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patchworkpuzzle · 2 years

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word count: ~8K

paring: Dragon Hybrid!Kirishima x Princess!Reader

warning(s): oral (reader receiving), outdoor shenanigans, dirty talk, hint of a size kink, but overall pretty vanilla. Also, mentions of chronic illness - nothing descriptive but it is in there!!

authors note: hello everyone! Here I am, finally posting on this new blog how exciting! This was a request/commission that my darling wife gracie (@melodramaticmura) asked of me; as she really wanted a nibble of this Royal AU I have brewing in the background. May you enjoy the fantasy just as much as I did when I wrote it. 🔮

“Do you think we’re going to beat them?”

Your soft voice rang out in the small carriage you were currently riding in; seeing in the corner of your eye the way your travel companion rolled her eyes - her own soft, playful, scoff barely heard over the sound of the wheels hitting the rocks that were scattered along the used path.

“I suppose you would hope so, hm?” She teased, a familiar impish grin crossing her lips as she looked at you, “If they do, then they cheated.”

“Cheated?” You couldn't help but let a little laugh over such a childish accusation, eyes leaving their spot of gazing out the window briefly to fully look at your friend “Why would you accuse them of something so infantine?”

“Because it would be the truth! We started our journey two days before they did and we are on the fasted route to Edhellond. The only way they could have a chance to beat us is if they were to fly, which would be cheating. Though again, I suppose that is what you are hoping for.”

“What are you on about?” You groaned, watching as your friend shrugged her shoulders before looking out her own window.

“You’re wanting to see him again, the Southern Prince’s royal advisor, why else would your eyes be glued to the sky, if not to see if there’s a dragon.”

“You’re so full of it…” You smiled, foot kicking out to hit her leg; unable to help yourself in joining in on her harmonious giggles that filled the compartment at your actions.

It was almost the Autumn Equinox. And, as per traditions from long ago, the eastern Kingdom of Edhellond had extended their invitation to royalty and nobles from all over the land, yourself included, as they celebrated the harvest in their land.

It was a tradition all kingdoms held, as they wrought the fruit their land had provided to them. The North, Kingdom of Dorthonion, would have their celebration in the winter, to hold a solstice celebration in lieu of their harvest of their silver, lumber, and pelts of the animals they so tenderly took care of. The South did the same in the summer, the Kingdom of Deira would host a grand solstice party of their own over their spices and jewels, with grand displays of lights in the sky. Yourself, in the west, would celebrate in the spring for that was when the fruit within all of Amon Lanc would finally start to bloom; the Equinox commemoration would be filled with only the finest fruits - with your friend that sat before aiding the celebration efforts as her own kingdoms would follow in line with yours.

And now, it was time for autumn and Edhellond’s chance to shine.

Normally you, and your fellow traveling companion, would scarcely attend the festivity - as you would with most of the grand seasonal events - for the fall season was also a time of great harvest for your kingdoms; too much work was needed to be done to finish collecting all the crops of your lands and prepare for the winter ahead.

But this year things were a little different. With the raging war within the other lands finally coming to end, celebrations such as these were no longer on hold; as were all other royal customs and traditions. You and your fellow friend, another princess, had debuted shortly before the war broke out, halting the usual royal tour that would follow a debuting princess as they traveled across the different kingdoms. To mingle in the different courts and customs in hopes to gain a suitor and marriage proposal.

You were now on that tour, as a favour to your friend. To not only help her with the momentous task of gaining the affections, and thereby a marriage proposal, of one of the crown princes before the spring comes once more, but to help guide her and be a close companion that she would desperately need on the journey.

And you would not complain, nor turn down, such a favour for you had longed to go on tour, for traveling was in your blood; a favoured recreation. And though the pressures were not so high upon your own head, there were still present. And having her there would also ease your own burdens and stress of courtship and finding your own companion.

Furthermore, it only made sense to go to Edhellond and join in their fun, to enjoy the beauty of their land and sea for it was the next stop on the tour. As you already spent the entirety of the summer months in Deria, and participated in the Summer Solstice they hosted. It seemed only fitting, and proper, to attend this one.

And due to such a hold, from the politics and practices normally held, the other royal families thought the same. From all over the land, the North, the West, and even now the South who had histories of finding such thing unworthy of their time, have now all decided to gather to join in on the festivities.

“It’s because they want a chance to court you~” you would coo and tease your friend as your slowly traveled east, always enjoying the way the tapestry princess would brush you off and claim otherwise - you knew different.

“Perhaps they want to see you, my darling dove.” She would snap back, though her tone never biting as she would smile up at you from her stitchwork; a task that always left you in awe as despite the bumpy road her work was always pristine.

The teasing would never cease throughout the journey, to lighten the mood and boredom you both faced as the carriage that held you both unhurriedly made its way to the desired destination. As reading poetry, delicately doing petite points, or looking in the sky in hopes to see a dragon could only do so much to lessen the underlying dread and anxiousness the journey to each kingdom would give.

Nonetheless, despite the agonizingly slow journey, you arrived in Edhellond. Being graciously welcomed by your hosts, House Blumenthal, as they fawned over your arrival; with many maids and servants scurrying about to properly prepare all that you needed to enjoy the Equinox that was now only a week away.

They did the same, merely a few days later when the Southern Royalty, and your newfound companions, arrived. You couldn’t help but watch in amusement as many a person scampered about around them; causing Prince Bakugou ire.

As well, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes when you were finally caught by your friend. Telling her with counterfeit annoyance to “stop being such a child” when she nudged your side with a giggle.

It was not long after their arrival that the day of the festivity came to fruition; not long after their arrival that you were cooped up in your chambers for almost the entirety of the day to be appropriately done up by maids that you were not used to.

You wished you could get ready with your friend as you normally did. Longing for her company and chatter, something that always eased any tension and nerves before such a large event. To properly thank, and admire her work while she was there, as you were dressed in a gown of striking red with cloth and jeweled leaves so carefully carved into your bodice and skirts in the most flattering of ways; with a beautiful crown-like headpiece to match.

Your only solace was that she was in the room next to you, so close yet so far, and that she herself was begrudgingly going through the same motions. Unable to have you lace her up in a manner that she preferred, or to carefully place your crown upon her brow.

You didn’t even have a moment once you both emerged from your chambers to do so, wishing you could also fawn over the light orange and golden gown she so delicately wore, before being swept into the festivities. Being whisked from person to person to engage in idle chatting, courtesies and false decorum of court, and being swept away every now and then to partake in a dance with some wealthy lord or prince of a small kingdom.

Normally at events, and parties, such as these you were glued to your friend’s hip. Giggling and chatting throughout the night as you partook in the copious amounts of drink oft provided as you watched from afar the tribulations of many an unwitting person as they stumbled about trying to navigate all of it properly. Only engaging with other nobility when approached, or when members of your party would take either of your arms in theirs and force you to mingle.

Now you could only watch her from afar as she slowly made her way through the throughs of people wishing for a word, as many a lord took your hand to wish for a dance. You could feel your face start to ache, your rosy cheeks sore from all the polite smiles you forced yourself to give out of courtesy as you obliged all their requests; trying your hardest to stay engaged with their meager and boring chatter.

Your eyes could not help but wander after a while, towards where your friend was. Glancing every now and then to see which partner had currently held her verbally captive as you twirled about. Eyes becoming almost glued to her when you caught her conversing with the dragon lord, and advisor to the Deria’s crown Prince Bakugou, Kirishima; the man that she had been teasing you about throughout the journey to this kingdom.

What they were talking about you could not know, the prattle of everyone else around you far too loud to be able to hear, but your curiosity was undoubtedly peaked - especially at the small glances they passed your way, and your friend’s impish smiles.

“What has your attention, pretty birdy, hmm?”

“S-sorry,” Your apology was almost breathless as your trance was broken away from the scene before you, shaking your head gently to rid yourself of the slight stupor you were in “I suppose it is rather rude of me to not pay attention to you, Keigo.”

“Well yes, but I suppose comfort is playing a factor,” Keigo smiled, twirling you away from the crowd so you could once again focus on him “You are forgiven, dear princess.”

“I would hope so.” You gave an airy chuckle, eyes still unable to meet his gaze; not due to embarrassment, but rather being unable to handle the soft look you knew his eyes were casting you.

It was the same gaze that caused you to agree to the dance to begin with. His knowledge of you never being able to refuse him when he looked at you like that, especially for something so minute, was used against you. It always was, if you were honest, even when you both were young children. That despite your aching, sore, feet and your desire to know what your friend could possibly be chatting about with Lord Kirishima, you relented to those soft eyes.

You were just happy that there was an air of comfortability with him, an obvious one due to the familiar bond you shared, so you would not have to put on false airs. That decorum was now not a requirement and you could just simply relax for but a moment.

“Though I do wonder,” His voice rumbled, breaking over the almost silent shuffle of your feet “if some chatting nobles in a crowd are more important than a dance with me?”

“In this moment,” You lifted your head, eyes meeting his gaze for the first time since the dance began “it is.”

“Oh, pray tell?”

“The princess of Cashmerask, my friend as you know, is in that crowd and I wish to know what she is up to.”

“And you believe that seeing her, is more important than a dance with me? Your head knight whom you haven’t seen in almost a fortnight?”

“Keigo,” Your voice turned almost icy, a warning to him not to push further with his thoughts “I do not think I need to tell you why I believe it is. Nor, do I think you want me to.”

“No, your highness,” His tone matched yours as his eyes narrowed down onto you, “I think I do.”

“To put it simply, bonds formed by choice are more important than the ones formed by duty. My want, and thoughts, to see her take my interest away and thereby hold more importance to me than a simple dance with you. Bar none.”

You knew what you said was almost cruel, but you found your tongue acting in defense of your friend and overall desires before your mind could have a chance to stop it. And you were then not surprised when he abruptly halted your dance - not bothering to care that it had now caused a slight chain of reaction as other pairs bumped into you.

Keigo gave you a knowing look, one of anger mixed with almost a sense of hurt, before stomping off; pushing his way through the pairs of people now in his path due to his actions. You made a motion to go after, your feet taking a step towards the open and crooked line he had made before they faltered; a sound wafted over you and caused you to halt.

It was your name. It was not spoken loudly but rang across the room like a ringing bell. When your eyes peered over to where in the room it came, you saw your closest friend; beckoning you towards her with a gentle motion of her hand.

At that moment you were hesitant, in all ways. Your mind could not stop its racing for even a moment to give you a sense of clarity, a direction of which action to take. On whether or not you go and comfort your oldest friend, a man who has spent his whole life looking after you and your happiness, as you always had whenever you scabbled. Or to simply enjoy your night, to answer the delicate call of your other friend.

It only took a breath, when the murmurs of the people around you started to fill your ears, bringing you back into the reality of the moment that you made your decision.

And you decided to choose enjoyment.

You swiftly moved from where you stood, away from the throngs of people whispering about you, towards where your name had been called; towards the reached-out hand of your friend. The gentle squeeze she gave once your hand was in hers, along with the soft smile, was more than enough reassurance to know you made the right choice.

Especially when that soft smile turned into one of playful mischievousness as she tucked your arm under hers and dragged you away towards the party of people she was currently engaged in conversation with.

The party in question, that stood waiting for your arrival and your friends’ return, was but only a few people. Of course, other lords and ladies smiled kindly when your feet finally stilled, but only two brightened as if awaiting you; proving they were the few that kept your friend company as you danced.

It was Neito Monoma, a prince of a smaller kingdom here in the Eastern land, idly chatting with the red-headed man who had been plaguing your thoughts these past few weeks. You had never met Prince Monoma, at least not recently enough to be in your memory, but you figured out all you needed to know about who he was when the pair of you walked up to him.

He stood with hands behind his back, shoulders squared and upright, in a manner similar to the lord he was chatting with. But unlike Kirishima who held a quiet grace in how he stood, held an aura of approachability, Monoma seemed to stand this way not out of formality but rather in a way of dominance bordering on pompusiouness. In an exaggeration of his view of being more important that the people around him. The smug smile he cast your way was more than enough proof to showcase what you thought.

You cast your friend a glance, eyes squinting slightly to emote your pity towards her for having to converse with the likes of Monoma for more than a single moment. She responded, eyebrows raising slightly to show her agreement, a gesture small enough that it went unnoticed before her usual polite smile came back into view as she greeted the small party.

“Ah, there you are!” Monoma greeted, bowing his body in greeting as he did so “I was wondering when you would come back. You took so long, I thought you might have run off!”

His laugh made you want to scowl, the forgery of genuineness within it almost too much for you to handle; but, as the lady you were, your smile never faltered as you bent your knees is a small curtsy towards the Prince.

“I do apologize for that, your highness, my sore feet were the cause of us taking our time to get back to you. I’m sure you can understand?”

“Well, as a matter of fact - !”

“Oh, I am sure you do, Prince Monoma. Plenty of women fawn at your feet for a chance at a waltz.” Your friend interjected, cutting off any chance the snobbish prince had of boasting further about himself - though new to you it was clear she had more than enough of it. “But, dancing is not why we are here, now is it?”

“No, it is not,” Monoma smiled, the flattery given to him a proper diversion from the rudeness of being interrupted “rather an invitation for a walk and chat within the palace gardens.”

“The gardens?” You uttered, your interest piqued over the chance to get away from the event.

“Yes, you see, I bumped into Lord Kirishima while on my way to try and find some air, you know how heavy rooms cause my head to ache. ” Your friend began, pulling you closer to her “And while we were figuring a solution, Prince Monoma here joined in and brought up the palace gardens; boating about how they were the most beautiful of all the 5 kingdoms. He so kindly offered to show me them, but of course, I could not just do so without you. After all, we spend many an afternoon enjoying the flora!”

She squeezed your arm, a giddy smile appearing across her lips as she recalled that sweet and shared pastime of yours out loud, before continuing on. “So, I asked if you could join us. If, of course, your feet would allow you the ability to do so.”

“Sore they are, but they never enough to stop me from such a lovely invitation.” You smiled, squeezing your friend’s arm in kind “How thoughtful of you to think of me.”

“Well, truly, Lord Kirishima is to thank for his aide in the matter.” Your friend directed your thanks towards him with a hand flourish “He so kindly was willing to offer his arm to you while I was conflicted about the matter. For I would have loved for you to take my arm, but Prince Monoma had already taken it. And as we all know, it is rather improper for a lady to go unescorted.”

“Oh, is that so?” You uttered, eyes scanning across his form before returning to look at your friend; her giddy smile turned impish once again as she gave you a sly wink.

“Uh, yes, your highness” Kirishima stuttered out, stepping forward to extend his arm for you to take, an expectant and kind smile on his face. “If you will allow me.”

“Of course.” You nodded, hand finding the crook in his elbow to latch on to.

You watched as your friend did the same, casting one last glance towards you as she took the arm of her companion for the evening stroll; it was clear to you by the look in her eyes, and in the invitation as a whole, that she was willing to sacrifice her night in the company of a man that she despises just so you could have a moment alone with the man who you had grown quite fond of. It warmed your heart. With a deep breath, you nodded your head, gesturing to Monoma, and thereby Kirishima, to lead the way out of the grand hall and into the gardens.

The gardens themselves were beautiful, the perfectly manicured hedges and flowerbeds proof of the care that was put in to maintain them; however, they were not as grand or spectacular as the haughty prince had promised. That gardens within your own kingdom would put to shame what you saw here.

The only consolation you found were the glimpses you were able to catch of the ocean that slumbered nearby the castle. How their crashing waves soothed your soul as you took in breath after breath of the salty sea breeze - an old and constant comfort of yours that always brought your mind and heart ease as you partook in it.

“Do you like the water?” Kirishima asked, watching as you slowly opened your eyes to blink up at him.

You hadn’t even realized you closed them, averting your gaze away from him in slight embarrassment as you nodded your head; feeling heat rush to your face, flushing your cheeks.

“What about it do you like?” He prodded gently, wanting to hear your sweet and soft voice speak to him.

“It reminds me of my childhood.” You muttered, fingers twiddling nervously as they rested against his arm; eyes looking anywhere but him.

“How so? If you do not mind answering.”

“Well it, um - ” You gently cleared your throat, the short amount of time of disuse had a stronger effect on you than you realized. “You see, though I was named because my parents thought I was a blessing from God, I had more than my fair share of struggles. A sickly child I was, bedridden most days. My family did all they could to try and help heal whatever ailment I came under.

My father came up with a possible solution; a castle estate here in the Eastern land. It is nearby actually, a short boat ride from this harbor. I spent a lot of my childhood here, adolescents too, and it helped, oh gods did it help. When I was here I felt like I could breathe again, could move again, and enjoy life again. I suppose my reaction to the water’s breeze was more involuntary than anything; like greeting an old friend.”

You sighed, enjoying the salty breeze within your lungs once more before shyly looking up at your taller companion; his usual gentle gaze and smile made a similar one grace your lips.

“Though I suppose it sounds a little silly” You mumbled, your bashfulness getting the better of you as realized all that you said.

“Not silly at all,” Kirishima reassured, a hand coming down to rest atop of yours; engulfing it easily and passing along its warmth “I rather like when you ramble on about all your adventures. I think them, and you, are rather fascinating.”

“Y-you do?” You blinked up at him, making his smile widen.

“Yes, I do. If you would please indulge me further, I would love to hear more about your previous times here.”

“W-well, I would be happy to.”

Focusing your gaze ahead you took a shaky breath before beginning again, telling stories about your first few times at the castle by the sea; how you had to adjust to the new climate, and of course avoid the water at all cost - you never did learn to swim even though you spent so much time by the shore. You recalled stories of boat rides to see the isles, of fishermen and their grand tales of how they survived the harshness of the sea, and of visitors that would come to see you and join in on your fun.

“The Princess of Cashmerask actually spent nearly a year with me here.”

“Really!?” Kirishima exclaimed, watching you closely as he hung onto every word you uttered, with a smile that widened with every story that passed your lips “For what reason?”

“Her head of course. She would be able to tell you much better what her condition is, for at times I am unclear about it. However what I do know is that she had it her whole life, and it plagued her worse than ever before, or since, when we were fifteen years old. My father offered her father a retreat here to see if it would help.

We spent that year together, slowly getting better. It was actually how we became so close, for we only had each other for company. We were practically forced to become friends. Of course, we did have our royal advisors - Lord Tamaki and Tomura - visit us on occasion. But that was it; not even our Head Knights could come, they were too focused on training. And of course, once Keigo focuses on something it is impossible for him to stray from it.”

“Ah yes, Lord Keigo…” Kirishima muttered, causing your ramble to halt as you look back up at him.

“Yes, what about him?”

“Well, I… noticed your little altercation earlier, while you were dancing.” Kirishima came to rest the casual pace he had begun, fully looking at you with earnest eyes “And I could not help but think it had something to do with me. Perhaps my conversation with your friend had caused a small rift between you two. Whatever it may be, I wish to sincerely apologize for it.”

“Nothing to apologize for, Lord Kirishima -”

“Please, while we are alone, call me Ejirou.” He whispered out, eyes closing when he heard you test his name on your tongue.

“Again, nothing to apologize for. Lord Keigo is a passionate man, always quick to jump from feeling to feeling; with jealousy being the worst contender for him. I certainly will not blame you, nor my closest friend, over something so trivial as that.”

You watched him sigh his relief, all the tension draining from his rigid shoulders and back, as he smiled down at you. Starting back up the peaceful jaunt you were having in the gardens, taking care to walk exceptionally slower over a stone bridge; allowing you the time to enjoy the beautiful pond it sat above.

After a pace or two within the newfound silence, you could no longer quell the curiosity in your heart; allowing yourself to take advantage of the conversational door the man beside you had opened.

“May I ask what you two were speaking of?” You questioned, eyes still staring down at the crystalline waters.

“Speaking? Who?” Kirishima shook his head, confusion of your question clearly catching him off guard.

“The Princess and you,” you clarified “ I am merely asking out of curiosity. Though I could not hear over all those people, I was still able to see. And I could tell you were speaking about me simply by the way you both constantly gazed in my direction. So I ask, what was it?”

You watched him pause, the words that he wanted to say stuck on his tongue, as he tried to formulate a proper response. You couldn’t help but smile coyly to yourself as you saw the tips of his ears turn as bright of crimson as his hair; you finally got him into a position where he was bashful for once as you waited patiently.

“I cannot lie to you,” He finally muttered out, “especially not after you have been so honest with me.”

He gently removed your arm from his; unable to quell the nervousness he felt as he started to play with the nailbeds on his hands. It was clear to you he was worried that what he may utter next would disgust you, would possibly make you cross with him. And being the gentleman he always was, he allowed you to be able to get away from him if you so chose.

You could not lie; it only made the curiosity within you burn even brighter; to have your heart beat faster and faster and you hung so tightly to the still air - awaiting for his next utterance of words.

“Her highness, your friend, we bumped into each other and started a conversation as one would naturally do. It was polite enough at first, but as it progressed more and more drink got involved… and well, it loosened our tongues.” He made a gesture with his hands, a shrug to accompany it, subconsciously trying to prove to you that it was a harmless course of action.

Which you knew, you could not be able to count the number of times you were in a similar situation; that the conversations with your friend would turn more risque as the night progressed, as your throats were continuously quenched with whatever ale was nearby.

“It turned scandalous, didn’t it?” You replied, your tone as mirthful as your smile as you gaze up at him.

“Y-yes, yes it did.” He gave a breathless chuckle and you could see some of the tension release from his shoulders as he held your gaze for a moment, before bashful looking away again.

“So, tell me! What was it?” You giggled, your body moving slightly to get back into his line of sight - a tactic to try and get him to continue, which worked.

“Dragons are known to hoard.” Kirishima stated a silent laugh raised his chest as he watched you crook a brow “That was what the topic turned into.”

“And….?”

“Well it started simple enough, she inquired about what kind of dragon hoards what. And truly there is no set dragon to a set hoard; it is all based on an individual’s wants and desires. She then asked of mine, what I would hoard.”

“And what did you say?” Your tone had gone down to a whisper, almost mimicking his as you gazed expectantly at him.

“I jokingly replied that I wished to hoard beautiful women, to try and make her laugh. But she ended up calling my bluff, telling me that there was only one beautiful woman I wished to hoard as she gazed out at the crowd.” His eyes finally met yours again, his tone barely above a whisper, “And when I followed her gaze, it landed on you.”

Honesty was filled within his gaze, one you could not deny nor claim that he was simply making jest at your expense. Nor could you deny there was something else held within his eyes, something dark that made your stomach flip in anticipation.

It was at this point that you realized how secluded you currently were. How alone you had both found yourselves deep within the palace gardens. How not a soul was nearby to hear your conversations, or to accidentally stumble upon you. How tall, and almost opposing he seemed to be, as he now loomed over you.

And it surprised you how unafraid you were.

“W-well, she does have a habit of just saying things to get a reaction out of people.” You stammered, taking a step back as his intense stare and presence made you feel timid “I-I am sure that this was -”

“It wasn’t.” Kirishima declared, closing the distance one again - effectively trapping you against a well-trimmed wall of shrubbery. “She somehow knew my desire for you, somehow could see it as plainly as day, and that is why she called my bluff.”

‘And made this ploy.’ you whispered in your own mind, your own tongue feeling like sand as it stayed heavy within your mouth; not being able to utter a word as his arms came to rest on either side of your head. Caging you, and forcing you to look at his honest and passionate gaze.

“And I cannot help but think,” His voice barely a murmur but it rang loudly in your head “that perhaps I am right in my assumptions that you feel the same.”

His head lowered, nose brushing against yours, as his eyes scanned your face for any form of discomfort; for any sign you may give to have him stop. But how could you? How could you tell him to back away, to allow you to scamper off when this was all you ever wanted?

Ever since you were a little girl you read of romances in stories and poems and all you wished for was to have a grand romance like the ones written in ink. To have a man tell you he wanted you. And now here you were with the one man who had been the catalyst of all your daydreaming since you met him, been the focus of your affections and fondness - no matter how frustrating - for months now.

How could you turn him away?

Despite the rapid beating of your heart, the nervousness that bedded itself deep within your soul and caused your breath and being to falter; the timidness within you, that has always been a part of your and claimed your demeanor, made your tongue lead and left you speechless. But despite it all, you still found yourself brave enough to look in his eyes, to ignore their intensity, unable to bring yourself to break it.

“Can I…” His whisper tickled your skin, as his lips barely brushed your own “Can I have the chance to make true of my claims? To hoard you away?”

You finally broke his gaze, for a moment, unable to help yourself to look at the lips you wanted to have pressed against yours, to have your passion known to him. Once you did, he did not hesitate to act on your silent request; his lips finally collided with yours in a kiss that set your body aflame, allowing your eyes to finally close and indulge in the fervid kiss.

His lips felt almost chapped as they continued to push against yours languidly. You could only assume the unhurried motions were an attempt to keep you against him, to not be scared off by his passion. You felt his hands delicately cup the sides of your face, gently his thumbs caressed your cheekbones in a soothing manner; sweet and calming, a far cry from how yours balled so tightly to the fabric of his collar that your knuckles were turning white.

You wanted him closer, wanted to feel all he had to offer; and though you appreciated he was being a gentleman, right now you didn’t want one. Right now, you simply wanted the beast you knew that lurked beneath the surface.

His lips pressed harder against yours, fueled by your arms that wound their way around his neck; fingers nestling within his thick crimson hair. His gentle hold of your face turned a little rough as he tilted your head up to better meet his kiss; rendering you more under his control - not that you minded in the slightest.

Your lungs were burning, begging for air that you refused to give, too enraptured by your kiss with him. Perhaps you were worried that if you were to part first it would be a sign to Kirishima that you wanted to end the ardent embrace; something furthest from the truth. You ignored the pain, focused on your fevered kisses, waiting for him to break first.

After a moment, though it felt more like an eternity, he did; gently holding your face away from his as he allowed you both to catch your breath. You could feel the warmth of his panting against your lips; you wanted to lunge forward to kiss him again but his hold made it impossible to do so.

“Please, don’t stop.” You whispered, hand tugging his hair gently to showcase your urgency “I want more, please don’t stop now Eijirou.”

“We can’t, my princess, not here.” He whispered back in kind, nose nudging gently against your own “This is no place for a woman, such as yourself, to be taken and defiled here.”

“Who says I am being defiled?” You countered, “To be defiled means I would not want this, and that is furthest from the truth. And besides, look around. No one can stumble upon us here in this labyrinth of flora, not unless we hear it first.”

You watched as his head ducked away, clearly debating between your words - your wants and needs - and propriety; an act he held most highly in his esteem. His hold on you slackened, allowing you to tip up and place a gentle kiss upon his lips.

“Please, Eijirou. I want nothing more at this moment than you. Allow me to indulge in you, and you the same.”

Your pleading words swirled in Kirishima’s mind, you could see for yourself the conflict he was battling by the way his eyes bore into yours. The way they swirled; the way the bright crimson of good within him tried to overtake the blackened lust that was overtaking it. The battle was won when his eyes turned dark and he attacked your lips once more, with a small growl of frustration.

You feel like you’re suffocating once more, but like then you could not bring yourself to care. Your hands took hold of his face, pulling him closer as you pleased, as you took his place in dominating the kiss. You could tell Kirishima did not mind, as you could feel his hands wander. Gently they caress your skin, pinching at your hips, and groping at the mounds on your chest.

You mewled at the new sensations, never before had a hand so large and warm touched you in such a way; it was euphoric and all-consuming as you tried to stay afloat in it all. His tongue entered your mouth when you mewled once more. The dominant caressing he did against your tongue added to the overwhelming euphoria you are experiencing.

You tugged at his hair, unable to stop yourself from ending this kiss, and cried out when he groped your chest harder; pinching at your now perked buds. Your departure from the kiss did not deter Kirishima, nor stop him from continuing his lust-filled actions, as he simply started trailing his lips and kisses down your neck and chest. Tugging the front of your bodice down to expose you to the cool night’s air.

“By the gods, you are so beautiful.” He pants out between his tugging on your dress and the soft kisses he litters along your collar bone “No fairer a maiden…”

Before you could counter, to muster the words that would tell him otherwise or shield away his view, he began his attack on your chest. The nipping of his sharp teeth against your delicate, sensitive skin, caused you to cry out almost painfully at the new sensations but the way you rubbed your thighs together and clung to his hair was proof you enjoyed his deliciously rough treatment.

You begged for more, loudly through the open air, trying desperately to cling to him; to feel him closer to you, not wanting him to disappear and end this moment of sin. And Kirishima was more than willing to oblige your sinful request, for he could not lie and say images of you like this did not plague his dreams. And he would dare not deny himself the one chance he may have to have all of you like this; to consume you in the beastly manner he dreamed.

He hastily pulled at your skirts, pulling them up as he lowered himself to the ground; crouching as he kissed at the newly exposed skin of your stomach, too focused on your soft skin to care about how the dirt was ruining the knees of his trousers.

“Be a good girl for me,” He whispered against your hip, hands holding the expensive fabric against your waist “And keep your skirts here, they will be in the way.”

You nod your head, hands coming down to replace his to hold your skirts in place; your breathing faltered when you look down at him, seeing just how close he was to your more private and sensitive area. Your voice hitched, no words being able to form as he gently took hold of your leg, hand gently caressing your thigh, as he placed it on his shoulder. The other leg followed, and the lack of balance startled a squeak out of you as you leaned back against the flora behind you.

“P-put one down!” You asked, tone still wavering with the uncertainty of your predicament “I’m going to fall!”

“You will not fall, I wouldn’t let that happen.” You felt his chuckle against your inner thigh, the grazing of his lips made you feel dizzy, “As you know, dragon borns are strong, able to lift the heaviest of trees with ease. And you….”

You felt his lips place small kisses up your inner thigh; slowly and deliberately. Your muscles jumped, involuntarily, as he made his way up, further and further, until he reached your panties. There he placed a lingering kiss in the center, where a small patch of wetness formed, before looking up at you “Are the furthest thing from being heavy.”

Kirishima gave you no chance to reply, or even think of a retort before he hooked your panties to the side and gave a similar lingering kiss to your bare cunt before he trailed his tongue up the entirety of your folds; tongue flicking delicately before departing. The deep moan he gave made blood rush to your face and ears, legs instinctively knowing to wrap around his shoulders to keep him securely there.

He repeats the motion, over and over, not relenting or allowing you another chance of reprieve once he got a taste of you. His tongue licked its way up and down, sometimes slowly to allow you to feel every groove that was on the muscle, to tease you and make you whimper for more. Other times quickly, being so enraptured by your taste that he could not stop himself from eagerly lapping at the juices that wept out of you; moaning in delight.

It was that moaning, the vibrations it sent right through to your soul, as you tried your best to hold on; to the skirts around your waist and to the mortal plane as you slowly ascended towards a heavenly release. Crying out his name, and begging him to keep going.

His words were sinful too, as they were whispered against your leaking cunt. Telling you things that would make you whine, as you would look away.

“Ah, ah, keep your eyes on me. Or else I’ll stop.” He would coo, tongue flicking at your clit swiftly, it always took you great effort to follow his instruction but the reward was always so sweet “There’s a good girl, so so good for me. You want me to keep eating this pretty pussy, don’t you?”

He wouldn’t continue until you said yes, a task made difficult by how brainless you felt, how overcome by desire and need he made you feel. But once you did, once you whimpered out a pitiful ‘yes’, he would reward you by sucking gently at your bundle of nerves. You could feel the pierce of his nails in your hips as he held you exactly how you wanted, your grip tightening whenever you tried to squirm away from his assault.

You would be embarrassed, especially at the position you were in with your skirts falling haphazardly around you and the man crouching on the ground between your legs; the slurping sounds accompanied by both your moans would give a passerby no doubt of what salacious acts were unfolding. But you couldn’t even bring yourself into the realm of care or reason, of decorum on propriety, not with the magic he was inflicting upon you.

He was ravenous, that was the only way you could describe it. Ravenous to eat you whole and hear you cry out his name. And you felt yourself being hurdled towards euphoria you had never known before, one that was powerful and made you shudder in fear and delight of what may come.

Your powerful release comes far sooner than you thought.

Kirishima forced his tongue into your twitching hole, slowly pumping into you and groaning a the tightness he felt; unable to help himself from pulling you closer, compromising the precarious potion you were in when he felt you clamp down on him. He knew you were close, that you were touching the edges of heaven, and he wanted you to experience it.

“Come on, that’s it, princess, let go. Let go for me, want to see you when you cum, come on” His words were muffled, but you could clearly hear him, as his thumb hastily circled your clit.

It was what sent you over the edge, allowing your back to arch and your eyes to shut as you tried to withstand the waves of pleasure that seared through you. Your mind and body seemed to shatter as your vision behind your eyes blurred white as you tensed in his hold.

“Yeah, that’s it. Use my face, good girl.” Kirishima groaned, though you could barely hear him as you rode the waves of your high, lapping at your release like a man starved; he only stopped when he heard your whines and felt your hips try to move away from him; too overstimulated and wanting a moment of reprieve.

He allowed you just that; gently placing your panties back and slowly uncrossing your legs from around his back, to gingerly place them on the ground below you. Being observant of how your legs wobbled, keeping hold of you until they stood more strongly on their own; allowing him to slowly stand once more and granting your skirts the freedom to descend gracefully around your frame once more.

He took the red pocket square that sat so neatly in his jacket to clean his now soiled face, taking his own moment to catch his breath and come back to reality, before placing it in his coat pocket. He delicately took your arms, with a smile, and looped them back around his own; tucking you into his side like before.

“Think we’ve been gone long enough, we should get back before people get suspicious.” He whispered, slowly guiding you back the way you came, as you hum contently.

“Yes, I think my friend wants to rid herself of Prince Monoma by now.” You giggle, still a little breathless from your exhausting little tryst “Perhaps we’ll have another moment like this soon.”

“Soon? Do you really think that we are going back to the party? That what we did was all for tonight?” Kirishima asked, his tone devious as he smiled down at you; his sharp teeth giving the illusion of danger.

“I-I am not sure…?” You mumbled out, shrinking a little at his piercing and dark gaze; you could not help but feel like prey stuck in a trap. “We’re not?”

“No, my pretty bird, you asked me to ravage you; pleaded with me to do so. And I intended to make true of my word.”

may our fates cross again

#just gonna start reblogging my work here as well #to try and get a bit more visibility and traction #but i may have to face the facts #that it was a bad idea to post this during kinktober 😢#but anyhow #kirishima x reader #kirishima smut #kirishima dragon au #mha smut

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patchworkpuzzle · 2 years

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*waves* hi yes hello everyone, if you haven't done so already you should follow @potionpeddlerpatchy

Thats the blog I have moved to and will be posting on from now on.

#and in a week or so ill be archiving this one #so better move over if you still wanna support my work #and chat with me #or if you dont wanna that's cool too!#just giving you the chance!#🧩.important

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patchworkpuzzle · 2 years

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Pssst, have moved to @potionpeddlerpatchy

#slowly coming back #so if you want to interact with me #and keep up with my fics or silly posts #its now over there #🧩.important

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patchworkpuzzle · 2 years

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Goodbye, everyone.

Maybe this goodbye will only be temporary, that I will come back after a little while and resume what I created here. Or perhaps this is it. It’s hard to say.

I will explain myself further down the cut, so if you want to listen and read it go right ahead. If not, just know that I had a lot of fun over the past year and a half; but now it’s not so fun anymore. I feel used up, unimportant, and inadequate by the fandom and the community I have cultivated over my time here.

I just want to feel like I did a year ago. Happily writing and being part of so many collabs and some many other things. Being appreciated and valued and having people actually show/tell me how much they liked something I did or just to chat. To be included.

But that’s not happening anymore and I can’t keep going.

I will miss you all, can’t say I won’t. But I think I need this, I think I need to restart everything and try again when I feel the motivation again.

Hopefully, I’ll see you all again! 💛💛💛

Keep reading

#🧩.important #🧩.for the night crowd

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patchworkpuzzle · 2 years

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The Hotel Room. (5.4k)

✽ — pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader ✽ — warnings: female reader, smut, mdni, aged up 18+ characters, rivals to ???, degrading kink, dom/sub, brat taming?, spanking, light face slapping, unprotected sex, rough sex, hate fucking sorta, creampie, squirting, some aftercare (below the cut) ✽ — author note: a thank you for getting my previous smut post to 200+ notes :)

Being a hero trying to move up the ranks meant you had to work with other heroes, even the ones you didn't like. It was meant to show you were willing to cooperate with anyone, says your PR team, it sounds like bullshit to you but you went along with it anyway. Partnerships and team-ups were easy enough, they were over and done within a few days and you never had to interact with the hero again until a time called for it.

An opportunity had presented itself to you in the form of an email from your assistant, you never knew someone could somehow sound scared over an email but here you were. She seemed to have been talking about a future mission, a team-up mission with one of the top pros. Normally you'd jump at this chance, being seen with one of the top three meant you'd jump up the rankings too and in turn get more jobs, and more missions, you could be more of a hero.

What a shame that the person who needed a team-up was none other than Dynamight, aka Bakugou Katsuki. The biggest pain in your ass.

Your assistant had said this was meant to be a simple mission, an easy team-up. You’d even be home by the end of the weekend if all went well, and apparently, that was one of Dynamight’s terms—to be done with this so he didn’t have to be around you any longer than needed.

It’s not like you were sworn enemies with the guy, he was just a real jackass to deal with. He’d always try to be the leader of an incident, never listening to suggestions and he was so damn rude with the way he snapped at people. And he got especially rude when you argued back with him one time after a villain takedown, he got careless near the end and nearly blasted you away with an AP shot, so of course, you chewed him out. So since that moment, it became an unofficial rivalry between the both of you.

But back to the issue at hand. This mission was meant to be over already, it was past the weekend and there had been no developments other than a possible lead further north. You glared out of the car window at the darkened countryside you were driving through, a fist curled under your chin as you pouted. You wanted to go home, to try again another time but of course, Lord Dynamight said that’d be stupid, making the decision—without your input—to go ahead and find the nearest hotel or something like that so the two of you could rest up and be prepared for tomorrow.

You didn’t bother glancing at the driver of the car, you didn’t need to know he was scowling, he didn’t like this idea any more than you did but it made sense, you supposed. You could go home and the villain could be gone with the wind by the time you returned. So you just settled into the car seat, huffing at your internal dialogue of the whole situation.

"The fuck you sighin' for?" his voice was like nails on a chalkboard in the silence of the car, you would've much preferred if he kept his mouth shut.

"None of your damn business." you were quick to snap back, keeping your eyes on the thicket of trees that were going by. Bakugou just grumbled to himself in response, upper lip curling in vexation at the tone you always took with him. He despised it. His hands ringed against the leather of the steering wheel, he didn't have to look over at you to know you were struggling to fight the smug smirk off your face that you somehow got under his skin.

Thankfully there was a sign of an upcoming ryokan, it wouldn't be as extravagant as the ones back in the big cities that were set up for the tourists but it was out in the countryside which probably meant it had a real authentic feel to it, it would be good enough for the night anyway. You just hoped, no prayed, that they'd give you both separate rooms.

With a smooth right turn, the tarmac of the road turned to rough gravel that crunched far too loudly in the dead of the night. You couldn't see much past the huge red cedar trees that loomed over the gravel road like gigantic shadows until you caught a glimpse of a warm yellow light just peeking through. Both you and Bakugou visibly perked up at the sight of the ryokan now coming into view, it was clearly a very old establishment and the light was coming from fancy lanterns that were lining the walls.

The building itself was grand, probably a house that had been passed down in the generations and now instead of housing a large important family it was being used for travellers of the night. You could just spy tall bamboo trees over the thick walls that were wrapped around the entirety of the building, and your mind instantly leapt at the possible idea of using the onsen that was most definitely natural.

And like the giant wet blanket he was, Bakugou somehow managed to read the expression on your face. "We're not staying long, you're not using the Onsen." and now you finally met his eyes, he was glaring at you out of the corner of his eye. You were full-on scowling now, matching his own famous scowl.

"Why the fuck not? You don't get to tell me what I can and can't do!" you hissed back, not shouting too loud in such an enclosed space but you were very much at your limit with this guy commanding you around. All you wanted to do was bathe!

His eyebrow arched at your sentence, a challenging look in his eye. "If I'm rememberin' correctly, I'm the lead of this fucking mission," he looked at you now fully, you didn't even realise he was parking the car and stopping until now. "which means I do in fact tell you what you can and cannot do. And I said no."

You raised your hands in protest, dropping them back to your lap with a huff of annoyance. "You're the fuckin' worst, you know that?" you snarled, harshly pushing the door open and slamming it closed behind you. You could faintly hear the chuckle coming from the car as he too climbed out, not sparing you a glance as he made his way towards the entrance.

By the time you were walking through the entrance, and changing your shoes at the genkan, you could see Bakugou was already being passed a key for the room. That fucker, he didn't even wait for you. You kept your scowl, preparing to march past him and get your own room and hoping you would be far away from the explosive blond. And just as you were passing by him, nearly close enough to shoulder check him, he grabbed your elbow. You were jerked back rather aggressively, head-turning up sharply to the owner of the hand that dared to grab you.

"Let me go you dick, I still need to get my k—", the words stopped in your mouth, eyes zoning in on the key he was dangling in your face. No fucking way, you were not sharing a room with this fucking idiot. You'd rather sleep in the car.

"Don't give me that look, I tried for separate rooms. Lady said this was the only room left at such short notice, we're lucky she even let us stay." he frowned down at you, his hand slipping away from your elbow when he saw the resignation pass through your features.

For fuck sake, could today get any worse?

Bakugou was of course the first one to get to the room, not stopping to make sure you were behind him as he stepped inside and left the sliding door open for you. He went ahead dropping off his duffel bag near the closet that you assumed held the hopefully two futon mattresses. Deciding to explore the rest of what looked like it might be a family room or a couple room, it was large enough to house someone for a week or so given the size.

You walked past where Bakugou was, going straight for what you just prayed was a bathroom. Being stuck in a car for a good two hours or so after a long stakeout definitely didn't leave you smelling the greatest, all you wanted was a long shower and then the chance to sleep off your anger at the whole ordeal.

The door you came up to was a beautiful sliding one, it had intricate patterns painted onto it. Once open it revealed something you were hoping they wouldn't have, you knew this place was traditional but could they at least have an actual shower? you thought as you glared down at the small hot springs bath. Then again, this could also be a win in your books. Bakugou forbids you from going to the big main onsen, but can he stop you from getting into the private one?

You smirked to yourself, shuffling into the room and closing the door behind you. You made haste around the outside of the bath, digging out one of the bags they usually fill with soaps and a towel then you stripped completely off, kicking off the grimy feeling clothes.

Dipping your toes in first, the heat instantly washed over your body and you wasted absolutely no time getting in completely and submerging yourself entirely. Instant relief hit your body, muscles relaxing into the smooth stone of the bath wall, unable to stop the moan that left your lips.

Your mind drifted to the mission so far, everything that had gone down had been a bust. First, you were meant to just help Bakugou in infiltrating a suspected illegal quirk-enhancing drug ring and that was a waste of time, the lead was dead in the water the second Bakugou had burst down the door with you behind him. It was completely empty like someone had packed up everything and moved. Someone had tipped them off. Now that pissed both you and Bakugou off, but there was inside information that the gang was moving to a newer location, and that led to the days of stakeouts, tailing possible suspects and it all lead to nothing.

That was until you had received the tip that they were moving their way up north, albeit slowly to try and shake you off of their trail, but that's where the new lab was. And that's what led to this moment, it was frustrating, to say the least, but once this was all over with, and people learned that you were both involved in taking a drug off the streets that were destroying young adults who just wanted to feel a boost in their strength, you knew it would do well for you and your agency.

Having your head back and steam filling your mind made you unaware of the two crimson eyes that were practically smouldering from the doorway as they flicked from the relaxed expression on your face, how you were melted beneath the cloudy water and the sweat that was shining in the hollow of your throat.

He fucking hated the fact it had to be you for this mission, not only were you a bitch when you spoke to him but fuck, if it didn't turn him on. He hated how you fogged his brain when you snapped your jaws in his direction, spitting curses and matching his energy entirely. You were a tiny spitfire and if that didn't make him want to pin you beneath him and fuck you senseless, he didn't know what would.

Sucking at his teeth, he had enough of staring at you relaxing in the onsen—he hasn't forgotten the fact you somehow still went against his orders—so he slammed open the door that was next to him, loud enough to see your eyes snap open and immediately dart to the intruder. You submerged completely up to your chin, and he wasn't sure if the redness of your face was from the steam or if he had walked in on your naked.

"Get the fuck out!" you shrieked, not missing the way he rolled his eyes and went into the closet to pull out what looked like toiletries; toothpaste, toothbrushes etc. When his back was turned to you, you took the time to dive out of the water and grab the towel you discarded, hastily wrapping it around yourself to go towards the other part of the bathroom that would house the sinks and toilet.

"Don't get your panties twisted princess, not like you have anything I want to see anyway." A big fat lie on Bakugou's behalf but where's the fun in letting you know that?

"Shut the fuck up, fucking perv." you snapped on your way past him, holding the top of the towel tight over your chest. You were about to step into the tiled room when a hot hand was clamped around your upper arm and whirling you around until your back was slammed against the wall. You wheezed at the air being forced out of your lungs, wincing at the pain that shot up your spine.

Bakugou was practically snarling in your face, an ugly scowl that radiated his irritation with the way you keep speaking to him. "What the fuck did you just say to me?" his voice wasn't loud like it usually was when he was pissed, it was low and dark. Somehow he sounded scarier than he did when he was all booming voice when shouting at a villain.

You met his gaze, the look in his eye should've scared you but it sent a surge of heat tumbling through your stomach and down to the apex of your thighs. He looked dangerous and so fucking hot. You wanted to speak back, tell him again to shut the fuck up but you couldn't find it within you. Your chest was rising and falling, pressing hard against his was enough to alert you to his proximity. He had you pressed entirely between the wall and his entire body, you could feel every deep breath he pulled in.

"What's wrong, cat got your tongue?" he taunted, head tilting as he lost his scowl and replaced it with a downright mean smirk, he knew what that look on your face was. You found the whole thing arousing, and doing a very terrible job at schooling your expressions.

Something finally clicked in your mind, and he watched the way your lips curled into that snarl he fucking loved to see when you were arguing back at him. "I said, shut the fuck up, fuckin' pe—", his hand was clamped around your jaw, squishing your cheeks together between his thumb and long fingers. Your head thumped back against the wall, earning a whimper that seemed to just light up the eyes of the blonde with something indescribable.

"Watch your mouth, princess, or else," he warned, seeing the way your eyes were wide with possible fear, but he saw the arousal and felt the way your thighs clenched together from how closely pressed he was against you.

The silence seemed to please him, and he started to grin and leaned in to speak to you again. "Good girl, you know your pla—" he flinched his head back at the wet feeling that hit his face. You were snarling now, growling like some feral animal in his grip. You fucking spat at him, and he couldn't believe the audacity of it for a second, completely stunned.

"You fucking idiot." was all he hissed before he launched himself forward, lips knocking hard into your own and forcing your head to slam against the wall again. He kept the iron grip on your face as he tried to consume you entirely through your mouth, there was nothing nice about it, it was all teeth and sharp movements. You felt a mixture of saliva dripping from the corner of your mouth, leaving a stringy mess behind.

His hips rutted against your own, and he groaned deep at the sound of your moans. The second your lips parted, he squeezed harder with his fingers on either side of your jaw to keep your mouth open when he backed away just enough to hover over you, sucking all the moisture up to gather it on his tongue before letting it drip down and into your own mouth. His hand slipped down to give enough pressure on your jaw to force it closed. "Swallow." he said in a tone that was pure sin.

You couldn't have denied him if you wanted to, the way he was looking at you was like he wanted to eat you whole and you think you want him to. So you swallow the spit in your mouth, earning you a deep groan of approval before his lips were back onto yours and easily prying your mouth open with his tongue.

"Bakugo—" you whined against his lips, earning a light slap on your cheek which left you speechless, in any other circumstance you might've retaliated but with the heat that suddenly pooled between your bare thighs, you couldn't stop the moan that left your lips.

"If you're gonna say my name, then call me Katsuki." his knee moved to nestle between your thighs, effortlessly spreading you open with just the thickness of his muscles. "Got it?" his words but a whisper of warm breath against your bruised lips.

The second you nodded your head he swooped down, large hands gripping the back of your thighs and hoisting you up. You yelped, grabbing a hold of his shoulders to steady yourself and trying to not look at the smirk on his face showing that he was having far too much fun in pulling those sweet sounds from you.

He re-occupied your lips, somehow managing to carry you the entire way until he was back in the main room. Bakugou lowered down onto his knees slowly, before you felt the soft material of the futon on your bare shoulders. He hovered over you like a looming beast, eyes narrowed downwards and that's when you registered the cool air against your breasts.

You made no move to cover them up, however, chest heaving when you met his gaze again. He looked wrecked, his own lips were bruised and coated with spit and he just couldn't decide on what part of your body to settle his gaze on. "Tell me you want this, tell me you want me to fuck you." he managed to say through gritted teeth like he was fighting something deep inside.

The way he spoke was complete filth, the words sounding so fucking good coming from him in that deep baritone voice. "Please." you gasp, hands grasping the sides of his soft t-shirt that he must've changed in whilst you were in the private onsen. "Please fuck me, Katsuki."

You watched as Katsuki's eyes roll back with the deep groan that you felt vibrate through your hands. "Fuck." was all he managed to say before he dove straight back in, lips smashing against yours in a clash of teeth and tongues. His hands were now travelling along your body, his blunt nails dragging down along your sides before they latched onto the fat of your thighs, and with an easy yank, your bare lower half was pressed flush against his clothed hips.

And then you felt it when he rutted his hips forward to slot right up against you, he was fucking big. He was practically hunched over you, caging you in underneath his body when he moved his head to the side and let his lips brush against the shell of your ear.

"Gonna be a good girl for me, and listen to what I fuckin' say?" he gruffed, groaning when he gave a particularly hard rut of his hips against your own at the thought of you being so pliable under his hands, and just letting him have his way with you.

Your hand snaked up along the expanse of his back and shoulders until you carded your hand through his hair and yanked. Hard. His head jerked back with the motion, hissing with pain. "And what if I don't?", perhaps you should've listened to the tiny voice in the back of your head telling you to not provoke the beast of a man, especially with the way his nostrils flared and that look of something like hate filled his eye at just how fucking disobedient you are.

You yelped when he grabbed at your body, manhandling you so you were on your hands and knees before him. "You're such a fuckin' brat, you know that?" he grunted, leaning up so his hips stayed aligned with your own. "You need'ta learn to not run your fuckin' mouth all the time." A harsh slap against your ass cheek had you lurching forward, hands curling into fists against the bedsheets.

Bakugou couldn't believe the sight before him, sure he might've had fantasies of fucking you within an inch of your life if it meant you'd stop challenging him so fucking much. But fuck, it was a different story when you were kneeling before him, whimpering with each slap to your ass and thighs he delivered. His hands grabbed against your ass, spreading you wide and he moaned, loud and deep. You were dripping.

"You fucking slut. I knew you loved this shit." his thumbs dipped down, hooking against the side of your pussy to spread you nice and open for his eyes. It was frankly embarrassing, but with the groans and the rubbing of his hard cock against the back of your thigh it was enough to make you shameless.

You squirmed a little in his grasp, "Stop fuckin' staring and fuck me already!" you tried your hardest to sound assertive, to gain back a bit of the control he was holding over you but it came out so whiny, so needy and he chuckled, all mean and low.

"So needy." he clicked his tongue, and then there was a shuffle of something behind you. You vaguely recognised the sound of his sweatpants and shirt being yanked off and tossed somewhere before you felt the weight of his cock against your ass, it was hot and heavy. You bucked your hips up instinctively, earning another swat on your ass.

The moan you let out was pornographic when he gripped himself, dragging the tip of his cock up and down your dripping slit to gather up some of the slick. "God, you're fuckin' soaked. Haven't even done anything to you yet, you really are a slut huh." he was mostly rambling to himself, memorised at the way he could see you clenching around nothing.

He was going to fucking ruin you.

"Shut the fuc—" your words broke off into a high-pitched whine when he thrust his hips forward abruptly, not even being able to seat himself all the way to the hilt with how tightly you were gripping down on him. He groaned, large hands splaying out along your ass to spread you wider so he could watch himself slowly drag his way back out before thrusting back in.

The wet squelching was downright filthy, it was embarrassing how wet he had you when all he did was get mean with you. He managed to work his way down to the base of his cock, balls pressed tight against your throbbing clit. "Oh fuck, you're so fuckin' tight." he hissed between gritted teeth, eyes locked on his cock and the ring forming at the base of his cock as you tried to milk him for all he's worth.

He didn't give you a chance to relax around his length, instantly drawing his hips back until just the tip of his cock was nestled inside of you, then he thrust forward. Hard and fast, the pace never faltered from this rhythm he had created. His hands slipped down to your waist, gripping you just above your hips so he could throw you back against his own hips just as hard as he was thrusting into you.

The wet smack, smack, smack, was loud enough to be heard from the next room over you were sure of it, but all you could think of was the huge cock that was brutally being fucked into you with no remorse. "Always knew you wanted me to fuck ya, no wonder you were such a brat," he grunted between his thrusts, the heavy breathing making it sound like his words were being growled out.

"You just wanted me to put you in your place." And he didn't miss a beat as he pulled out, grabbing a hold of one leg and flipping you over onto your back, and already buried back inside of your warm wet heat. Groaning at the feeling of you clamping down on him at the intrusion. He hoisted one leg up over his shoulder, the other being spread wide to the side so he had a good view of your beautiful pussy.

The hand holding your thigh shifted upwards, thumb pressing tight circles on your clit and your body jolted forward, a loud moan escaping your mouth. And Bakugou just laughed lowly, enjoying how easy it was to get reactions out of you. He didn't relent in his stroking against your clit and his thrusts were just getting harsher, easily breaking the tight grip your pussy had on him when you started to tense up with an impending orgasm.

"Oh shit, you're gettin' real tight." he flicked his eyes away from your pussy, and shit he thought he could cum just from the sight of you. Your head was thrown back, lips parted all bruised and spit covered, and your chest was heaving with your tits bouncing hard in time with each of his thrusts. "You gonna cum for me princess?"

You nodded your head, before yelping and flinching at the slap he delivered directly against your clit. Your eyes snapped open, meeting his glare. "Use your words or I won't let you cum." and you knew he meant it, he would make sure you didn't get off whilst he abused your pussy until he met his end.

"P-Please," you gasped, hands uncurling from the bedsheets to grab ahold of his neck. "Wan' cum, please, lemme cum 'suki." the tone you were using was whiny, so needy and you felt the effect it had on Bakugou as he twitched hard deep inside of you.

"Good fuckin' girl." his thumb pressed harder against your clit, resuming the tight circles he was drawing in time with his hard thrusts. "Cum for me."

And you did, loud and hard. Your entire body tensed up as a hot heat washed over your body from head to toe, the leg over his shoulder tensed up and your heel dug into his back causing him to fall forward and hunch over you. The orgasm was probably one of the strongest you had in a while, and it felt good, but he kept fucking rubbing. You reopened your eyes to see a mean grin on his face, eyes alight with mischief.

"One more, I know you can do it sweetheart." he knew he had a short window here to push you straight into another orgasm, so he pulled out abruptly and replaced his cock with three of his fingers. The pace he used was just as aggressive as his hips, his fingers curled up and pressed against that one spot that had you seeing white.

You screamed.

Everything went white behind your eyelids, head pressing hard against the futon beneath you. "Holy fuckin' shit." Bakugou rasped, his fingers no longer in your pussy but instead rubbing hard against you, that's when you registered the wetness coating your thighs and dripping down your ass to soak into the bed.

"Who would've guessed, you're a fuckin' squirter." He sounded far too happy, overjoyed in fact. "You're doin' that again, but on my cock this time." and just like that he was buried back deep inside of you, hoisting both of your legs up over the bend of his arm and folding you effortlessly into a mating press.

He was really pounding into you now, the wet smacking of his hips against your ass was far too loud for anyone to not know what was happening in the confines of your room. "K-Kat.. 'suki! T'much, it's t'much!" your hands pushed weakly at his shoulders, but he didn't budge an inch.

"Nah, you can fuckin' take it." was all he supplied before he angled his hips just so, your legs tensed up in his arms causing your own hips to raise effortlessly to meet his thrusts. It was going to happen again, and there was nothing you could do to stop it. Your eyes were locked with his own, his eyebrows were furrowed and his mouth slightly agape as he worked extra hard to make sure you squirted all over his cock.

"Cum for me." and like the obedient slut you were, you came. He groaned loud at the wetness splashing against his abs, dripping down along his thighs and making the mess even worse. "Fuckin' filthy bitch." he snarled, and his thrusts somehow got rougher, effortlessly pinning you in place as he worked towards his end.

Bakugou leaned down, your knees pressed into the bed next to your head and his lips found yours. The kisses weren't long, but they were just as messy and so fucking hot. He broke apart the kiss to moan, an actual moan that had your core tightening up abruptly, and that was enough to throw him over the edge. He came with a deep groan of your name, his hips never once stopping as he fucked his cum deep inside of you.

Slowly with stuttering thrusts, he began to pull out, making sure his cum was all inside. And when he pulled out with a lewd squelching pop, he instantly moved his gaze down to your still clenching hole that was starting to push out his cum in thick white globs down along your pussy and between your ass cheeks. It was fucking filthy, and he was staring like it was a work of art.

You whined, trying to close your legs to relieve the ache and Bakugou must've switched out of the mindset of ruining you because he got up abruptly, and you watched the muscles in his back flex as he made his way towards the bag of toiletries he had dropped in his haste to grab you at the start of this all.

He returned not long after, kneeling back down so he could swipe something damp and warm between your legs making you jolt. He laughed, "Hold still, 'm just cleanin' up the mess." and you relaxed slowly, letting him swipe along your thighs and along your still throbbing sex to make sure he cleaned up everything he could. Then he was scooting you across from the ruined bed onto the clean one, and it vaguely registered in your mind that he had set up two beds with the intention of not sharing.

You remained laying on the bed, sweat now cooling on your slightly heaving chest. You felt gross, truly, but the idea of having to move your legs and get back into the bath sounded like far too much work. A heavy weight shifted next to you, pulling the blankets back until you were buried beneath the soft material and a warm hard body was wrapped around you.

Bakugou breathed in deep against the back of your head, eyes fluttering closed as the post-sex hormones settled deep in his bones, he doesn't think he's ever felt so relaxed after fucking someone. Perhaps it's because he knows he's got you right where he wants you now.

You shifted a little in the bed, the ache between your thighs making you hiss a little. A rumble was felt on your back before you heard the laughter, "Stop moving, get to fuckin' sleep." and he grinned to himself at the fact you didn't fight back, just curling more into the blanket and pressing your body further back into his plush chest.

Yeah, he's got you right where he wants you and he knows he'll be buried inside of you again sooner rather than later.

this was filthy, and im not sorry.

↳ [masterlist]

reblogs & likes appreciated!

#I AM #not okay #nope nope nooooope #like i dont like bakugou THAT much #but it really is making me like him that much #i need to take a walk #🧩.fic reblog

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patchworkpuzzle · 2 years

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Synopsis: Inspiration hits quick on a lazy Saturday but you'll pay the price for the risky photo you send Bakugou while he's away for work.

Warnings: toys, phone sex/FaceTime sex.

Ageless & blank blogs DNI | MNDI

A facetime rings out in the middle of you folding laundry on the couch.

Bakubaby 💣 is calling you.

With glee you dive for your phone, rushing to pick up as you haven't heard from the pro in a couple of days due to his mission. You slide to answer and before you can do anything a rough moan comes out of the speakers.

"Don't say anything. Just do as I say and moan my name real loud, like a good kitten okay?" He growls and you can see his face aglow with the light of his screen. Brows furrowed and faintly in the background a rhythmic pace is set.

"Sending me those damn pictures and acting all surprised when I'm fuckin my fist." He reminds you of the lewd pictures you sent him after seeing a video of how to pose. You set up your phone at lightning speed yesterday with the light of the golden hour giving you an ethereal glow. Hands resting on the side of the couch, ass poking out in the shot with his favorite thong and tits pushed together with your arms throw the low, low cut bra. It was playful, sexy, bratty even in the way you smiled at him like you knew exactly what you were doing to him. Followed up immediately with a photo of you in bedroom. 3/4 to the camera, giving a good angle of your ass, of your wide hips, poking out your breasts by keeping your hands clasped behind your back. Looking into the camera with a totally different look. The kind that you only gave him. A touch submission mixed with mischief, that he'd have to work for his reward and work he would. His eyes traveled back to your breasts and could see your nipples through the lace but it wasn't enough for him. He wanted more, needed more.

Needed to feel you sinking into his cock while your eyes flutter.

So he called you immediately.

"Set yourself up nice and pretty in the bedroom for me. Grab your pretty pink dildo I got you." His voice is rasped even with the lazy pumps he's giving himself, so much pre cum has wept out of his angry cockhead coating him nicely. But nothing would ever compare to the feel of your hot cunt soaking his balls with each thrust.

Surprisingly you do as you ask without so much as a word. Setting it up where he could get a good view of you while you kneeled on the bed for now.

"Take off your shirt, play with those pretty fuckin tits." He barks and you do. Pulling the nipples taunt when he asks you. You sigh and groan and he makes you so that whole he moans loudly. It's enough to make your pussy drool for him, his dominance, his demands has you melting a lot easier than they should. Maybe it because you haven't been able to see him as often or maybe it was because you were desperate to be given instructions during your time off.

"Take off those shorts and spread your legs for me." Slipping off the fabric and removing it from your ankles, your hand goes to touch your needy clit.

"Aht I didn't say you could touch what's mine yet." He can see your arousal leaking out of you, watch you clench from his rough tone. It's enough to send him over the edge but he doesn't. Not yet. If he can't get you to cum a few times first the least he can do is time it where the two of you fall into bliss together.

"Slowly," He looks up to your face and waits for you to look at him before he growls, "Slowly princess, touch yourself."

Gently you rub circles over your clit, trying to mimic how he would if he had your hands bound in his. It drives you mad, makes you bite your lip as you moan loudly.

"I know baby I know." He grunts, "Faster."

"Faster!" He says again after a few minutes and you do, seeing stars as you gasp for air. He watches your hips jerk, watches the way you grind against your fingers, "That's it baby. Cum on this pretty fingers."

"Katsukiiii." You drag out his name, pussy desperately trying to clench onto something as you reel your head back in pleasure. You need a moment to catch your breath as you come down from your high but Bakugou was never one to give you a moments rest.

"All fours, face on the mattress." You do as he asks, pressing your cheek against the smooth sheets as he continues to instruct you, "Grab that pretty dildo and fuck yourself."

You bring the toy between your legs and slowly push and pull it. Increasing speed until you start to match the sounds of his fist pumping his cock over the phone.

Bakugou watches with lustful crimson eyes, snarling and growling as he hears your moans. Watches you buck into the toy and whine when it isn't him.

"I know you can fuck yerself harder than that." He growls, so close. So fucking close and he knows you are too with how you whine and moan. Shoving the dildo in and out of you at such a quick pace. You increase it as he requests and a loud moan escapes your lips.

"Suki, I'm gonna cum." Another whine and you can barely hear his own pace increase over the sounds your sloppy pussy is making.

"That's it baby, cream my cock." You scream at his vulgar words, trying so hard to fuck yourself through your orgasm to no avail. Vision clouded and hand pushing the toy in and out of you slowly compared to before.

Bakugou grunts as he feels his stomach and balls tighten. Spilling white hot ropes onto his chest and stomach. You both lie there for a moment, the toy slowly being pushed out of your spent cunt and him covered in his own cum.

"Lemme see you." He sighs out and you remove the toy, get off of all fours and come closer to the camera, "Look what you do to me."

He shows his godly abs and chest, pulling out a soft smile.

"Miss ya." He says softly, he wishes he was there. Wishes he could scoop you up and take you to the shower for a quick rinse and have a nice long bath with whatever bath bomb you want.

"Miss you too." You say softly, eyes downcast and sad that he isn't there with you.

"Love you."

"Love you too."

"Two more things okay? Can you do that for me princess?" His voice is soft as he looks you over.

"Yes sama. I can."

"That's my girl." He purrs, "Now go get a rag and wet it with warm water. Clean up and before you come back to bed there's a shirt in the closet for you.

You do as he says quickly and he watches from his spot on the side table as you go into the bathroom. Hears the water running and stop before you're back after a few minutes. Grabbing onto one of his skull tshirts and you realize it smells faintly of his cologne before climbing into bed after putting it on.

"Now, I want you to get pu baby and long john. I want you to cuddle them real tight." It's easy to grab the two giant stuffed animals and put them on either side of you as you settle into the giant comforter.

"Lemme hear about your day baby. Did ya finish that damn sappy romance manga?" You smile at him before going on your rant, giving him a full detailed summary of what happened and he listens responds when he can.

But the whole time all he can't think about is how fuckin beautiful you look as you excitedly talk and how badly he wants to be there in person.

For now he'll have to thank the Gods for video chat.

#SO so so so so so SO GOOD!!#kitten you have such a big brain!!!#AHHHH!!#🧩.fic reblog #🧩.fic rec #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader

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patchworkpuzzle · 2 years

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“I gotta find a date for Valentine’s day”

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patchworkpuzzle · 2 years

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i wish you kinder, softer days that put your heart at ease

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patchworkpuzzle · 2 years

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@katsukikitten this is what bakugou does to to, this is what I was getting at in my shipping post - this vibe

kiss her pussy softly to remind her that she’s a precious little princess

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patchworkpuzzle · 2 years

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thank you for following me I have nothing to offer

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patchworkpuzzle · 2 years

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cw: necromancer lore, depressed reader implied, death mentions but no death

pairing: death sorcerer!shigaraki × gn!reader

you follow necromancer!shigaraki around the village for weeks, poorly concealing your presence behind apothecary walls, church corners, and lamp posts. your tread and breathing, however light or randomized you attempt them, are still obvious patterns to tomura; to a necromancer, someone so practiced in the awareness of energies which loom and follow. at first, he thought you were an enemy, or an enemy’s messenger, seeking to overhear or otherwise steal the information gathered and exchanged in his daily dealings. why else would you be tracking him?

your lingering presence is more of a neussiance to necromancer!shigaraki than a curiosity, and he’s slightly offended by your gait, your hideously poor attempts to disguise yourself. none of the other village maidens or stableboys were dumb enough to shadow him– they all knew.

everyone had heard the whispers about shigaraki tomura, death sorcerer: he wasn’t one to trifle or be tempted by forces such as lust or light or reason. everyone knew you were not to approach him unless you had pre-arranged deals he requested. seek him for this and nothing else, or you die. he takes care of you like brushing something off his shoulder– in a way worse than death. a way you’d heard of many times but never seen, and often doubted existed.

he doesn’t look like a man to control a proposed army of undead. something about him, sorcerer or not, seems almost… confused, and frangible. words which had never been suggested about him amongst the hundreds of words which had.

it’s raining in the village, harder than most the commoners choose to be afoot in, especially women. the thudding of water on the ground mixes with the sound of your light steps on the damp earth as he allows you to get closer, and waits. whoever you turn out to be is of no matter to tomura, because he doesn’t care about the politics of people, beyond what they offer him. embarrassing, dumb, ignorant creatures to be associated with, tomura thinks; always filling their bellies with the fruit of other’s labor, and their mouths with words that don’t matter or change anything. their corpses accomplish more significant things than their lives.

it’s a week day, when he decides he’ll make use of you. a momentary gap in tomura’s plans, his always purposeful stalking around from underground shops of secret wielders to the forgotten corners of morgues and cemeteries. as good a time as any to do away with the pesky fly always a block or so behind him for the past two weeks.

when you round the corner and are met with his lined, pale face for the first time, it freezes you. he grabs you by the waist with one hand, trapping you there in your surprise. before you can think to protest, he’s pierced you with the hook end of his scythe. a shallow cut, a few inches long, to the first place he saw skin. tomura collects the droplets of blood in a vile, topping it and tossing it into an inner pocket of his cloak. only then does he look at your face. you’re shocked, evidently, but don’t seem very fearful. your face, dewy from the rain, heavy eyelashes blinking at him with a brand of curiosity he’s never received. it happens too quickly, the way he notices the wet shine of your collarbone, near where he cut you; and registers how the curve of your waist actually feels in his hand, warm against his fingers.

"who says i'm not a witch?" necromancer!shigaraki says nothing. he has no time or interest in trivial conversation. "unhand me," you complain, almost huffing, "you assault me so casually."

"who sent you?" he demands, "you're no witch." crimson eyes flicker up and down your figure like lamplight as he threatens, "who would be dumb enough to enlist you as a spy?"

tomura chuckles, despite himself. "my hold on you pales to the assault of my taking your life." he spins you around, pressing your back to the wall with one hand around your neck. "which i will do. once you tell me," narrowing his eyes, "who sends you?"

"n-no one," you gasp for air, attempting to shake your head but any struggle chokes you.

"b-before you what?" your eyes are like saucers in the shadows of rain and alleyway, peering at himin the dark.

"stop being a pest," he spits, staring too long in your eyes to not note their color. "what do you want, hm?" he means to tighten his grip on your throat, really he does, so why was it the hand at your waist to squeeze you, and pull you closer. "why do you haunt me? with all your obvious trampling around these weeks. tell me, puppet,” he growls, “before i absorb you."

"before i absorb your aura, and make you undead. use your blood for my spells and your body for whatever purpose i command of it."

“oh.” your squirming relents. “okay." the pause between you is saturated, and still enough to hear the very human breathing between the two of you amidst the falling rain. "just tell me why first.” your whisper is so gentle it makes his pants tight. makes the most mortal and long neglected, dormant aspects of him come knocking on his brain.

"tell you what?" it was meat to be hissed. but it wasn’t.

"before you take my life, tell me why you manipulate it?" you swallow nervously.

necromancer!shigaraki was expecting a “how?” or a “for who?” and he’s speechless. there’s no search for power in a question like that.

"you play with death to extend life, to make life longer…. why?" so genuine, it makes him nauseous. itchy with unwelcome curiosity of his own.

"'why' what?" tomura mocks, gaze roaming the soft of your neck before returning to your eyes to find them as full as the moon, and twice as enchanting.

"why would you want a long life?"

the sadness in such a question is almost as pathetic as the way you’re looking at him when you ask it. not the kind of pathetic shigaraki is used to feeling of other people, caught up always in their flesh, their money and objects and gods. no. pathetic with a purpose. as if you’d asked a question to a priest during confession, or in private to a dear friend. reverent and submissive in wait of a trusted response.

he knows he wouldn't have killed you that night even had he the answer you requested before death. necromancer!shigaraki knows he still would have spun you around, pressed your pretty cheek to the brick wall, and told you to close your eyes and count until he was gone. swore there would be "no seeing where he was going anymore" and pretended it wasn’t for your safety. swore that he'd "make undead of you another night” and pretended he meant it.

that he didn’t take with him the scent of your hair. how you shuddered against his body from the cold. and your failed, whining attempt for another look at his face, like it was something you still wanted to see.

#exuse me?#EXCUSE ME #why was i NOT notified tumblr??#hmmmm?#this is my darling wifeys work and i love reading them!?!#anyhow....#freaking read this folks i SWEAR #SO SO GOOD!!#🧩.drabble reblog #shigaraki tomura x reader

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patchworkpuzzle · 2 years

Text

CHAPTER ONE.

｡･:*˚:✧｡ | sfw, themes of loneliness and solitude are explored, yeah bittersweet as fuck, mayhaps inaccurate depictions of solo-living in a post-apocalyptical world.

note: it's here, it's here, IT'S HERE! i'm so excited to share this with you guys ;;; this has been a WORK IN PROGRESS.... since ?? winter LOL hope you guys enjoy this journey with me ♡

masterlist | taglist | next

PLAYLIST

Morning The Girl From Ipanema LOVE SPACE Amaneki (trans. ubiquity) 不確か (trans. the night is over) 何もきかないで (trans. don't ask me anything) say what's on your mind ♬ The End. ♬

EARLY SPRINGTIME, SOMEWHERE ON EARTH.

⋆ﾟ⊹

Behind fluttering lids, dark plum seeps and melts into sour grapefruit.

Astringent sun welcomes your waking consciousness, warmth blinking briefly behind a passing-cloud. The room goes completely cool and you shiver, burying yourself deeper into the blankets until the citrus floods your room once again.

The silence feels like cotton stuffing your ears. Your thoughts are just as muffled while you try to remember if you dreamed last night. Usually it’s a fruitless attempt—you don’t think you actually dream anymore with how often you wake up in between cycles.

Too hot, too cold, too much room, not enough room, it’s hard to stay comfortable when your brain doesn’t sleep at the same time as you, no matter how many times you turn, and so you decide to give up recalling and get up.

What was once cement flooring is now checkered. Covered in squares of cut-up carpet and torn blankets. Wool cardigans that are beyond repair fill the negative spaces between the materials too. Some of them have spots in the shape of your hands and feet from when you hid out the worst of the winter down here. Eventually you’ll have to add another layer, but that will be a problem to revisit at the end of the summer.

The stairs creak and yawn with you. the weight of your body waking them up too.

Another shiver runs up along both your legs, feet hitting the cool linoleum floor. Sun spills through the set of large windows on your left, highlighting the emptiness of the front. What was once tables and chairs occupying that room is now a pit of ash at the bottom of one of your heaters in the basement.

You remember the arrangement of the furniture baffled you; large tables meant for groups of people contrasted against single, lonesome tables with only enough room for one person. Who sits alone in a room full of people?

You look away from your left and open the door centred in front of you.

Icy tiles steal the heat from the bottom of your feet and you shift side to side while you wet your toothbrush. The bristles are frayed and squished, but it’s your only one—a gift from a dear friend. Shoving the damp toothbrush in between your teeth, you brush, scrunching your nose to try and remember what the sign at the front of your home says.

The mirror is a little dirty, dried drops of water freckling the reflection of your face. You wet your hand and place the side of it on the mirror, rubbing some of the dots away. It squeaks with each swipe and suddenly, jumbled words croak out of your occupied mouth:

“Yagi’s Yakitori Restaurant.”

In your dictionary (an old, beat-up relic edition from the year 2016), a restaurant is a place where people pay money to sit at and eat. Beyond the fact that there’s something called money, it’s odd to think that one can be eating in a room full of people other than their own family. Strangers.

You don’t know who or what Yagi is, but yakitori does sound delightful.

Your mouth waters and you realise it’s time to spit and rinse. Maybe once it’s warmer, you can pick up that worn-out pamphlet you took with you, the one that promises you How to Quickly Learn to Ride a Bike (And Save the Environment while at It!), and finally read it on the roof. Despite its ominous claim of saving the world, you think you should be able to ride a bicycle by the time summer is in full swing.

Cool water hits your face in a refreshing wake-up call. Pulling your shirt up, you pat at the dampness and look at your reflection one more time. Your eyes squeeze shut and with firm force, your palms pat into the plush of your cheeks, blood quickly flooding into your face from the impact.

Today, you deem, is a good day for planning.

On a wooden side table by the front door lays a black, solar-powered watch and a small notebook. The lettering is almost completely wiped off, but the indent, G-SHOCK, still remains. The pages at the front of the notebook are all crinkled from your harsh writing, the backs of the pages all indented with how hard you press into it. Bending at your waist, you rest your forearms on the surface, scribbling in the current time on the stopwatch: 8:52:13. The amount of time you spend in the basement gets logged; with the weather getting warmer and with the sun staying out longer, the numbers seem to be dwindling down each day.

You press RESET and set everything back in its place, taking care to angle the face of the watch towards the window.

To the right of the basement door, all the way down the corridor, is your eating area.

The fridge clicks and buzzes. You pat the front of the door before yanking at the handle to open it, murmuring a small, “Good morning to you too.” And like you usually do, you grab two eggs and the bowl of leftover rice from yesterday. Somehow, you always overestimate the amount you need and make too much, but it works out too—saves you some electricity for a few more meals.

You start making your mental checklist as soon as the eggs hit the pan.

1. Check the water supply. 2. Tend to the garden. 3. Feed chickens. 4. Ponder meals. 5. Catch up on reading. 6. Finally listen to that vinyl.

These six things on your list seem comprehensive enough.

Smoky, savoury aroma makes your heart warm and your tummy hungry. Clear whites have finally gone opaque, the edges starting to crisp and brown. Bubbles are forming in the yolks, the heat making the liquid gold simmer. Shimmying the eggs out of the pan and onto the bed of rice, you thank your beloved chickens and tuck into your meal.

The sun is almost at its midpoint when you finish up breakfast. Your pan, bowl, and spoon get abandoned in the sink for later, your bare feet padding across the dining area.

Frosty metal bites at your fingertips when you unlock the backdoor. You pull the screen open, a breath of fresh air wafting into your smoky kitchen. There’s a large rock by the foot of the door; you take it and wedge it in place underneath the frame of the screen. You slip into a pair of shoes two sizes too big for you and head outside.

A large, blue metallic container sits in the yard, consuming most of the green space. There’s a few other plastic buckets lying around and some spare hoses, wrung around a ring on the wall too, but it’s mostly empty otherwise.

Worn-out stickers decorate the belly of the tank, your leftover remnants of boredom from last summer. They’re damaged from the sun and the snow, but the adhesive still holds onto the metallic surface.

One hose connects from the end of the tank and disappears into the side of your home–it connects to the water heater in the basement.

Steadying your weight against the side of the tank, you flip open the hatch. Your eyes search for a familiar shape; at the bottom sits a nugget of gold about the size of a small pebble. It looks wonky, lines all wavy and moving as you blow down on the surface, waves rippling from your breath.

You like to think someone left it there by accident. Maybe it’s stolen, stashed away to be picked up for later. But now it helps you figure out the water level inside instead, so it’s your treasure now.

You have quite a bit of water left and probably won’t have to check it for another few days.

Next stop: the roof.

Your rooftop is split into two main sections.

To the farthest on your right from the door, is clear and void of anything other than your—what you think is called—housewarming gift. Donated to you by your community when you made the decision to leave the nest, a set of solar panels line the right side. It quite literally is the reason why your home is warm at all, and why you’re able to use your stove or have hot water.

The canopy that’s raised above most of your rooftop is also a parting-gift from them, effectively shielding your green babies from heavy rain and snow, which leads you to your main and favourite part of the roof: your garden.

After countless crisp, dehydrated plants and a few bird chases, you like to think you’re at a point where you can say your thumb is tinted green. This is where the fruits of your labour sprout, grow, and bud.

Lattice backings line one side of the roof, giving plenty of space for your future beanstalks to climb. Buckets and planters of all different sizes are organised in a way that there are aisles you can walk through to inspect your plants. In a darker corner is where you keep your tools, compost bins, and normally your worms, but they’re inside right now and shielded away from the cold weather for the time being.

It’s still a little desolate; there isn’t much life to prove your gardening prowess, but still–this is the heaven above your humble abode. It’s easy to fall asleep amidst the clouds up here, especially when the sun blankets you during lazy afternoons spent reading to your plants. At the cost of a few sun burns, it’s worth it to see their leaves turned up towards the sky, like they’re reaching up to stretch above their heads after their nap too.

“Good morning, garden,” your words come out in a shiver. You wish you brought a sweater.

The Earth is still shyly tilted away from the sun. Since it isn’t so blazing yet, your plants are still okay for water levels, but you do constantly worry about the temperature. You manage to put together a large enough plastic cover for your rooftop garden; laughing to yourself, you recall how you yelled, ‘Put on a jacket, Sweet Pea!’ while draping the poorly constructed thing over a raggedy metal frame.

This summer, you’ll allow yourself more time and make them a more-deserving winter coat.

Almost every day of last spring and summer’s weather has been recorded, so you’re hoping that information will help you figure out how to time your planting better. A small smile breaks across your face; there’s a corner of the garden where you think will be an excellent home for tomato plants.

You’re excited for your progress.

There’s a cookbook that’s hidden on top of your fridge with an uncracked spine. You’re waiting for the moment you can start browsing through all the recipes. All you know is that you’re supposed to be able to figure out what people from Italy eat, their diet including shaped and boiled dough, tomatoes, and little green leaves which look vaguely like basil.

Your basil doesn’t look like that, but you think you have a packet of seeds somewhere with a picture that looks similar. You’re hoping that you can also get to building a drying rack too because you want to know how your future tomatoes will taste when they’re kissed by the sun.

Heading back down to the kitchen, you pluck the cardigan that hangs off one of your chairs, and slip your arms through the sleeves. The warmth is almost welcomed immediately, a sigh escaping you while you put on some socks. Rummaging through your fridge, you find your bag with food scraps in it, one that you specifically keep so you can feed your chickens. Slipping on your boots, you throw your front door open, high noon beaming brightly down on you.

Snow has long-melted away, leaving behind grey stains and half-decomposed piles of leaves on the sidewalk and by sewage drains. Trees line the fronts of other abandoned buildings, all the way down as far as your eye can see–or probably until the next set of broken traffic lights you suppose. Branches are still bare of emerald leaves and on an occasional tree, there’s a plastic sheet caught in their twinny arms.

You think it’s about time to clean those up.

The building beside you is used as a storage shed of sorts. It’s mostly filled with tools and items that you bring with you when you go searching for things in the neighbourhood. There should be a ladder in there; tomorrow you’ll spend some time cleaning up your street.

At the other end of the street, it leads you down a path that eventually meets a canal, your main water source.

A car is stationed outside of your home. It’s all terribly rusted on the outside, giving it a reddish-brown tinge. (You doubt it drives, but the backseat does make an excellent incubated planter.) Somewhere in the middle of the hood, you see a spot of colour that shows it used to be a bright shade of red. The wheels remind you of marshmallows that have been sitting over an openfire for a minute too long, the rubber almost completely deflated. But somehow, thin stalks of grass have started to sprout in between the crevices of the metal.

You wonder if the person whose car this once belonged to was someone who ate at the restaurant or if they cooked here.

On the other side of the street, directly across from your home, is what you think used to be a small playground. All the structures are also corroded from the weather and you don’t dare turn or climb any of them, afraid they will crumble under your touch. The ground is made of some sort of semi-mushy material, probably meant to break falls at one point, but all you can think of is how oddly hard it feels under your feet.

Through the playground, there’s a small clearing of trees and a small wooden structure enclosed by a fence. Faintly, you can hear the clucking of your chickens–they probably can hear you crunching through the grass too.

Spinach the rooster and Strawberry the broody hen are your tenants of the coop. Beside the entrance, there’s a large plastic bin that’s filled with grains and other dried bits of food you managed to save throughout the winter. Your hand swipes at the top, sprinkling the grains before going through your bag of washed scraps. They bawk and chirp at you as you scatter their feed around, busying their beaks at the ground.

Now that your chickens are fully occupied, you head into the coop. You clean up any broken eggs first, tossing any soiled bedding into a compost bin nearby before rummaging under the straw for eggs of your own. The shells are surprisingly rough under your fingers, bumpy and covered in bloom, but nonetheless you know they’ll be tasty. Turning your cardigan around, you create a makeshift sack by holding the bottom corners up. Taking care to let the eggs roll gently toward the middle, you bunch the fabric up and cradle them safely against your side before heading back out.

Two sets of beady eyes peer at you, heads tilting in a silent question, when you emerge. Like the snow that has disappeared, the grass below you is almost free of feed too.

“Oh, wow…” the food is almost all gone and you chuckle, “You guys are famished today, hm?”

Opening the bin once more, you balance your bunched-up treasure with one hand and dig your other into the grains. Another few handfuls are snowed around them, and immediately they go back to work on the ground.

Once it’s warmer, you think you’ll spend more time with them, maybe even introduce a small garden down here for them to look after.

But that’s a thought for another day so, you cluck your goodbye and head back towards your home.

You settle the eggs in a bowl and with a dry cloth, you wipe them free from any dust and dirt, eventually joining them with your current supply in the fridge. The bowl is starting to get unruly; baking something sweet out of them sounds enticing. It’s been a long time since you’ve eaten cake—thinking of the rich, yet fluffy cloud that melts in your mouth makes your mouth water, but your main dilemma still stands.

You’ll need to go supply-hunting for sugar.

The last bit of it, down to the final miniscule crystal, has been used up probably a few weeks ago. Your sugary treat now comes in the form of honey, but it’s called liquid gold for a reason, so you’re stingy when it comes to using it.

7. Research and make a list for your next gathering trip.

You do your best to keep your books away from your bedroom downstairs because you’re sure you’ll end up sleeping on a mattress made of paper instead of a futon. Or maybe, you won’t be sleeping much anyway, finding something—or somewhere—else to sink your mind into instead. Time will be even more irrelevant to you than it already is.

With the soft thud of the fridge door shutting, your feet begin to move on their own.

To maintain some sort of order within your home, the floor in between your kitchen and the rooftop is dedicated to being your library.

The floor complains in squeaks with each step into the space, books piled onto each other that carve a walkway for you. These are the books that can’t fit into your shelf-lined walls, wooden structures that stretch and almost touch the popcorn ceiling. You’re lovingly encased in between spines and pages.

Sometimes you play the character in a world that’s infected with madness, eaten by gluttonous zombies and sometimes you’re learning about diseases that whittle your beloved children of chlorophyll. Sometimes you decide that you’d like to learn about a jazz legend, and how awful their world was yet their works of art are what tell their stories. They bewitch you with a craft that can fill your ears, plug your heart, and immerse you in a different kind of universe that’s not make-believe anymore.

It’s probably so dusty from how frequently you are in this place, thin layers of it coating the surfaces no matter how much you try to keep up with the cleaning in here.

But you don’t mind because at 5PM, magic happens in this room. And although it’s not the kind of magic where your lover becomes cursed and turns into a frog nor the kind that separates your entire being from the human race—

(That’s the kind of magic reserved for those who are tasked to save the world. Your world does not need saving.)

—It’s the kind that’s ignited by the sunlight that spills into the room at the right time. Buried in this chest of a room, your diamond glimmers brilliantly.

Dust floats up and down or wherever your breath takes them with no particular destination. In that moment, you’re in a snowglobe except there’s no snow inside here. Only self-indulgence in the form of solar rays and lazy dust.

It’s only you in your multi-dimensional world.

When the books don’t interest you, you choose to sing softly to yourself instead, afraid the characters behind the spines will judge you if you sing too loudly. Perhaps you’re a terrible singer—you’ll never know till someone tells you, you suppose. A silly little thought, but nothing is entirely impossible anymore.

After all, you are the only human that inhabits this place within a large radius.

And most of the time, you’re alright on your own. The trade-off between your worries for more mundane issues is good—you worry about your plants and chickens instead of if you’re doing enough for your community. You know you’re doing enough for them by offering to establish a checkpoint outside those iron gates. You have a job now, guiding those toward them if needed; you have importance.

Still, you wish your community—your family—told you that someday you’ll forget the sound of their laughter or force yourself to find companionship in your shadow.

It’s unfair to not accept the consequences of choosing to move out.

So you try. You try to busy yourself with anything you can. Build projects, search for knowledge, indulge in a book (or ten)—anything to forget the things you’re already in the middle of failing to remember. Because at least out here, your self-sufficiency fills in a lot of the blank spots that used to be occupied by unfulfillment.

Hours pass by like minutes when you’re studying at the library.

The lamp flickers on with a twist of your absentminded fingers once the sun is completely set behind the horizon. A notebook is split wide-open on the table, notes in no particular order scribbled onto one of the pages. You should treat your eyes better, the stinging starting from the straining you’ve been doing, from struggling to read your own writing. You can’t tell if these are e’s or l’s anymore, but you do know you’re reading on how to check the weather.

That reminds you:

8. Make a list of all your projects for this summer.

Still, you re-read your chicken scratch to the best of your ability. The doodles alongside the margin in shapes of the moon distract you. Seems like you started to daydream about the pearly sphere in the sky.

(Or is it called “eveningdream” if the sun is already setting?)

Parts of your childhood revolve around tales of people who live on the moon.

You hear of a superior race of humans that inhabit there, people that are born with abilities that tell you maybe magic isn’t as far-fetched as it’s made out to be. And it’s not one single person either, but a whole group of people. A civilization, an entire society of them. It’s hard to believe it—you almost don’t—but you receive your proof and you let the rest of your curiosity consume you.

What is it like there? What kinds of plants grow there? Are there restaurants that take currency named after the moon? Can you listen to Jazz there too?

There’s too many questions and not enough hours in the day to let you run through every possibility. Surely, you’ll be hungry by the end of it all, and so, you decide to take this inner conversation with you to dinnertime.

Tonight, you will make a stew while thinking of the moon.

It’s an easy recipe; it lets you sit at the kitchen table and dream a bit longer while the rice absorbs the stock. It also lets the carrots, potatoes, and onions get their chance to soften and sweeten the pot.

Your stew calls for one last ingredient: the last block of frozen fish from the winter. A mainly-vegetable diet isn’t too bad, but you miss the taste of meat on chilly nights. Meat tastes hearty and like camaraderie, like oily fingertips when you trade your piece of chicken with another child’s piece of chicken.

You think you have a book on trapping—perhaps it’s time to break it out and start passively capturing fish because stealing your chicken’s eggs can only last you so long. Especially with a plan to do so many things in the summer, you know you’ll need the extra energy.

You smile and gently place the piece of fish in when only five-minutes remain.

Along with your first bite, you start scribbling into an empty corner of your page:

Gathering trip #11

1. Seeds!!! 2. Sugar 3. Honey? 4. Rice… 5. Oatmeal. 6. Containers 7.

You take a few more bites and pause, appreciating the umami notes for a moment.

7. Binoculars

Or a telescope, whichever you can carry back with you.

8. Perhaps woollen materials?

You stop your writing and gaze out the window. It’s completely dark outside. The reflection of your stove light on the glass is brighter than anything else out there, but the sky is crystalline. According to your book about weather, with no clouds to blanket the Earth, the weather will stay cool tomorrow.

Speaking of a cold planet—

You set your spoon down and head upstairs to make sure you zipped the plastic cover all the way up. The last thing you want is to see all your plants black and blue because you forgot to keep them warm.

Goosebumps immediately raise along your skin, the chilly air seeping through the cracks of your layers. Your fingers shake as you check, digits sliding along the zipped-seam to catch any if there are any openings.

Uneasiness is gnawed into your lip. What if it’s not warm enough?

Another thought doesn’t even make it into your mind. You rush all the way back down, past the kitchen, and into the basement, stopping at an old, wooden trunk near your bed. The lid is a little on the heavy side, but with a huff, you lift it, revealing a folded pile of linens, blankets, and throws. You’ve been taught by your guardian to fold them all up and stack them before turning them onto its side. This way, it’s easier to see all your sheets at a glance, like you’re looking along the spines of your bookshelves.

Not that you need that to spot your favourite bed sheet cover. The mismatched fabrics stitched together catch your eye immediately.

Wiggling it out of its spot, you head back up to the roof, your legs fatigued from the back and forth movement. Your muscles sting and you pause at the top of the staircase, stilling your movements to prevent any cramps. You make it to the rooftop at a much less-rushed pace.

The sheet makes a flapping sound when you throw it up into the air, letting the light breeze help blow the sheet over the plastic cover. Tying the corners down, you successfully give your plants a scarf to wear with their jacket.

Hopefully it’s enough.

Your stew sits unfinished on the dining table, but you’re no longer hungry, so you pack it away and do your dishes. Sometimes you leave them in the sink, but you think it best to get back into the habit of doing them every night again. Summer attracts a lot of animals and you wouldn’t want your home to become a nest for some of them.

The vinegar stings your nose for a few moments, but it disappears as soon as you finish rinsing. You shift some things around your fridge to fit your pot of stew in, excited for tomorrow's breakfast already, but the moment the fridge door softly snaps shut, your excitement shifts to that piece of plastic that patiently sits on your table downstairs.

Your energy comes back one more time and you dart downstairs.

Underneath the staircase is the pearl of your oyster. Fabrics decorated with stars are stapled to the bottom of the staircase, your existence hidden behind a sheet of constellations. Black circular discs (they’re called vinyl records you learn) and iridescent circular discs are shelved here instead of books because in this nook, you don’t read here, you listen. You listen to the voices with your headphones on and with everything else blocked out.

This is where you forget about the rest of the world.

It’s where you forget about the moon.

You forget about how even though there’s enough plates for eight people in your cabinet, it only translates to you having a different plate for every day of the week if you so desire.

You don’t ponder about the restaurant or what the hell currency is, or the faces you’ve met before, the ones who helped you raise that canopy on your roof.

Neither do you think about the friendly stranger who helped build your chicken coop. You push away the what-ifs: ‘what if you had asked them to stay?’

The volume smothers the thought of having something else—someone else—to keep you warm instead of your mismatched sheet and fuzzy throw.

Because for the time being, it’s your music and you and the only thing that hears it is the mic you speak into. You like to think you’re a scientist who’s documenting your adventures out in space, except the galaxy is your mind and the song is your adventure of the day. While books are great and you learn many things, they don’t speak to you like these musicians do.

But eventually, the music must fade.

Your thoughts do too; there’s only so much more you can say or only so many records you can continue to cycle through. The night wraps up when the record player is the one you say good night to.

And just like your mornings, your nights have a similar loose routine.

You brush your teeth in silence.

You start the timer again on the wristwatch near your door.

The blankets get straightened out, only for your body to tangle into them like a caterpillar that spins its cocoon. The first few minutes under the covers is always a little too cold for you, but it gets too hot if you don’t stick your foot out either.

This is where your routine should end.

On a perfect day, where everything goes well, no hitch in your day, sleep should come easy to you. Sleep should be welcomed in for tea and after the first cup, Sleep should take you to Dreamland.

But perfection invites loneliness too.

The extra pillow you bring with you to sleep gets pressed to your chest, one arm tightly strung around it to keep it snug. Your other arm stretches out, fingers crawling outwards until your palm is flat on the bed, cold fabric bunching up in between the empty spaces of your hand.

The outlines of your knuckles are blue, lunar light spilling in from the window above you.

Until tomorrow…

Like a book that falls shut, you close your eyes and surrender to slumber.

The end.

#🧩.read later #but boy AM I EXCITED

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