your squat, you clicked each end of the compound bow into place, extending it from its compact position. Then you nocked one of the few carbon-shafted arrows you’d been able to fit into your suitcase diagonally, narrowing your gaze on your target as you pulled back the bowstring comfortably close to your cheek. One twitch of your fingers and the arrow was let loose, flying towards the middle of your soulmate’s back.
He froze at the sound, and you sucked in a breath when it hit its mark.
He’s a ten, he’ll be fine. He’s a ten, he’ll be fine. The mantra repeated itself in your head every second your soulmate stood stock still.
But then he twisted around, and the arrow stayed levitating in place. Your legs almost collapsed beneath you in…amazement? Maybe relief? You weren’t quite sure. You watched as his head tilted to one side, observing the arrow now pointed towards the center of his chest. Then, with a half-grin, he untucked a hand from his pocket and snagged it from the air with an unceremonious snort.
“Well that wasn’t very nice.” He waggled it at you like a discipling finger.
“Ten,” you could only mumble in response. It was the only thing running through your mind right now, the only word you could even speak. Your eyes were still wide in shock, locked on the arrow that had somehow floated in mid-air. You’d always planned on testing your soulmate in some way, but you’d never really tried to predict the outcome. You’d only ever planned on a before, never an after.
“Zero,” he simpered, a teasing lilt in his tone. Though your mind began to hyperfocus on his taunting tendencies, the rest of your body suffered the after-effects of a shiver running down your spine. Would your name sound just as captivating as your number, you wondered.
“I’m afraid I have a mission to get to,” he continued, unzipping his jacket, “but we’ll be discussing this-” he flourished the arrow at you once more “-later.” Then he pocketed it within his black jacket, zipping himself back up before reaching up to his blindfold. He peeled up one edge of the black cloth, and your jaw grew slack at the sight of long, white lashes bordering a hypnotizing, iridescent blue iris.
You barely took note of his wink before he slid the blindfold back into place, turning on his heel and waving a hand behind him. “See you soon, zero.”
~~~
One sip of the golden, bubbly liquid left a hint of apple on your tongue and a slight tingle at the back of your throat. You relaxed further into the cushions of the sofa, sweeping your tongue over the residual foam on your upper lip.
A cloudless sky filled your domain, and a slight breeze blew back the stray hairs on your forehead whenever the sun grew too hot. You set the flute of champagne back onto the coffee table you’d summoned in front of you just beside the open bottle. Its sides were still sticky from the froth that had overflowed, and the cork was long absorbed by the soil.
Japan, you thought, was going to be wonderful. You were still in search of a permanent home in the city, but for the time being the principal--Yaga, he preferred--offered you a dorm on campus. On your campus.
After presenting him with the wrinkly finger you’d so lovingly confined in thirty layers of paper towels, duct tape, and three Ziploc bags, along with a haphazard resume you’d concocted on three hours of sleep, he’d proposed a trial run of a job.
You were a temp.
Not only that, you were a babysitting temp.
“You really think I’m qualified to teach first years?” you asked, though immediately regretted after remembering the “27 Dos and Don’ts for Interviews” you’d memorized beforehand.
Do build yourself up.
Don’t reveal what you suck at in any way possible, no siree bob.
“Well, I’ll admit that’s not all I expect of you. We are not in desperate need of a first-year teacher, but we believe that the current teacher is someone you could have a good influence on.” It was the first time the daunting man before you had ever avoided your gaze, fiddling with one of the many teddy bears that crowded his office on his lap.
The words sunk in after a moment, and the breath was stolen from your chest.
“Hold on. Are you saying that I could be working alongside that guy?”
“Yes.” He nodded, pinching the bridge of his nose for just a second. “As much as we believe in his abilities, it is his…” he paused, searching for the right word, “personality that we fear he may pass onto the students instead of his expertise. We don’t need duplicates of Gojo-” he dragged out a sigh,“-but I fear we may already have some in the works. Thus, I hope you may be able to counteract his impression on them.”
The seat beneath you had long grown hard and stiff, and you fidgeted on top of it.
“After all,” he set down his teddy bear, “there was a reason we sent him to report on you in the first place, Ms. YLN.”
The situation was bittersweet with a little more sweet than bitter, so you had accepted the conditions. Though the thought of working alongside your soulmate had appealed to you at first, that had been before you remembered you’d shot an arrow at him.
And how he’d smirked afterwards.
The wink he’d given you once more resurfaced to the forefront of your mind, and you dropped your head into your hands with a groan. A rapid thumping started in your chest, and you reached out for the flute once more, swallowing the remaining liquid.
You cursed under your breath after sweeping the back of your hand across your lips. “Can’t believe it’s one wink and I’m blushing like a little schoolgirl. What the hell’s wrong with me?” With a shake of your head, you kicked off your boots and reclined horizontally along the couch, squirming to get yourself into a comfortable position before dropping an arm over your eyes.
A sigh escaped you, and you tried to silence your wandering mind by zoning in on the sounds around you. Wind rustling the grass, new, fresh raindrops pattering against the soil, and your own heart slowly pounding. The cold began to nip at your skin, and you pondered summoning a blanket.
Then a rumbling of the ground below you caused you to drop your champagne glass. As it was swallowed up by the earth, you twisted to sit up straight, brows furrowed and eyes searching the line of trees hundreds of yards away.
Another tremor, this one strong enough to rattle the bottle on the coffee table. Glass clinked against wood as it finally tipped over, spilling its contents all over the polished surface. You could feel the trembling through your entire body now, teeth chattering as you clutched onto the couch, almost slipping right off.
Your bow and a full quiver of arrows were spat out by a sudden crack in the earth that sealed itself after they surfaced, and you gathered them up into your arms. Unsteadily rising to your feet, you splayed your arms out for balance, body wavering in effort to not tip over against the force of the quake.
“What the fuck is happening?” you barked, head darting back and forth to search along the circle of trees around you. Their long branches grew entangled with one another, each thick trunk wobbling as though it was being uprooted as the trees swayed in a new, far stronger gust of wind. Rain poured now, and you slipped on a jacket that emerged from the grass, forcing the hood up and over your head before setting an arrow and pulling back the bowstring.
Even through the sights you couldn’t see anything, couldn’t aim for anything. Everything was blurry as your eyes rattled around in your skull, a headache born from the hard vibrations of your domain pinching and stabbing at your brain.
Someone was trying to get in, you realized.
And it was working.
One more tremble and you dropped to your hands and knees, crying out in agony. It felt like someone had forced their way into your brain and gripped each half, trying to split it apart. You shoved your face against the damp grass, hoping for some relief while bracing both hands behind your neck. Your jaw ached from how hard you clenched your teeth, and you were almost positive blood had begun dripping from your nose.
Stop, make it stop. Go away, just make it stop. Stop! Please!
You felt your body go slack, too tired from being tense for an extended period of time, and you rolled over, allowing the stars in your vision to dance until watching them was too exhausting. Your eyes fluttered closed, and you wormed your arms out from under you to splay out at your sides, the quakes palpable under your fingertips.
And then it stopped.
All of it--all the pain, the headache, the trembling underneath you. All of it had disappeared without a trace, as though it were never even there.
“Well now, almost caused me a little trouble there.”
You didn’t even have enough energy to flinch nor to contest when two arms slid underneath your back and knees, hauling you up and a few seconds later dropping you down onto what you assumed was your leather sofa.
Two fingers peeled open your eyelid, and white hair filled your vision. Gleaming blue eyes watched you in amusement, and in your peripheral you noticed upturned lips.
Such a…dick.
Your soulmate hummed and pulled his hands away, allowing your lid to close before pressing a hand to your forehead. “Quite a fight you put up for a while there. Almost had me breaking a sweat. Can’t imagine you’re feeling any good.”
But, to your slight dismay, you were. The feeling of his hands against you, on you, helped the echoes of pain still haunting your body fade away. A strong scent of pine mixed with clean musk and citrus flooded your senses. Unauthorized bliss buzzed along your bloodstream, goading your drained form to lean closer to the sudden source of endorphins.
“Like shit,” you mumbled. “Your fault.”
Gojo chuckled. “Maybe next time you should just let me in.”
“Hell no.”
“Mmhmm, we’ll see about that.”
The hand drifted from your forehead, and in a shameful state of panic you whined under your breath. When he laughed louder, you knew you didn’t want to open your eyes and see the smirk that would greet you.
“So needy.” His hand palmed your cheek, thumb brushing the curve of your cheekbone. “Guess I’ll just have to be your doctor until you’re feeling better. I doubt you mind.”
“Fuck…you…”
“Soon, zero.”
“Pervert.”
He made a noise of objection, but rather than argue with your half-unconscious self, he grumbled something under his breath like “We’ll see about that,” before busying himself with prodding at your face with a tissue. You cracked open your eyes a sliver to see he’d pulled the coffee table up beside you, curling his form over yours to spare you from the easing downpour.
The tips of his white hair dripped water onto your couch cushions, and only then did you realize his usual blindfold was down and around his neck.
Holy shit, is that really the same guy?
Your gaze traveled farther down, brows furrowing in confusion when you realized he wasn’t wearing the same black jacket from before. In its place was a white, long-sleeved button up, the top button undone and the fabric entirely soaked through.
“I heard you got the job.” His voice dragged you out of your daze, forcing your attention up to his face. His eyes flashed when they met yours, an unidentifiable emotion flitting through them that left no trace a second later. “Congratulations.”
“Yeah,” you shut your eyes once more, hoping to halt any heat rising to your face. “You're sitting on the champagne I was drinking.”
“Ew.”
“To be fair, you’re the one who spilled it.”
“You could’ve warned me.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
He didn’t respond, but his gaze was almost as palpable at the fingertips resting on your cheek. His other hand had long tossed away the tissue he’d used to clean up your bloody nose and was now propped on the couch cushions beside you so he could lean over you better. The rain had slowed to a drizzle now.
“So you heard I got the job, but did you hear I’m your babysitter too?”
He sniggered. “Wouldn’t be the first time. Though you may be more enjoyable to have around.”
You swallowed at that. “Oh?” Beneath your front was a raging pile of nerves you struggled to stifle. “I’m flattered.”
“People always are.”
Well that certainly helped. Your lips pursed in effort to hold back a sneer, but you opened your eyes to glare at him.
“Never mind.”
“Nuh-uh,” he waggled his finger in your face, “can’t take it back now. Speaking of, I think I’m due an apology.”
Both his hands abandoned their post on and around you, leaving you feeling cold and bare. When he reached toward your body, though, was when you wriggled to get away. He latched onto you, snagging something layered over your body as equally soaked as his shirt. After he lifted it up, you recognized it as his jacket, and something warm filled your chest while he fished something out of it.
Okay, he’s one cocky son of a bitch, but that was sweet.
Then he revealed one of your arrows, the black metal tip all too familiarly engraved with your initials.
“Anything to say for yourself?” He waved it over your head tauntingly, even tapping the tip of your nose with part of the shaft.
You smacked your lips shut, avoiding your gaze. “Nah, I don’t think so.”
One long, slender finger poked the side of your forehead. “You sure? There must have been some reason for you trying to kill me.”
You fell silent, and it took two seconds for him to grow bored with your lack of response. “Maybe,” he reached over your body, slipping past his jacket he’d lain over you once more, “just maybe it had something to do with this.” A warm grip on your wrist tugged it into sight, and Gojo slid down the sleeve of your jacket with his other hand.
The way the number ten was written matched his personality, you realized. It was dark and firmly settled into your skin with a certain amount of force behind it, but its effortless flow from one digit to the next displayed a level of insouciance you’d only ever seen in the man before you.
Gojo’s eyes studied the 10 with intense curiosity, like it was whispering secrets in his ears. His lips squeezed together before parting, words he couldn’t quite seem to grasp lying in wait upon them.
“I-” you broke the silence first, staring at the number as well, though mostly to avoid his burning gaze, “-I imagine you being born with a zero was much less a dramatic experience than mine.” Your gaze fell to his own wrist, something you’d had yet to see bare. “...Right?”
The corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement. “My number was an attestation to the power of the Gojo family. You’d think they expected it of me.” He ran the pad of his thumb over the 10, a grin splitting his face when goosebumps rose from his actions. “So, I suppose, then, you may get a pass for shooting at me. But I’ll be keeping this.” His unoccupied hand slipped the arrow back into his jacket pocket. “Maybe I’ll just hang it on my wall from now on.”
“And if I need it back?”
“Nope, it's mine now.”
“In exchange, then,” you sat up straighter, gulping “do I at least get to see your mark?”
His mouth softened into a small smile, and he offered his hand to you. “I suppose that’s fair.” Unlike yours, his body did not shiver at your touch. The second your fingertips grazed the palm of his hand, a sound not unlike a purr left him, and you did not bother looking up to his face, already knowing his eyes were on yours in return.
You’d grown accustomed to his stare by now, feeling it was something akin to sun rays burning into your skin. Already, too, you felt heat rise to your cheeks.
0.
A little lopsided, larger on one end rather than the other. Bold and black against his lighter colored wrist, and soft to the touch. A sort of narcissistic satisfaction flooded your chest, and your body felt all the warmer for it.
“You must like what you see.” Gojo’s voice dragged you out of your reverie. “I know I do.”
You only realized you were smiling when it fell at his words. Such an ass. You let your hands fall from his wrist onto your lap, and, acknowledging the urge to reach for him once more, you occupied your hands by picking at your fingernails.
“Your blush is adorable, you know that?” Without warning, his hand cupped your cheek. He ran his fingertips along your reddened skin, dancing them over your cheekbone and running them behind your ear along with a strand of hair. All the while, he studied your face, chuckling at the veil of wariness that took over. “So cute,” he mumbled.
Then he stood up.
“Well then. I guess I got what I came here for.” His sudden movements gave you whiplash, and you flinched back when he rose to his feet. With two palms planted on his back, he pushed his abdomen forward, groaning at the stretch.
You bit your tongue.
“Now, I gotta go. It was nice seeing you, zero.” He grasped the blindfold around his neck, sending you one last wink before securing it over his eyes.
Out from under the weight of his crystalline gaze, you relaxed back onto your couch, sucking in a short breath.
“Three days from now we have our first mission together,” he reached for the coat over your lap, pulling it on and patting down the pockets. The corner of his lips rose. “I’d say be there on time, but I’d hate to keep you waiting. Expect a half-hour delay or more.”
He paused and pursed his lips, his head tilting to one side. “Actually, you know what, I’ll just come find you. Make it easier that way.” With that, he turned and walked away, throwing a wave over his shoulder. “See you then, zero.
“Oh, and next time, I suggest you just let me in. Save yourself the trouble--you’ll know when it’s me.”
~~~
A fierce wind whistled through the abandoned building, its wooden walls crackling and crying at its touch. Spare leaves scraped along the ground along with broken glass from both fallen photographs and busted windows. Through every hole in the wall filtered in a bit of sunlight, highlighting the dust you and Gojo kicked up with your every footstep. The floorboards underneath you wobbled uncertainly.
“Nanami said authorities reported two suspicious persons hiding out inside this building.” You glanced up from the text message, eyeing the torn, bloodstained furniture that lay askew around the room. “So that means there’s two demons after one finger.” You pocketed your phone.
“God, that sounds like the worst porn ever.” You hurled a glare at Gojo, who raised his hands in defense. “Am I wrong?”
“You’re perverted is what you are,” you sighed, massaging a finger against your temple.
“But not wrong,” he sang as you both walked on.
Another strong gust of wind tore into the room, slamming open the entry door and blowing a tuft of your hair into your face. You spat it out with an annoyed grumble, but just as you reached up to pull the final strands from your lips, Gojo caught your wrist and, in turn, your attention.
“Over there,” he gestured his head to a side room that split off from the one you currently stood in. It appeared to be a bedroom judging by the yellowed mattress visible from the doorway, but a rancid scent of spoiled eggs intermingling with dried blood wafted toward you from its direction. With the scent came palpable cursed energy.
“One for me, one for you?” you asked, blindly reaching for an arrow in your quiver while removing your bow from around your chest. The energy was so strong you were almost choking on it, and when you took a deep breath to relieve yourself from the pressure, you gagged at the taste.
Gojo paused, staring at you for a second and watching as you loaded the arrow and pulled back the string. “We’ll see,” he said, reaching up and removing his blindfold.
Your grip on your bow faltered, and you relaxed your hold on the arrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Gojo did not bother waiting for you nor answering your question, instead disappearing from your side, blue eyes glowing and body cocooned in a sort of translucent, wavering bubble.
Then all hell broke loose.
A broken squeal pierced your ears before sizzling black blood painted the doorway. The building began rattling more from Gojo’s fight than from the wind outside, and you feared the infrastructure was going to collapse from the pressure. Anxious--and perhaps feeling a bit left out--you darted towards the room, making the subconscious decision to avoid the splatter on your way.
The second you stepped foot inside, you found yourself in a domain. From what you could tell, it wasn’t Gojo’s. Though you’d never actually seen his domain, you figured it would look a little less monstrous than the one you were currently in.
Concrete rubble crunched underneath your feet. Glistening stalagmites rose from the floor, oozing with a black liquid not unlike tar that made it appear as if they were melting. The black abyss you stood in was sweltering, and almost instantly you felt your long sleeve jacket and pants begin sliding and sticking against your skin. A green fog hung in the air, a medium for the light of the crescent moon dangling in the sky. A monster’s domain indeed.
In all your time admiring, you almost missed the figure bounding toward you. A long blue tongue reached out to lap at the side of your face, and you sidestepped just in time, shivering at the hot breath that still managed to reach you where the tongue had missed. The creature blew past you completely, four spindly legs scrambling for purchase in the uneven rubble.
“Holy shit,” you gasped, eyes wide as you loaded and aimed your bow. Your chest pounded hard enough to flood your ears, and your heartbeat was palpable in your fingertips. When the monster’s head, resembling a spider’s with a hundred eyes all locked on you and fangs drooping from its mouth, sat on top of your arrow point, you let your fingers slip from the string.
“YN!” Gojo’s voice perked your ears, and just as you turned to find him, another spirit, this one twice your size with sharp thorns covering every inch of its body, reached with one large, three-fingered hand for your head, its two eyes deep pits of fire and rage.
And despair, but you figured it was only your own gaze reflected within his.
You envisioned it to be somewhat like a strong man twisting the cap off a pickle jar, or perhaps even squeezing a tomato in his fist hard enough that it bursts, juices flying everywhere. Maybe it would be like being flung around like a ragdoll, body flailing as your head stays trapped in his palm.
Whatever it was, you were certain it wasn’t going to feel nice.
In one last, hail-Mary attempt, you tried to sink into your domain, to feel the light droplets and the forgiving sofa one last time. “Please,” you whispered.
Everything grew dark and quiet. White noise rang in your ears, fluctuating with each racing heartbeat that shook its way through your body. When you did open your eyes, there was nothing, not even black darkness in your sight.
Nothing.
Nothing but a pounding headache, like someone trying to split your head open and read your thoughts like an open book.
“YN! YN, wake up!”
It was him, that voice. But something was wrong, wasn’t it?
“Come on, you can’t do this to me--I just found you!”
It was distant, like usual. So far away you could barely hear him. But there was something about his tone–why was he so scared?
“Wake up for me, YN. Please, just look at me.”
He wasn’t laughing. His voice sounded so weird when he wasn’t laughing at your defeat, and isn’t that what he’d always done?
Perhaps, maybe, it was because you’d won for once?
Or, perhaps, maybe, he’d lost?
Nonetheless, a short laugh escaped you. A small giggle, accompanied by a snort. Then another chuckle, louder now, because it was just so funny!
How could a ten possibly lose?
The very idea was hilarious!
You cackled louder, wheezing in effort as you braced two hands over your stomach, trying to ease the pain of the action. Your own howls met your ears, sounding even more ridiculous coming from you, and that made you laugh harder.
He had gone silent.
You opened your eyes a sliver, gray, drizzling skies dampening your face and mingling with the tears already present. Your wrinkled clothes, still damp with sweat, grew cold and clung to your skin. The grass underneath you tickled your bare palms.
Gojo. Gojo loomed over you, long fingers paused in their obvious raking through his white hair. His blindfold was nowhere to be seen, and his chest rose and sank in a swift pattern.
Opalescent eyes scoured your face, and it was when you felt a pressure on your lips that you realized he had moved to cradle your head in his palms.
“What,” he whispered, choking on a breath, “-What was so fucking funny?”
All the laughter had been sapped away, slowly deteriorated along with your energy as you let your head relax in his hold. Your hands reached up on their own volition and grasped at his wrist, trying to move him or stop him from moving, you weren’t quite sure.
“Am I alive?” you pondered aloud.
Gojo shook his head in disbelief, gnawing angrily on his lip before hissing a curse under his breath. He made a move to release his hold on you, and that was when you discovered you were holding him there.
“Yes. Yes, you are, and I can’t fucking believe it.”
“You know what’s funny?”
His eyes snapped to yours. “No, I really don’t. Please, for the love of God, enlighten me.”
“All my life, I thought you would be this… this sort of invincible god. A ten. I thought you were the one who was going to kill me.”
“YN-”
“But you didn’t. You saved me.” You removed his hands from your face, with an evidently necessary amount of force, and wrestled yourself up into a sitting position, your legs splayed out before you. Gojo kneeled beside you, one of his hands insistent on your back. “You were so scared, Satoru. But you shouldn’t be.” You couldn’t help it; you reached up to cup his cheek, wiping away a raindrop from under his eye. “Because no matter how much I don’t like it, I know you have been and you always will be there to save me.”
Gojo chewed on the inside of his lip, eyes examining every inch of your face as if he was trying to imprint it into memory. You doubted you looked as great as his gaze implied--your hair was a rat’s nest on top of your head, your entire body was trembling, and your eyes were still unsteady from the blows you’d almost taken amidst the fight.
“You’re gonna be such a pain in my ass, zero,” he hummed.
Then his lips captured yours.
~~~
“So, you…eat…the fingers?”
“Yep.”
“Well… are they good?”
“Nope.”
You purse your lips and nod. “Okay… but why was your first thought to eat it?”
Fushiguro shook his head. “Don’t ask.”
“Will do.”
You led the group of first years to the school courtyard, directing them toward the center of the clearing where you stood. The sun shone today, blisteringly hot with only a cool breeze every few seconds to offer slight relief. Birds chirped in the trees of the school’s surrounding forest, and Itadori frantically swatted away a few gnats.
“All right, everyone, today you will learn my cursed technique.”
You closed your eyes, focusing a little harder to allow three more people into your domain than usual. You envisioned a plain of grass, a surrounding barrier of roses, then trees. You saw the light gray sky, the cooling drops of rain, the barely-visible sun.
“Gojo?!”
And Gojo splayed out on your sofa, arm thrown over his eyes, mouth open to catch flies as he snored. He was a large jumble of long limbs and white hair sitting lopsided on your couch.
“Didn’t he say he was on a mission today?” Kugisaki asked, her brow raised.
Yuuji creeped toward him, finger outstretched and ready to poke him in the cheek. He met an invisible wall instead.
“Are you really surprised?” Fushiguro crossed his arms. “My question is, why’s he in here?”
Three pairs of eyes turned to you, and, helpless, you shrugged. “Sometimes he breaks in to take naps. I’ve gotten used to it after a while.”
“Hold on, are you the ‘zero’ lady he’s always talking about?!” Itadori gawked at you, his eyes locked onto your wrist.
A loud yawn split the air. Gojo, his snores finally silenced, let his arm fall from his face. A smirk danced on his lips when he saw you, but it fell when he saw the three first years. He locked his glowing gaze on their forms and groaned exhaustedly.
“Yes she is. My little zero.” He winked at you, then turned his blue glare onto them. “Now scatter, you three. My wife’s domain is my nap space, not yours.”
More Posts from Oreosmama and Others
Hey! Could I request a yandere garou scenario where Reader who does not know who garou is and never met him before, is kidnapped by the monster association and he goes on a rampage to get them back?Sorry if it's too specific.
Please Don’t Save Me (Yandere Garou x Reader)
*GIF not mine*
Summary: (TW: gore) After the Monster Association kidnaps you under the claim that you’re bait for a friend, the man that comes to save you is unfamiliar, but he seems to know you quite well. He’s your savior… but who is he?
A/N: I don’t think I’ve ever written something so… disgusting. Seriously, trust the trigger warning. Anyways, sorry this was so late, but I hope it’s what you wanted! Enjoy! (Side note: a lil late, but thanks for 1.6k y’all!)
Word count: 2548
Sewage, decaying rats, and other putrid scents infiltrated your nose the second the blindfold was ripped away from your face. The sight that greeted you was even worse.
“So this is what drives him.” A monster. Pink, round, and multi-limbed, it had one eye that stared you down while it spoke in a complacent tone. “I suppose now all we have to do is wait. He’ll be along shortly.”
You didn’t have a clue what it was talking about, nor the brainpower to consider it. Instead, you focused on the heart-stopping sights around you. With your hands and feet tied behind your back, you sat on your knees in two-inch thick sewer sludge that soaked through the fabric of your jeans.
Creatures of all kinds flooded the large opening of the brick underground of City Z. Their base looked like a colosseum, several floors stacked on one another with balconies holding types of monsters you couldn’t even imagine. Some appeared human, standing on two legs but containing a wicked look in their eyes, while the others didn’t even have eyes or limbs at all. Even in the dark lighting, you could see all their gazes were locked on you like the star of a show.
Heart racing, you struggled to breath. Your throat closed up in fear, leaving you heaving gasps of air that choked you every once in a while. Instinctively, you wanted to scream for help, cry, or sob at the complete helplessness that overcame you, but soon it was all too much for even that.
How do I get out of this? You flinched away when the pink, lumpy monster slithered closer to inspect you, one of the many two-fingered “arms” on its head reaching down to brush a hair from your face. It left a trail of clear slime in its wake. Oh God, please help me. Someone please!
Swallowing a gag, you purse your lips and let out a small whimper, loud enough to have the crowd before you laughing. A tear, just one, slipped from your eye, trailing down your cheek and dripping into the rancid puddle below you.
You wanted to hug yourself, shove the hood of your sweatshirt over your head and curl in on yourself until you disappeared from the Earth, but that wouldn’t happen. No; sadly, this was reality. Human-sized cockroaches, five-headed serpents, and gorillas loaded with the horns of wild boars and young bucks all chattered loudly enough around you to slap you in the face with the truth.
Hopeless, alone, and afraid. Were they going to kill you? Was this really how you were going to die? Surrounded by these beasts, drooling with what must have been an eagerness to swallow you whole? Your entire body trembled at the thought.
“Help,” you whispered, head dropping far enough that your chin met your chest. “Dear God, someone help me, please.” You sounded broken, so broken. The dark layout combined with the stench of human feces burned your eyes. You’d never been so willing to just pass out in your life.
“Gyoro Gyoro, did you find the girl?” The question sounded more like a command, but the baritone it was delivered in made your blood freeze. Stomps thunderous enough to tremor the concrete digging into your skin left you gasping for air, hyperventilating at the owner of it all.
Oh fuck, oh God, oh shit. Please! Why me?!
Tears fell at a faster rate as you danced around the edges of a panic attack, seizing up at the giant that entered the room. The flickering lights of the sewer were immediately blocked out by the colossus that entered, instead leaving it black with shadows. Its skin appeared maroon and thick, rough like a crocodile with hands and feet that ended in sharp talons. You were barely half the size of the claw on its pinkie toe, like the monstrosity could snort you up a nostril and not even choke.
Fear clamped onto your stomach, seizing your heart and setting your entire body into a cold sweat. Liquid fell down your brow and soaked into the collar of your hoodie with ease, making your entire body slick and unbearably hot. What. The. Hell.
How could such a creature have been made?
“I do, sir.” The pink slug still standing in front of you turned to the monster, which, judging by how the others instantly stood to attention, was the leader of some sorts.
You understood why.
“So where is he, then? That human you so desperately wanted?”
“He should be here soon, my lord. No doubt, he will notice her absence and understand we are serious.”
Head still reeling with the shock of seeing such a herculean-sized titan, you could barely understand their words. “Him”? Who were they talking about?
Your palms began to clam behind your back, and your fingers and toes began to go numb with little blood. You were used to the horrid odors by now, but every time your mouth opened a bit too wide with a panicked gasp, you gagged on the thick smoke wafting in the room.
You were shivering, not only from your sweat drying but also from how truly alone you felt. This was not how you wanted to die. You wanted to be surrounded by family and friends, maybe with the aroma of farewell flowers at your bedside. Instead, you were almost positive this was how it would all end, human feces soaked into your clothing while surrounded by Earth’s living mistakes.
Please, you clench your eyes shut and shudder out a sob, I don’t want to die.
A flexible surface, slick with ooze and mushy like old jello, forces your chin up to meet the eye of “Gyoro Gyoro.”
“Humans like you are so weak. They cry so easily, even at the slightest touch.”
“Please don’t hurt me.” You’d never heard your voice crack like that, like it had crawled its own way out of your throat.
The monster lets out a humored chuckle, releasing your chin and instead dragging its appendages down your face once more.
“Hurt you?” it mocks teasingly, “No, no, no. We wouldn’t do that. If anything, I could call you ‘insurance.’ You see, little human, we only brought you here to lure in a friend of ours. No doubt he’s dying to see you.”
A scream echoes from within one of the many forking paths of the sewer system, pained and tortured. It cuts off with a loud crack.
“Ooh, sounds like he’s here. Sit tight, my dear weakling!”
As if you could go anywhere else. The scream was not even the slightest bit reassuring, and neither was being called “insurance.” Obviously, the person (or thing) just down that tunnel was the reason you were brought here in the first place, but that didn’t necessarily mean they were your savior. Please, please want to save me. I don’t want to be here anymore.
That first scream led to a second, then a third, then a fourth, all the way until you gave up counting, which was right around when the new arrival to the party shouted. “WHERE IS SHE?!”
Gyoro Gyoro glanced to the side lazily, slumping his way towards where the voice was coming. But just before he could speak, you piped up without warning.
“HELP ME!”
A slime-coated limb slapped you across the face hard enough to stun you into silence. Pain lit up your right cheek and made your eyes water. Evidently, calling out to the person, audibly a man, coming to save you was not permitted.
But the damage had already been done.
It’s silent for a breath. You can hear the sharp inhale of the man searching for you from deep within the faraway tunnel as he listens to your call. Then the real horror begins.
From where you knelt, you could only see shadows that must have been a hundred or so feet away battling it out. The monsters versus whomever your new hope was. You were perched just that far away from the entryway of the tunnel, like a trophy on display, but that made you just that much more vulnerable to the brutal sounds of a massacre.
The sounds were less than pleasant, leaving you wishing you could cover your ears. Blood splattered, mixing together with sewage water as bones cracked and dead monsters squealed their last breaths. If your eyes were open, you were sure to see nothing all too pretty.
Howls of pain combined with animalistic growls of “how dare you touch her” and “nobody takes what’s mine.” And finally, your champion surfaced from the hall.
Where you thought monsters in their original form were bad, their guts hanging off the human before you was worse.
The man who had come for you had broad, muscular shoulders, the right torn open with a bloody gash while the left had an enemy’s dripping intestines draped over it. He might’ve been a ginger originally, or maybe he had blond hair, or white. Right now, you sure as hell couldn’t tell. Hot blood seeped down from the orange-tinted strands into his own eye, coloring the sclera a bright red. Veins ran and popped over every muscle of his bare upper body, while the simple, white sweatpants he wore were also soaked maroon.
His eyes locked on you the instant he emerged. He took in how you shivered, the tear stains on your face, the red mark on your cheek, the utter terror in your eyes. The sight of it all you were sure wasn’t a treat. But for the man before you? Well…
He went berserk.
After every movement he made trailed a shimmering line of cyan, but that’s all you could follow. Like a bullet, he moved too fast for the naked eye, pouncing back and forth around the open colosseum of monsters. In his wake, he left a gory mass of carnage. Limbs from every animal and bug you could think of still twitched with life, freshly detached from their owners, who didn’t even get a chance to scream. Roars of anger from the man flooded the room as he latched onto one mutated beast after another, tearing them entrails from raw entrails.
You wouldn’t be able to get those cries out of your head for months, and for once in your life, you pitied monsters. After all, who would want to be ripped to shreds like a rat in a cat’s paws? For once in your life, you finally saw monsters as prey.
Gyoro Gyoro and his lord had obviously gone barking up the wrong tree.
“You touched her.” Tear. “You laid your disgusting hands on her.” Rip. “You made her cry.” Splat.
Liquid spattered onto your face, oozing it’s way down your temples and along your jaw. You didn’t need a mirror to know it was red.
“Is this what you wanted?” Finally, all of the butchery was silenced, not even a groan slicing through the air. “When you stole her. Is this what you expected?”
“Garou-” Gyoro Gyoro’s voice broke off in a sputtered cough. “-look how strong you’ve become. We thought-” cough “-we knew you had the potential. And look how much you’ve grown, just by having her.”
A bitter snicker, obviously from the true beast. The true monster. “You were right. You were right about one thing only. She does make me stronger.” Crack. “But you didn’t need to steal her from me to figure that out.” Slump.
A quiet that somehow felt more suffocating than the previous screams filled the hot room. Through it, you could hear monsters still gurgling on their own guts. Wheezes of last breaths. Death surrounded you, and it’s cause?
He wrapped you up in a hug.
Little chunks of innards stuck from his body onto your sweatshirt, clinging to the fabric like glue had placed them there. His face was warm and slick against the crook of your neck while his hands wound around your waist, forcing your chest flush against his.
“Are you okay?” Even after all that bloodshed, his voice now sounded… loving. Adoring, cherishing, caring, kind. Right now, he sounded like a worried boyfriend after his girlfriend tripped. This situation wasn’t even close, and had no reason for him to sound so calm.
“Who…” you raised your chin from his shoulder, but with your arms still trapped behind your back, you couldn’t push him away. “Who are you?”
His face buried deeper into your shoulder, and his grip on your body grew firmer. “YN, I’ve… I’ve liked you for a long time. It’s not creepy, I swear! I just- I just liked watching you and making sure you were okay. Somewhere along the way, I think I fell in love.”
The man before you, hugging you with all the strength in his body, kissing your skin like he’d done it before, confessing his love like it’s been long enough, you didn’t know him. Not even the face, nor the body, nor the hungry eyes seemed even the slightest bit familiar.
Minutes passed, feeling like hours. When Garou finally got enough of holding you close, he untied your restraints and lifted your sore body into his arms. Your muscles whined with every movement, and yet you still tried to shove him off you.
“Please, please just let me go,” you pleaded, hands pressing against his chest while you stared into his eyes.
Nothing. No nod, no “okay,” nothing.
Instead, he shook his head and shifted your entire weight to be cradled in one powerful arm. Then his free hand shifted up to your face, where he brushed a long thumb over your cheek. “YN, I know you barely know me. I know that. But Angel, you will come to love me just as much as I love you. It’ll just take some time.”
The tone, so confident yet hopeful. You knew he wouldn’t budge.
So maybe that’s why you cried.
“Please, just take me home.”
“I am, Angel.” He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, then to your cheeks. A couple on your jaw, one on your nose, then finally he planted his lips on yours.
No. You didn’t want this. Whoever this guy was, capable of massacring a giant the size of a skyscraper and more, you didn’t want him. You didn’t ask for him, or his love, or his unyielding loyalty. You didn’t want his murderous possessiveness, or even his passionate kiss.
You didn’t ask for this. A man obsessed with you, and almost just as obsessed with making you love him.
“I’m taking you to our home now. There, you will grow to love me just as much as I love you.”
But you got him anyway. Or he got you.
i loved your yandere hc’s of the darling trapping them in a room while they try to escape. could you please do another version of that with sugawara and kuroo? or just suga please ?
Darling Traps Them in a Room to Escape (Yandere Haikyuu Headcanons)
*GIFs not mine*
Ushijima and Oikawa Version
Bokuto, Kageyama, and Kenma Version
Tendou and Hinata Version
A/N: HmmmmmmmmmIlikethisonemmmmmm. Thanks for the request! Honestly, I went a little off the rails with both, hope ya don’t mind. Sorry it’s been a while, but enjoy! (Side note: thanks for 1.7k followers cuz apparently that happened while I was gone holyfuckthankyou)
Word count: 2490
Sugawara Koushi:
First, the keys jingled in the door. “YN, I’m home!”
“Hey Suga, can you come look at something in the bathroom for me?”
And that’s how, two hours later, you were still looking for those damn keys he set down when he went to help you.
The plan felt genius at the time. At least until you realized you had trapped Sugawara inside with every single one of your bobby pins. Now you couldn’t use them and he couldn’t use them. Thankfully, you had enough brains to shove a kitchen chair under the door while you searched.
“YN, please stop and think about what you’re doing, darling. This is ridiculous.”
He sounded so calm. Then again, didn’t he always? That’s why it pissed you off so much.
“Hmm, let’s see. Fuck no, and fuck you.”
“Watch your language, darling.” His tone dipped tensely, but trapped inside the bathroom, he couldn’t do anything to you now.
“Fuck you twice, then, Suga.”
You picked over everything in the living room. Behind the TV, under the couch-- hell, you even had half a mind to search inside the oven. Nothing.
“YN, you’re acting absurd. Come let me out and just tell me what’s wrong.”
“YN, please don’t test my patience. Just let me out, love.”
Your blood boiled at how level-headed he was. He sounded so damn confident that you wouldn’t escape, so self-assured that you wouldn’t be able to leave him.
I’m gonna prove him wrong.
You resorted to pen caps while he whined, chucking a few at the bathroom door in annoyance when he got a little too loud. “YNNNN please! I’m getting lonely in here. Won’t you come join me?”
When you ran out of those, you moved onto trying to bend forks. “YN, at least just talk to me so I know you’re okay. For all I know, you could be really hurt and need my help out there.” CLANG! You chuckled at the yelp Sugawara let out after hurling the fork at the door.
And then, for a solid ten minutes, Sugawara fell into silence. First, you counted it as a blessing. Maybe he passed out. Maybe he died.
You doubted you were that lucky.
Instead, while you perked your tongue out the corner of your mouth and wiggled a single fork prong around inside the main door lock, you heard a noise that made you want to cry.
*jingle* *jingle*
The keys. The motherfucking keys. He had them the entire time. You could’ve sworn you heard him set them down what must’ve been two hours ago now, but evidently you were wrong.
“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”
“C’mon, YN. Doesn’t this make your efforts pointless now?”
Your jaw clenched at that, and you knelt down once more, jamming the fork into the main lock with more force. Your vicious stabs flooded the apartment, and apparently only served as entertainment for Sugawara.
“Sweetheart, you’re so adorable when you get all bratty like this. It almost makes me not want to punish you, but that just wouldn’t be fair now, would it?”
*Click*
The apartment fell into a dead silence. Sugawara sucked in a breath behind the bathroom door, and you stared in amazement when the lock clicked open.
“Holy shit,” you mumble, hands shaking in surprise. “Holy shit. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, I got it! I fucking GOT IT!”
“YN, DON’T GO THROUGH THAT FUCKING DOOR OR YOU’LL BE SORRY!” Sugawara’s desperate cries almost got you to stop, but you were already on the high of winning.
“Too late now.” You grinned and whipped open the unlocked door, dashing into the halls with Sugawara calling after you.
In the apartment, the walls were soundproofed and the windows were blacked out, but when you sprinted through the corridors, you were surprised to see you were on the first floor. A clear glass door had never looked so beautiful as you shoved your way out of the apartment building, hopping right over the steps to the street and landing flat on the sidewalk. Your muscles burned from the sudden burst of movement after being trapped in a confined space for so long, but you would make do.
What you had to do now was find someone to help you, like-- there!
A police officer right down the street, dressed in full uniform and ordering from a hot dog stand.
“OFFICER!” You raced toward him, almost tripping over your feet before sliding to a stop right at his side. At the shout, he had glanced up in surprise, but a look of recognition fell over his face at the sight of you.
“YN? What are you-... are you okay?” The cop had warm, brown eyes and short, dark hair fluffed around his sunglasses, but he still didn’t look even the slightest bit familiar to you.
“Do I… know you?” You furrowed your brows, glancing the officer up and down a couple more times just to make sure you were right.
“Yeah- well, no, not really. But-”
“YN!” Oh shit. Sugawara scurried toward you in an all-out sprint, pushing past others on the sidewalk and reaching out a hand toward you. “YN, please!”
Without a second thought, you returned your gaze, more panicked this round, to the cop once more. “Please help me! That guy back there kidnapped me for, like, I don’t know how long, but I just escaped! Please, cuff him or something!”
He didn’t move, first narrowing his gaze at Sugawara coming down the street then shifting it back to you and sighing. “Come with me.” In what you hoped was a comforting manner, the officer wrapped an arm around your shoulder and led you right in the direction of Sugawara. Instinctively, you panicked and tried to wiggle away, but with one “it’ll be okay” from the cop along with a kind smile, you relented and allowed him to lead you back.
The instant you were close enough, Sugawara reached out for you, but the cop batted his hands away. “Suga, stop it!” Wait, what. The hopeful expression on your face fell away in exchange for blankness with a mix of confusion. What the fuck.
“Daichi, please, just help me! I don’t know how, but she got out!”
Oh shit, they know each other.
OH SHIT, THEY KNOW EACH OTHER!
The second that thought flitted through your brain, they were already both dragging you back toward the apartment building, both of their combined strengths overpowering you easily. “SOMEBODY HEL-” Sugawara shoved a hand over your mouth and helped Daichi lead you back into the building, straight back into your little, personal hell.
First, you were sent to your room like a child while the grown ups discussed what went wrong and where. Couple of dickheads.
“Fuck you both.”
Sugawara only slammed the door in your face before talking to the cop.
“Jesus, Suga, I thought you said you could handle it?”
“I thought I could too, but she got out somehow!”
“It’s only been a damn month and I can’t even trust you to keep her safe inside for that long? I never even got to meet her, for fuck’s sake.”
“I know, I know, but now you have, Daichi. Isn’t she beautiful? Just like when we first met her.”
“Right, but now we’re both on her bad side. How the fuck are we supposed to fix that?”
“Let me handle it. I know just how she likes to be punished.”
Well shit. Of course, they were in it together. Because who could possibly have worse luck than you, their darling.
Kuroo Tetsurou:
You weren’t sure how it happened. One minute, he was entering your room, a forlorn look in his gaze seeming almost abnormal on his face. The next, his lips and hands were all over you, all over your body. And you let him.
When you woke the next day, the sun wasn’t even in the sky. A glance to your nightstand told you it was turning close to four am, but only then did you seem to have some true clarity.
Oh God. Oh God, what have I done?
Your body felt covered in germs, sticky with dried sweat and sore with stiff muscles.
He touched me. I let him touch me.
Disgusting. Gross. Used. Unclean. But how could you excuse letting him do that to you? You hadn’t even put up a fight, and in the back of your mind, you remembered actually liking it.
Kuroo was sound asleep by your side, his chest and cheek pressed to the mattress while an arm draped over your midsection. It was hot, too hot. At any second, you were afraid he would wake up and see the fear in your eyes, because you knew if he saw it, he wouldn’t let you go.
Moving his arm was a painstaking process. Every time he let out a snore, you would move it just an inch higher, and after what felt like hours, you were finally free. You set his arm back down on the bed before rising to your feet and padding to the door. Opening it without a squeak seemed to be a worse challenge.
Reek.
“Mmm, where are you going, Kitten?”
It was everything about him that set your skin crawling. The raspy tone, the smug glint in his eye, the teasing lilt of the nickname. When you responded, you were surprised with how confident you sounded.
“The bathroom. I’ll come right back, I just, uh, couldn’t hold it anymore.” Too much information? Maybe so, but it seemed to do the trick. Kuroo shifted onto his side and propped himself up on an elbow, the sheet over his body inching down a bit farther.
“Hurry back.”
A dismissal, and with a nod, you left. Truly, it wasn’t completely an excuse. You went to the bathroom and did your business, but while washing your hands, you tried to cleanse more. Hand soap was lathered all the way up to your elbows as you rubbed them raw, bottom lip trapped between your teeth.
How could you let that happen? How could you just agree to letting him touch you?
You scrubbed your face clean of the stale sweat and dabbed the skin with the hand towel. What have you done, YN? Movements slowing, you let the rag slip from your fingers before dragging your eyes down to your body. Neck, covered in bite marks. Wrists, red from a tight grip. Hips, bruised purple and blue. Kuroo had taken a part of you last night you had never wanted to give to him, not since he kidnapped you from your home seven months ago. He had said he was lonely, lost, saddened because he loved you so much and knew you would never feel the same.
In a lapse of your own judgement, you foolishly said he was wrong. After months of being deprived of human contact, you were desperate for anyone’s touch. Now, you were paying the consequences. But you didn’t want to stay here.
No. Get out of here.
When you left the bathroom, you caught sight of the sofa straight across in the living. Dragging it over was easy, but doing it quietly was a pain. As lightly as you could, you leveraged the furniture under your bedroom’s door knob.
Then you began the search.
“Kitten?” Still groggy. Good.
His bedroom was clean. Nothing hidden in the box in a closet. Nothing hidden in the drawers of his dresser or nightstand.
“YN?” The door knob rattled, but didn’t move. “Really, YN? You wanna do this now?”
The kitchen was clear, and so was the living room coffee table.
“God, it’s so early. Can’t you just come back to bed and we’ll discuss this later?”
Your hands shook the more you couldn’t find that damned key. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing!
“FUCK!” you shouted, running a hand through your hair and slamming the glass door of the console closed. Behind your bedroom door, Kuroo chuckled.
“Having trouble, Kitten?”
“God, I hate you,” you hissed, dropping to the couch and shoving your head into your hands. Not even a headache of frustration was arising. Only a tight pain was growing in your chest. Every time your heart thumped, it ached and choked you up.
“Now, we both know that’s not true. After all, have you already forgotten what happened last night?”
“Don’t…”
“Don’t what, Kitten? I know you don’t want to leave. Do you really want to go out into the real world after I’ve been with you? Can you live a normal life knowing that?”
“Stop…”
“Last night, Kitten. You said you loved me. Said you always would-”
“I didn’t mean it!”
“Didn’t you? Didn’t you beg for more as I kissed you? Wasn’t it my name you moaned as I made love to you?”
“JUST STOP!” You kicked up to your feet and wiped away your tears, stomping over to the bedroom door only to bang on it. “GOD, I HATE YOU SO MUCH!”
The worst part is he never even took it to heart. No, even after your screams and your cries, your pleas and your whimpers, you could still hear the arrogance in his tone.
There was a smirk on his face. After what felt like hours of breaking down, you dropped into a worn out sleep right into the sofa lodged under the door. And when you woke, six long, dreamless hours later, you were back in the bed where it all began.
“I knew you didn’t want to leave me, Kitten. Now stay here and rest. I’ll bring you breakfast when it’s ready.” His fingers, rough and hot, were gentle against your stiff cheek. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, and when you felt your last drop of dignity wither, you reached out and snagged his hand again.
“Tetsurou.”
“Hmm?”
You couldn’t even meet his gaze. It was so full of pure love that you resented the warmth it spread through your veins. “I don’t… I don’t want to love you.”
A muscle twitched in his cheek.
“It’s wrong, what you did to me. Bringing me here. But… but I do anyway.”
At that, he turned away, but not before you saw genuine happiness twinkle in his eyes.
You wanted to hate it. You really did. You wanted to wipe his hidden smugness right off his face. But instead, you pressed your cheek back into your pillow and watched him pad out of the room, only to stop in the doorway.
“Kitten?”
“Hmm?”
God, he was going to keep you in his arms forever. “I love you too.”
Cock Block (Bokuto x Reader)
*GIF not mine*
Summary: Bokuto just wants to get some, but the universe is not always on his side.
A/N: I’m kinda loving this one. I guess you could call this nsfw, but like, I don’t write what happens. It’s more like a build-up. Anyways, thank you guys once again for all the support recently, and I hope y’all enjoy this oneshot too! (Bokuto’s too hot to be kept sfw, everybody knows it.)
Word count: 1469
The entire world seemed to be up against Bokuto’s libido. Certain times of the month, dishes, hell, even movies. Every time he wanted some, you were just a little preoccupied.
“Babe,” he breathes heavily against your neck before pressing a kiss there, “God, I missed you so much.”
“Kou…”
“I wish we never had to leave for games. Fuck,” he grumbles against you, pulling your body closer on the mattress. Although you don’t want to, you figure it’s better to warn him now than later.
“Koutarou- oh shit!” You whimper when he bites that special place just below your ear that drives you crazy. Albeit unwillingly, you place your hands on his broad shoulders and push him away.
“Kou!” He pulls back with a pained look in his eyes and your chest tightens at the sight.
“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?!” Even though you’re only two inches away, he’s practically shouting in your face. You flinch when a spit particle almost blinds you, and you slap a palm over his mouth to prevent this from happening again while you indignantly wipe away the previous offender. The small action pisses you off almost instantly, and you can only blame the hormones.
“I’m okay, you didn’t do anything wrong,” you reassure him with a forced smile. He nods with disbelieving eyes and you drop your hand.
“Then why-”
“I’m on my period.” His face falls and he groans while tucking his head into your chest. Instinctively, you run your fingers through his hair while he whines like a child, gripping your shirt tightly.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me!”
~~~
He hadn’t texted you back for three hours. It was a Saturday, and you knew for a fact that he didn’t have volleyball practice or anything else to take up his time, and yet he hadn’t responded to you for what felt like a millenia. Anger rolls off you in waves as you relax on your couch, watching TV and glancing at your dark phone every two seconds.
The door creaks open behind you. “YN? Are you here?”
“Yes,” you hiss with a sneer, eyes still locked on the dull movie. Bokuto doesn’t notice your tone as he struts over to you with a smirk.
“Do you wanna do anything fun tonight?” He waggles his eyebrows and you almost snort at his lack of wooing skills. If only you had known he sucked at flirting before you had first confessed your feelings to him. It would have been a lot less surprising to receive the text “Are you a volleyball? Because I’d love to call you mine” after your first date.
“No.” Bokuto rolls over the back of the couch and lands directly on your form, heavy muscles and all. While you grunt in pain, he bounces excitedly on top of you and asks again.
“Are you sure you don’t wanna do anything fun tonight?” He bonks his forehead against yours eagerly, causing you to blink in surprise. Every single one of his playful actions contrasts the heat swimming around in his golden eyes. You take a moment to rebuild your resistance before you respond.
“Well, I did three hours ago, but now I’m not in the mood.” Your teeth gnash together when his face darkens with realization.
“Oh crap.”
“Yeah.” With a glare, you worm your way out from under him and disappear into your room, slamming the door shut behind you. Maybe it was an overreaction, but you cut yourself a little slack. Your cramps were being a bitch, and you wanted nothing more than for your boyfriend to cuddle you a few hours ago. Now, here he was asking for the same thing as though you hadn’t said a word. So, was it an overreaction? Maybe, but you were allowed to be pissed in moments like these.
“YN, I’m so sorry! I totally forgot!”
“Mhm, sure.”
His footsteps grow closer to your door and it opens just a crack. His black and white head peeks in and his pupils dart around before locating you seething on your bed. With a nervous quirk of his lips, he hesitantly mumbles, “Does this mean you’re still on your period?”
You chuck a pillow at him.
~~~
It only took about thirty minutes for you two to make up, but every day since then, you just couldn’t find the time to… you know. One day, you were completely exhausted. Bokuto had come home from practice and jumped you, nuzzling against your face before the act grew more intimate.
“Can we do it?” His warm breath brushes across your chest while he stares up at you desperately.
“Yes,” you mumble with drooping eyes. Meanwhile, Bokuto grins against your skin. “Only if you take a shower first.” He gasps dramatically before taking a whiff of his pit.
“Oh, come on! It’s not that bad!” You shake your head and point to the hallway. Reluctantly, he scrambles off you with a pout and trudges towards the door, only for you to speak up with another request.
“Could you do the dishes on your way? Thanks!” You disguise a yawn behind your hands while he whines dramatically, stomping into the kitchen and noisily clanging pots and pans together while he scrubs at them like they ruined his love life.
After taking the fastest shower in the West, Bokuto hurriedly dries off and sprints to the bedroom.
“YN, I’M-” he freezes at the sight of you, completely knocked out and drooling from the corner of your mouth. “...ready.” A heavy sigh escapes the ace before he tiptoes over and smiles down at you.
“You should’ve told me you were tired,” he whispers lovingly, grabbing the edges of a blanket and draping it over your sleeping form. Slowly, he leans down and presses a small kiss to your cheek. “Sweet dreams, baby.”
~~~
Today was the day, and nothing would stop him.
“YN!” The door slams closed behind him with a loud wham and he locks it haphazardly. “TODAY IS THE DAY WE- oh no! What’s wrong?” A line appeared between his brows as he took in the sight of you surrounded by tissues and sniffling on the sofa.
“He just,” your voice wobbles, “snapped his fingers and sacrificed himself for everybody.” You hug your knees closer to your chest and weep silently. For a moment, Bokuto stands star-struck, but your movements causes him to jump into action. In a split second, he grabs a tub of ice cream, a fresh box of tissues- you ran out- and your favorite soft blanket which he drops on top of you before clicking off the TV.
“It’s okay,” he murmurs softly, easily tugging you onto his lap. All you needed was a little love and comfort, and by God if he wasn’t willing to provide it for you.
After a few minutes, your tears begin to slow, and Bokuto decides to mess with you just a tad. “I love you three-thousand,” he mumbles teasingly into your shoulder. The words rile you up all over again.
“SHUT UP!” you wail.
~~~
Okay. Today was the day. Outside the apartment’s window, it rained so romantically it was like the clouds were rooting for him. The lights were off, so he lit a couple scented candles, those vanilla ones you like so much, and he even splayed rose petals over the bed sheets like in the cheesy love scenes. Nothing, nothing, was going to cockblock him tonight. When his ears perked at the jingle of keys outside the door, he knew it was go-time. Cologne, check. Freshly washed hair, check. No shirt, check.
“Hey Bokuto, I brought home…” you trailed off at the sight of your bare-chested boyfriend silently leering at you in the middle of the living room. Well, his methods of courting you have always been rather weird. Quickly, you close your jaw and let out a snicker.
“Is tonight the night?”
“Yep.” You nod with an impressed smirk, questioningly sniffing the air.
“Is that my…?”
“Yep.” He takes a step closer to you and you set your groceries on the counter.
“All right, just let me-”
“Nope.” You let out a squeak as he lifts you up and over his shoulder, smacking your ass for good measure. “Now or never.” He hauls you over to the bedroom and kicks open the door. Meanwhile you’re tracing distracting patterns on his toned, nude back before you let out a small huff.
“Oh crap, wait, I forgot! Can I have a little rain check because-”
“No.”
You’re Horny (Haikyuu!! Fake Texts)
(Third Gym Version)
A/N: just a lil one bc man is it hard to pull away from writing completely after 2 weeks of it😓 can’t seem to stop being thirsty in my fake texts, so ig there’s no point in hiding it this round🤷♀️ Enjoy!
Some days I’m diNg dOnGgG, and some days I’m just drinking a cup of milk, u know
that “ding-dong” glow up
When He’s Your Fellow Actor (BNHA Headcanons)
*GIFs not mine*
Haikyuu!! Version
A/N: I swear to God, I just write stories with bullet points🤦♀️. It’s an addiction I only give into at 2 am tho, I promise…. Maybe 3. Or maybe 6 am when my family wakes up to go to work, idk!! I'M WORKING ON IT. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy these headcanons/mini reminder that I write for bnha cuz it’s been a fucking minute!
Word count: 1781
Bakugou Katsuki:
The “Hero-Villain on the show but everyone ships them in real life” trope.
Bakugou’s the hero, but you’re the villain😯
In all honesty, you ship your characters together too, but Bakugou doesn’t get it.
In an interview he did with you, he got so confused when the interviewer asked you both how you felt about it.
“People are doing what?!”
He got a lil pissy about it.
“You guys are calling that scene when she tried to throw me in a vat of acid our ‘first date’?!”
While Bakugou just sits next to you in utter bewilderment, the attention shifts to you and you’re just like, “Yeah, I think they’re cute.” *shrugs*
*shrugs*
*SHRUGS*
Why the fuck were you shrugging?! THIS WAS FUCKING INSANE!!
Bakugou is all angsty for the rest of the interview, and afterwards you two go to lunch (for the convenience of course).
He’s still watching you order with utter amazement and eventually you catch his drift.
*sigh* “What’s wrong, Katsuki?”
His lips twitch at the sound of his name, then he reels himself in.
“Don’t *sigh* at me! What the fuck was that back there?”
You’re just sitting there like “TF??”
He rolls his eyes. “YN, you actually…” he locks his gaze on the floor. “You actually… like that stuff?”
You giggle and it pisses him off even more. “WHAT?!”
“Oh c’mon, Katsuki, you don’t think the two characters would even be a little cute together?”
…
“Fuck no.”
“Just think about it for a second.”
He reluctantly does as you ask while you order for the two of you. (You always knew what he liked to eat.)
Bakugou stays unsettlingly silent for the rest of the lunch, tearing away bites of his burger with angry chomps.
It’s peaceful, much like it always is around you. Sometimes he likes that about y-
“OH MY GOD IT’S BAKUGOU KATSUKI AND YLN YN!”
“I KNEW THEY WERE TOGETHER!”
Bakugou almost flips out on the fans and their comments, so you quickly autograph whatever they threw on the table before ushering them away.
You paid the bill and snatched up Bakugou’s hand, dragging him out of the restaurant before he could yeet a table or two.
Days pass after you and Bakugou’s “date.” The pictures of you two at the restaurant spread like wildfire, but that’s not what peeved off Bakugou.
No, it wasn’t that.
It was the fanfiction he had found.
People had not only written highly sensual acts between the two of your characters, but also between you two as real people.
It was like people had no sense of privacy!
He almost couldn’t face you the next day after reading all of that.
Oh yeah, he umm… he kinda read it. ONLY TO SEE HOW FUCKED UP PEOPLE WERE THOUGH!
You saw right through him. He had dodged your every move until finally it was time to film a scene together.
You didn’t hesitate to grab his face and force it to look at you.
“Katsuki. What’s wrong?”
“... I read the stuff.”
Fuck.
You shake your head. “I told you not to read that shit. It’ll just flip you out even more.”
“I know but,” he glances around before pulling you to a more secluded area of the set, “how did they know about us?”
You giggle and cup his cheek. “They don’t. That’s just what people do.”
He doesn’t exactly buy it, but he accepts your kiss anyway. “So,” he pulls away, leaning his forehead against yours, “we’re still on at my place tonight, right?”
“Yep.”
(No one could know you two were together yet. He just wasn’t ready to see more “shipping” shit than he had already seen. You knew that. But that didn’t stop you from writing the fanfictions.)
Todoroki Shouto:
The “they’re brother and sister on the show but fans are perverts” trope.
Honestly, you were both disgusted at the idea.
You hung out all the time with the other cast members and only heard of it when someone brought it up.
“WHAT?!”
Yeah, you were human, and you both thought it was a little nasty.
“Yeah,” Kaminari nods with a grimace, “apparently it’s only because you two look nothing alike though.”
“Still,” your nose wrinkles, “that’s just wrong.” Todoroki nods beside you.
“Well, people are weird. I don’t know what to tell you.”
You two were both frazzled by the news, barely able to look at each other without even thinking about it.
The next day, you two had a scene where you had to hug and kiss each other’s cheeks. Not an unusual act between your two characters, but now it was fucking awkward.
“What the hell is wrong with you two?” Bakugou glared after the director finally said “Cut!” after enough failed scenes.
“We just found out our characters are being shipped.”
It wasn’t really what you said that made Bakugou cackle like an evil witch, it was the way you both said it.
Your eyes were both wide with horror and you couldn’t even stand to make any contact with each other.
“You two are fucking idiots!” Bakugou screeched, wiping a tear from his eye. “Get over it! Our fans are fucking crazy, and I’m suprised you haven’t noticed that after one too many hotel room break-ins.”
The blond’s words took a while to sink in, and it wasn’t until you were both sitting next to each other on the backstage couch that you finally glanced at each other.
“So…”
“So…”
…
Ugh, you couldn’t stand it anymore!
“Shouto, are things gonna be weird between us now?”
The thought almost hurt.
Todoroki’s eyes widened as your own darted over his scarred face frantically.
“No!” He grabs your hands and holds them in his. “... Well… maybe. I don’t know.”
You two had always liked each other. Perhaps a little more than friends. But playing brother and sister while having a relationship was never a good idea.
A few days passed and you two decided to take a little break from each other. (You had hoped to get over your feelings so you could go back to acting like brother and sister like normal.)
Then you got the scripts for next week’s episode.
“I’m adopted?”
The next day, you and Todoroki could finally stand to be in each other’s presence.
“So….”
“So….”
…
Oh fuck- AGAIN?!
Nope. You weren’t gonna let that happen.
You threw your hands around his neck and shoved him towards you, pressing his lips against yours.
Todoroki instantly threw his arms around your back, pressing you closer as he smiled into the passionate kiss.
Kaminari sighed in relief before slipping back behind the wall as you two pulled away from each other.
“They’re good.”
The rest of the cast let out relaxed breaths while Bakugou rolled his eyes.
“Why the fuck did you tell them that, dumbass?”
“I don’t know, I thought it would be funny!”
“Well then I guess you’re just a SHIT COMEDIAN!”
Yeah, it was just one fanfiction about you two as siblings.
TO BE FAIR… Kaminari only wrote it because he was shitfaced.
Kirishima Eijirou:
The “she was just supposed to be a side character but the fans fell in love with her and started shipping them” trope.
Yeah, you weren’t supposed to last long.
Kirishima was the main character, a hero, and you were just supposed to be a temporary damsel in distress.
Oops.
Evidently they made your character a little too cute, a little too funny, a little to perfect.
You were in for about half a season, and in that time, everybody loved you and Kirishima together.
You two had great chemistry on and off the screen.
Nothing beats that.
Except for when the writers killed off your character.
While it ended with a kiss, you apparently died saving Kirishima’s life as one final thanks for him saving yours in your debut.
The kiss opened both of your eyes and you knew you couldn’t lose contact with each other.
Initially, his show only lost a few viewers after you were cut.
But then it dropped by the thousands when fans spotted you two on a date, smiling happily like no one was around.
Ahh, the power of persuasion.
People were boycotting his show left and right, claiming that they “split you two up wrongfully.”
Shit went awry.
Everyone panicked.
Apparently one major funder had a daughter who had a cousin who had a friend who had a dog that loved you two or something.
Idfk
Either way, the writers and directors whipped up some magical mumbo jumbo to revive your character, and the response was instant.
After some half-assed funeral scene, they had you dig yourself out of the ground like some zombie, claiming that you were of the same superpowered race as Kirishima.
The ship lived on, and your characters survived multiple seasons enough to make little superpowered babies.
“Man, I can’t believe the fans went so nuts like that. Who knew a little side character death would cause such an uproar.”
Kirishima nodded along with you, allowing a soft smile to grow on his face as he pounced, licking some stray ice cream off your lips before capturing them in a kiss.
“Mmm,” his hand reached up to hold you in place against him. He only pulled away to press his forehead against yours with a toothy grin. “I have a little secret to confess.”
“Like what?” Your eyes were still closed in bliss as you licked your lips, reveling in the taste of him.
He turned your head to the side and cupped a hand around your ear, whispering his pretty little secret. Your eyes flashed open in surprise and you pushed away from him to see his face.
You needed to know if he was serious.
“YOU WERE THE ANONYMOUS ACCOUNT WHO STARTED THIS?!”
Kirishima nods shyly, holding and squeezing your hand in his lap.
“I just couldn’t let you go. I wanted to keep seeing you.”
God, he was such a babe.
“Fuck Eijirou,” a grin grows on your face and you brush your lips against his, letting out a giggle. “I love you so much.”
You feel his smile grow into a proud beam against your lips. “I love you too.”
Helloooo~ first of all i really like your works and i like you too owo)/ So uhmmm can i ask for a part six of Reborn (Bokuto/ Akaashi x Reader) I really love it! Thanks in advance!
Heyyy! Thank you so much🥺 I can assure you I will be continuing the series once my request box is emptied out, so don’t you worry. Bad news is that’ll probably be in like a month or two, especially with school rolling around.
I just want all you fans of Reborn to know that Part 6 was initially going to be the last part of the series, but thanks to the break I took, there is plenty more in store for it. Thank you all for your support and patience!💜💖
i love your writing! if it's ok can i request something nsfw with yandere zuko (your hc for him were really good)
Hot With Envy (Yandere Zuko x Reader) (NSFW)
*GIF not mine*
Summary: After seeing you laugh with another man at his five-year reign celebration, Zuko must show you who you belong to.
A/N: Hey, so I finally got part of my life in order. Woohoo. Thankfully, that allowed me to finally finish this request. I’m sorry it took me a while, and I can’t promise that the others won’t end up the same way, but I hope this at least tickles ur fancy. Enjoy!
Warnings: Possessive sex, dirty talk, vaginal sex
Word count: 2916
“God, YN. I can’t fucking believe you.”
Zuko was pissed. More than pissed, he was infuriated. Steam blew out of his nose every step he took as he led you out of the ballroom.
The fifth anniversary of Zuko’s reign as the new fire lord, and he had only lasted twenty minutes.
“What did I even do?!” The more you tried to pull out of his straining grip, the more bruising it became. You’ve seen Zuko jealous, possessive, hell, even straight up obsessive, but never have you seen him so green-eyed as tonight. If he grew any angrier, your hand would fall clean off.
“What did you do? What did you do?! Are you trying to piss me off?”
By the looks of it, he was dragging you towards his bedroom. The maroon halls of the Fire Nation Royal Palace were like no other; decked out in vases and other artworks of the past millennium, you didn’t dare look into the eyes of a royal painting for fear that it would fall and you would have to pay for damages.
“Zuko, come on. Just tell me what I did!” His bitter laugh makes your teeth grind. “You really wanna know?”
“Yes!”
“You wore that stupid dress. Then you walked into that stupid party looking stupidly beautiful. Then you talked to that stupid guy!”
“...And?”
His storming down the halls slowed to a halt.
“‘And’? Fuck, YN. You’re absolutely clueless, and that’s coming from me.”
It took you only a second to realize he had stopped directly in front of his bedroom. You weren’t an idiot; you knew where this was going.
“Zuko, stop. That’s your party out there. We can’t just abandon it while guests are still in attendance.”
“Why do you want to go back there so bad, YN?” You still hadn’t gotten a chance to see his face, but judging by the tightness in his tone, he was just as agitated as when you both left, if not more.
“I-I don’t-”
“Do you want to see that man again?” The doors to his bedroom swing open hard enough to slam against the walls, leaving a harsh bang to echo around the room. When he turned back to you, there was a glint in his eyes you had never seen before. “Because trust me, my love, after tonight, the only person you’ll be able to think of is me.”
His chambers were dark and spacious, with the ruby drapes drawn to cover the raised moon in the sky. The black carpet softened every step you took as Zuko dragged you to the center of the room, just where the bed sat.
It was large and lonely. The silk, crimson covers of the bed were pulled so taut over the mattress it looked as if nobody has slept there in ages. Two pillows stood at the beadboard, one too many for just Zuko. Four marble bed posts framed each corner, all leading up to connect with the high ceilings. Curtains hung between each, casting shadows over the bed from the candlelight in the corner. Zuko must have lit them while you were distracted with observing.
Otherwise, the room was filled with darkness, the one light barely enough to help your straining eyes. Before you could even see him coming, Zuko latched his hand back over your wrist and tugged you hard enough to have you stumbling into the bed, tripping and falling into the cozy blankets that swallowed you easily.
“Zuko.” You weren’t quite sure what you wanted to say. Maybe “stop,” or “let’s slow down.” You didn’t get a chance to decide.
Seconds after you fell, he followed, his legs encompassing only one of your thighs.
After he dug his knee into your mound, you figured out why.
A moan slipped from your lips, causing Zuko to give you a smirk. Only when your hands came up to press against his chest did he capture them in his own, gathering them in a single grip and forcing them above your head. With his free hand, he trailed a finger down your cheek before cupping your jaw.
“Don’t worry, my love. There’s plenty more to come.”
At the words, his eyes darted down your body, tongue sweeping out over his lips before he slammed his mouth onto yours.
“Mmm,” you could only hum as he kissed you with a fevered passion. Body pressing yours deeper into the bed, he dug his knee harder against your clothed core, the pure heat radiating from his body making it seem like there were no barriers at all.
“Zuko.” His name escaped your lips in a breathy moan, and left him panting as he leaned his forehead against yours.
“That’s right, YN. Let everyone know who’s doing this to you.” Before you could respond, he sunk his teeth into the juncture of your neck, forcing you to mewl and jerk against his knee. His tongue peeked out to soothe the reddened skin, lapping up the growing sweat on your neck at the same time.
More, more, more. That’s all you could think of, and soon enough, you were practically humping Zuko’s leg like a bitch in heat. Though, he didn’t seem to mind one bit.
“Look at you, fucking yourself against me. I don’t even have to touch you to get you off.” A rip cut through the otherwise silent room like a hot knife through butter, and it took you a minute to realize what had truly happened.
Your dress slid off with ease, and when Zuko tossed it aside, you could see the torn threads spanning along the back of the fabric. With only a wrap over your breasts and-- albeit soaked-- panties to cover your twitching core, you couldn’t help but suddenly grow embarrassed at the situation.
“Wait, Zuko, maybe we should slow-” his lips recapture yours before you can finish, and his free hand begins to slide from your chin down to your collarbone. His fingertips, like little brushes of a feather, travel lower and lower until they meet the top of your white breast cloth. They dip inside, just into the space formed by the valley of your chest, and just as viciously as your dress, they rip the material away and toss it aside.
A burn was left behind at the harsh rip against your skin, but it’s quickly forgotten in exchange for Zuko massaging your mounds in his hand. Pleasure shoots through your core when he pinches the peaks, grinning against your lips at the whine you give off.
“Do you want someone else to touch you like this, YN?” Heavy-lidded eyes burn into your own, waiting with impatience for your answer.
“No, Zuko, only you- ah!” Your voice breaks off into a squeal when he pinches them once again before sliding off the bed to undress himself. Your chest heaves while you wait for him to return, and in that time, a thought flits through your mind-- you could touch yourself to relieve some of the ache.
The man seems to read your mind, and he tsks. “Don’t even think about it, love. You don’t want more punishments, do you?”
The spanks, the hot touches, the rough bites. You couldn’t lie; the repercussions didn’t seem too terrible considering you would at least find release, but before your hand reaches down fast enough, Zuko’s already snagged it in a tight grip.
“Shit, you’re really that horny, love? Well fuck, let’s make this quick then, shall we?”
In an instant, he drops your hand in exchange for your ankles, dragging you to the edge of the bed before forcing your legs apart. His thick length stands at attention by his stomach, leaving your juices to drip down your thighs in clear droplets.
Sightseeing doesn’t last long, and soon Zuko’s flipped you onto your stomach, propping up your knees and dragging a finger up the slick of your wet panties.
“This,” he growls, pulling aside the black lace enough to leave your throbbing core bare for him to see, “belongs to me.” Hands push your knees further apart, enough that your wetness can only drip down onto the sheets instead of trailing down your thighs.
Slap! A hand collides with the skin of your left cheek hard enough to have you cry out. “Say it, YN.”
“It belongs to you!”
Slap! Another hit to the other cheek and you bury your face into the blankets, pleasure mingling with pain as Zuko less-than-gently rubs the abused flesh of your backside.
“You got that fucking right.”
Then, before you acknowledge what’s happening, Zuko’s pushing himself deep inside you, faster than you can adjust and leaving behind a feeling no different than tearing your body in half.
“UNGH!” Instinctively, your back straightens and you try to crawl away, but another spank and Zuko’s bottomed out inside you. His member stretches your fluttering walls enough to the point of an unbearable burn, but luckily, he has enough mercy to allow you to adjust.
Tears prick your eyes and your fingers curl into the sheets, trying to bear the sudden intrusion as best as possible. And soon enough, you feel the ache begin to fade.
Zuko’s had enough sense to stop, hearing the way you cried under his first thrust, but he can’t bring himself to feel bad anymore when you begin pushing back against him. “Fuck,” he hisses when you purposefully clench around him.
Before you know it, he’s become feral.
The sound of flesh slapping against flesh fills the dark room in a frantic pattern as Zuko thrusts into you at a bruising pace.
“Ngh. Harder, Zuko!”
He doesn’t disappoint, and soon, he’s driving you into the mattress with every thrust, one hand holding you in place on your hips while the other digs into your hair and yanks your head back.
“Shit, you’re so tight. So tight just for me, YN.”
Mouth forming an “o” shape, you can’t even respond aas your eyes roll back from the pleasure. Your moans almost drown out the loud cracking of the headboard against the wall, and distantly, you know it could draw some curious eyes--
“Look at your naughty little hole. Taking me so well.”
But you just couldn’t bring yourself to care. The feeling of his shaft dragging against your g-spot, pulling out just far enough to caress your swollen bud before plunging back inside has a coil tightening in your stomach.
“Fuckkkk. Zuko, I’m close!”
“Already, love?”
The hand in your hair tugs hard enough to strain your scalp as Zuko pulls you up onto your knees, his chest flush to your back. With the new angle, Zuko rams into the special spot deep in your hole with every single-- holy fuck-- thrust.
“Who fucks you this good?” His hand untangles from your strands and reaches up around your throat.
“Zuko!” You throw your head back onto his shoulder and dig a hand into his sweaty hair, pulling his face down to your neck. At your silent command, his lips run up and down the skin, sucking on the skin between breaths and grunts. He follows dutifully as your body jolts back and forth, shaken violently with each drive of his hips.
“Who’s the only one that makes you feel like this?”
“Noooo- ah shit!” You can barely hold yourself up when Zuko’s hand, hot by his own command, rubs furious circles into your swollen bud. The act has you grinding into his hand while it throws you into a tailspin of pleasure, head growing foggy as you only chase a release.
“Nuh-uh,” he groans out, hand slowing just enough to have you whine, “say my name, love.”
“Zuko, please! Keep going!” You have to choke out the words, the hand around your neck just tight enough to keep your breathing quick but loose so that you can speak. Your fingers tighten in his hair and around his wrist, one tugging his lips closer to your hot skin while the other keeps his hand assaulting your clit.
It’s too much, and you know it’s too much, but his hold on you from every end is stronger than iron. Your back arches at a particularly deep thrust that has the head of his member brushing your cervix. “Oh GOD! Zuko, I’m so close!”
The constant clenching of your core around his length has already revealed this to him, and he keeps the fast pace that has you oh-so willing to beg.
“Oh yeah, love? Tell me then, who owns you?”
“More!”
“Nope.” He pinches your clit hard enough that you spasm, but not enough to trigger your release.
“AGH!”
“Say it, YN,” he captures your earlobe between his teeth. “Who owns you?”
You can’t speak, too lost in pleasure to comprehend a word he was grunting into your ear. Each time he sinks into your dripping hole, he rubs your bud in tandem. You couldn’t even open your mouth at this point without drool dribbling down your chin.
“One more chance, love. Who owns you?” His teeth grit with impatience, and by now, he’s lost all rhythm. Erratically, he drives into you from behind, hips now leaving your backside red with fresh bruises. Then finally, finally, the bubble bursts.
“ZUKO!” The scream of his name ripped through your throat just as harshly as your orgasm, liquid running down your thighs and soaking into the bed like spilled water. During this, you clench so tightly around him, Zuko almost blacks out from the feeling, releasing inside you just as fast.
As you fall from your high, your body begins to come back down, instantly feeling the side effects of staying in one position for too long. Your thighs whine and shiver before going just numb enough that you fall forward, Zuko having no other option than to collapse on top of you.
His body is hot and sweaty, overheating you enough that you squirm and wiggle underneath him until he gets the hint.
“Oh, sorry.”
The phase of confidence is over as he slips out of you, allowing both of your juices to flood out of you in a delicious mixture Zuko eyes up proudly. Not long after does he fall into the space beside you, still panting and heaving in breaths while he wraps an arm around your shoulder.
“Come here.”
He doesn’t have to ask twice. Cuddles with Zuko after sex were silent and peaceful, usually followed by a shared nap for rest.
You settle your head onto his chest, ear right over his racing heartbeat as you lay a hand on his flexing stomach.
“That was…” you couldn’t even answer, instead shaking your head and settling for a grin in Zuko’s direction.
Though his face grows red, he nods in agreement, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “Yeah,” he whispers, “it was.”
The dim room falls into a silence not uncommon nor uncomfortable. Though sweaty, you both stuck to each other on purpose, wanting to be close after such a time.
When your breathing begins to slow is when Zuko speaks up again.
“Hey, YN?”
“Yeah?” It’s more of a yawn than a question.
“You meant what you said, right?”
“What do you mean?” You peer up at him, a little flustered to see such an intense look in Zuko’s normally shy gaze.
“When you said you belonged to me. You meant it, right?”
Oh yeah, that did happen. In the heat of the moment, you would honestly say anything for such euphoria. Now, though, you wondered if that would one day be your downfall.
“Umm… well….” You wanted the conversation to die out and never be brought up again, but Zuko’s emboldened gaze was insistent.
“Well?”
“Y-yes,” you drop your ear back to his heart and nod your head. “I meant it.” Anything to get out of this awkward situation.
“Good, my love. I’m glad. Now that I own you, no man will ever touch you again. I promise.”
Oh God, what trap have you just fallen into?
With that, he rolled over and draped both an arm and a leg over your body, effectively trapping you to the mattress.
“Good night, my queen.”
“Good n-night, Zuko.”
~~~
“Fire Lord Zuko.”
His eyes fluttered open, and the first thing he saw was you. Your beautiful face, serene and peaceful in your slumber, framed by the sunshine peeking through the drapes behind your head. Ever so carefully, he untangled himself from around you and pressed a kiss to your forehead before ushering the guard to the hall.
“Did you manage to find him?”
“Yes, my lord.” The soldier averted his gaze as Zuko tightened his robe and shoved on a pair of sandals. Once he appeared modest enough for the rest of the castle, the guard began to lead him through the corridors to a dank stairway. “We’ve left him in cell seven for you.”
“Good. Now I can show him what happens when you try to go after my love.”
Language of Love (Akaashi x Reader)
*GIF not mine*
Summary: Speaking French in front of your crush was not as discreet as you originally thought. Maybe you should just start texting from now on…
A/N: I’m so thankful for the growth that has happened to my account in the small span of 48 hours! Here’s a short imagine that I got an idea for from this prompt by @writ-ing-promp-ts. Akaashi is really OOC, so I’m sorry. And I also kinda rambled on too long in the first part, but oh well, I’m a lil tired. Enjoy! :)
Word count: 1240
The courtyard of Fukurodani was beautiful, to say the least. It was springtime, and you sat just below a freshly-bloomed cherry blossom tree. The pastel pink petals surrounded you either on the grass or floating with the wind. The flowery scent you inhaled was barely noticeable over the cold breeze it accompanied. The sun shined, birds chirped, bees buzzed, and you… well, you were jabbering in French to your sick best friend over the phone. You were sweating like a pig thanks to the topic of conversation, and occasionally flapped your arms up and down like the chicken dance just to dry off. Gross, right? Yeah, you thought so too. But the anxiety of talking about a crush in any language was enough to provoke undesirable side effects.
Setting down your phone to take off the hot blazer that was just making everything worse, you whined into the microphone, “Il est tellement attirant que je pourrais mourir. (He is so attractive that I could die.)” Your hand caught in a sleeve, so you began screeching at the jacket you were currently wedged in and attracted some unwanted attention. You nervously smiled at your fellow classmates before laughing and shrugging at your own predicament. Giving you sneers, they exaggeratedly stepped away from your general area before exiting through the school’s gates while whispering among themselves. The smile on your face dropped into a snarl as you pulled with all your might on the stupid mandatory blazer.
Not realizing you were currently busy, your ever-so-sympathetic friend replied, “Arrête d'être un bébé et avoue déjà. Tu es trop dramatique. Il ne te mangera pas. (Stop being a baby and confess already. You are too dramatic. He won't eat you.)” Letting out a loud “Guh” as you finally escaped the human trap, you threw the evil jacket away from you and pouted.
“Je ne suis pas trop dramatique. (I am not too dramatic.)” You slumped back onto the rough bark of the tree and exhaled heavily.
“Alors arrêtez d'être un tel wuss et dites-lui! (Then stop being such a wuss and tell him!)” your friend demanded, and your phone shook at her volume. You understood her impatience; after all, you had harbored a crush on Akaashi for the past year now, and the only person who stood to take earfuls of your gushing was her. Overall, you were thankful, but that didn’t mean you weren’t shy.
“Mais que dois-je faire si Akaashi me rejette? (But what should I do if Akaashi rejects me?)” you mumbled softly, fiddling with the edges of your skirt. Your friend sighed heavily, but you were surprised at the gentle tone in her response.
“Tu fais ce que tout le monde dans le monde a fait. Tu t'en remets et trouvés quelqu'un de nouveau. C'est la seule solution. (You do what everyone else in the world has done. You get over it and find someone new. That's the only way.)” Her logic had always pissed you off anyway. Scoffing at the blatant statement, you began to pick at the dirt under your fingernails. Your eyes were saddened, and your shoulders slouched while you bounced your knees up and down in front of you. What ifs, all the what ifs ran through your head, and your heart pained in imaginary sadness at the scenarios. Your friend’s voice dragged you out of your thoughts once more.
“YN, l'aimes-tu? (YN, do you like him?)”
“As-tu vraiment besoin de demander? (Do you really need to ask?)”
“Alors c'est la seule raison pour laquelle tu devrais lui dire. Ne continuez pas à y penser pour toujours, faites-le. (Then that’s the only reason you should tell him. Don’t keep thinking about it forever, do it.)” Her words carried in the wind like an echo, and a breeze blew past your face, brushing away the stray hairs. Tapping your finger on your chin, you thought it over. It had been months, and you really did like him. He was always nice, and his bare-boned humor made you laugh. And no one could deny that he was truly attractive.
Hesitantly, you agreed, “D'accord. Je le ferai. Je vais lui demander de sortir. Souhaite moi bonne chance. (Okay. I will do it. I'm going to ask him to go out. Wish me good luck.)”
“Bonne chance mon amie. (Good luck my friend.)” She sounded smugly victorious, but ended the call before you could berate her about it. Sighing exasperatingly, you dropped your head back harshly onto the base of the tree. Your hands dropped to your sides and nervously picked at grass while peering up at the pink branches above your form.
“Hey YN. You were speaking French just now, right?” Oh crap. Akaashi. A woozy feeling erupted right in the center of your head after you stood up too quickly to face him. Refraining from rubbing the pain away, you settled for a hasty nod at his question, not trusting your voice at the moment.
“That’s cool, you sounded pretty fluent too.” His voice was flat, but you had never heard it any other way, and that fact had never stopped the blush that rose on your face in his presence. It certainly didn’t stop the flush now. Suddenly, you remembered your friend’s words. Do it.
“Well, you know, I-I could teach you some time,” you stuttered out. Hiding your shaking hands behind your back, you apprehensively smiled at him, but faltered when the corner of his mouth quirked up. His eyes glimmered at your suggestion while he suddenly grew smug. Your brows furrowed after he rolled his shoulders and placed his hands in his pants pockets, while his chest seemed to puff out. Was this really Akaashi?
“That’s okay,” he retorts, “I already know French.” Excuse me, what?
Your eye began to twitch and the smile on your face dropped. Blanching at his words, you hesitantly asked, “W-well, um, how much did you hear?”
“Enough.” He smiled softly at your amazed expression, chuckling behind his hand. Who the f**k is this guy?!
“Oh. Ohhhh. Look, you might have misunderstood a couple of our words,” you sputtered. Akaashi was different today, it seemed. He was showing emotion, a lot of emotion. You choked on air when his own cheeks pinked as he stepped toward you. Staring at the petals he had crunched under his shoes, you mumbled, “We don’t really know the language that well, so you might have misheard a sentence or two. We definitely weren’t talking about you, that’s for sure-”
The rest of your anxious rambling died on your tongue when he suddenly grinned at you. Ever so slowly, Akaashi caught a lock of your hair blowing in the wind and curled it around his finger gently. He was nervous too, you realized. But your breath caught in your throat when his gaze suddenly shifted and intercepted your own. Softly, he whispered, “Je t’aime bien aussi. (I like you too.)”
Heyyaaaa I just read your reborn again for the 5th time 😼 and I am going to read it again. Coz why not? Can you please add me to the tag list of reborn 🥰🥰 thank you <33
Ayeeee rereading them is just part of the fun😌 I’ll def put you in the taglist!🤩
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18+, minors dnrI write sometimes ig maybe, we’ll see🫠Masterlist . . . . . . Side BlogRequests? What requests?
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