I disappeared for a month again, sorry :( uni was not kind to me the last few weeks and I havent had any time to work on anything. I’m so pissed, I just got back my inspiration for TLK and I was also contemplating starting a new project, one I think a couple of you will like… BUT I CANT, cause school and shit.
My family will be over for the holidays, then it’s exam time until mid January, and then I’m thrown into my next semester with a FAT 2-hour-long winter break between my last exam and my first class of the new semester. I can’t wait :| Also I was already given homework for my internship, kill me :(
I really wanted to get another chapter of TLK out before the end of the year, but it won’t be possible, but once I’m back home, I’ll find a balance between my classes, my internship and my fanfic writing career and get these stories out.
Until I come crawling out of my hole again in a few weeks, happy holidays, see ya <3
I’ve been making progress on chapter 4, slowly but surely. But when my crippling lack of motivation isn’t beating me up, it’s my research project that’s taking up all of my time. As if the interview I’ll be conducting tomorrow and its gazillion questions I had to prepare last week weren’t enough, my teacher asked us to create a video presenting our projects. I was so over it all, I vented my frustration by making fun of French people a little bit (it was relevant to my project, I promise I love my cousins lmao <3).
omg do y’all remember the interview I mentioned literally yesterday? We just finished up and I was looking at the transcript my teacher asked for right? There are 93 goddamn pages, 20 000 fucking words in that transcript and I’ll need to go through every single line because Zoom doesn’t understand our accent, so I need to correct 20 000 words before the end of my project.
I’ll beg my teacher on Monday for some slack with the transcript because wtf??? help me 😫
I’ve been making progress on chapter 4, slowly but surely. But when my crippling lack of motivation isn’t beating me up, it’s my research project that’s taking up all of my time. As if the interview I’ll be conducting tomorrow and its gazillion questions I had to prepare last week weren’t enough, my teacher asked us to create a video presenting our projects. I was so over it all, I vented my frustration by making fun of French people a little bit (it was relevant to my project, I promise I love my cousins lmao <3).
Forever jealous of writers with infinite motivation and a never-ending flow of creativity. How can they write so much in so little time, juggling all the story lines in their minds better than professionals
Seriously, I’ll forever wish I could be like them 😭
How I felt the other day sitting in a random uni hallway studying smut filled angst in broad fucking day light (trying to figure out how other fanfic authors finish their fics to help me down the line lmao) instead of doing actual homework
I came to the conclusion that it would be better if I rewrote chapter 4.
Because of the changes I made to chapter 3, I knew I had a lot of things to change, but when I reread my draft, I realized that I should really space out the events of chap 3 and the ones I had written for chap 4. The Reader needs time to herself to deal with the emotions I gave her in chap 3, which will also give me the opportunity to write more scenes in the studio, with the Reader playing with her clay! I made a point to make this her hobby/job and something that helps her deal with her emotions. The way I kind of glossed over it in the original draft was really disappointing.
I also want the relationship between the Reader and Dazai to take a different trajectory than the one I originally wrote, and to do that, I’ll need to reorganize the events of the chapters I already wrote.
I’m not gonna lie, this project has just gotten way bigger than I thought it would be at first. It’s going to be a lot harder to write this relationship than I thought it would be.
On one hand, if I succeed, I’ll be proud as fuck. On the other hand, I am very unconfident in my writing skills, both because I’m a beginner, but also because I picked a really complex character and decided to make the Reader very complex too.
Since this is now my personal diary, I’ll try to keep you guys updated (for the curious people out there), but other than “I fucking hate it here” and “kill me”, there’s not much going through my mind right now lmao.
I'll be forced to miss weeks of my winter semester (my last one before Im supposed to graduate) to take my exams here because I can't do them early to get back home in time for said last semester
One of the classes I was suppose to take apparently isn't available anymore, despite the fact the uni told me I could take it months ago, i no longer have enough credits for the semester
There's a good chance my insurance will get denied and I might have to pay for insurance here, despite the fact I already have some
My exam week will happen earlier than I was told so I won’t miss as many weeks of my winter semester as I was dreading !
The class I thought wasn’t available anymore was ok in the end so I didn’t need to restructure my schedule to have enough credits !
My insurance company signed the form I needed, my insurance might not get denied !
I made friends and uni is going well for now ! I’m back on the right path and will be going back to editing TLK very soon ! I have a lot of things to change in chapter 4 so it’ll probably take a while, sorry in advance, but I have a clearer image of the story I want to tell now !
A/N : I know I already posted this fic on ao3 all the way back in June, but I thought I could post it here too! As a reminder, this was my first ever attempt at writing smut, and if you’re curious about my thoughts on the final product, feel free to go read my Author’s comments, the link is next to the ao3 link. Hope Tumblr enjoys this too!
Warnings : Explicit Sexual Content | NSFW | MDNI | 18+ only
Tags : hand job, oral sex, vaginal sex, so much fucking kissing lmao
This guy is way more annoying than you thought he would be.
He gave you quite the fright at first. A hero coming up to you only a couple of days after everything went down in Camino? It got your heart pumping; does he know who you are? Have the heroes already figured out the league’s temporary hideout was just over there, hidden between those two old apartment buildings?
It should be empty at the moment, all your “colleagues” busy with the tasks Shigaraki gave them; gathering resources and information, scouting out new hideouts and potential allies. Everyone has been quite on edge the last few days, your group’s leader especially. Frustrated, embarrassed; petty disputes breaking out over meaningless things. The alone time would do everyone some good, you thought.
But still, getting shipped off to whichever jail was deemed appropriate, even if you were the only one to get caught, would be terrible timing right now.
You’re not even sure where the guy came from. At first, you thought your usually sharp senses must have been dulled by exhaustion, mind distracted by your own frustration, mulling over the events that transpired back in Camino.
But now that you think about it, your quirk didn’t even activate. Your mind’s little warning bells alerting you of and pointing out approaching danger stayed silent, meaning this little hero wasn’t actually a threat.
“Yeah, my agency’s been doing pretty well in the last few weeks. I got myself a new sidekick and everything. And I’ve been doing more interviews too. They say I’m on track to surpass Hawks in approval ratings by next year,” the guy claims, a smug expression on his face.
As if a hero coming up to you wasn’t bad enough, all this guy—whose hero name you didn’t bother paying attention to—has been doing since he walked over here is hit on you.
And pretty horribly if you’re honest. Like, calling you cringe pet names and boasting about himself and his accomplishments won’t get you to swoon, dumbass.
He’s not even your type.
But his sad attempt at recreating Hawks’s charisma—or at least, that’s what you assume he’s doing, since he so boldly compared himself to the other hero earlier—has given you enough time to figure out how to get rid of him.
Although, you still aren’t 100% sure if he genuinely doesn’t know who you are, or if he’s only acting, playing it cool and flirting with you to try and lower your guard, hopefully bypass your quirk’s alarms and get you to lead him back to the rest of the league.
So, to ease your mind, you take a quick look around, the hero too busy yapping to notice. The small street is almost empty, save for a couple of civilians heading home from a nearby bar. They aren’t paying you any attention, though.
You throw a quick look over your shoulder. The only place heroes could realistically hide would be in the nearby buildings, but there haven’t been any signs of life anywhere since this guy started to hit on you. Even more convincingly, your quirk has yet to pick up on anything suspicious, any dangers lurking around a dark corner.
“He actually is alone then,” you think, relieved.
This makes it a lot easier to get rid of him, since you can simply lure him away from the area.
Unfortunately, it means that, for the next five minutes, you’re stuck having to pretend like you’re interested in this hero, impressed by his achievements and worst of all, actually attracted to him. God, it’s annoying.
But, thankfully, all it takes is a soft hand resting against his chest, paired with a little giggle and a slow flutter of your eyelashes for him to bite.
“You know, I was about to head off to the bar for the night, relax after a long day of work, you know. Why don’t you come with me? I can introduce you to my little sidekick if you’d like, or tell you about the villain I captured last week.”
He’s doing all the hard work for you.
You put on a shy smile, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’d like that, but… I’m really not dressed for a night out. I would have to get changed before we go… but I don’t want to be a bother and make you wait for me or anything!”
The hero grins like he’s won something. “Oh, that’s not a problem at all. Why don’t I go and wait for you at the bar? I’ll be sure to have a drink ready for you when you get there, sugar,” he answers, stroking your cheek with a finger (ew?).
You make sure to send a small wave his way when he looks back, heading off towards the bar in question. Once he turns the corner, finally leaving your sight, you take one last look around, confirming the absence of potentially hidden heroes.
“Does he not watch the news or something?” you wonder, ducking between the buildings. Oh well, you aren’t going to complain about this guy’s lack of awareness.
The hideout is dark and cold, well hidden; an abandoned basement apartment beneath a small, barely inhabited apartment complex, only accessible through a small door hidden in the shadows.
The interior isn’t the most inviting, but luckily, it still has some old pieces of furniture—a couch, a table and chairs. The bathroom has (somewhat warm) running water, and in the two adjacent bedrooms, you managed to find some old mattresses.
True luxury. Dabi really has a knack for finding good spots.
You drop the contents of your bag on the table, sorting its contents. Your group has been slowly running out of food for the last few days, and it couldn’t hurt to bring back some random supplies either for when they’ll all come back, so you had gone out to steal buy whatever you thought could be useful.
Before you have time to put anything away however, the door to the apartment pushes open quietly, startling you out of your thoughts. Red eyes, half hidden behind messy blue hair, stare back at you, annoyed. You weren’t expecting to run into anyone from the league tonight, let alone him.
“You’re back already? I thought you’d be gone for another two or three days like the others,” you say, smiling as he locks the door behind him.
“Came back early.” He drops his coat on the old couch, clearly not in a good mood.
You hum at his words. “Did you find what we were looking for?” With how happy he looks right now, you could probably guess his answer.
“No,” he replies, walking over to the table.
“Did you at least hear back from Twice or Toga? They didn’t pick up when I called them this morning.” They left together about two days ago, and, after a day of radio silence, you wanted to make sure they were still alive.
“No.”
Well damn, what’s up his ass tonight? Shigaraki has never been the most talkative guy ever, but the last time he was this short with you was when you first met. Usually, out of everyone in the league, he’s the chattiest around you (and Spinner).
Everything that happened over the last few days hit him the hardest out of all of you, so you can understand why he’s been more on edge and abrasive with everyone, but he’d better not take that out on you, you didn’t do anything!
Whatever, it’s fine if he doesn’t want to chat, you’ve got snacks to sort anyways. “Maybe I should try to call Toga one more time before the end of the day to see if they’re alright,” you ponder to yourself.
For now, you choose to ignore the guy—him and his suspiciously rude glare—instead, putting away the food in the miraculously still functioning fridge. Once this is done, you’ll head straight to bed; tomorrow, you’ll be meeting up with Spinner on his intel gathering trip, so you need to leave pretty early.
Actually, you should probably take advantage of the fact everyone—almost everyone—is out at the moment to hog the bathroom for two hours; it’s been a while since you last took a truly relaxing shower.
Well, as relaxing as a lukewarm, sometimes cold shower can be, but maybe you can trick your brain into believing the water is searing hot if you put your mind to it. If anything, it would at least help with the tensions in your back, caused by both stress and the current weight of Shigaraki’s stare.
From behind you, you hear him rummage through the supplies; his voice, rough with unuse, breaking the silence.
“Why were you flirting with that hero earlier?”
You turn around, as surprised as you’re confused. “What? You saw that?” Maybe you underestimated just how incredibly stealthy this man can be when he wants to…
He glares at you again, fidgeting with a protein bar, artist gloves keeping his quirk from crumbling it. “Why the hell would you let a hero get so close to the hideout? Do you want us to get caught?”
You remain silent for a moment, stunned by his words. “No, of course not. Why would you say that? He just randomly came up to me. I sent him away.”
“And what if he had brought back up with him? You would have exposed our location! Did you even think before getting in the apartment?”
What the fuck? Toga nearly revealed the league’s whereabouts once by running back to a hideout with heroes actively chasing her down, and no one chastised her for almost exposing your location. But now, a hero comes up to you with no knowledge of who you are, close to a hideout he doesn’t even know exists, and suddenly, the world is ending?
You frown, walking closer to the table. “He didn’t have back up, he was alone. Didn’t even know who I was, so there weren’t any risks of getting caught. I wouldn’t have taken a risk like that if there had been more heroes around.”
He scoffs, a hint of a mocking smile on his lips, “You didn’t even check if there were any other heroes around. As soon as the guy turned the corner, you went straight for the door.”
Now it’s your turn to glare, ticked off by his accusations. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did we forget what my quirk is? Do we no longer trust in the ability that convinced you to recruit me in the first place?”
“What made you choose to put your trust in me…” you think, a strange emotion in your chest.
Your whole thing is being able to sense and locate incoming danger or threats, which obviously means you can feel other people’s intent to cause you harm before they have time to get to you. On more than one occasion, your quirk has warned the league of approaching heroes, an incredibly useful ability to have when you’re actively hiding from them.
If that little hero had been hoping to capture you, you would have felt it the moment he laid his eyes on you. On top of that, you would have felt his theoretical colleagues from up to 50 metres away, almost 100 metres when you “manually” activated your quirk—instead of letting it warn you automatically—once the guy turned the corner.
Shigaraki knows this, there’s no reason why he should be so mad at you over this right now.
“You tell me, it’s not like it was of much use in Camino.”
“Excuse me?” He doesn’t answer you, staring blankly into your eyes. There’s no way he just said that. Slowly, you walk around the table, standing face to face with him.
“I wasn’t in the bar when the heroes attacked you. I warned you that kidnapping that UA kid was a horrible idea, but you didn’t listen. Instead, you ‘needed’ me to go talk with Giran that night, remember? It was only when we were all warped to Camino that I actually had a chance to use my quirk, but even then, there’s not much it can do when we’re surrounded on every side.”
This feels weird, arguing with him. The two of you have never truly fought before, not counting any screaming matches caused by a Mario Kart loss. You hope this is nothing more than a symptom of recent stress.
Your voice is calm despite the irritation in your tone, “You have no right to blame me for that night.”
The words only seem to annoy him more, though, “Don’t you think I have enough on my plate to not have to worry about a member putting everyone else in danger because she wanted to flirt with a fucking hero?” he spits, nose nearly touching yours before walking past you.
Oh no, you don’t. “Are you stupid? I would never endanger us for a reason like that and you know it. You didn’t think I was actually interested in that guy, right? I only spoke to him so I could lure him away from the area,” you reply, blocking his path.
His nails scratch at the side of his neck, agitation in his tone. “So why didn’t you just reject him then? Why did you have to get all flirty like that?”
Why does he keep on bringing the conversation back to this? As if that’s what’s really on his mind.
“Wha- is that what’s bothering you so damn much? The fact I flirted with a hero?”
He takes a step away from you as if you just spat in his face. You follow him, standing nearly chest to chest.
“No! It’s just that if you had told him to fuck off instead of being all over him, he would have been gone sooner. There would have been less of a chance that he’d figure out something was up.”
You scoff, a sly grin pulling at your lips, “Oh, ‘being all over him,’ huh? You mean when I put my hand on his chest? Is that the problem? Because that guy was oblivious as hell, he was too far up his own ass to figure out who I am and you know it.”
His behaviour is strange, tonight; you don’t think you’ve ever seen him act like this. It’s almost like…
He tries to say something, deflect your question, but you don’t even let him begin his sentence.
“Are you jealous?”
He’s silent for a moment, throat bobbing as he swallows. He shakes his head, a scowl darkening his expression as a tight “no” falls from his scarred lips.
You want to contest his words, push further and figure out why he’s been acting this way since he came back. Put your finger on what made him so mad. But you can’t, because something catches your eye before you can find your words.
He looks down at your lips. It was quick, only for a moment.
But you caught it.
He’s saying something now, likely denying your accusation, but you aren’t paying attention to his words.
You nibble gently on your bottom lip; a test. Red eyes, heavy with anger—or maybe something else—track the movement, like they just couldn’t help themselves.
Your heartbeat quickens slightly.
You’ve noticed him stealing glances your way while stealing your own. But you thought you had imagined it. You noticed the way he’d glare at Dabi whenever you’d send a flirty joke his way, but you thought he just didn’t like him.
You take a step closer, chest grazing his own, inadvertently shutting him up. His eyes drop once again. These little reactions seem so uncharacteristic of him.
And yet…
You remember the subtle pink hue dusting his cheeks that time Toga sat too close to you on the couch, pushing you into him, thigh rubbing against his. You noticed how close he would wander at times, despite keeping his distance from everyone else—chills running up your spine with accidental brushes of his knuckles against your hip.
“Tomura has a little crush on you!” Toga giggled once, sneaking into your room one night for a “girl talk.” Back then, you didn’t believe a single word she said, you couldn’t imagine this man seeing you as anything more than a trusted colleague—sometimes a friend—given his goals. But damn, maybe she was onto something in the end.
That girl is always onto something. She figured out you found him cute way before you even had the chance to figure it out on your own. It took so much bribing and begging for her to keep it to herself…
Oh, what she would say if she saw the two of you now, standing chest to chest, cheeks warm and hearts pounding. You smile at the thought.
His hands are still by his sides, pinkies and ring fingers covered by his black artist gloves. His eyes are wide; lips parted, but no words seem to want to come out.
You tilt your head ever so slightly, meeting his gaze, your voice barely audible as you speak.
“I don’t believe you.”
You lay your hand softly on his chest, the same way you did for that little hero. A teasing move. A declaration of war.
And that’s all it takes.
Your breath is knocked out of you as you feel his lips on your own. You can’t tell who did it; was it you, hand tangled in the messy blue curls at the back of his neck, tugging him down to you with thirst? Or was it him, one hand gripping your hip, other arm wrapped around your back, slamming his lips down against yours in hunger?
You don’t know. You don’t really care.
All you can think about is how it feels to have him so close to you, his hair falling against your cheeks, cold hands scorching hot on your skin. A dizzying kiss. His heart pounds beneath your hand; it matches your own.
His lips are warm, rough, yet they move against your own with a softness you could’ve only dreamed of. It reminds you of those late night hang outs, playing some stupid game or watching a movie together. Moments when you felt like you didn’t have to keep glancing over your shoulder; moments of genuine connection and trust, when he would lower his guard, listen to your interests as you did for his. Talk about anything.
For such an evil villain, he’s always been so unexpectedly gentle with you. Even now, plagued by hatred and humiliation in the face of heroes—choking on his jealousy, taking it out on anything with a pulse—his kiss is nothing short of tender, sweet, yearning…
It’s wonderful, you never want him to stop.
You want more.
Your grip tightens on the back of his neck, the tip of your tongue—curious—running across the scar on his lip. A chill shoots down his spine as he pulls you even closer, arching your back, tilting his head further and deepening the kiss.
You could stay here forever; he thinks the same. Your body is so warm, so soft. And you’re so damn pretty. Kissing you feels like a dream; he feels nauseous, he needs more.
You pull away for a moment, trying your best to catch your breath. He doesn’t give you much time, though, hand on your hip gliding upwards until it settles on your cheek, bringing you back to him.
He’s wanted this for so long, always pushing the thought away, chasing after his goals. He refused to be distracted by something as juvenile as a crush (curse Toga for putting that word in his head).
It wasn’t an easy task however, not when you sat with him in front of a TV, arguing about who was better at stupid Wii games. Not when you’d bring back snacks he once told you he likes, just because you could, as you put it. Not when you would wander around the hideout in an old T-shirt and those short shorts, trusting him enough to not flinch away from an accidental brush of his knuckles to your hip. And especially not whenever you smile at him, kind, genuine, warm.
Seeing the way that asshole tried to flirt with you earlier was just too much. Yeah, he was jealous; he knew you weren’t reciprocating the guy’s advances because you wanted him, but he just couldn’t help feel this way.
But look at you now… Why should he keep denying himself something so sweet when you look at him with as much desire as he feels?
There’s a ringing in his ears. He wants to pull on your hair, shove his tongue in your mouth; he wants to feel under your shirt. He wants to bite your lip—just a nibble, how you did earlier, teasing him—and so he does.
And the quiet, tiny noise you make, oh… it doesn’t even qualify as a whimper, more like a sigh, but God, he needs more of it.
Your lips part as he bites them again, harder. In response, you lick at his scar once more, before your tongues finally meet each other, his heart skipping a beat. It’s clumsy, inexperienced, but it feels so good, neither of you care for it. You let him run his hand down your back, over your hip and waist, before settling beneath your breast, suddenly shy.
You kiss him with so much passion—swapping drool with teeth knocking into each other’s—his head spins. He’s drowning into you all while you’re holding onto him for dear life. He holds back a whine when you pull away a second time, lungs greedily drinking in some air.
You stare at each other for a moment, bodies held together in a tight embrace—arms wrapped around the other, hips and ribs pressed so close, his heartbeat is indistinguishable from your own.
He can’t believe what just happened. Weeks, if not months, of pining for you, wondering if things weren’t the way they were—busy chasing after his dreams of destruction—if maybe something soft could have bloomed in between you two.
There are so many emotions running through him in this moment, so many things he wants to do and say. But his mind immediately goes quiet, cheeks bright red, as you move your hips slightly, and you feel him.
You freeze, looking up at him. For a moment, you thought you might have imagined it, but his desire is written all over him: cheeks hot, lips parted and eyes half lidded, heavy breaths and that hardness pressed against your stomach, impossible to ignore.
The heat deep in your core, pooling at the bottom of your abdomen, makes it hard to resist rubbing your thighs together.
The hand on his chest glides down his front, finger curling at the waistband of his pants, and he just can’t hold himself back—kissing you so hard you almost stumble, before pushing you slowly towards one of the bedrooms.
The kiss muffles the giggle that leaves you, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him further into the room, somehow managing to close the door in the midst of wandering hands and stumbling legs.
You lead him deeper into the bedroom, letting him sit down on the bed—back against the old, barely held together bedframe—before climbing on top of him, straddling his lap.
Your hands settle gently on his cheeks, tenderly holding his face as you gaze down on him. He looks so pretty like this, lips swollen from your kiss, eyes wide in surprise at the close proximity, hands twitching on your waist.
And he doesn’t know what to do with himself anymore. You’re so close, scorching hot on top of him, allowing his hands—destructive weapons—to rub all over your form, to graze your thighs, your ass. You lay a tender kiss on his lips, and he’s so damn hard, he would cry if you changed your mind.
He needs more.
You stop his hand on its ascension up to your breasts, holding onto his wrists. He sends you a questioning look, hoping he didn’t jinx his luck by worrying about you changing your mind. But you only wink at him, guiding his hands down to the edge of your shirt, bunching the fabric up in his fists.
Slowly—so, so slowly—you guide his hands upwards again, inch by inch, pulling the shirt up and revealing the skin hidden beneath. His breath hitches once it’s finally off, stunned at the sight of your lacy bra, the delicious curves of your tits.
Tentatively, his lays a hand on your breast. The action makes you giggle, such an innocent touch chasing away your shyness. He would have liked to glare at you for laughing at his nervousness, but he is far more interested in what’s in front of him right now.
Oh, how supple your skin feels beneath his non-covered fingers. Your boobs, so plush, fit so well inside his hands.
“You’re beautiful,” he hears himself whisper, bringing his face to your neck, licking and kissing at your collarbones, the skin right beneath your jaw. He doesn’t miss the flustered look on your face as you let out small sighs and tiny whimpers.
“Tomura…”
The sound goes straight to his dick. Fuck… Never in his life has he ever heard his name spoken in such a way. With so much desire, so much affection. He can’t help the quiet groan that leaves his mouth.
His hands run all over you—rubbing and grabbing and pinching your tits, your hips and thighs, your ass. He pulls you closer to him, kissing, licking and biting at your jaw, your neck and your chest. He wants to feel you, to taste you.
He moans in appreciation when you grind your clothed hips down into his, the movement slow but filled with desire. He glances up at you, but whatever smug quip he was hoping to throw at you as pay back for how flustered you make him feel dies on his lips as you grind down on him again, harder.
This time, he can’t help buck his hips upwards, grinding himself against you. You pull on his hair, biting his lip all while his hands grasp onto your hips, guiding them against his own. You moan into his mouth.
Fuck…
If you keep going like this, he’ll cum without even having removed any of his clothes. Wouldn’t that be embarrassing?
It’d feel so fucking good, though…
Your hand pulls harder on his hair, lifting his head up, exposing his neck. It hurts a little bit, he’ll have to get you back for that, but for now, he needs to focus on not cumming in his pants as your lips lay delicate, kind kisses down his throat.
In the heat of the moment, you’d nearly forgotten how scratched raw his neck can be. You’ve noticed that Tomura tends to scratch at himself less when spending time with you, but the stunt you pulled earlier seems to have stressed him out quite a bit. You can still see the fainting red marks lining his throat.
You’re hesitant to touch him, not wanting to cause him any discomfort, but small, soft kisses shouldn’t hurt him, right?
When he somehow pulls you even closer to him, a moan barely held back behind gritted teeth—sound pulled out of him by both your hips and your lips—you get braver, gently licking and nibbling down the length of his neck.
Greedily, your hand pulls at his shirt, breaking away from him only for a moment as you nearly rip it off of him. “Eager, huh?” he dares sneer at you, so you grind down on him harder to shut him up, rubbing the heat between your thighs above his dick.
All these layers can’t come off quick enough.
You glide your hand down, from the nape of his neck to his chest, down his stomach; the hairs on his arms standing up with the chills that run through him. Curling a finger around the waistband of his pant once again, signalling your attention, you help him shuffle out of them.
It’s clumsy, of course, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.
Tomura tilts your head up, holding your cheek and licking into your mouth. Starved, you swallow his choked whimper as you palm him through the fabric of his boxers, his hips bucking into your hand.
“Eager, huh?” you throw at him, mischievous. He glares at you, but doesn’t deny it—instead, nibbling on your chest and grinding himself into your palm once more, looking for even the tiniest amount of friction.
Slowly, giving him time to back out if he felt the need to (he doesn’t, he needs more), you sneak your hand past the waistband of his boxers, fingers settling around him as soon as he nods, a quiet “stop teasing me” encouraging you to keep going.
You don’t obey his words, however, taking your time, running a finger up and down his length as soon as the fabric is off of him. Poor guy, his cock is red—angry and hot—and so hard, you just can’t resist wrapping your hand around it.
He sucks on the sensitive skin of your neck, thumb rubbing one of your nipples through your bra while his other hand squeezes your thigh—pulling noises from you just as you do him. His hips jerk into your palm again, unhappy with your loose grip.
“This is payback for being mean to me earlier,” you whisper in his ear, grazing the tip of his cock with your thumb. His mouth opens, but he manages to swallow down whatever pretty noise almost came out. A pity.
“Would you have preferred if I had been mean to that piece of shit instead?” he asks, grabbing onto your hand, shaping it into a fist himself, since you just refuse to cooperate.
You grin down at him, teeth bared and pushing a stay blue curl away from his eyes. “It would have been hot,” you joke. He grins back, wolfish and crooked, choking on his breath as you give him your first true stroke, half guided by his own hand.
And God, it feels so fucking good. The way your fingers glide up and down his length, grip a bit too light for his taste, but the fact you’re even touching him right now is making his head spin. Your other hand rests on his shoulder, mouth on his collarbones.
He knows he won’t last long.
He tries to distract himself, squeezing your boob as gently as he can; a sharp contrast to his grip on your hip—so hard, he wouldn’t be surprised if there were imprints of his fingers left over tomorrow. A particularly hard stroke makes the muscles in his abdomen twitch, jerking forward and hiding his face into your neck.
He just can’t hold his groans back anymore, bucking into your hand, legs trembling. And for a very brief moment, he thinks he’s about to beg for more—more speed, more friction, anything.
You smile at him, so sweet and warm—too good for that piece of shit hero from earlier. The kind of smile that always makes the butterflies flutter in his stomach, as stupid as that sounds. You look at him with so much desire, so much affection, so…
Lovingly.
He’s done for.
The muscles in his abdomen tense up, pushing his cock upwards in your fist one last time as he cums, hard. You swallow his sounds as he moans your name with a sweet kiss, giving him one last squeeze before pulling away.
Fuck, you barely even touched him and he still made a fucking mess, he’s pathetic. But you look so damn beautiful with that satisfied look on your pretty face, it was worth it.
“Did that feel good?” you ask, never passing up an opportunity to tease him.
Tomura wraps his arms around your back, pulling you down and rolling you onto your back. He doesn’t answer your question, choosing actions over words. You want to be cheeky? That’s fine, he can tease you too.
He’s not sure where this sudden confidence comes from. It’s not like he has much experience at all (if any). But he is very observant—noticing even the smallest reactions your body gives him—and a very quick learner. He’s sure to figure out how to make you feel as good as he felt in no time.
And with the way you’re rubbing your thighs together beneath him, maybe he’s doing something right already!
It’s his turn now to go slow, kissing your lips and neck and tits as if your mouths haven’t been glued to the other since this started. His half-gloved hands feel good on you, gently holding up your knees as he settles between them.
In this situation, you can’t help but feel shy; in your bra and those very short shorts, the man you’ve been pining over for weeks feeling you up, touching you all over.
You’re probably so fucking wet for him by now, with all that making out and touching and grinding, you almost don’t want him to undress you fully out of embarrassment.
But as he pulls your shorts and panties off of you, gulping at the sight of your slickness, caressing your hip as if to comfort himself, you forget all about your shyness, overwhelmed by need.
You discard your bra off to the side, letting him feast his eyes on your naked form, and he’s hard again.
One of your legs comes to rest on his shoulder as he lays on the bed, breath cold against the slick heat of your core. His hand settles on your body, thumb spreading your pussy open slightly, just enough to see just how wet he made you. You tremble in anticipation; he gulps in excitement.
He doesn’t waste any more time, diving in with a lick to your middle, from your dripping wet entrance all the way up to that small bundle of nerves. A gasp falls from your lips, his eyes darting up at you. He doesn’t strike you as a very experienced giver, but if he’s as fast of a learner in bed as in his everyday life, you’d better strap in.
He does it again, slower, grazing your clit with his tongue once more and your hips jolt against him. He keeps his eyes on you, eye contact so intense you want to look away, but you refuse. You want to see him too.
Teasingly, he lays a tender kiss right where you need him most, pulling a desperate mewl from your lips and that’s all the motivation he needs.
He laps at your clit, his tongue rubbing small, uncertain circles into your flesh—slick and hot—with every jerk and tremble of your legs. Your heart pounds inside your ribcage, sweet moans mixed with the lewd noises coming from below.
It feels good, his tongue—warm and velvety—drives you crazy. Your hips grind subconsciously on his face, seeking out more friction.
“Just like that,” you groans quietly. Your words, the feeling of your fingers tangled in his curls—both signs of your pleasure, signs that he’s making you feel as crazy as he felt.
His movements are a lot more precise now, focused on where your body wants him most, the place that has your legs shaking by his ears, hips jerking with every circle on the sensitive nub, knot building deep in your stomach.
And he just keeps on taking, more and more.
His enthusiasm matches your own, groaning as he dips his tongue down to your entrance, tasting you. And when he sucks on the sensitive flesh of your clit, you have to bite down your bottom lip to hold back the nearly pornographic mewls that try to escape you. The muscles in your abdomen tense up, back arching off of the bed and hand gripping his hair tighter, pulling his mouth closer to your cunt.
He looks in heaven.
Red eyes roll back in pleasure as he repeats the movement again, pushing down on your lower stomach with a hand to try and tame your trembling hips. The feeling of his cold, curious fingers toying with your entrance—spreading your wetness around, dipping the tip of his finger inside your warmth—steals a whine from you.
Carefully, he slides a finger inside you, pumping just as slowly as you did for him. You clench around the digit, his groan muffled by his teeth biting into your inner thigh.
He lifts his head away from your core—whine leaving your quivering lips at the loss—staring at the way your pussy welcomes his touch, nearly drooling at the thought of his cock rubbing against the velvety walls of your cunt. No fantasies of his could have ever compared to what you’re giving him. He prods your entrance with a second finger, glancing up at your pretty face to see your reaction.
God, you look breathtaking like this: biting down on your lip, one hand in his hair, the other squeezing your breast, legs shaking and cunt dripping wet. Your eyebrows knit together, eyes staring into his own.
He almost cums again.
“I want to fuck you so bad, to feel you on my cock,” you hear him say, his hips rocking lazily against the mattress.
His finger pushes into you, joining the other in a quickening pace. Your head falls back, mouth open as he dives back in, tongue rubbing circles and lips sucking on your clit, trying his best to match and maintain his own rhythm.
Your moans are higher pitched now, whimpers and mewls pulled from you with every synchronized curl of his tongue and fingers. He learns fast, fuck…
“Don’t stop! Please don’t stop, I’m so close.” You choke on your breath, “You feel so good.”
The sound of your praise drives him nuts, grinding his hips in the mattress, eyes locked on you. He moves his hand away from your stomach—letting your hips jerk away from his mouth, grinding harder against his face—as he reaches up, palming your boob, rubbing your nipple.
It’s so much better than anything you could have imagined. You feel hot and dizzy, your breaths ragged and short; you can’t tell if you need him off or closer to you. It’s all too much, yet it’s not enough at the same time.
His mouth, his hands, the way he looks up at you, as if begging for you to cum. The knot in your core tightens up, muscles in your legs locking him against your cunt, walls clenching around his fingers.
He lays a kiss right on your clit; a gesture of worship. You moan his name, eyes rolling back in your skull. Your cunt clenches impossibly harder around his fingers, back arching as your hips rub one last time against his tongue. The knot in your core snaps as relief washes over you, freezing cold then scorching hot, dots dancing behind your eyelids.
Your heart pounds as you come back down to Earth, gathering your remaining strength as you peek down at him, too out of breath to muster up any words. A string of drool and slick stretches between his mouth and your body as he pulls away—somehow the lewdest sight of the night. It snaps as he crawls back up on top of you, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as he presses himself close to you.
Your heart skips a beat; this is happening, this is real. He wants you just as much as you want him.
He wastes no time, rubbing his cock against your pussy, guided by nothing but his lust, slicking himself up with the mess he made, the tip catching your oversensitive clit. Impatient, you reach down between your bodies, stroking him lightly as you line him up at your entrance.
And with one last reassuring look—a small nod, a slow blink—he pushes forward.
You both gasp as he sinks into you. The feeling of your warmth, the wetness of your cunt, it tests his patience, nearly breaking his resolve to take his time, to savour this feeling and to commit it to his memory until he’s nothing more than a corpse.
You can’t help but squirm at the stretching feeling, this fullness—with how wet you are, it doesn’t even hurt. Oh, it’s amazing.
With a small, impatient thrust, he finally bottoms out, drawing another gasp from you. Your legs tighten around him, keeping him close, cock buried deep inside your core.
He is everything you’ve ever wished for.
“Does it hurt?” he pants. Light-blue hair tickles your cheeks as you place a kiss on his.
“It feels so good,” you whisper in his ear, drawing a whimper from his scarred lips. Slowly, he begins moving against you, thrusts small, cock still buried deep.
Your pussy flutters around him, hips grinding into him, looking for more friction. But it’s not enough. “Tomura, please move. I need more…” you breathe into his mouth, licking his scar.
He moans your name as his cock twitches, hands squeezing your waist as he pulls his cock nearly all the way out of you, your cunt clenching around the tip, begging for more. Words are knocked out of you when he pushes back in, sending a jolt of pleasure up your spine.
“Fuck…” His stomach tenses up as his cock drags against the walls of your pussy. The way it tightens with every one of his thrusts—pulling him back into you, wrapping around him harder than your hand did earlier—it drives him crazy.
Ripping one of his hands away from your waist and pushing off the mattress, straightening his back, he takes a good, long look at you.
Nothing could have prepared him for this sight. He thought you looked beautiful, on your back, legs wrapped around his head, cunt tight on his fingers and gushing on his tongue. Oh, but look at you know…
Pretty face scrunched up in pleasure, eyes filled with lust, swollen lips caught between your teeth. Your tits bounce with every thrust, calling his name. He can’t help feeling jealous of your hand as it comes up to palm one of your breasts, wishing it was his own.
But it’s the sight of your pussy, wrapped around his cock so tightly, dragging him back inside with every thrust, that almost makes his heart stop. His hips slow their pace, a whine getting stuck in your throat at the loss of friction. It’s a needed sacrifice however, the only way he can keep himself from cumming inside you at the mere sight in front of him.
He stares, lips parted in awe, at where your bodies are connected. He loves you, he thinks. You’re always so kind, so sexy. You make him feel so good, make him feel like he matters. His heart beats for you.
“Tomura, stop staring and fuck me!” He doesn’t look up at the sound of your voice, too entranced by your body, his thoughts, but he none the less obeys your request, slamming into you with renewed passion. Your hand shoots up, holding onto his arm for support.
Your clit throbs and twitches with every deep thrust, slick gushing around him, gathering at the base of his cock. It’s gross; he wants to lick it off. Or maybe you could do it, sucking his dick with as much desire as he felt devouring you whole.
The thought makes his cock throb, stomach tightening once again. He quickens the pace, chasing after his pleasure, hoping you’re able to feel just how crazy you make him.
You pull him back down, fingers gripping his nape, slamming your lips onto his, stealing groans and moans from his chest as you move your hips in sync with his quickening rhythm.
He breaks the kiss, looking back down at where your fingers rub small circles on your clit. Your pussy spasms around him in such a delicious way, he can’t help slamming into you harder. He’s so close; you are too.
The feeling of his body on top of yours, his dick dragging against your walls, the added friction of your fingers on the most sensitive part of your body. Your nails dig into his back as you tense up, legs quivering as incoherent words fall from your drooling lips, begging him to keep touching you, to never stop pounding into your cunt, to kiss you.
And he does.
You come hard, pussy gripping his cock like your life depends on it, bucking your hips against him as you bite his lip. He isn’t far behind, miraculously managing to pull out of your warm, inviting cunt with a lewd pop before spilling onto your tummy, hands gripping your hip and breast so hard, you know they’ll bruise tomorrow.
Soon, he crumbles down on top of you, utterly spent and out of breath, heart hammering into his ribs.
Dazed, the two of you squirm and whimper against the other, coming down from the orgasms of your lives. It feels like a dream, but neither of you are waking up.
Tomura wraps his arms around you, squeezing you to his chest, afraid you might disappear. It pulls a tired giggle from you, exhausted beyond comprehension, but still yearning for his touch. You feel yourself relax into the mattress, breathing slowly, basking in the afterglow.
You allow yourselves to remain like this for a while, enjoying each other’s presence in silence before you speak again, feeling the need to tease him one last time before the night is over. “Are you still jealous of that hero?”
He chuckles, a rare sound, something you’ll cherish for years to come. “Shut up,” he responds, smiling into another sweet kiss. You hold him close to you, never wanting to let him go. His heart flutters; he feels the same.
I'll be forced to miss weeks of my winter semester (my last one before Im supposed to graduate) to take my exams here because I can't do them early to get back home in time for said last semester
One of the classes I was suppose to take apparently isn't available anymore, despite the fact the uni told me I could take it months ago, i no longer have enough credits for the semester
There's a good chance my insurance will get denied and I might have to pay for insurance here, despite the fact I already have some
Obligatory warning: may or may not contain spoilers for Chapter 3: Arkansa Coreopsis; Love at First Sight of my fic True Love’s Kiss.
Like, what better chapter title was there? Of course, Reader and Dazai didn’t magically fall in love, but I don’t think I could’ve picked something better lmao. The moment I saw that entry in the book I use for my titles, I knew I had to use it.
These author’s comments might be on the more negative side of things. Overall, I had a lot of negative feelings for this chapter. Basically, when I wrote this months ago, I was pretty satisfied with the end product. I liked the POVs, I liked how the first meeting went. I wasn’t 100% satisfied with the dialogue, but overall, I was pretty happy.
Then I took a break and wrote Disaster in the making and when I came back to this, maybe a month later, I hated it all. The entirety of Reader’s POV in this chapter was terrible. The second part, the actual meeting between the two, I changed quite a bit, but overall, it stayed relatively the same. But the part right before that, when she reflects on her ability, her past and how she used it on the three nameless dudes, god I hated it so much.
It’s part of why it took so long to edit. I literally didn’t touch my documents for almost a month because I didn’t know how to salvage it, and since I have 2 “completed” chapters plus 1 more in the works, I felt really demotivated. I didn’t know how to fix it, and part of me actually thought about abandoning it all. I was really busy too, working 9 to 5. During my time off work, I was working on my summer class, and when I had time in between all this, I was preparing for my semester abroad. I didn’t even have that much time.
Another thing that made editing this fic so hard was that I felt embarrassed. I felt the quality of this fic was significantly worse when compared to the MHA oneshot I posted a while back. I kept wondering how I could feel so negatively about this chapter and feel so proud of that oneshot when they were written only a couple of months apart. Maybe I improved or something, I still don’t know. But I also felt embarrassed because, for a couple months, there were absolutely no interactions between the main couple of the fic. It felt like I was disappointing the readers, even though I didn’t receive any sort of hate that could have made me feel that way??? Anxiety I guess…
Eventually, I saw a TikTok with tips for authors and the person talked about how it’s better for the MC to be flawed, so they have something to battle with as their story progresses. And it kind of clicked then. The way I wrote the Reader wasn’t flawed enough lmao. She has trauma from the times she accidentally touched people and the way she was treated because of it, but then, that one time she actually wanted to harm someone (to save someone else), she was praised for it. I felt like any child would be a bit fucked up after that, make it harder to tell right from wrong. I thought it made it more believable that she would be willing to use the ability on the three mafia guys, and I also thought it made it a bit more believable that she would feel angry about it all later on.
Also, I tease two important parts of the Reader’s backstory in this chapter (I already mentioned them in earlier chapters, but I’ll talk about them a bit here). The first element is that “it” you might have noticed, another part of the ability that hasn’t been revealed yet, as you probably figured out. The second thing is “that day.” You might already have an idea of what happened, since I mentioned it in an earlier chapter. I won’t say much about both of these things, I want to let you discover it all on your own as I keep posting these chapters. But I mention it here because, the reason why she didn’t tell anyone how to wake the three guys up wasn’t out of selfishness (like the first version of the chapter was) but literally because she forgot she wasn’t home anymore. This might be a slight spoiler, but Reader always had someone looking after her to make sure nothing bad happened, and so the accidents were "fixed" pretty quickly. When she used it on the three guys, she was so focused on “it” and “that day” that she completely forgot no one was there to clean up after her. Idk if that makes sense or if I wrote it properly. Maybe it’s dumb, idk, idc.
I’m still not 100% satisfied with the end product, but it is far better than it was before, so I am pretty happy with my improvement. Also, writing from the POV of a character who’s way smarter than you is hard as fuck! That whole ability analysis part of Dazai’s POV might be just a bunch of bullshit. Maybe my interpretation of BSD abilities is all wrong lmao. I did read a bunch on how different abilities work and how they react to Dazai’s, but I’m still unsure I understood everything perfectly.
That’s pretty much it for today, I think. The main thing I wanted to talk about was my struggle with the editing. I felt like shit for a while. Also, I’m not going to make any more promises about when a chapter should come out. Last time I did that, I ghosted the fic for a month lmao. I will be taking a little break, not because I need it, but because I’m hopping on a plane tomorrow and flying to Switzerland for the semester. I’ll take the time to get settled, say bye to my dad (who’s accompanying me for a couple days) and make sure everything is good with my universities. Maybe I’ll post some stuff about that too. This blog turned out to be more like my diary than anything else lmfao.
Thank you for reading all this. Writing these always makes me feel better.
I did it, I actually posted the chapter when I said I would.
As promised, here’s a short extract!
True Love’s Kiss - Chapter 3: Arkansa Coreopsis; Love at First Sight
Here’s the ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63643099/chapters/182666011
(900 words)
There’s a knock at the door; your head snapping in its direction. It’s light, quick.
You were not expecting anyone; no mail, no deliveries. It could be the landlord coming by for a chat, but he always shoots you a text beforehand to make sure you’re home.
You glance at your phone on the coffee table. No notifications.
The door is still locked, thankfully. You hope this visitor isn’t who you dread it might be.
At your lack of response, the person knocks again, a bit louder this time. You turn the TV off, getting up. Maybe you can pretend to not be here? Or maybe pretend that you’re incredibly busy taking a shower and can’t come to the door?
You jump at the sound of your name spoken through the cracks of the door frame. A suspiciously young, friendly voice; not at all what you were expecting. Aren’t gangsters usually intimidating old men with smoker voices, like coat-man was? With that tone, this guy could say he’s a high school boy hoping to sell you cookies, and you’d almost believe him.
“Almost” being the key word here; you know damn well not to open the door. As silently as you can, you creep up to it, cringing as one of the floorboards groans under your weight.
It’s fine, he probably didn’t hear it, you’re fine.
Laying your hands on the cool wood, you bring your face up to the peephole, hoping to catch a peek at your visitor. Unfortunately, it seems as though this guy isn’t as dumb as you were hoping he’d be, obscuring your view by covering up the peephole with his hand.
“I know you’re home. Open up, would you? I just want to have a little chat. I promise I came here alone.”
Alright, time to go barricade yourself in your room for the next 100 years.
You walk back over to the coffee table, glaring at the treacherous floorboards as you grab your phone. Just before you can step in the direction of your dark bedroom, the thought of calling the cops on him briefly crosses your mind, but…
Even if they scare him away, he could try and find you again later. Or worst, maybe he has evidence of yesterday’s evening activities. It could get you in massive trouble with them.
“Shit, the cops might already be on the lookout for me. Didn’t feel like checking the news this morning…” you think, biting at your nails. On top of that, you already have a strained relationship with the law.
It doesn’t seem like you’ll be able to avoid this confrontation. A sigh escapes you, a hand rubbing your neck as you try your best to come to terms with the situation.
In your moment of silence, preparing for the worst, a strange little noise catches your attention, taking you out of your rushing thoughts.
“What the hell is that?” It’s subtle, almost like very quiet scratching, coming from the entrance… the door, maybe?
Against your better judgment, you creep closer, trying to pinpoint the origin of the sound. You don’t have to wait for long to figure it out, though, your heart dropping in shock as the lock clicks open.
This asshole just picked the goddamn lock. And he was fast too, what the hell?
It’s a good thing you know how to be quick then, managing to turn the lock just before the intruder tries the handle.
“Oh, come on! I just got it unlocked…” he whines, knocking against the wood softly. “I’m I going to need to do it again? Or are you finally ready to let me in?”
You hold back a very classy “fucking asshole,” angrily pondering your options one final time. Surely, if you let him in now, you can still hope for a relatively civil (and hopefully non-violent) conversation, right?
The man’s annoyed grumbles somehow reaches your ears through the wood—something about making his life difficult or something—before the little noise from earlier starts back up again.
Honestly, you should wait for him to be done, just so you can lock it in his face again. He’d deserve it for showing up like this.
Deep breath, one last time. “I’m so fucked.”
The lock clicks softly under your hand, the door creaking open just enough to finally make eye contact with this uninvited guest, knelt down on the welcoming mat. The wood is cool under your hand, the other still wrapped around the lock, just in case. Oh, how you wish the landlord had installed a chain on the door frame right now…
The face staring back at you isn’t at all what you expected of a gangster. A young, pretty face with soft, messy curls and a big, curious brown eye looks up at you from where he’s kneeling. Your eyebrows furrow; this guy couldn’t be any older than you. Do kids barely out of their teens usually work for the mafia?
“Ah! There you are, I knew you’d let me in eventually!” the stranger says, lifting himself up to his feet with a smile, a sharp contrast to your scowl.
He’s taller than you, dressed in a suit and tie. A long, black coat hangs off of his broad shoulders.
“…You picked the lock.”
“You opened the door,” he replies, smile widening at your deadpan tone and visibly irritated expression.
“Oh, he’s one of those…” you think mournfully, dreading this interaction even more than before—if that’s even possible. If the night doesn’t end with your murder, it might just end with his. You aren’t getting your hopes up, though.
TLK - Chapter 3: Arkansa Coreopsis; Love at First Sight is officially coming out tomorrow!
I’m finally done with the editing. I ended up reworking literally every line of the chapter because I was really unhappy with the whole thing, so that’s part of why it took me so damn long.
Tomorrow, I’ll post the link as well as an extract of the chapter, and then my Author’s comments will be out a couple hours later.
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