Yandere Alpha!Aizawa x omega!reader
Warnings: omegaverse fuckery, yandere, dark themes, very slight daddy kink, very slight breeding kink, PiNk NiPpLeS
A/N: I wrote this for a friend and that friend is me. Entirely self indulgent which is wack because usually when I write AOB shit I have the shield of it being a request up. Usually I try to stray away from describing things about skin and bodies for self-inserts, but I did a little bit for this one. Anyways, have some nasty trash
(DO NOT REPOST MY WORK ANYWHERE WITHOUT ASKING FOR MY PERMISSION)
Aizawa was a patient and experienced man. He was no stranger to having a cat he rescued off the street become reclusive in his domain— only making appearances when they needed to eat, drink, and relieve themselves, so it was not too alarming when he brought you, a criminal vigilante, back to his home and you had reacted similarly. He wasn’t worried. He figured that as an omega, he’d find you deprived and wanton sooner or later.
He understood that you needed your space. It surely had to be a bit of a culture shock to you for the first couple of days or weeks, and he certainly knew that you’d need your time to cool off after being plucked so suddenly off the streets like you were. The last thing Aizawa wanted was for you to hate him, so at first he had repressed his need to claim you immediately in order to help you acclimate to your new environment. He was fervently against forcing himself on you, even if his nature told him that it was his right.
Before you became a suitable partner, you had to be his pet. You had to be his comfortable pet.
So he left you alone in the room he’d set up for you, only hoping that you’d come out to visit him on your own accord before you fell into your first heat in your new home. Your stubborn heart never showed its face, but that wasn’t a dealbreaker for the erasure hero. If anything, your petulance stirred him. It beckoned him.
The day finally came when you had your first heat, and he would be lying if he said that he wasn’t looking forward to it. It was only natural for Aizawa to be drawn to your room when he caught a whiff of that delectable scent, that musty aroma that was so indisputably you, that it got him hard as a rock instantaneously. Like a moth to a flame, he found and rescued you from your own aching turmoil. The alpha claimed you, and marked you, and fucked you, and loved you, until you were nothing but a messy pile of satisfied lust melded into the guest room sheets, panting and writhing and thanking him for taking very good care of you. You were soft and warm and you fit around him perfectly. You were heaven on earth, crying into his shoulder, clawing at his back, begging for him to give more, more, more, and he did, and you wailed and came for him over and over until you inevitably passed out— splayed on the bed all cute and tuckered out and his. He had been elated.
He had hoped that after the first time he mated with you, you’d be more personable. However, after the fifth heat, Aizawa had to admit that your indomitability would not be broken so easily. He figured that he was spoiling you— letting you stay hidden and alone for as long as you wanted until your heat broke and you could use him for the one thing you’d value him for as an omega. That was the thing. He was letting you use him, and though that may have made you his comfortable pet, that didn’t further your advancement into becoming a suitable partner; it just made you a spoiled princess. He just had to let you know that though a princess you may be, you were his. He’d spoil you on his own terms, and that was only after you learned who held the reigns under his roof.
Six hours had passed since he first caught your scent. You were early this month, which was a pleasant surprise. That could’ve been because of your change in diet; Aizawa had been feeding you lean meat rather than packaged protein in hopes of getting you to act a little more congenial, but that hadn’t changed your mood much. You still glared and recoiled whenever he entered the room, which was nothing compared to the storm of swears you had whirled at him while trying to claw his eyes out when he first brought you to the condo. Still, he’d prefer that you at least thanked him for feeding you and making sure you had plenty of blankets to sleep with at night.
But now that you were in heat— now that you were needy, and desperate, and hungry for an alpha, Aizawa knew that dealing with your less-than-pleasant mood would be worth it. However, this month, he would not come to your aid when he caught the first signs of you torture. He’d have you wait for however long he could stomach it
Aizawa was surprised when you finally came out to the living room.
What Aizawa was expecting was an insolent omega with a potent glower on her face— that consistent brat’s disposition. What he wasn’t expecting was that the brat was going to be wearing one of his long sleeved shirts with nothing but her panties underneath, and he didn’t expect it to be so fucking cute. Did you miss his scent? Was his shirt some sort of comfort object to you?
You were becoming such a good girl.
A sheen of your own need coated your thighs and your potent aroma wafted around the living room. It was nearly unbearable. Aizawa didn’t bother to hide the raging tent in his pants. He wanted you to know that he smelled you, that he wanted you, and that it was no mistake that you had been neglected for hours. You were being punished and you should know. He lifted a singular brow, prompting you to speak.
Instead of begging for him immediately like he expected you to, you surprised him for the second time with an accusation:
“You are being cruel.”
Your voice was hoarse, as if you’d been crying, or moaning, or both, and Aizawa loved it. The corner of his mouth twitched up and he extended his arm out, beckoning you to climb into his lap, and like an obedient little bitch, you did.
Your knees were on either side of one of his thick thighs, one of your hands were pulling pathetically at the shoulder of his shirt while the other pressed lightly to his neck. Shouta felt a shudder climb up his spine when you squeezed your legs together and he gave his own leg and experimental bump, just to watch you clench your teeth together and hiss.
You burrowed your face into the crook of his neck. Aizawa took you in, pressing his nose to your hair, relishing the mixed aroma of your shampoo, your sweat, and your pheromone. You gave out a wanton little whimper when he pressed his hand lightly to the small of your back. Aizawa bumped his leg again, and you shuddered against him, letting out the smallest sigh. Noisy baby girl.
You were everything lovely in this world— his little rose.
“Sadist,” you accused, slowly rolling your hips as you began riding his thigh. Your nails dug into his shoulder when he gave you another bump. You growled, but it was no more threatening than a hiss of a kitten.
Aizawa smirked against your hair. Even the loveliest of roses had their thorns.
“How do you figure?” He asked in a slightly mocking tone, because his true nature when he got intimate was no secret to him nor you— not that you objected to it… in the moment. “I haven’t laid a finger on you.”
He slid his large hands down your waist to your smooth, bare thighs. Your body flushed with warmth, and Aizawa could tell that you felt his cock pulsate against your leg by how your cheeks burned a deeper shade of lustful red.
“You’re… neglecting me,” you murmured into his chest.
Aizawa tutted at you and you hummed against him. It was baffling how similar you were to an actual pampered cat.
“Neglecting,” he echoed, baleful and bemused while still oddly roused by how you were trying to appeal to his alpha ethos. “Do I not bring you food when you are hungry? Water when you’re thirsty? Have I not invited you to stay with me in a loving home that you’re free to roam on your own accord only to leave you be when you choose to stay shut away in the lonely room?”
You peeled your head away and scowled down at him. Your plush lips pursed in a way that thrilled Aizawa. His eyelids grew heavy as he imagined pushing his fingers between your them while his cock plunged deep into your soaking, needy, little omega cunt. God, how he missed feeling your walls tighten around him. He thought about what it was like being inside you all the damn time, and it was torture knowing that you were a only a room away from him, and that he could have you at any time so easily, but you’d never be able to love him like he wanted you to if he commanded you to fuck him. Even now, waiting this long while he knew you’d let him in easily, but knowing he had a point to prove, was absolute torture. If patience was a virtue, Aizawa was a goddamn saint.
Trembling, you said, “you kidnapped me, actually. That’s not as loving as you might think, Eraser.”
“No, sweetheart.” Aizawa brought his hand up to your face. His thumb caressed your lips, and they parted readily for him. Your mouth wrapped around him as you hummed tentatively around his thumb. You suckled on him with buzzing warmth, trying to sway him away from having a serious conversation, because it was obvious that right now, you did not want to talk about your ‘kidnapping’; you wanted Aizawa to rut you. “I saved you.”
Aizawa pulled his thumb out of your mouth with a pop! and with the same hand, he proceeded to squeeze your cheeks together. “And you’ve not been very gracious.”
Aizawa could see a fire building up in your eyes. The carnal side of him wanted you to lash out, just so he could push you onto the floor, head down, ass up, and teach you some goddamn manners, but he had to tell himself that you needed to learn. This thought waged war against the sudden realization that his thigh was warm and wet with your lust, and that was quickly pushing the limits of his resolve. He didn’t think that you even knew you were scenting him, which might’ve made that all the more hot.
You’re hurting, he thought to himself. You’re hurting and you want him. You want to be pumped full of his seed, to be bred like a blue ribbon bitch. You want him to use you.
Aizawa could feel his blood rushing while you reached around his head to pull his hair tie out, letting his messy black mop drape over his face. Your lovely hands softly grasped his wrist and with a voice too damn sweet for your own damn good, you asked, “what do you want?”
“For you to be a good girl.”
“I— I’m here, aren’t I?” You asked, as if that would suffice. In retrospect, it would, but Aizawa wanted to be greedy with you. He wanted much more.
So he lied. “That’s not enough, princess.”
“God, please, tell me what I need to do for you to… to fuck me. This is excruciating!”
“Oh. Is my little kitten in heat?” Aizawa moved his hand from your cheeks, down to your warm neck and squeezed. “Is that why she’s finally crawled out of her hideaway?”
Aizawa grabbed the back of your head and you gasped. Your hands slid down to below your stomach, but Aizawa yanked on your hair, causing you to cry out and grasp at his arms before you could dip your treacherous hands into your ptanties. He watched as your nipples hardened harshly through his shirt that really did fit you well.
You whispered out a cute little, “yes,” as Aizawa pushed the shirt up to reveal the tender, pink tits he’d been missing for weeks. Licking his lips, Aizawa experimentally pinched one of your swollen buds between his middle and index fingers as he palmed your sore, swollen breasts. You moaned as you rubbed yourself harder onto his thigh, as if that would be enough to get you off, though it clearly wasn’t by your hushed pleas for any kind of relief. Aizawa ached. He could feel his own pre-cum dribbling out of his cock every time you barely brushed against him.
“Poor baby,” Aizawa cooed before wrapping his lips around one of your nipples. Your body shook while his tongue swirled around you. You placed your hands on the top of his head and began kneading your fingertips through your hair. Aizawa groaned, the reverberations in his chest deepening, the edges of his teeth teasing your sensitive bud.
“Eraser,” you mewled, because you were a vigilante criminal first and foremost, then with another tug, you warbled out a, “daddy,” because you wanted to stir him on a crueler, more personal level, and to tip the bucket over, you knitted your fingers into the back of his head, and pleaded, “alphaahhah.”
Aizawa pulled back and growled, ripping his shirt up and off your shoulders. In nothing but your panties, your entire body flushed in either embarrassment or asoursal— possibly both. Aizawa wanted to worship every inch of you.
You tried to kiss him then, but Aizawa wasn’t having it— jerking his head away just enough so your lips were a hair away from his. You groaned defiantly, then pushed your face past his so his nose was lodged against your neck, below your scent glands. Since Aizawa was having a fine time teasing you, he rolled his tongue up your neck, just to hear your voice catch in a pathetic squeak that set every single nerve ending in his entire body aflame. This was sadomasochism in its prime. Aizawa enjoyed it immensely.
“I’ll come out more— a couple times a week.” You promised desperately, catching that Aizawa wanted to bargain with you.
“Not enough,” his gruff whisper against your skin sent ripples of goosebumps across your arms. “Though I love looking at my little pet, I want to be able to touch her, to hold her, to hear about her day. I’m going to need more from her. Do you understand?”
You paused. Mirthless. Shaken. His. “Yes.”
“Yes, what?” He asked, before giving you another long lick.
“Yes-“ of all the names he’d like to hear from you— sir, alpha, Shouta, Eraserhead, you chose, “- daddy.” While in this state, your lustful, breathy sighs was the only air he needed for his lungs and hearing you call him daddy woke up something covertly instinctual in him. Your name was his heartbeat.
Baby girl. Baby girl.
“I can… join you for breakfast or dinner on the weekends… when you have time.”
“-I can make the time,” Aizawa cut in, murmuring against your skin. “Go on.”
You groaned in frustration. “I don’t know what the hell you want, Eraser! I can’t be your little housewife!”
Aizawa didn’t miss a beat. He was used to your outbursts, even when they were a bit too sudden. He also knew that when he bit down on the junction of your neck and shoulders, you would moan and pull in his hair. When you did, all he had to do was grab your wrists, hold them above your shoulders, and watch you become a panting mess.
Housewife? As if Aizawa wanted you to be so tame. Someone to cook and clean for him? The concept was cute, but that wasn’t on brand with the woman he loved. Aizawa knew who you were, and that was not a doting slave, although the thought of you in an apron and nothing else besides that apron was an exciting concept.
“I don’t want a housewife, kitten. I want a mate.”
Your face flushed. Aizawa’s cock throbbed between your wet thighs. He wanted you. He wanted you. He wanted you, and you kept pushing yourself against him, and god could he not wait another agonizing second of not being inside of you. He was about to let up— give in, give you what you both wanted, and then try again the next time you were desperate for him. He was about to, but then you hit him with a deal.
A myriad of promises escaped your lips, each richer than the last. Some of them were cute, domesticated bullshit that tickled Aizawa’s interest: movie nights, a kiss in the morning, brushing teeth together. Others tickled Aizawa in a different way: massages, surprise blowjobs, something concerning a collar and a leash.
Before he knew it, Aizawa was grinning. He couldn’t say that any of the ideas you spouted in your time of need, but in all honesty, the promise to try was really all he needed.
“I think we might be in business,” he said, and his grin turned into a kiss, and that kiss turned into his tongue brushing against yours, and his enjoying the taste of your moan turned into him ridding himself of the sweats that kept him from you.
The head of Aizawa’s cock twitched and glistened, wet with urgent desire. His stomach tightened when he grasped his throbbing base. You gave him a hungry look. “You wanna prove to me you'll be my good girl?” he purred, appraising you. You bit your lip and nodded attentively, ready to take any request he sent your way. “Then why don’t you ride daddy’s cock?.”
You laughed then. It was a sort of short, relieved kind of laugh that was more of a thank you than anything else— a yes, sir, anything you say, grateful for this opportunity, sir sort of noise.
You pulled your soaking panties to the side and formed a gyre with your hips, moving in circles, coating Aizawa’s cock in your slick. You licked your lips as his cock head teased your saturated slit. You hummed, practically quivering from the idea of having his cock push into you and it took everything out of Aizawa not to grab on to your hips and force you down on him. He needed to enjoy the show before being brute.
You dipped down onto him. Your mouth fell open, but no noise came out. Aizawa flexed his jaw, trying hard to hold onto the last remaining thread of his restraint. You locked your hand onto the back of his neck and eased yourself off of him— you hadn’t gotten even half of his length inside of you, but still your face tensed in pained pleasure as you rolled back down his shaft.
“Fuck. Sho. I can’t-!”
“What is it, baby girl? Is daddy’s cock too big for you to work with on your own?”
You gave him a withering look. You locked your fingers into his hair and forced your lips back on his. He chuckled lowly against your kiss, palming your breasts as you began to ride him.
Aizawa groaned inwardly because fuck, you felt so good rhythmically sliding up and down his cock— so warm, so sloppy, so tight— fuck, so tight that you couldn’t fit all of him in you. You moved your ass so well that Aizawa was surprised he hadn’t made you ride him before. Of course, every time the two of you had gotten intimate (intimate being being Aizawa’s word of choice because he loved you too damn much) in the past, it's always been rushed, carnal, and desperate. It didn’t help that Aizawa liked to take the reigns, and that fact battled with Aizawa’s desire to watch you move so fluently, so sensuously on top of him. You were a marvel to witness, and if he could, he’d savor this moment forever, but his corporal instincts took over.
Aizawa gripped onto your hips. Your pupils dilated.
Aizawa pulled you down onto him and when your mouth fell open this time, a high yip rang out from the back of your throat. He bucked his hips up, hitting you hard and deep each time you came down on him. You whimpered and mewled, digging your nails into his skin as your lust and need rolled down onto his thighs.
“Such pretty noises, kitten.“ he pulled your head back to him so his lips were against your ear. “I’m gonna ruin your little cunt, baby girl. How do you like that idea?”
“Hnngggg. Yes, daddy, please, please.”
Aizawa smirked. Good girl.
He bit your neck and you squeezed around him. He wrapped his arms around your body and stood up, moving you to the arm of the couch. You wrapped your legs around him, locking them around his hips with a grin Aizawa didn’t think you knew you had on. Fingers pulled on skin as he pistoned his hips, slapping into your fast and hard, filling the room with slaps and squelching and the sounds of you hissing and moaning and pleading for more. His skin turned red where you scraped your nails across, hopelessly trying to pull him more into you, and so he did.
He pushed himself to his hilt and watched your eyes roll into the back of your head. Your mouth formed an ‘o’ shape and Jesus Christ if you weren’t the most enchanting fucking creature on this plain earth. Aizawa pushed your shoulders back so you laid flat on your back with your legs hanging off the couch. He admired your stomach as his cock pressed against it, hitting your spot again and again, eliciting sweet music from his precious fucktoy.
Your pussy fluttered as your sputtered out nonsensensical praises for your alpha— the only man that could take care of you, the only man that would ever touch you again.
“Feel good, baby?” Aizawa hissed through gritted teeth as the base of his cock began to inflate. “You like it when I take care of you?”
You were lost to your words, only able to whimper back at him, clutching at the couch cushions with trembling fingers.
“C’mon girl, I know you can handle much more than this.”
“Shooutah,” you managed, squeezing your eyes shut as two thick tears rolled off your cheeks. “Pleaaase.”
“What is it, little kitty? Use your words.”
“I wanna make you a daddy,” you cried, your toes curling, your body shaking. Aizawa growled, his vision sharpening, his cock pulsating. You crooned, “I wanna have your baby. Please— please! ”
Aizawa couldn’t believe his ears. His perfect little mate playing with his instincts like that, just for a good fuck? Naughty kitten. He hunched over the couch, hand wrapping around your neck, squeezing lightly, forcing you to look at your mate. You squeaked, brows furrowing, breath faltering. You were giving him such a pretty and pathetic look. He couldn’t stand it.
Aizawa felt his knot swell all the way up when his lips once again collided with yours. You spasmed around him, and the added sensation of the sweet reverberations of your moans against his lips blew him away.
Aizawa could forgive you for making empty promises every now and again, but if you were going to say something so dangerous while he rutted into you, he might have to teach you to choose your worlds a little more carefully his way.
His knot locked you into place. His cock throbbed intensely as ropes of thick, hot cum lined your quivering cunt walls. Aizawa groaned when you howled, the two of you harmonized and synced, bonded to each other once again. Elation coursed through his veins, and he could tell by the beautiful euphoric look on your face, he could tell you were feeling the same way.
Trapped in each other’s daze, Aizawa couldn’t be happier stuck to you like this. He wove his fingers through your sweaty hair and kissed your neck, your jaw, your cheeks, and your lips.
“I love you,” he whispered, because he couldn’t lie to you like this. You said nothing back, because you couldn’t lie either. It bothered Aizawa, but not enough to ruin his good mood. You didn’t love him yet because you didn’t know him. If you were true to your word and spent more time with him, letting him show you that the two of you were each other’s perfect mates, that could change. It would change.
At least when the swelling went down, and Aizawa could lay back on the couch, you curled against him and let him play with your hair. The two of you laid entwined together for a long while. Aizawa was content having you in his arms, but when your breathing grew heavier and he knew you were asleep, he was glad to be carrying you back to bed, his bed, where you’d be sleeping in from now on.
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👀 Dabi gives out daddy vibes so does Overhaul i
Dom!Overhaul, Aizawa, and Dabi x f!Reader headcanons (18+)
Highkey yeah? But at the same time I feel like Dabi and Overhaul have different flavors of caregiver Dom. Dabi’s got the classic daddy issues kink, but I think with Overhaul it would be a little more…clinical. You know what, I’m going to throw in Aizawa for good measure.
Warnings: medical/doctor kink, teacher kink, daddy kink, soft & hard dom/sub, overstimulation, orgasm denial, impact play, yandere, this is long af lol
Overhaul—medical kink ♢♢♢
Overhaul is paranoid about getting sick and disgusted by germs, plus he likes doing experiments. Surprise, surprise, he’s got a big fat doctor kink!
You’re the only one who doesn’t give him hives. That makes you special. So naturally he has to do some…examinations to find out why you’re so special
After a little while he starts to think about how cute you look in a hospital gown, on an exam table. So open and ready and willing to listen to whatever he says. You trust him so much
And Overhaul has 0 reservations about taking advantage of that trust
You catch on when he starts doing lewd things as part of his “examination”. Teasing your nipples to “check sensitivity”, telling you to take off the gown so he can inspect you more closely, stroking your pussy and smearing your juices over his latex gloves. He’s not subtle
He tells you about how doctors in the olden days used to treat female hysteria patients with orgasms, then picks you up off the exam table and gives you a live-action demonstration
Something about how clean and pure you are combined with that sanitized lab smell really gets him going
Sex aside, Overhaul really cares about your health. Like really. To a degree that could be called obsessive
Every day, twice a day, he makes you take your vitamins in front of him. Then he’ll make you open your mouth and show him that you swallowed (which usually leads to you swallowing…other things)
Does your blood work every 2 weeks to make sure you’re healthy
If you like going out and drinking/doing drugs/hooking up with people, he’ll put an end to that. No way is he going to risk you coming into contact with possible contaminants, unless they’re him
Overhaul isn’t sure if he wants to keep you clean or make you dirty ♢
Aizawa—teacher kink ☆☆☆
It’s not that literal. You can try to surprise him by coming to bed in a UA uniform thinking it’s going to spice things up, and he’ll just look at you blankly like do you really think I want to fuck one of my students and you’ll feel like an idiot
On the other hand, Aizawa’s a teacher. He can’t help being a teacher. So if there’s anything you aren’t super experienced at, you can bet that you’re going to get some gentle instruction
“Yes…yes, just like that, a little slower, yes, you’re doing so good, move your hips a little more, ahhh…yeah, back and forth a bit…touch yourself…I want to see you cum.”
The first time he tells you to masturbate in front of him, you’re hesitant because you’re embarrassed—only Aizawa thinks it’s because you don’t know how, and who better than him to teach you?
So now you’re in his lap with his hand covering yours, reaching down to tease your sopping wet pussy with his fingers, so much bigger and rougher and thicker than what you’re used to
He’ll narrate what he’s doing while he fingers you, and it’s so embarrassing that you’re glad he can’t see you blushing, not that he can’t feel you getting wetter
If you ease him into the teacher/student roleplay he’ll end up getting really into it
“Teach me how to suck your cock, sir” tends to get good results
Aizawa’s pretty lazy in bed, so you’re usually on top. But if you call him “sensei” while you’re riding him, he’ll get really intense and flip you over and rail you so hard the neighbors will complain
You’re just so eager to learn, and so cute when you ask for instructions—he can’t help teaching you
Aizawa gives out kisses like gold stars ☆
Dabi—daddy kink ♡♡♡
Ah, the classic.
“Call me Daddy. Call me Daddy, or you don’t get to cum. Only good girls get to cum.”
Makes you beg whenever you want something, and not just when you’re in bed
Need help reaching a book on the top shelf? Say please! Say please, Daddy! If you say it, he’ll get your book—but not before he fucks you over the table
You think it’s kinda weird. Daddy? Dabi’s so savage that your hickeys & bruises don’t even have time to heal before he gives you new ones, and he wants you to call him daddy? The guy doesn’t have a caring bone in his body—at least, as far as you know
But there’s a lot you don’t know
Dabi wants to know everything about you. If you’re not immediately and frequently willing to tell him what you’re thinking, he’ll think you’re trying to hide something. It drives him crazy that there are parts of you that don’t belong to him
He wants the two of you to be confidants; he wants to be the only one who really knows you and the only one you trust
Thinks of you as his helpless little girl—you’re so weak and pathetic it’s adorable. But if anything or anyone tries to hurt you, it’s going to be ashes real quick
Needs you to show affection 24/7—if you’re watching a movie you should be sitting in his lap and playing with his hair and if he’s fucking you, you better not close your eyes or look away from him, even for a second
Overstimulates you until you say I love you
Because of all the shit in his past Dabi has a hard time believing you when you tell him your feelings so you should get used to repeating yourself ♡
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Kinktober Day 11: ABO (Conflagration)
Day 11: A/B/O
Pairing: Alpha Barbarian Bakugou x Omega F!Reader
Word Count: 3k
Warnings: Fantasy AU. Dubcon, a/b/o dynamics, knotting, public sex, exhibitionism, biting/marking, yandere
Note: Hope you guys enjoy, sorry it’s a bit late! I used all my brain power for the night to finish this.
When you saw the fires begin at the far edge of the village, you already knew that the wolf clan of Bakugou Katsuki had come to pillage your home.
The clan was vicious, almost rabid. They would loot whatever valuables they could find along with basic food and other supplies and burn whatever they didn’t need. As for the people, most would be slaughtered where they stood. But every so often, a young man or woman would be taken by the clan, always omegas. There were many theories of what would happen to them. Some said that they would be eaten, and others said they would become mates.
What the truth was, nobody truly knew, because the ones taken were never seen again.
And now here the wolf clan is, practically at your doorstep. There was no warning given, and nobody had prepared for an attack. You glance around to see only chaos everywhere you look. People grabbing whatever they can and running away from the devastation.
But if the tales of the clan are true, then running will do no good. They work efficiently, surrounding a village from all sides and killing whoever tries to leave. The people may well be running into a trap. But it’s still better than doing nothing.
Unfortunately, your family’s home is towards the end of the village where the fires are already burning, forcing you to go the exact way that you don’t want. But you have no choice. You would rather die than escape without your family. And so you make your way quickly towards your home, darting into small alleys and back streets as much as you can just in case the wolves have already pressed this far into the village.
It is a tense journey, and you find yourself jumping at every shadow as your heart threatens to beat out of your chest. Wondering if this is the moment when your luck finally runs out and you find a wolf waiting to rip your heart from your chest. But you encounter no resistance, and finally you see your house standing before you. A sense of elation runs through you at it being untouched, the fires having not reached it yet.
But that elation quickly turns to terror when you see a wolf appear into your field of view, looking at you with wild eyes that are full of bloodlust. He is in a warrior form, a grotesque mixture of wolf and human that they use to raid villages, as it’s a form that they can both fight and gather supplies in.
You close your eyes and brace for the pain of being torn to shreds, only to hear a sharp “oi!” and a snarled command that you don’t recognize. Your eyes fly open to see the wolf in warrior form run further into town, and a wolf in human form standing in his place. The fact that he is still in human form amidst so much death and fear speaks to how powerful he must be, as wolves have the tendency to lose their focus and turn into wolves when there is so much blood in the air.
The man is shirtless, wearing nothing but some necklaces with what looks to be bones dangling from it. He has leather breeches and boots on, and his bare arms are covered in tribal tattoos. His blond hair is messy and wild looking, and his red eyes are staring at you with such deep intensity that you feel a chill creep up your spine.
Every muscle in your body is telling you to run, but doing so will be a death sentence. Wolves love to chase down their prey, to hunt and root them out from whatever hiding place they find. And your instincts tell you that this may well be Bakugou Katsuki himself, his aura being almost unbearably strong.
He begins to saunter towards you, effortlessly confident and every bit the predator approaching terrified prey. You stay stock still, trying to control your breathing. Despite his overwhelming presence, you feel no desire to harm you. He comes to stand dangerously close to you, towering over your small shivering form. He smells like blood and smoke, and you’re ashamed to admit that it appeals to your nature as an omega.
“What’s your name, little lamb?” He growls out the sentence as he traces a finger down your face.
You whisper it to him, proud of the fact that your voice doesn’t break. “And that house over there,” he points to your humble family home nearby. “That’s yours?”
You give a simple wordless nod as his eyes roam up and down your body like he’s assessing you, and you wonder what he’s thinking. Is he going to kill you? Let you go?
What you don’t expect is him wrapping his arms around you, pulling you tightly against him as he buries his nose into your neck. He takes a deep whiff of your scent right at the pulse point where your pheromone gland is, and something in his demeanor instantly changes.
He drags you into the middle of the main street, forcing you down on hands and knees as he ruts against the curve of your ass. You let out a startled cry as his own pheromones overwhelm you, causing you to instantly flood your undergarments with slick. It isn’t time for your heat, you think nervously, but if he keeps this up, you might be thrown into an early one.
And then you’ll be in even deeper danger than you are now.
“Mate,” he snarls ferally into your ear as he continues to hump against your backside, wrapping a hand into your hair as he forces your back to arch. He nips at your neck, not breaking the skin but biting hard enough that you can feel it. You let out a soft moan as he licks against the gland where the mating bond would go, feeling desire even through the fear that he’ll bite down and claim you as his forever.
“Bakugou, what the hell are you doing, man?” You’re interrupted suddenly by someone in human form, wearing similar clothing as the man holding you down in a vice grip. He has bright red hair spiked up, and you can see every defined muscle as he walks towards you.
Your worst fears are confirmed at the name. You really are being held by Bakugou Katsuki, alpha leader of the most dangerous wolf clan in the land.
Bakugou’s grip turns even tighter, and you whimper a bit at the pressure, knowing that he’s most likely leaving bruises. At your pained noise, however, he loosens his grip a bit and looks up to glare at his fellow wolf. “Kirishima, get the fuck away.” You’re surprised he’s even able to talk with how much his instincts seem to be taking over, although he punctuates his words with a pause in between. “Mate. My mate.”
You can’t decide if you want Kirishima to help you, or not to help you. Your own instincts are running wild at the thought of being mated to such an alpha, while your rational mind is screaming that you don’t want this. As you’re briefly considering begging Kirishima for help, the decision is taken from you.
“Man, that’s awesome,” Kirishima’s eyes turn to instant understanding, and a big smile crosses his face. “But couldn’t you wait until -”
Bakugou snaps his jaws and lets out an incoherent snarl at the man, and Kirishima holds his hands up in a placating gesture. “Alright then,” he says cheerfully, as if Bakugou had done nothing, “try to go easy on her, at least. She’s probably scared.”
“One thing before you go,” Bakugou manages to say, even though all he wants to do is for Kirishima to leave. “Take care of things for me, will you?” There is an edge to his voice, a hidden meaning behind the words that you just can’t seem to grasp. But Kirishima seems to understand instantly, a big toothy grin overtaking his face.
“Gotcha, Bakugou. Will do.” And with that, the man turns and walks further into your village. You had been so preoccupied with Bakugou and Kirishima that you didn’t notice the fact that even more of your village is on fire.
There’s a sharp nip at your neck, and you startle a bit. “Pay attention to me, little lamb.” You instantly glance behind you to meet his gaze, and your pussy clenches as more slick drips out of you at what you see.
Bakugou’s pupils are full blown and focused entirely on you, more of the wolf than the human reflected in them. Sweat pours down his face as he pants heavily, the strain of keeping himself under control almost too much to bear. You realize something very quickly.
He’s going into a rut.
That knowledge causes your pussy to throb, hormones screaming at you to be claimed by an alpha. But no, not even just that. To be claimed by your alpha. You let out a deep whine from the back of your throat as your heat tears through your body like the fires raging in your village.
“I can smell you, little lamb,” he chuckles as he nuzzles your shoulder blades. “You’re going into heat.” Your dress is ripped off of you in one smooth movement and thrown away from your body, and your undergarments are quick to follow. “You can’t resist such a powerful alpha, can you, omega?”
You whine again as you find your hips pushing back against him, wordlessly asking him for more. Sweat is pouring from your body and your skin feels too tight. Your pussy is gushing slick, and with no panties to contain it, it simply drips to the ground. You glance back to see that the front of Bakugou’s breeches are glistening with it, and you feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.
“I asked you a question,” his voice takes on a deep, almost threatening tone. “You need to answer your mate.”
“Please,” you simply say, unable to tell if you’re asking him to stop or asking him to never stop. But he takes this as affirmation as he rips his own pants off, not even wasting time to unbuckle them. He’s wearing no underwear underneath, and his cock is rock hard and standing staight up. It’s so thick that you wonder if it will even fit inside of you, and the thought of even trying causes your pussy to clench around nothing out of sheer lust.
“Can’t wait anymore,” he growls in a low, deep voice. He’s beginning to lose control, the scent of an unbred omega filling the air and dripping slick onto him too much for him to withstand. He trails his cock up your slit, lubing up his cockhead before he sheathes himself inside of you in one sharp thrust.
You let out a wail as your inner walls stretch and clamp down around his thickness, more wetness gushing out to aid him. The sting of it is sharp and hot, but you can’t help wanting more. Wanting him to fuck you like the feral animal he truly is.
As if he can read your mind, he begins to thrust, giving you little time to adjust before he’s slamming into your tight heat. His balls hit your clit, and the force of his thrusts causes your hands and knees to dig into the harsh ground below you. You can smell your own blood as one of the rocks cuts into your open palm, and it only makes the wolf buried deep inside of you go even wilder.
He grips your hips with blunt nails, digging in for leverage as he forces you back repeatedly onto him. Your breasts bounce as you dig your nails harder into the dirt in an attempt to ground yourself, but it’s no use. Your head is spinning from all the stimulation, and you feel as if you’d float away if only Bakugou wasn’t holding onto you.
“Fuck, your pussy feels so good, such a good omega,” he praises you in between harsh growls and pants. “My good little omega, my mate.”
You whine as you push yourself back to meet his thrusts, one hand lifting up to reach between your body to find your clit. He stops his movements long enough to slap your hand away as he snarls at you. “That is my job, you hear me?”
You give a quick nod, only for your eyes to roll back into your head as his own hand grips your pussy. “Fuckin’ choking my cock with this pussy, aren’t you? God you’re so tight.” Two fingers slip between your folds to grind hard around your aching bead, and you let out a squeal as an unexpected orgasm tears through you. Your pussy pulses around him, and Bakugou hisses out a curse under his breath that you can’t understand.
Your body begins to go limp, no longer being able to keep up with his savage thrusts. “No resting yet, my mate,” he wraps an arm around your front, pulling you up and pressing your back into his chest. He nuzzles your neck, licking the sweat drenched skin until he comes to your scent gland.
He bares his fangs and sinks his teeth deeply into you, and you scream loud enough that you’re sure the entire village can hear you as he claims you as his mate permanently. His fangs bury into your flesh as deep as they can go, and you can feel blood trickling down your front. His entire demeanor changes as he marks your mating bond, more of the savage barbarian peeking out.
He forces you up into his lap, not even removing his teeth from your neck as he begins to pound into your soaked pussy. You whimper and whine with every thrust as he bottoms out inside of you with every movement, hitting your cervix in such a way that even the pain feels wonderful. “Mate, please, please please,” you find yourself chanting, “please don’t stop, oh fuck.”
His pace is becoming erratic, and you’re not sure why until you feel pressure at the entrance of your pussy. His knot is beginning to swell. Your whole body sings in anticipation of feeling that knot inside, tying the two of you together.
He begins to hump into you sharply, forcing a wail from your throat as you hear the soft pop as his knot is pushed through the tight muscles at your entrance. Short, shallow thrusts of his cock inside of you has the knot traveling up your soaked pussy, pressing hard against your inner walls and causing you to tremble and pant. His knot tugs against you, and tears run down your face from the sheer pleasure of being so full.
It gets lodged halfway up your passage, the thickest part of the knot grinding against a sensitive spot inside of you and wrenching a scream from your throat. Your lower stomach begins to tighten, toes curling as you shake from the stimulation. Your pussy won’t stop fluttering around him, intense pressure building up inside of you as you near another orgasm. There are no longer any words from Bakugou, merely snarls and growls as he continues to rut into your pussy like a man possessed. His fingers grind down around your swollen bead, causing you to tumble over the edge.
He groans and uses your distraction to grip your hips and force his knot all the way to your cervix in one movement. You’re still cumming, and you can’t tell if his cock fully expanding inside of you throws you into another orgasm or simply prolongs it.
You’ve reached the end of your endurance, and you lay your head to rest on the ground, too tired to do anything else but lay limp and let him do what he wishes to you. Finally his knot swells to full size, and with one deep groan, his cock spasms inside of you as he fills you up with his cum. You can feel the heat spreading through your insides, the knot preventing a single drop from being wasted.
He removes his teeth from your neck, eliciting a small gasp, not of pain but of pleasure. You’re covered in his scent, marked by his teeth, and filled with his knot and cum.
And you’ve never felt better, more alive than you do at this very moment.
He pulls you up enough to fit you onto his lap, pulling your back tightly against his front and placing small open mouthed kisses around the column of your neck. “My good little mate,” he murmurs into your skin, and you shiver at the praise. He holds you there for a while, caressing over your body and whispering sweet nothings into your ear until his knot swells and he can remove it.
He slides it gently out of your ravaged pussy, and your sadness over being so empty must show on your face. “Don’t worry, I’ll fill you up again soon enough. Things have already been taken care of, so I just need to get you out of here now”
He sets you gently down as he removes the fur lined cape he had on before, wrapping it around your naked body to cover you from the eyes of the rest of his pack before lifting you back into his arms. He walks slowly through the devastation of your village, and finally the horror settles back in.
Your family’s home is completely engulfed in flames, roof caving in as you stare. You don’t even know when the house caught fire, or who caught it on fire, as you were too busy -
Your eyes squeeze shut, mind reeling from what you truly were busy doing as your family lay dying in the house barely down the street.
You try to leap from his arms, to run in and save them even though you know there is no hope. But your mate holds you firmly in his grip. “Shh, don’t be sad, you don’t need that family of yours,” he leans in to gently bump his head against yours.
“After all, I’m your family now, my little mate.”
✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧
Kinktober: @thewheezingwyvern, @vixen-scribbles, @katsukisprincess, @hisoknen, @trafalgar-temptress, @leeswritingworld, @bakugotrashpanda, @kittycatkrissa, @reinawritesbnha, @yanderart, @dabilove27, @fae-father, @anxietyplusultra, @flutterfalla, @angmarwitch, @nereida19, @babayaga67, @fromsunnywithlove, @dabis-kitten, @bakugos-cumsock, @yumeneji, @the-grimm-writer, @iwaizumi-chan, @slashersheart, @cissiewrites, @bunnyywritings, @bakarinnie, @angie-1306, @emplosion22, @lalalemon101, @videogameboiwhowins, @armoredashley, @f4nficbaby, @tenkoshimmy, @baroque-baby, @bbyspiiice, @thirstyforthem2dmen
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Yandere Shinsou with a darling who cries during sex because she’s sensitive and easy to overstimulate?
you have no idea how much I love this, like I don’t know who you are, but I love you. Thank for letting me write this
warnings: heavy dub-con, overstimulation, choking, degradation, yandere themes
Shinsou loves crybabies, he thinks it’s the cutest thing ever
so when he finds this out about his darling he is a lot more excited than he should be
probably finds out by eating you out, you squirm around trying to get away while tugging at his hair and telling him to stop, that it’s too much, but he could care less
when he looks up and see’s your bottom lips quivering as tears stream down your face, he goes almost feral
he’ll eat you out over and over, he usually likes to edge, but now with you overstimulation is his new favorite kink
he always does missionary or has you ride him so he can see that pretty face cry and depending on his mood depends on how he will act when you start to sob
if he’s in a soft mood then he’ll shush you and gently kiss your tears away
“oh I know kitten, but can’t you cum one more time for me? God, you’re so pretty kitten, you look like an angel.”
He likes to go missionary when this happens, slowly driving his cock into your tight pussy, groaning into your ear as you hiccup and sniffle from all the crying
but if he’s frustrated or just feeling kinky (which is 99% of the time tbh) then he is a total asshole
“Aw is it too much? Is my cock too big for you? Fuck that’s it kitten, keep crying for me. Such a fucking baby, can’t even cum without fucking bawling your eyes out. Maybe I should shove my dick down your throat to shut that annoying mouth up.”
He’ll make you ride him while he yanks your hair back, wrap his hand around you throat, bite your neck and rake his nails down your thighs
he’ll pound into you at a rough pace, his hips snapping against yours as he brings his hand down on your ass
just show him your tears some more baby, he can’t get enough of them!
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Top Scariest BNHA Yanderes
Word Count: 4,156
Warnings for below the cut: Yandere shit. Torture. Kidnapping. Pain. Mentions of murder. Abuse. Manipulation.
Here are a few scenarios with a few BNHA Yanderes that I feel would be scary but wouldn’t full out kill you.
- Love Reina
The Possessive/Protective Yanderes: These ones are vaguely lucid to fully lucid, they know what they are doing is wrong but their desires overcome their logic, and they feel a lot of guilt over exactly what they are doing. They know that you won’t appreciate what they are doing, but they can’t help themselves.
Dabi: Lucid / Sadistic / Selfish
This is your yandere? RIP you. F in chat. Todoroki’s are Yanderes. They are. Don’t @ me. Dabi recognizes you are his darling instantly and simply takes you. There is no meet cute or build up. There is no attempt to date you like a normal person. He is a villain, he doesn’t have time for the loving words and playing games to make you, probably takes you at night, as soon as you are isolated you are fucked, he’s injecting you with something nasty he got from Giran and you are waking up chained to his bed. I don’t think he is going to non-con you, but his ways of breaking you down are sick. His main methods are forcing you to wear nothing but his clothing, and if you act rude towards him or deny him cuddles he is sitting down on a chair in the middle of his room. Doing nothing but watching you with his unblinking eyes, you don’t want to cuddle? That’s fine. He’ll just watch you squirm silently until you are docile and don’t squirm away from his care. One of his favourite punishments is leaving you alone for days with only a two litre bottle of water with no one to talk to in his dark windowless room. How long have you been there? Who knows? You will break eventually. Of Dabi would hurt you if you went too far though. In fact you are littered in little thumb prints in the shape of hearts. He knows that once you finally break and Stockholm syndrome takes over you will thank him for them, the second you break, he is going to reward you with his name somewhere on your body. A pretty little reminder of who you love. He will have a matching one with your name too, he loves you so much.
Fumikage Tokoyami: Lucid / Obsessive / Delusional / Selfish
He hates that he is a Yandere, more specifically he hates that he can’t block out Dark Shadow’s nasty and obsessive thoughts about you, and seeing as how they share a mind Dark Shadow slowly starts to break the boys mind into the spiral that is how much he loves you. ‘Look at them today… the way their gym clothes fit so tight…’ He is lucky he has a bird face or else his emotions would be far more apparent. He is the lucid Yandere that is going to try to court you the most traditional ways possible. Long love letters that are hand written in beautiful calligraphy. Small but extremely intimate presents such as home made black paper roses left on your desk and outside your dorm. Poetry scrawled in a pretty red ink that you can’t seem to place the color of… One time he saved up and bought you a silk choker with a black feather hanging off of it, and when you started wearing it every day he finally snapped. There was no going back now. He would however wait until graduation, until you were on a night patrol with him to mention anything. I hope you like him back when Tsukuyomi, because if you reject him after learning about the years of love he put into you, it isn’t Fumi that is going to be taking you. Oh no, it’s dark shadow taking over, see the problem with Tokoyami is that while he is a lucid Yandere, Dark Shadow is BEYOND delusional. He is taking over Fumi’s body, destroying the block and stealing you away to their home. Fumi is a good actor though, on top of that he is the #1 Hero of the night! A stand up man. So I hope you enjoy your two new lovers, because they will make sure that no one comes looking for you.
Tomura Shigaraki: Lucid / Obsessive / Selfish
He knows what he’s like, an unlovable leader of a criminal syndicate looking to take down society. Considers himself a -10/10 in the looks department as well, not that it bothers him (it absolutely does). He has an unhealthy personality and lives in a literal neck beard nest. He also plays lots of video games, when he played Yandere simulator he found himself guessing the missions and next objectives before they were given to him. “Kill her? I already did that! Bitch is already in the incinerator.” You become his darling when you are nice to him, doesn’t matter if you meet him in public and don’t recognize him, or if you play games with him. You aren’t judging him? Maybe he will keep you around a bit… Talk to you, get to know you… It takes months of the two of you becoming open and emotional with each other for him to accept the spiraling feelings for you but when he does he leans into it further. “Y/N, tell me what you think about Yanderes?” You probably don’t take him seriously considering he had become one of your closest friends, you trust him, you may not know what his real name is, only ever going off of his gaming tag, but you answer like anyone bullshitting with their (crush) friend would, “they are pretty cool” (as a character trope you forgot to say) Maybe you make a joke about wishing you could be kidnapped and taken care of by someone who would love you unconditionally forever. Oh you will regret that joke, because Tomura took it very, very seriously. That same night after hanging up the phone on your new friend you find yourself being kidnapped, Tomura is lifting you into his arms like prince charming himself and carrying you into a misty portal. He wouldn’t ever hurt you, he has told you that much, but you aren’t leaving his sight. Now you can do everything together! Play games and snuggle and talk all of the time. You can be nice to him forever. He knows how he feels is wrong, but who really cares? He is already the leader of the Paranormal Liberation Front, he is a real bad guy and he knows that eventually if he treats you well enough you will warm up to him, he can’t wait to make you royalty in his new world and he tells you all the time… You only tried to escape once and you expected him to turn you to ash, instead he pulled you into his arms and confessed that he knows his love isn’t healthy, but he needs you, he needs you to stay with him… You find yourself falling for this man seriously; he really does love you, even if it’s in his own creepy way, his loyalty would last until he died.
Katsuki Bakugou: Lucid / Possessive / Selfish
Bakugou is smart. He knows exactly what he is and what he is suffering from. Does he care? Of course not, his ego wouldn’t allow him to care about something so trivial. He is going to be the best hero and that means he gets whatever prizes he wants for saving so many people. Money? Cars? Fame? He spits on the ground at those useless things he could buy with money. You. You are the prize. He doesn’t know how the hell you wormed into his heart the way you did but now he needs to make you his, and why wouldn’t you want him? He is the best. So for years he tires his best to impress you, winning every match, forcing himself past failure during every work out, forcing himself to be the only one you will ever look at. Look at him. LOOK AT HIM. WHY WON’T YOU NOTICE HIM?!!?!?!?! You are in his shitty group of friends so he is around you every day and yet you still won’t keep your eyes only on him. It isn’t like you have some crush on some other dumb extra, he knew everything about you, he had conditioned and manipulated his friends into getting the gossip to him. You would always tell Mina everything, who in return would tell the rest of his dumbass friends, and he would sit around and pretend not to pay attention while shitty hair and dunce face talked about you and whatever the newest gossip was, and what he didn’t get from his friends, he got from your journal. You were so easy to predict and your schedule was easy enough to memorize. The day of graduation he is pinning you against a wall in an empty classroom, no more fucking around. “You are MINE Y/N. You WILL be moving in with me after graduation. You WILL be applying to the same agency as I am and if you try to argue, I am gonna tell everyone what you did at the beginning of third year.” He’s grinning like a maniac and his palms are smoking as he watches your face fall, the secret you hadn’t even told Mina about…. “Yah. Exactly babe. Nod if you understand.” You nod, the tears forming in your eyes as he moves in to kiss you. “That’s my good baby, I’ll take real good care of you, you are mine.”
Hanta Sero: Lucid / Obsessive / Selfless
Why does he have to be like this…? He can’t stop thinking about you. You are just his friend. Just his friend. A friend who may or may not have mummified a few (all) of the men you went out on dates with and left them hanging until they were begging to be let down, promising not to tell anyone about the unseen torturer and to stay away from Y/N. Not like you would feel that way about him anyways, you are radiant, a deity, perfection. None of those scum deserved to touch you. He did a lot of research into what he was feeling, he didn’t care about the time it took from studying, if anything it gave him a reason to ask you to help him and anymore time Hanta could spend with you he would. You made it too easy too, you were so sweet and kind to him. You trusted him with your deepest darkest secrets, you had daily cuddle time you called “Sero-tonin hour” in his hammock with him, and you would have him cover canvases in his tape to draw your own personal washi tape to hang up. You would tell him how much you loved his elbows and his room and his aesthetic, he was the coolest guy you knew! You had just finished crying about the latest guy who had ghosted you, “Am I unlovable Hanta?”. “Mayhaps you are too good for them and your radiance blinded them Y/N!” You laughed and smacked his chest, that was the first time he offers to smoke you up, why would you refuse? Hanta is such a good guy, he will watch over your high and make sure you stay safe. So there you are, high and snuggling him in the hammock, safe and sound and it all felt so natural and cozy. Everything feels fuzzy and you can hear his sweet words like usual in your ear. “So beautiful, you really deserve someone who would take care of you properly and love you forever and always.” “Too good for them.” “Don’t waste tears on them”, then you reply to his sweet words with a few of your own, ones he has been wanting to hear for years now. “Would you ever date me Hanta? You would be the perfect boyfriend.” You cant see the sinful triangular smile but it is there, spread wide across his cheeks. “If you would be mine Y/N, I would give you the entire world.” “Maybe we should try dating?” You would reply. It takes every ounce of his strength to not shake the hammock. You were his… and if he played his cards right, you would be his forever….
The Delusional Yanderes: These ones GENUINELY terrify me, you can’t reason with them. They 100% believe that you love them back and Just manipulate them, and even then be careful, some of them are sadistic and won’t appreciate being pushed too far.
Izuku Midoriya: Delusional / Protective / Obsessive / Selfish
He knows you are in a relationship. You are just confused puppy! He has journals and a shrine and he knows everything about you! His shrine has all of his favorite things about you in it too (like your toothbrush and that all might shirt you wore once and the pencil he lent you that you bit the end of).You are obviously just letting him focus on becoming the best hero for you! He can’t wait forever, and he already stuffed his terabyte hard drive filled with photos of you! The second you graduate UA though he expects you to take the relationship more seriously though, you’ve been ignoring him at school and referring to him as just a friend.... So obviously he’s destroying your apartment complex secretly, and your boss suddenly doesn’t need you anymore, and then finally your bank account was hacked but the bank won’t do anything! So you HAVE to move in with your loving boyfriend! When you say no, that you might just move back home, his face gets dark for a second before cheering up to his normal baby smile. Many... many people are brutally murdered that night and no one knows who did it, the victims seemed completely random, the only similarities being that they looked vaguely like you, whether they had your hair color, or eye color, or dressed too much like you. The cops ‘don’t see any links’ ‘the murders don’t seem to be connected to each other at all’ ... His friends know something is wrong but they beg you to ‘stay’ with him... Please... Ask him to be the world’s best hero and stay by his side. Izuku will do it for you; you would be the real hero this way....
Shouto Todoroki: Delusional / Protective / Selfish
The only reason this sadistic yandere is able to hide his personality is due to his upbringing. Yandere genes run pretty heavily in the Todoroki bloodline. He loves that you are friends with him, I mean, you are everything to him. So whenever you mention things you want to buy he just gets them for you. New shoes? A better brand of the style you liked is on your desk the next morning. A book you’ve wanted? You get a signed first edition. Supplies for your hobby? Top of the line is what you deserve. I mean... you are his.... even if you don’t know it yet. When you mention that you are getting creepy gifts and you think someone is spying on you he just confessed in front of all of your friends. “I love you, those gifts should have made you happy.” If you reject him he’s going to fester. As soon as you graduate you disappear, waking up in a separate house on the Todoroki mansion land. A quirk cancelling metal collar around your neck and a titanium chain around your ankles, only long enough to reach the bathroom. He would be so happy when you woke up; if you tried to escape he’s going to chain you downstairs in isolation in the ice box of his own making. He comes to let you cling to his side every 15 minutes or so until you learn to behave. He’s a good husband. Even when he forgets he thinks frostbite scars look so pretty on your skin, like snowflakes that remind you that you belong to him... You called out to Fuyumi once to help you and she simply waved, asking if your chains were too tight.... You will learn to be the perfect Todoroki spouse eventually, he just had to be patient.
Hawks (Keigo Takami): Delusional / Obsessive / Selfish
You met Hawks exactly one (1) time picking up the same chicken order at your new favorite place. You had no idea who he was and you treated him like a normal goofball, shooting quips back and forth with the man while you debated who would take the first batch. “I insist feather, you take the first batch!” He was still a chivalrous hero. “It’s fine big bird, I don’t have anywhere to be anyways.” When he asked if you knew who he was, you explained that you had just moved here, and weren’t really that interested in social media anyways. What were you doing here? Had you really just picked up your life and moved on a whim? What a free bird… A free pretty bird. Wouldn’t it be nice to own such a pretty free bird? It had been months and you had forgotten all about the red winged hero, but he hadn’t forgotten about you, oh no. He, being the very good hero (boyfriend) he was, he was looking out for you. What would happen if you were to get hurt? So he kept notes like a good protector. The second time you met Hawks he had simply picked you up from some back alley you walked through, knocking you out with a well placed blow to the back of your neck, he knew it would hurt when you woke up but he couldn’t just let a small baby bird like you wander around, you could be free with him. In the safety of his penthouse. In fact he had a beautiful large cage made just for you. He wondered if you could sing.
Mirio Togata: Delusional / Protective / Sadistic / Selfish
TERRIFYING YANDERE. One of the only delusional ones that will actually threaten to hurt you to keep you by his side. He doesn’t understand why you want to leave, you are happy with him. You two met back in high school and have been madly in love ever since! Why do you think he was always picking you up, and carrying your books to class, and watching you sleep at night? You were so happy to move in with him after high school too! Even though you called it roommates and you slept in separate rooms, and every single time he put sleeping pills in your food to help you sleep when he noticed you were tired at work you smiled while he held you! You always thanked him for patrolling with you too! You must have noticed that he would scout ahead and permeate into the villains causing aneurisms and heart attacks! He was such an amazing boyfriend protecting you like that, even if the screams from civilians hurt his ears. Then one day you did something unspeakable. You cheated. You went out on a DATE with another man. You even told him about it…. Was he not being a good enough man for you? No… he was wonderful… You needed to be punished. Your boss was so surprised when you sent in such a vulgar E-mail quitting from your work phone. The second you get home you have a quirk cancelling necklace snapped around your neck and a gag pushed into your mouth, all but tossed into a cage in Mirio’s closet. “Now I am going to deal with the man you cheated with darling, but when I’m going to show you what will happen when you play with my feelings.” Little did you know that the man would be permeating into your body, toying with your organs just enough to show you that he was serious, you wouldn’t want to feel your heart being squeezed again right? If you apologize he will forgive you, but only this once….
Tenya Iida: Delusional / Sadistic / Selfish
Tenya’s obsession with you started in high school, he never convinced himself that you were in a relationship, it wouldn’t be appropriate to date until you were both adults, but he knew with all the flirting and tension between you two you would get married as soon as you left high school. You were always talking to him with those bedroom eyes; you gave him hugs and always asked him to study with you! He would flirt back when no one was around, complimenting you on recent grades you had gotten and how well your hero training was progressing. He was a smooth man; nothing would stop your shared blossoming love as soon as you graduated. You were so beautiful as well, it was a shame a hero such as yourself would become a homemaker so soon, but that was alright, when the two of you had children you could teach them everything you learned at UA early so that when they followed in the good Iida name they would have a head start! Yes, that was what your education was for, for his children. When graduation day finally came he pulled you into his arms, kissing you deeply and running his hands over your hips and back. If you push him away and tell him not to touch you like that he would be so incredibly confused, this is the moment you have been waiting for, the two of you waited for three entire years!!!! It takes a moment for what you mean to really meant, he understands now, nodding at you gently he goes to find his lawyers and your parents. Obviously you wanted to wait for marriage first! Not even a month later you find yourself stuck in his arms, the enormous dowry price he paid to your parents was more than enough to get them to sign the arranged marriage document. Now he just needs to get you to remember all of the rules….
Kendou Rappa: Delusional / Protective / Selfless
He is far too stupid to understand what a Yandere is, he spotted you at one of his fights in the crowd and his mentality went from “fighting is all I care about” to “fighting is nothing compared to them. I will fight FOR them.” He is taking you immediately, he is a criminal. Scream or fight it doesn’t matter, you are made to be together, he knows because his brain told him right away. He doesn’t mind that you are scared, the second he saw you he was scared too! What if you got hurt? You are so small compared to him, even as you cry and scratch and bite him in his enormous hands it feels like a small kitten to him. When he does bring you home he isn’t locking you up or hurting you, he is just holding you on the couch in his iron grip, staring deeply into your eyes and asking endless questions. He needs to know everything about you, he loves you, and you love him. You are SOULMATES. Sure you will have to stay in his room at the Yakuza base, but that’s ok. He forgets to feed you, so he gives you full reign to wander as long as you don’t leave the complex. You tried to escape a few times but he simply reasons that you were going out to look for him. He is an endless hunter, single minded, even if you do get out you are found quickly and brought into his meaty hugs. The best thing to do with Rappa is to just take advantage of the situation, he is stupidly easy to manipulate. You may not get out but your life will be very easy if not mildly restricted. If you give him puppy eyes you even get to go off base alone every once and a while.
Tags: @hipster-merchant-of-death @michiieewrites @kzombi3 @aizawascumslut
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Another installment in my yandere pov series, and inspired by a few anon requests I got to paint dabi.
Below the cut, as customary, is a one-shot I wrote for the backstory behind the portrait (Dabi x reader, 3k, dark themes). Hope y’all enjoy 🖤
Tws: nsfw, noncon, hinted kidnapping, inner turmoil. Overall nastiness.
Staring at the marred back of the man lying beside you, eyes following the billowing pattern of his scars, it was easy to pretend you two were just another couple sleeping side by side. Pretend that you weren’t in a ratty motel room hidden away from the world, on a mattress that creaked with any slight shift of movement, and with the bitter taste of fear resting below your tongue.
Pretend that he loved you, just like you loved him. Fantasize that it wasn’t the type of complicated infatuation corroded by trauma filled pasts, by bitterness and the phantom of brokered trusts.
But then Dabi turned, the hitch in his breath warning you of his now alert state, and when his cobalt eyes held your stare all illusions were promptly shattered. Wishful words died on your lips before they even had the chance of being born, the frown on his face deepening as his arms circled around you, drawing you close.
You tried to leave your mind blank then as he pressed your face into his chest, wishing it was easier to tune him out while he muttered lazy words against the shell of your ear.
“What happened, Princess?”, Dabi’s sluggish smile dragged the corner of his mouth upwards, making you feel the unmistakably texture of his metallic staples digging into the side of your face, “Are you lonely?”, He was mocking you, of course, and yet it was hard to not identify the hopefulness that hid behind his jest.
A hopefulness that went hand to hand with his need, with the sharp line of his body enveloping you and a rapidly hardening length heating up your lower abdomen.
A tremble shook you, prompting you to curse beneath your breath as a low chuckle was drawn from the man holding you.
“Or were you cold?”, and he was still teasing you, elated in your humiliation.
Because you were naked in his grasp, without even a blanket to aid you or any other heating present in the musty motel room. He had refused you any covers from day one, taking away what little you owned in terms of clothing and citing the fact that you needed not hide away from his glare. But you knew the truth behind his meager explanations, the reasons why he so rejoiced in seeing you exposed and trembling.
In the death of winter, with the cold biting at your skin and the air feeling suffocating in its humidity, he was your only source of warmth.
It became impossible not to let out a reluctant sound of relief as he dragged his palm through your sides, heating up your skin with languid movements. Although you were luckily way past the point of feeling any embarrassment at your own willingness to stop the cold, past the point of blaming your body for reacting in the way your captor had conditioned it to do so.
“Want me to warm you up, then”, Dabi muttered now at the base of your neck, his breath hot and almost painful as it grazed your nearly frozen skin, “Princess was so cold she couldn't even wait for me to wake up on my own, is that it?”
He wasn’t even expecting an answer at that point, just talking for his own sake as your shaking became even more pronounced, getting off on forcing you to hear whatever sadistic taunts his mind provided. Unwittingly pressing yourself against him as you tried to wiggle out of his grasp (dumb girl, should’ve known better than to think you would ever get away), by the time you felt the twitching of his bulge against your stomach it was too late to try and pull back.
His hands were pressing you down from the small of your back before you had a chance to think of voicing any discomfort, his sarcastic laughter turned into a low rumble as he proceeded to roll his own hips into you, angling you with ease so that he was pushing against a much more sensible spot lower down.
With your face away from him, it was too late for you to trick yourself into zoning things out. All you could see was the dirty mattress you were forced to lay on as he continued to mutter against your pulse, the rough texture of nails diving into your flesh as he coaxed you into following his movements, setting a cadence for you both as he continued to rut into you through the thin fabric of his boxers.
All you could feel was the disgust climbing from your gut, the burning sensation of tears you hadn’t been able to shed since your very first few weeks with Dabi.
“I’ll warm you up, baby”, he was whispering as one of his hands crept up your stomach, tickling your ribs with its blazing touch and making you wonder if you were about to get marked again. He sounded so utterly pleased with himself, so absolutely content, that your mind was quick to conjure up images of blue flames licking at your flesh, of the barely fading scars that littered your entire body.
He took one of your breasts into his grasp then and snapped you away from your lingering memories, kneading it slowly, almost carefully, before his fingers made contact with the sensible bud of your nipple. Again, it would’ve been so easy to get lost in that sensation, in that revering touch, if your circumstances didn’t make it anything short of horrifying.
(But you were warming up already, weren’t you? Your cunt reacting despite the disgust and horror you proclaimed, slick gathering as it greedily prepared for the impending intrusion. What a liar you were, Princess.)
He continued his lethargic rhythm as his fingers toyed with your chest, teasing himself (teasing you both), before taking his other hand away from your lower back. You were trained enough not to try getting away from Dabi by that point, knowing better than to fight the inevitable, but it was still hard not to feel shame bubbling back up as you found your own hips stuttering down to meet his out of reflex.
In his hands, your own body became the deadliest weapon he could wield against you.
(Yet you’re enjoying this, you like this. Therefore, you must like him too, right?)
His now vacant arm slid up until he was roughly grasping your jaw. He angled your face down to stare into his gaze, into his scarred face and parted lips that morphed into a perfect picture of lust riddled reverence. And seeing the longing in those orbs was far crueler than all of his jests, all of the degradation and threats. Far scarier, too.
“Kiss me, Princess”, he commanded then, his stern voice almost succeeding at hiding away an eagerness you knew lurked beneath.
And you did, because you knew the consequences you’d otherwise face. You dived down to capture his lips in a mechanical way, moving dispassionately (or that’s what you tried telling yourself, as in denial as you were) until he took over. Much in the same way he had coached your hips earlier, the hand in your jaw instructed you with light movements until a pleased sound left the back of his throat.
“So willing for me”, he praised in a hushed tone as he briefly broke away, voice grave and dripping with desire.
And just like before, it wasn’t long before he decided you were well enough accustomed to the action, and then the grip holding your jaw was once more moving downwards, his scorching touch now merely tickling you as a palm pressed against your stomach, massaging your flesh as it continued its path to the same place his thrusts were directed at.
Your breath caught in your throat then, eyes closing as you tried to preemptively contain your emotions.
Dabi did not appreciate that.
“Look at me”, he uttered with a dark edge, a heavy order to loom over your quivering shoulders.
But you kept your eyes tightly shut, feeling fingers snaking between your legs and tracing the outside of your cunt as they quickly became dampened by the wetness gathering there. The squelching sound of his digits dipping inside your folds only made you cringe further, so focused as you were into keeping immobile and quiet.
You wanted to disappear. (You wanted to open your eyes and moan).
Confronted with your tenacious refusals to comply, one of his fingers made its way to your hidden nub as a response, proceeding to mercilessly rub against it before he gave you any time to become accustomed. The spiralling stimulation made it difficult not to visibly shake. There was nothing teasing or slow about his movements, unrefined and harsh, yet you thought you could feel Dabi’s frustration at your stubbornness through that touch alone.
“Look at me before I decide that just humping your needy cunt won’t do”, he threatened, his own words breathless and hoarse.
Which did give you a moment of trepidation as you tried and failed at ignoring his assault on your body. Your hands were now clenched into fists against his chest, nails digging into your own flesh while his fingers delved deeper inside you. They stretched you in a way which felt uncomfortably pleasant, quickly finding your tender spots in a practiced manner.
“C'mon, you don't have to make it harder. You've been so good for me lately, so sweet", and despite the terrible nature of his words, the slight softening of his tone had a terrible effect on you.
His words scared you, terrified you, and yet the backhanded compliment only made you more lightheaded, helping the unwilling pressure steadily building up due to his quick and nimble fingers.
You didn't notice his face getting closer, his breaths coming in hot puffs against the skin of your tender neck, but you did feel his lips as they closed against the crook of it, his teeth as they scrapped carelessly before claiming that same spot in a painful show of dominance.
You were trembling now despite a part of you still commanding your eyes shut. Inside you, his digits felt warm, so filling already, and you couldn’t help clasping around them despite your attempts at ignoring any unwanted excitement.
(Were you seriously going to cum on the fingers of your captor? Of the man whose face now plagued your nightmares, whose voice never left your conscious mind? My, my, what a hypocrite of a whore you were.)
“Mine”, you thought you heard Dabi whisper as his love bites continued littering your skin “My princess.”
And wasn't it fitting, how his awful nickname for you was the last thing you heard before his fingers achieved their goal. Two of them were slamming in and out of you, filling the room with horrible wet noises that you had unsuccessfully been trying to tune out, and a third one still insistently toyed with your clit.
It was fast, it was relentless, and your eyes were shooting open without your permission as a choked moan finally escaped your tightly shut mouth. You shook while you came, opening your fists against your assailant's chest and trying to ignore the pungent taste of shame as you found purchase on his shoulders instead.
From the back of your conscience, still overwhelmed by the shots of pleasure shaking your core (by his fingers that hadn't stopped for a second, insisting on accompanying you through your orgasm), you thought you heard a satisfied hum coming from the man holding you.
And as the pleasure numbed slowly, as the sensations turned painful while he refused to leave your oversensitive sex, Dabi was finally exiting the cover of your neck and his cerulean eyes were finding yours again.
There was a satisfied smirk in his lips, his expression almost soft if it weren’t for the hidden glimmer you had learned to tell apart.
“Now, now”, he cooed at you as he continued to force your body into overstimulation, sobs fighting to exit your throat now instead of the unsolicited moan from earlier, “I knew you’d be good. You always listen to me now after all, don't you, Princess", his other hand had started kneading your other breast, left neglected until now, and your body was so unbearably hot by that point that you would have gladly welcomed back the terrible winter cold, “You'd do whatever I ask of you, wouldn’t you?”
It was hard to think, hard to respond as the last vestiges of your pride still leaked out of you and facilitated his relentless attack on your flesh. Your nipple was being pinched roughly, only adding to the pain of being overstimulated.
(But you were feeling It again, right? The tell-tales of your arousal awakening for a second time. So eager to please him, to be obedient despite whatever objections you claimed to harbor).
Another tug at your chest, this time nails lightly digging in, and you were slapped out of your dazed state into answering with rushed words.
“I'll do whatever you ask, Dabi”, your voice felt foreign to you, so small, so docile, “but make it stop. Don’t...”, a sound resembling a cry fought its way out through your sentence, one which neither of you knew if it was from discomfort or a pleasure quickly gearing its head back up, “make it stop, please.”
He was so fucking satisfied to hear your meek little pleads again then, relishing on them like a man starved after so long of your stubborn refusals to speak. To his ears, it sounded like the chorus of heavenly angels descending from the heavens to reach him. He, who if there even was such a thing as Heaven, would be better fit for the scorching flames down below.
And that's when you felt it again, the threat of his now bare cock coming to rest against your pussy. It was a tentative probe, almost clumsy without hands to aid him in his search, and his fingers did not ease their assaults for even a second as you tried not to feel betrayed.
(But did you really believe he would keep his word? That he'd just hump you like an eager virgin when he knew the alluring slickness waiting to hug him, to welcome him back? You were even dumber than you looked.)
“I know I promised", he admitted while you felt his warm erection pressing slightly, teasingly, against your slit, your own body starting to reach its second cusp without the time to even completely get down from the first, “but you took too long this time, Princess. You were being such a brat…”
And it was almost poetically ironic, how your second orgasm hit as his fingers relented and his cock finally entered you in their place. It stretched you in a way which was no longer painful but filling (it didn’t make you cry, having you fruitlessly trying to find anything to ground yourself to as it tore you apart. Not anymore anyways). You sighed and moaned while being stuffed full, finally giving in despite any apprehension, and your pussy took him in and hugged him tight as a response. It distracted you from the shame, the guilt, the remorse, and before long your keening was filling the room with its eagerness.
“Maybe next time”, he kept groaning against your ear, now both hands going down to grab at the supple globes of your ass, persuading your pliant body into follow the rhythm he was easily setting, “if you're better then, if you…”, even for him it was becoming harder to talk, entranced as he was by the welcoming hold of your inner walls, “if you don't wake me up, if you aren’t so needy. Maybe then, fuck.”
You were still cumming as his halfhearted promises mingled with his excuses, as he became lost in his own pleasure, in using you as he saw fit. And, lost as you were in the sensations, you were foolish enough to think them true for a moment.
Maybe next time, you repeated to yourself as his thrust become frantic. His grip on your ass turned painful as he lost sight of the force he was using, his palms heating inadvertently and your skin sizzling below them. You'd have more marks once all was said and done, more patterns to add to your growing collection.
Maybe next time he woke up he'd let you go. Maybe he'd finally understand love was not a prison nor a leash. Maybe next time he would ask for your forgiveness, understanding all the trauma and horror he was forcing you to endure.
(Or maybe you'd be the one asking for penance, kneeling in front of him and finally seeing him in the way he so desired. Maybe you would start understanding the dimension of his efforts then, of his love for you that he knew not how to show otherwise. A love that scared him as much as it damaged you.)
As his hoarse moans mingled with your own, you were too drunk on your own fantasies to even attempt to squirm away before he was filling you up with his seed, your walls still convulsing around him as your body stayed attentive, pliant and tender. His lips were kissing you, licking you in poor attempt at providing comfort, and yet you felt a hopeful smile turning the corners of your lips ever so slightly.
So many things could happen next time. And anything would be better than this, right? Feeling his cum coating your insides as a litany of nonsense left Dabi's mouth, his softening cock refusing to leave and allow any drop to leak out. Anything had to be better than being owned, being conquered.
(So naïve you were, the only person you had gotten good at convincing was your damn self.)
“Love you, princess", his head was buried in your neck again, his favorite place in your body to hide in while he slowly rocked you both, “so fucking much.”
And in his own twisted way, as much as you wanted to fight and argue, you didn't doubt his words. Such a twisted love it was, but unquestionable in his burning desire.
Even as it charred you to a crisp, leaving nothing but ashes behind and deadlier than anything his quirk might subject you to.
Dabi loved you, his sweet little princess, and maybe if you weren't so stubborn you could start loving him back.
Probably the longest one-shot I've posted alongside a portrait so far, since I'm still getting comfortable with the length of my writings (still cant believe people read and enjoy these lol). And special thanks to my pals @reinawritesbnha, @coyambition and @snappysnapo for lending me a pair of eyes before posting 🖤 love y'all !
🥀 Requests/Suggestions OPEN 🥀
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Runaways /// Dabi x f!Reader (18+)
Summary: You were like an older sister to Dabi back when the two of you were teen runaways together; now that he’s found you as an adult, it’s not going to be so easy to get rid of him.
A/N: I could write a term paper on all of Dabi’s pathologies in this fic...I forgot how much I love writing smutty angst. Good shit 👌
I was planning on making this a ficlet so it’s kinda structured like that even though it ended up a full-length piece. Also, Dabi says some bullshit about sex work that I absolutely do not agree with or condone so please keep that in mind.
➠ see also: [homeowners association]
Tags/warnings: Dabi victimizes you, noncon/dubcon, light yandere, threats, cheating, NTR kinda?, mentions of past sex work, degradation, rough sex (breath play, impact play, crying), mild violence, very brief mentions of past child abuse in the Todoroki household, sad stuff/angst idk lol, *Daddy Issues by The Neighborhood plays in the background*
Dabi would know you anywhere.
You’re different now, which makes sense. It’s been years. Your old uniform of raggedy denim and hand-me-down leather has been replaced with a prim linen dress, designer label at the collar. You used to dye your hair religiously (it was neon pink when he saw you last) but now it’s styled back to your natural shade, a color he only saw back then when your roots grew out. You smell good, expensive. It does take him a second to recognize you without smudged pencil eyeliner drawn under your eyes like in the old days, but once he catches your gaze the realization is immediate.
It’s you. You. You.
You recognize him too, but your reaction is different—shock, then panic; you tug the arm of the man at your side, urging him to walk faster so you can pass Dabi on the sidewalk. The rejection stings for a second, but he isn’t too surprised. You did abandon him, after all.
Dabi doesn’t let it bother him. You’re not going to get away that easy. He pulls you into conversation, grinning when you reluctantly introduce him to your companion (who is, apparently, your husband) as an old friend from school. You didn’t go to school—Dabi knows that, and you know that, but your husband doesn’t. Which means your husband isn’t aware of your sordid past as a runaway.
This is going to be fun.
Once he knows you’re in town, he doesn’t have much trouble finding you. Your husband is a very wealthy man, well-known in this city now that he’s moved here. So this is what you’ve been up to all these years? Shacking up with some ugly motherfucker who’s at least 20 years your senior because he can afford to dress you up in pretty things and take you on overseas vacations? Dabi has to admit, he wouldn’t have thought it of you. Back when he knew you, you were so sincere, such an idealist, even in your darkest nights.
Then again…you always were willing to get your hands dirty in exchange for a warm meal and a place to sleep. Maybe you haven’t changed as much as you think.
Dabi comes to your house in the middle of the day when your husband’s at work and you’re stuck at home because that’s what you are now, a housewife. From a cocksucking whore to a pretty housewife with a dirty little secret. He’s getting hard just thinking about it as he watches your internal debate on whether to let him in or not. Eventually guilt wins out and you usher him inside, hoping the neighbors didn’t see a known villain lurking on your doorstep.
You make Dabi coffee (and aww, you remember exactly how he likes it). He gets you to talking, and you don’t seen surprised to learn about his current line of work; when he presses you, you admit that you’ve been following him in the news. Your life, in comparison, has been wholly uninteresting: you met a man, he proposed, and you married him. Very little has happened to you since. After a long silence you timidly apologize to Dabi for leaving him behind when you two were teenagers, and he tells you he understands.
He doesn’t forgive you.
Overall, things are good, he tells you. But you know, sometimes he misses the old days. Being on the run with you, stealing food from gas stations, breaking into fancy summer homes and pretending the two of you lived there. Stitching up each other’s cuts, because one of you had always gotten in a fight in the past few days. Sometimes he still has dreams about the smell of the balm you used on his fresh burns…and your cool hands, smoothing gently across the tender skin on his face, but he doesn’t say that.
You look down into your monogrammed coffee mug and tell him you know what he means.
When you turn your head like that, Dabi can see the tiny dots running up the side of your ear where your old piercings have scarred over from lack of use. Do you remember when he gave them to you? You did his first, running a needle through the lonely flame of your lighter (he offered to use his quirk, but it was still hard for him to control then so you declined) and then threading the metal through his ear. You promised it would only hurt for a second, and you were right, so he let you do the others.
Then you offered to let him do yours. Just one on each ear—you already had an impressive collection of piercings, but you wanted to let him return the favor, so he did. You were older and more experienced and had lived on the streets for longer, so when he held the needle in his hand and heard your voice saying you trusted him, it was the first time he ever thought of you as fragile, something delicate, something that he was capable of harming.
He chose twin helix piercings for you, cresting the shell of each ear, silver band rings to match his. When they were done you pulled him to a mirror and asked him what he thought. It hadn’t been long since he got the worst burns on his face (the ones under his eyes, wrapping around his chin and down his neck) and he was still getting used to the knowledge that the ugly, wrinkled scars were never going to heal. “I look like…” he started.
A monster. A freak. A victim.
“A badass,” you said. “You look fucking cool. Any asshole who wants to pick a fight with you will take one look and know you’ve been through worse shit than whatever they can dish out, and that’s something to be proud of.”
Now that Dabi thinks about it, he probably wanted you even then.
…But the longer he reminisces, the more nostalgia’s going to distract him. He came here for a reason, and it wasn’t to have coffee with you and talk about the good old days. What he’s about to take from you—what he’s about to make you give—is long overdue.
You’ve still got a little fight in you. Dabi likes that. But you’ve gone soft, filling out and losing muscle in places where you used to be lean and hard from the constant running and fighting of your old lifestyle. Besides, even if you were as strong as you’d been back then, he’d still be stronger than you—he’s a man now, and it’s incredible how small and weak you seem now that he can look at you as a man.
Were your punches always this light? No way…and your wrists couldn’t have always been this delicate. It’s really no trouble at all for him to wrestle you down to the couch and pin you there so he can tear off your stupid little housewife dress and tug your panties down past your ankles.
Once he’s got you fully naked, though, you pretty much give up trying to fight him off. It’s sad, really—like you’re remembering the past, remembering all the times you let other men hold you and fuck you just so you could have enough money to take yourself and Dabi to McDonalds for a few days. And now look, you’re plenty well-fed, but Dabi’s the one holding you down against your will. Funny how things change like that.
He does appreciate your submission, since it gives him the chance to get a decent look at you. The years have been kind—you look so much healthier than you used to. No more visible ribcage stretching out your skin; no more unhealthy pallor from going outside only at night. Your hands are as soft and manicured as if you’ve never done a day’s work in your life, a far cry from the bitten nails and bloody knuckles of your youth. It’s good to see you like this, and he lingers for a second, drinking in the sight of you and committing you to memory.
Dabi’s pictured this moment for years. He used to think he’d savor it, be sweet with you, slow and gentle to show you what you were missing with the trashy guys you used to hang out with. But now, hey—he’s the trashy one, he’s the one who wants to hurt you and own you and ruin you. May as well act like it.
Your husband doesn’t fuck you like this, does he?
You’re unbelievably tight for a former whore. Dabi can barely hold out when he first pushes into you, licking the tears off your cheeks when apparently it hurts too much for you to keep up a brave face. It takes real effort to fuck himself all the way into you, pushing past the tense squeeze of your muscles while you…well, you’re not exactly wet, but he’ll get you there. As soon as his hips are grinding up against yours, he’s hitching your legs up on his shoulders and pounding you into your stuffy antique couch so deeply that he thinks it might splinter into pieces underneath the two of you.
God, you’re so, so, tight. Dabi feels like a virgin with his cock buried inside you, biting his lip so he doesn’t cum in thirty seconds and thrusting into you with a rhythm that comes from nothing less than pure animal instinct. And you’re getting into it too. Can you tell that your pleading and begging him to get off you is turning into moaning? Can you feel your hips bucking weakly back against his, reverting to the position of the submissive bitch your body remembers even if your mind has tried to forget?
It’s perfect, right and good and perfect, everything Dabi’s been waiting for since he first knew what it was to want someone—no, not just someone. You. It’s always been you. A person never forgets their first love, right? It’s perfect, except—except you won’t look at him, you keep looking off to the side and sniffling, and that’s not going to cut it. So he slows down and wrenches your head back to center and makes you kiss him, sliding his tongue over yours and trying to see if he can feel the place where you used to have a piercing there, too. It’s kind of thrilling, actually—wondering whenever his face dips into yours if you’re going to bite him, if he’ll come back from you with blood in his mouth.
He’s only got to thumb over your clit a couple times before you’re clamping down on him, your body begging to be used and abused. Your husband hasn’t been treating you right, though Dabi doubts the old bastard can even get it up without a blue pill. Sure, you look like a sweet little doll, so darling and delicate and breakable, but Dabi knows you better than that. You’re strong, you can take it. He knows you want it rough, so that’s how he’ll give it to you—and hey, hey, he can feel your cunt quivering around him—you’re cumming, aren’t you? So you like it. You like it.
He knew he wasn’t going to last long before, but when you cum and tighten and squeal so high he thinks you could lose your voice, the tension in his abdomen rises up and he digs his fingers into your hips and—shit, you’re saying something, what are you saying? You’re pleading, begging him not to cum inside—but, ohhhhhh fuck he can’t help it, he can’t, he can’t, he’s cumming all the way deep into your tight little snatch, cockhead jutting up at your cervix, fucking his semen all the way through you until your slit is smeared white from top to bottom.
Stop crying. Dabi’s sick of hearing you cry.
You’re still pretty nimble, even though your current exercise regimen probably doesn’t extend beyond periodic jogs around your neighborhood and weekly pilates with all the other bored trophy wives. He’s kind of surprised when as soon as he lifts himself off of you, you have the strength to roll off the couch and scramble around on the floor for your clothing.
You don’t say anything, which he wasn’t expecting. You don’t scream at him, demand that he leave, or ask him how he could do this to you after everything the two of you went through together. You probably still think of yourself as an older sister when it comes to him.
When you’d first met the scarred kid trying and failing to live off the streets, you knew he wasn’t cut out for this. He’d known pain before, plenty of pain (icy-blue fire roasting the skin off his face—spiral fracture from callused hands twisting his arm behind his back—cold, aching muscles after what he thinks is the fifth hour spent locked in a closet), but he’d never known hunger. Hunger was a different kind of beast, one that would chew the kid up and spit him out and leave him broken if you didn’t take him under your wing, so you did.
It wasn’t like you had much of anything to spare, but you made it work. For a few years. He didn’t talk at first, but he took what you gave him, so you gave him what you could: food, if you had it; a place to sleep at night; the knowledge you’d gathered in your own years as a runaway on how he was supposed to survive in a world that didn’t care whether he lived or rotted away in a gutter. You cared.
Until you didn’t.
‘Going to be traveling alone for a while. Don’t wait for me. I’m sorry,’ your note had read. You left it in his backpack along with $43 in cash—not much, but he knew it was more than you could afford. It was all you had.
And now you have all of this! Don’t you feel lucky? You have the rich husband who barely looks at you, the big house with so many empty unused rooms it makes him sick, more food than you could possibly eat in one lifetime. All of that, and you also have Dabi’s semen leaking out of your cunt. It’s a real rags-to-riches story, he thinks.
Dabi picks a cigarette out of his jacket and you stop fixing up the buttons on your dress to ask him not to light it inside. How will you explain the smell to your husband? Every move you make, every syllable that comes out of your mouth, is weighed down by despair. You look like you’ve been beaten.
He lights the cigarette anyway.
Before he had you the first time, Dabi thought once would be enough. Pretty naive, huh?
He makes it his mission to fuck you in every room of your husband’s gluttonously enormous mansion (what with your history Dabi has a hard time thinking of the house as yours, and considering the way you tiptoe around and seem like you’re afraid to move so much as a vase, he suspects you feel the same). There’s a lot of rooms.
When he shows up at your door again you don’t even bother to hear him out, instead just trying to shut it on him, but he forces his way in. You wouldn’t want to make him mad, would you? Not when he’s got such a filthy secret hanging over your head? Will your husband keep paying for your designer shopping trips when he knows you’re a street rat who used to steal everything she wore? Will he still kiss you goodnight when Dabi tells him you used to wrap those pretty lips around strangers’ cocks for money?
If you want Dabi to keep quiet, you’re going to have to convince him the best way you know how. A cockwhore is a cockwhore. That’s not the kind of stain you get to wipe away with time and distance and expensive clothing.
In the kitchen: standing up, your back to his front and your hands barely holding you up on the counter, so hard and rough and deep that the dishes are rattling in the pantry. One of your teacups falls out of the glass china cabinet and shatters into a million fragments in a four foot radius over the tiled floor. Neither of you notice until after. Blunt red lines press themselves into the tops of your thighs where he’s shoving your body into the edge of the counter and there are bruises on your tits from how hard he’s groping you.
In the dining room: sitting on the edge of the table, one of your legs hiked up beside you and the other on a chair while Dabi kneels on the ground in front of you, his head between your thighs and his tongue flicking over your pussy. You start off thinking that you’re going to have to sanitize the entire mahogany surface before you can eat off it again and then he licks his lips and sucks on your throbbing clit and you don’t really think about anything else after that.
In your husband’s study: doggy-style on the floor in front of the fireplace, facedown, his body folded over yours, pressing you so deep into the tacky lion-skin rug that you can taste it. He sighs in your ear—actually, you’re not sure if it’s a sigh or a growl—and his hand comes up to cover yours. You feel the metal stitches and the rough burned skin scraping on your own and it reminds you that it’s him. It’s Dabi.
(A few days after his 13th birthday, the Dabi you used to know told you that he was going to dye his hair—he wanted to be unrecognizable, and you understood, so you found some old scissors and stole hair dye from the pharmacy and you spent three long hours chopping his hair into rough spikes and painting it black. When you washed the dye out of his hair in the sink, your hands were stained inky black too. When he saw, he looked worried and weaved his fingers in with yours and asked if the dye would hurt your skin if it stayed on too long.
And you looked back at this kid—small for his age then, burned by his own quirk, trying so hard to look older and tougher than any 13-year-old should have to be, and you thought to yourself, I would die for you.)
Now you hear Dabi growling out your name and squeezing your hand as he reaches his climax and you think, I would kill you if I could.
Dabi saves the master bedroom for last.
Your husband is hosting a party at your house. Dabi knows because you begged him not to come today, looking up at him with those doe-like eyes, offering things you never would have offered if it weren’t important to you that he stay away on this particular evening. But he still comes to crash it. He arrives just minutes before your husband does, and you have barely enough time to tuck him away on the dark bedroom balcony and pull the curtains closed before your husband is opening the door and greeting you.
Dabi settles himself into one of the tasteful Adirondack chairs on the balcony and listens to your voice, or at least what he can hear of it through the sliding glass door. You’re sweeter with your husband than you are with Dabi, and he should’ve known you’d be, but it still makes him hate your husband more than he already did.
On the other hand, there’s something strained and high and nervous in the way you’re speaking. Probably because your husband is standing about twenty feet away from the man you’re cheating on him with.
It takes a while for the two of you to dress for the party, but finally Dabi hears you tell your husband that you’d like to take a little longer to get ready and bid him goodbye. “Love you,” you say to the old man as he leaves the room, so casually Dabi might not have heard it if he wasn’t listening.
Then you’re opening the door and ushering him inside and telling him anxiously that he has to get out before anyone sees him. But, oh, you look nice like this, dolled up in your evening gown and makeup and diamonds, trying to pull him to the door even though you must know by now that he’s not going to leave it there. Instead of following, he backs you up onto the bed and peels down the straps of your dress and slides his hands up under the skirt, and all the while he can’t stop thinking about what you said to your husband.
You used to say that to Dabi.
The first time it was an accident—you’d mentioned it off-hand during a night when it was snowing and his unnaturally high body temperature was the only thing keeping the two of you alive. “God, I love you,” you’d said, draping your arm around his shoulders and pulling him in close to share his heat.
It had stunned him and you could probably tell. Maybe the next few times were just you taking pity on a kid who had never been told so casually and so simply that he was loved. But eventually you meant it, the little love you’s before you went to sleep or when one of you went off to do something alone for a few days—a familial love borne of mutual reliance. For the years Dabi was a runaway with you, you were the only person he could trust, and he knows the feeling was mutual.
Now he wants you to tell him you love him again.
It would be hot, wouldn’t it? You telling Dabi you love him while he forces you into a mating press on the bed you share with your husband. Isn’t that hot? You’re never going to be able to sleep on these sheets again without remembering his hands on your body, his tongue in your mouth, his cock filling you in ways you haven’t been filled since you were 19.
How are you gonna lay next to your husband in this sad cold bed? ‘Cause that old fuck isn’t touching you, Dabi knows that much—if he was, he’d’ve noticed by now that you’re always covered in bite marks and hickeys that he didn’t give you. How are you gonna sleep at night knowing what a nasty slut you are, telling another man you love him?
So say it. Say you love him.
Oh, you’re going to be like that, aren’t you? What did he tell you about being a fucking brat when he’s talking to you? See if you’re still so defiant when he’s got his hand stroking the length of that pretty throat and then sealing down on it, squeezing gently on the veins running up the sides of your neck, not too hard, but enough that you’re probably getting a little dizzy while he continues to fuck into you. Does it hurt? Your face is turning pink. Uh-uh-uh, don’t try to pull his hand off, or he’ll show you just how good he is with his quirk these days.
You’re trying to choke out the words but you can’t quite make them make sense. There’s something endearing about the way your whimpers vibrate through the skin of Dabi’s palm, how he can hear you as well as feeling you. Oh—could you say his name too? He knows you’re feeling all fucked-out and wet and sloppy, every moan rising and falling in time with his cock stretching your pussy open, but can’t you give it a little more effort? He’s sure you can get his name out if you really try.
And if you’re not going to cooperate, Dabi may as well just dig the heel of his knuckle into your windpipe, because you really do tighten up so deliciously when you cough and sputter like that. Fuck, if you keep doing that, he’s going to cum, gonna cum right here in your syrupy pussy and spill it all over your marriage bed—but no, he wants to hear you say it first, so when you’re gagging and turning red and your eyes are watering he finally stops choking you, loosening his grip just enough that his hand is resting on your neck in a lover’s touch. It takes you a second and your voice is so hoarse he can barely hear it, but then you’re speaking and something jumps in his chest—
“I…I love—love y-you, Touya!” you sob. “I love you! I—love you, Touya—Touya—Touya—!”
And ah fuck it’s almost exactly right, your voice saying you love him, saying his real name, a name he hasn’t heard for years because you’re the only one who really knows it anymore—but you’re crying, real heavy sobs while you gulp in frantic lungfuls of oxygen. Your ribcage is heaving underneath him and—god, fuck—your guts are clenching, sucking down on every inch of his cock, every vein—
—oh shit fuck fuck he’s cumming, and he presses his face into your neck, into your hair, kissing you and thinking I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you—
—please stay, forever.
When he’s done, he goes for another round just to make sure you’re going to have cum dripping down your thighs when you go back to the party. No panties, unless you want him to walk through the grand foyer with all the other guests on his way out.
You don’t look at him as you fix your dress and your hair and wipe at your smeared makeup. With your eyeliner rubbed down to the bottom of your eyes, Dabi’s reminded a little of how you used to look—and the reminder is doubled when you slide your legs across the side of the bed and limp over to your vanity, walking hesitantly, your hips rocking from side to side. Damn, did he fuck you that hard?
Reminds him of the old days, you shuffling back to the hideout with that same awkward pain in your gait, purple marks around your neck, and a dim smile decorating your face—for his sake. Oh, and cash in your pockets. You’d tell him that the two of you were going out to eat that night and refuse to let him look at the injuries. God, it made him angry, it still makes him angry just thinking about it—angry at the men who bought you for treating you like that, angry at you for letting them. Angry at himself for not being old enough or strong enough or rich enough to stop them.
Anger, yes…and other things too. There had been a sick, insidious part of him that wanted to be in their position. He’d hated himself for it back then, until you left and the desire to punish you for abandoning him got twisted up with the desire to own you and keep you his. Maybe if he let himself think about it, he’d still hate himself for what he’s doing to you.
By now, you’re too good at covering up the bruises. A sweep of foundation and powder passes over each hickey he left on your throat and it’s like he never touched you. You have to push him off the bed so you can strip the sheets and replace them. When you’re done, you tell him to wait a few minutes after you leave to sneak out the back and he makes another half-joke about joining the party and introducing himself to your old man—
—and you shove him up against the wall with all the strength left in you, wrap your hand around his neck, and dig your fingernails under the line of piercings in his cheek. If he even looks at your husband, if he even thinks about it, you’ll rip his goddamn face open, you tell him in a low snarl.
It’s an empty threat (you and he both know who would win in a physical altercation) but there’s real hatred behind it. Dabi hasn’t seen that kind of fire in your eyes since he found out you became a trophy wife. It makes him want to have you again so he does, pulling your arms away from his face, standing and holding you up against the door to your bedroom, forcing you to wrap your arms around his neck and cling to him to keep from falling.
He’s lubed up by his own cum, and the wet squelching of your pussy just reminds him what a mess you’re going to be when you return to high society tonight. Maybe your husband will be able to smell it on you—the cum, the sex, the other man who’s been keeping his darling wife warm while he’s at work.
Well, probably not. If that stupid fucking cuckold hasn’t figured it out by now, there’s not much of a chance he’ll get it on his own. As Dabi sinks into your tight, gummy cunt again, he decides that he might just have to help the process along. A man deserves to know if his wife is being unfaithful, right?
Your husband’s office phone number is written on a post-it note that’s tacked to the desk of his study. It takes Dabi 40 minutes and $30 to buy a burner cell phone, leave a message on the man’s voicemail, and toss the burner in the kitchen trash at your house while you’re in the shower.
The message is short and straightforward. Dabi introduces himself as ‘the man who’s sleeping with your wife’, describes the floor plan of your husband’s house and what position he fucked you in for each room, and finally finishes it off with the evidence—the precise size and location of every hickey he’s left on your body that will still be visible by the time your husband returns from work.
Dabi almost wishes your husband had picked up the call—he’d’ve had a good time explaining in pornographic detail the way your tits look under those too-formal dresses, the way you moan when you cum in his mouth, the way you told him you loved him while he choked you out—with your husband in the house, no less. But this is fine too.
Besides, it’ll be so fucking funny if someone else at your husband’s company hears the message before he does.
Whore. Your husband called you a whore.
You’ve been called a whore a lot, actually. More than most people. You should be used to it by now. But it’s different when your husband says it. Your husband, the man who rescued you from a life of poverty and starvation, the man who has given you everything you own, the man who slid a ring onto your finger under a wedding arch and promised to love you in good times and in bad. The man you’ve almost convinced yourself you love back.
He called you a whore and slapped you when you tried to explain yourself and shoved you out the door and locked it. You can still hear his voice telling you the only place he wants to see your face again is in a casket.
So that’s why when Dabi comes to collect you, you’re hugging your knees to your chest on your front porch in your shiny lace-edged slip nightdress, hair in a mess around your head and your lip bleeding onto your chin. Your feet are so cold—your husband didn’t even give you time to put shoes on before he threw you out.
The night is cool and dark but the porch light buzzes on for half a minute when Dabi climbs up the steps to come crouch next to you on the doorstep. You try not to look at him, but he tilts your face toward his, electric-blue eyes skimming over the red mark and blue-black discoloration blossoming across your cheekbone; the blood drying on your split lip.
Dabi asks calmly if your husband hit you, and you nod.
Good, he tells you, and his body lights up blue in a roiling cloud of flames. He’s been waiting for an excuse to kill that old fuck.
The fire is like lightning, bright and ghostly in the darkness. The crackling of the flame eats away at the heavy silence of the night and you crawl back from the dry heat of it, sure you can feel your eyebrows singeing from being near. Dabi looks different backed by the inferno—bigger, crueler. Frightening. He reaches at the door but you shout at him to stop.
Why? Don’t you think he should suffer, after what he did to you?
But your fists clench by your sides and you set your teeth and you tell Dabi that if he’s going to kill your husband, he may as well set himself on fire too, because it’s his fault in the first place. And he’s done a lot worse to you than one slap.
Dabi waits a moment, searching your alarmed expression for something, but whatever he’s hoping for you don’t give him and the flames go out. The air smells like smoke and his hands are hot—not burning, but uncomfortably hot—when he kneels in front of you and rubs a thumb over your bruised cheek.
“(Y/N)—” Dabi starts, and then he can’t find a way to finish. So he just gathers you up in his arms and carries you bridal-style down into the lawn and to the driveway, where he’s got a car waiting to take you guys back to his place. You don’t resist, which surprises him again. He thought you’d push away at him, scream, get angry—he thought he’d have to convince you. Or force you, like he usually does. But you just let him deposit you in the seat next to the driver’s.
Before he gets in, he asks you if you need anything from your house. He can go get it for you. See if any balding motherfucker in his forties can stop him. But you just shake your head.
“There’s nothing,” you say blankly. “I have nothing. I…have nothing.”
Just like back then.
“Not nothing,” Dabi tells you, turning forward to the road so you can’t see the look on his face. “You have me.”
In the end, he does understand. He understood it the second he held that goodbye note in his hands and knew you were lost to him.
You were 17 when you met him and 19 when you left—hardly older than a child yourself. You barely had enough to provide for your own needs, much less a teenage boy’s. By the time you left, Dabi was more than capable of surviving on his own and already falling into ugly crowds, gangs and syndicates who saw money in his quirk, people you’d sacrificed a lot to keep him away from. He no longer needed you, and it was time for you two to go your separate ways. Dabi understands that.
But now you need him. Just like you needed him when you were fucking strangers for food money; like you needed him when you ran away; like you needed him when you got trapped in this mundane, sparkling-clean life, a life that was never going to fit you. Only this time—this time, Dabi’s old enough for you. He’s not a kid anymore, he’s a man. He’s got an apartment and a good job (well, kind of) and he’s got money. He can provide for you the way you’ve always needed him to.
Dabi’s going to take care of you, and you’re never, ever going to leave.
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Thrill of the Chase
Request: Can we get a Yandere Hawks whose fem s/o actually likes his yandere side but he doesn’t know it yet. During an escape, Hawks finds out that his possessiveness turns her on and is lowkey into it?
(A/N) sorry this took so long, hope you like it
Summary: Hawks knows you love it when he gets possessive, but until now, he didn’t realize just how much.
warnings: kidnapping, degradation, rough sex, semi-public sex (I think?), yandere themes
Hawks thought everything was fine, the relationship was perfect and what any lonely person would want, so why did he come home to find that you were gone. You never once complained, okay so you did complain when he made it to where you couldn't leave the house anymore, but he gave you a perfectly good reason on why you couldn't. And besides, he took care if you as if you were a goddess, so what was the problem?
He just wanted to come home and get some love from his precious babygirl, but instead he’s now exploring an abandon warehouse. His footsteps echoing out as he strolls along, waiting for you to run into his arms like a good little girl, he doesn’t want to get rough with you if he doesn't have to.
"Come on baby bird, why not make this easy for yourself and just come out. Besides, I think we’re both getting bored of this little game." He states as he stands dead center of the building, waiting for your next move.
“Giving up already, Hawks. All you have to do is catch me!” He hears you call out. He quietly chuckles, for someone wanting escape you sure do sound excited. Out of the corner of his eye he see’s you dart out from behind some crates, his body lurching forward as his wings propels him to you. Your body is on the ground in a matter of a second, shock and fear painted all over your face.
"Oh, that's adorable, you actually thought I was giving up, baby?" He says giving you a cocky grin while he keeps your hands pinned down, his chest grazing yours as he leans down to nibble on your ear. He swears he can feel you arching up slightly so your body presses against him, a slight whine escaping from you when he drags his tongue up the shell of your ear.
"It takes a lot more than that to lose me. Not that you ever could really, you’re mine, baby bird." Hawks growls before devouring your lips. The kiss is sloppy and feverish, his tongue worming its way between your teeth to taste you making drool mix together and dribble down your chin. He relishes in the way you whimper and squirm, the way you try to keep up with his appetite, it makes him want to violate you to your very core. He pulls away and admires the image in front of him, a trail of spit connecting to your slightly agape mouth while you heavily pant, your face burning red as your tongue slightly hangs out.
“Prove it.” You say as you try to grind your sex against his hips, your eyes filled with want. His pupils turn to slits as he feel his pants become tighter, it all clicks and the little self restraint he had crumbles away. He lifts himself off of you and flips you onto your stomach making you let out a surprised yelp.
"Stay still." He rasps, giving you no time to react as your clothes are sliced through with one of his feathers. You shriek and begin to struggle as he tears your clothes off the rest of the way, so he places a hand between your shoulder blades to press you against the cold concrete. “What’s wrong, baby? You wanted me to prove it, now I’m going to by claiming this cute pussy of yours.” Hawks says as he dips a finger into you, groaning at the way you suck him in, just begging to be filled up.
"You're wet enough." He growls out, pulling his finger out to undo his pants, too drunk on lust to bother with taking them off completely. Grabbing your shoulder to force you around once more then spreading your legs apart to settle himself in between them. He positions the crown of his cock at your entrance before thrusting his hard length inside you, burying himself in you all at once making you scream out. A groan is ripped from his throat as he becomes lost in the way your inner walls spasm around him from the sudden intrusion. He crashes his lips against yours to swallow up your cries, his elbows planted on the ground as he pounds into your tight cunt.
“Fuck, baby bird, you feel so good wrapped around my cock. Such a fucking cute slut, my cute little slut.” Hawks pants out, you only mewl out his name and claw at his back. “You like that, me fucking this sloppy pussy with my fat cock while I call you a slut? Well that’s what you fucking are baby bird, a little slut, but god I fucking love it- Fuck!” He lets out a guttural groan as his wings begin to flutter.
His hips snap forward vigorously making his cock hit deep inside you, his mind muddled as he becomes lost in ecstasy and all he can focus on is stuffing you with his cum. He latches his teeth onto your neck and sloppy wet sounds echo out as flesh slaps against flesh.
"You're mine, this slutty pussy is mine. No one else can have you, I'll slit their fucking throat before I'd let them." His hoarse voice whispers into your ear as he pistons in and out of you, his release creeping closer. You chant out his name as drool pours out of your mouth, your eyes rolling back and your tongue lolling out. Hawks licks up your spit before sucking on your tongue, in all his life he's never tasted something so addicting.
"I’m gonna cum so deep inside you." His words make you moan louder and wrap your legs around his waist. "You’d like that wouldn’t you, fuck yeah you would, fucking slut." He huffs out a growl and his thrust becoming sloppy, his wings now spasm almost violently.
"Shit, I’m cumming, cumming, cumming! Fu- Ah! FUCK-" Hawks cries out as his hips sputter, cum flooding your insides and staining your walls white.
Hawks head falls against your neck as he gasps for air, inhaling your scent as he takes a few minutes to regain himself. He pulls himself out of your abused hole, letting out a soft hiss before cooing at you and placing kisses across your face. He lifts himself up and tucks himself away, pausing to soak in the mess he made of you, your pussy soaked with his cum and your own juices.
Pulling off his jacket and wrapping you up, he cradles you in his arms as he picks you up. “Come on baby bird, lets go home.” He says as he walks out of the ware house.
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manners | bakugou katsuki
implied fem! reader
barbarian prince! bakugou
note: this will be part of a series/universe. you're welcome to request more barbarian bakugou that will likely become part of this story ! Part 2 is on the way but it will be much darker than this part !
synopsis. your mother had always taught you to uphold your manners. And so you did, even towards the barbaric prince who kidnapped you.
WARNING(S): Obsessive tendencies, unhealthy relationships, abusive themes, swearing, kidnapping, nudity, mentions of murder, light mentions of attempted sexual assault
The rumors swept through your village like wildfire; the barbarians were coming.
No one knew if it was true, but that didn't stop multiple families with small children from packing up and leaving before they could find out. You would have as well if you had the proper time to pack your most valuable assets. Instead, you dedicated yourself to helping watch the children for the families leaving.
You'd spent nearly the whole day collecting herbs for the local doctor, and hadn't gotten the chance to get back in order to know what was happening. Of course it'd only been maybe 30 minutes since one of your neighbors returned from hunting, screeching about how the red-eyes prince and his people were coming this way. But for you it'd been 6.
Oddly enough, it was a lot like what happened to your last home.
You felt as if you were cursed by those wretched barbarians. Only a few months ago had they raided and destroyed your home village. By pure coincidence did you survive, sent away that day to make a fur trade in place of your father. You'd avoided their wrath once, but the odds were against you and you doubted you could do it again.
You believed it to be your fault for not being their to help protect your previous neighbors, you refused to feel that pain and regret once more.
Even as they rode into the village, buildings burning up into flames and the small streets getting wrecked, you still didn't run. You almost couldn't move at first, freezing in place as you saw the chaos increase around you. Only the sound of screaming could bring you out of your trance. Without any further hesitation, you took off running into your home. You'd been caring for four young children as their parents rushed to pack, and they hadn't yet returned to pick them up. If you were completely honest with yourself, you knew it was probably likely a few of the parents left without them to avoid the risk of dying themselves.
Once the front door was securely shut behind you, you glanced around the room to see that the kids you were watching over were huddled together in a far corner to keep from being seen by passing berserkers. Putting a finger to your lips, you motioned for them to follow you quietly. Swiftly moving to the closet, you pushed away the box that lay on the ground. Pulling up the ugly carpet, there was a hatch. It took quite a bit of effort from you for it to be opened, but as soon as the cellar door came loose you helped each child in safely.
They'd be scared, sure, but overall the environment you created down there wasn't so bad. Rather than a blank, dirt filled room with spiders, it was clean, sheets and blankets covering all surfaces. It served as both a ‘club house’ and storage for things you couldn’t quite fit upstairs and you didn’t want to be stolen.
"Here." You whispered, returning to the door and handing a handful of candles to the oldest boy, "Stay in here until you can't hear anything, okay? There are matches under the bottom step. I'll do my best to come back for you. Be quiet, alright? Make sure to keep quiet.”
The boy was only about 9, but he seemed to have the most understanding of what was occurring outside. When he tearfully nodded, you closed the hatch, pushing the carpet back over it and shutting the closet door.
Maybe you should look for their parents, or leave them a note of some sort in their homes telling them where their child or children are. No, a note would be too risky, wouldn't it? What of they were killed or dropped it or someone else found it, then a barbarian would read it and come slaughter the kids. You couldn't just run passed them and hand them a note, you had to explain to them where their kids were.
Before you could get another thought in, your front door was suddenly kicked in. You let out a scream and crouched to the ground in fear. Brown eyes met your form, a dark chuckle escaping the large, dirty looking man. Finding your wits, you stood, backing yourself up against the far wall of your house. The man didn't seem to be in any rush to catch you, instead watching you in amusement. He was covered in blood, you noted, and you could smell the smoke on him from across the room.
"There you are, little babe. Do you know just how much trouble you've put us through?" He took a step closer, "A real lot. Our leader sure wants you."
His eyes scanned your body, a more suggestive look gracing his ugly face, "I can see why, shit. Maybe I should just try you out for myself first, m'sure he won't mind too bad, huh? Don't reckon anyone would care if they heard you screamin'."
He still hadn't moved and you knew that this was it: your moment. You turned around quickly, pulling up the window and diving out before he could grab you. You could hear his angry shouts and steps as he ran to yank you back in. But once he put his hands on the wood, you turned, grabbing the edge of the window and pulling it down with all your might onto his fingers. The shout he let out was gratifying, but you had no time to sit and bask in it.
You were shocked with yourself, you'd never hurt any person nor animal in your entire life. Your mother always taught you that kindness and generosity would get you everywhere you needed, and it truly had until now. You believed the woman who raised you, but this wasn't something that could be fixed with a few gentle kisses. At least, you doubted it.
Running between the broken houses, you noticed that the only ones on fire were on the east side. Although your home was probably going to be safe on the west side, you knew where most of the children were from. Hopefully, their parents had stuck around and looked for them. But as of now, the only person you'd seen was that evil barbarian.
Lost in thought, you found yourself tripping over a discarded broom.
Gods, you needed to stop thinking if things like this were just going to happen.
Unlucky you, it appeared as though your yelp of surprise caught someone's attention.
"Tch. Fuckin' finally." You heard a deep growl behind you as you froze from your spot on the ground.
You barely even processed that someone was there before you were roughly lifted up into the air. Large hands were around your waist, holding you up as vermillion eyes looked smugly into yours.
"How's my sweet little mate been, hah? 'Didn't realise you were a clumsy little bit." He chuckled up at you, amused by your tripping about 30 seconds before.
"Uh-um," You struggled in his grip, not enjoying the way he kept you hovering in front of him, "could you pl-please let go?"
He snickered below you, finally lowering you to the ground but not releasing his hold on your waist, "Holy hell are you fuckin' cute. Can't wait to bring you back."
He was much larger than the man that attacked you in your house, over a head taller and muscles much more defined. Much more attractive too, clear skin and messy blonde locks. Now that you were on the ground, you almost missed being in the air. His didn't seem so threatening then.
"I- I really have to go. Would um- would you please let go of me?" A weak and stupid request, you doubted it would work. But it's not like you could compete with him physically so asking nicely may have been your best option.
"Nah-ah, Baby. You're mine now. Been mine for awhile. So stop fuckin' squirming." His voice came out as an aggressive growl, but it didn't look like he was trying to hurt you. His hands tightened around your waist, pulling you close to his chest so he could look at you better.
"You're my mate. Got it? My princess 'n shit."
Once thrown over his shoulder, you began to struggle once again, "No! No thank you, sir, really. Um- I really- just uh- can't!"
You yelped as he pulled up the skirt of your dress so he could place a wet kiss on the bare skin of your thigh, nipping at it before soothing the sting with his tongue, "You're a polite little thing. That's cute 'n all, but seriously shut the fuck up."
You whimpered, looking hard at your surroundings. You'd only been walking a few seconds, but you were shocked you hadn't seen anyone yet. He was bringing you to the rest of his men, you knew it, so you had to make you escape soon before you lost all opportunities completely. Passing a wooden pillar that held your neighbors tall front porch up, you grabbed hold of it and kicked yourself off your captor. Not giving him a chance to grab you, you jumped from the ground and began sprinting the opposite direction. It was awkward with one shoe, having lost the other one diving out of your window earlier, but you didn't think you could deal with stepping on broken glass with both feet. Your best bet was to run into the forest nearby, better not to run home and risk the children's safety or running into that bad man from earlier.
You could hear the blonde barbarian laughing cruelly behind you, much closer than he had been second ago. You should've expected him to be fast, he chased and murdered people regularly. Why was running a good idea again?
"Got'cha." He grabbed hold of your dress, effectively yanking you back into his body. You were weakened and out of breath, but he was barely even breaking a sweat.
"Such a sweet little thing, and then ya had to go and be a goddamned brat." He held you almost too tightly, bringing a hand up to move your hair, exposing your neck to him, "It's fine, you'll learn to fuckin' listen."
He nuzzled his face against your skin for a moment, applying a few gentle kisses to the area before licking and sinking his teeth into your neck. You cried out in pain, all the fear and exhaustion suddenly catching up to you. The last thing you felt was his warm tongue running over your bloodied wound before passing out.
When you woke up, you were on a horse. You didn't open your eyes right away, but you could both feel and hear the rhythm of its footsteps. You weren't alone of course, you were cradled close to someone's chest. After allowing yourself a few seconds to think, all the fear and recent memories came flooding back. You knew who was holding you, the smell of caramel, smoke, and blood was familiar enough. He must have felt you were shaking because it didn't take him long to hold you tighter against him, glancing down to check on you.
You squinted your eyes closed once again after the two of you made eye contact, an amused snort coming from the barbarian in response. He didn't say anything, choosing to let you look around whilst he kept a close eye on your movements.
The sounds of laughing, shouting men is what you notice first, your eyes still squeezed shut. It's nothing but unsettling to you; these men just destroyed an entire village, murdering innocent people and likely children.
Oh gods, the children!
"We have to go back!" You squeaked, perking up and pulling on the barbarians beads, eyes wide and focused on his face.
He scoffed at your panicked expression, his anger building up already, "We're not going back, Brat. You're mine now and you're going where I go. So sit tight and keep your damn mouth shut."
You paused, thinking to yourself. You couldn't tell him about the children, could you? He'd likely either go back and kill them or wouldn't bother bother going back at all. Their people were ruthless, it's possible they'd already burnt your house down or killed the kids themselves. You couldn't see around just yet, the barbarian's massive size blocking your view, but you could tell there were maybe 50 men following behind you based off the voices. No way to escape now, but maybe later once you're settled. The vermillion eyed killer couldn't watch you forever.
"River in about 50 yards, Boss!" A voice shouted from the left.
Not facing that direction and unable to turn, you tilted your head back for an upside down view of a blonde barbarian. He looked quite odd, even more so from your angle, and had a black bolt running through his yellow hair. He glanced your way for a second and smiled quickly before riding ahead. In your opinion, not that you could form much of one without knowing him, he wasn't like the others you'd met. He was smaller and more outwardly goofy. It relieved for a second until you remembered all the things he must've done to your home.
Your neck ached again now from where you'd been bitten earlier. Your grogginess kept the pain at bay for a bit, but moving around seemed to remind your body of what happened. You didn't want to reach up and touch it, scared of what you'd feel.
Without any more protest you lifted your head back up and and leant against the red-eyed man's chest. He seemed to like that, you noted, hearing the less-aggressive-than-usual grunt leave him.
It only took another two minutes to reach the river the bolt-haired guy was talking about. If you were lucky, this was the same river that was close to your village. If you kept track of where you went from here, then once you escaped you could follow it back.
You flinched when your barbarian adjusted your position suddenly, (yes your barbarian, what else could you call him at this point?) allowing you sit side saddle on the horse as he got off. Having been gifted the opportunity to get to know your surroundings, you glanced around seeing many large men getting off their horses and settling down for a break of sorts. Taking advantage of your distracted state, your barbarian roughly pulled you down by the waist, relishing in the small yelp that left your lips. The small, high-pitched sound seemed to draw a few others' attention as well, drawing some quiet chuckles from the men. You looked away from them, slightly embarrassed as well as frustrated.
They're all sick fucks.
"C'mon." Your barbarian grunted, not wanting you attracting too much attention just yet. He had a tight grip on your left forearm and right side of your waist, leading you further up the river in front of him and away from the others. Still with only one shoe, you repeatedly stumbled, but he just kept shoving you along in response.
Only after the two of you were alone, out of view from anyone else did he release you. You turned around out of curiosity and watched him discard a satchel you didn't notice he had until that moment. But then he started removing more items: his furs, beads, then arm sleeves. You couldn't decide which was scarier: surrounded by all those other men or alone with this one. Running wasn't smart just yet, the way you needed to go was towards the group of those sadistic killers. This one was terrifying, yes, but he didn't give off the same energy as the dirty man that tried to do bad things to you before. He wasn't going to try to touch you like the other one, was he?
Your eyes started to water silently once he returned to you, beginning to remove your clothing as well. He growled at your shaking, an unspoken sign to shut up. Maybe it wasn't what you thought, his pants were still on after all. But the thoughts you used as an attempt to comfort yourself didn't hold up once he reached your undergarments. It's like he sensed that you were about to put up a fight because as soon as you started struggling and pushing him away, his hands wrapped around your arms and pulled you close.
"Stop it- ! Let go, please!"
"Fucking quit!" He barked at you, making you jerk your head down silently, tears continuing to fall as you did your best to pull away.
You were no match for his strength and determination though, and after a few minutes of fighting, he was able to successfully strip you completely. Your sobbing dissolved into hiccups at this point, but your head didn't go back up. Instead, your eyes were focused on your bare feet, your left shoe being thrown off when the warrior was ridding you of your underwear.
"Stop pouting, Dipshit. I'm tryin' to clean you for fuck sake." He pulled you up onto him, your legs wrapping around his waist on instinct, walking the two of you into the stream.
You hissed quietly at the feeling of cold water hitting your body, but it was comforting after such a stressful day. You felt better after learning that the red-eyed man was just washing you, but you still weren't comfortable by any means. Being so close and nude to a brutal murderer you didn't even know brought tears to your eyes once again.
You were submerged up to your chin now, the cool water soothing the bite mark on your neck. You couldn't reach the bottom but your barbarian could, so there was no getting him to let go of you. He used the depth of the water as an excuse of course, he wouldn't let go of you even if you could reach. Your legs weren't around him any longer, nor were your arms in an attempt to distance yourself from him as much as you could. He still held you tightly though, his left hand gripping your thigh and the other trailing over various parts of your body.
His hands were so much bigger than yours. You knew this before, but it was a lot more obvious when he lifted his hand to your face, wiping the dirt and soot away. It would've been calming if you were with someone you knew and loved.
"What's your name?" You asked him, coming back up from under water so you could rinse yourself.
"You call me Katsuki." His hands moved from your shoulder to your throat, not squeezing but still threatening, "Nothing else, got it?"
You nodded, gulping down your fear of how easily he could drown you if he wanted to.
"Good." He pressed a forceful kiss to your lips then another to the bite mark he gave you.
You whimpered, pulling sharply away from him a bit, which he oddly didn't seem to mind too much. In fact, he didn't mind at all; he wasn't moving a muscle. Looking back at his face after too long without action, you noticed his gaze trained on the wooded area behind you. Hearing a twig snap from the same direction, you jerked your head over to see what was there, only to spot nothing. You would've looked longer if it wasn't for Katsuki tucking you into his chest and sinking a few inches further into the water as if to cover more of you.
"What is it?" You whispered, face now level with his shoulder.
"Some fucking extra I'm about to obliterate." He hissed out, "C'mon, we're getting you dressed."
He picked you up, carrying you out of the river to place you gently on the grass, making sure your back was facing the way of the men were set up. Not wanting Katsuki to see any more you then was necessary, you pressed your legs together with your arms over your breasts. He left you to put your own undergarments on, busying himself with getting redressed, but kicked your dirty dress away before you could grab it.
"Try a-fucking-gain." He spoke smugly, handing you the satchel he brought along. He watches you carefully as you crouched in the grass, opening the leather bag to see what was inside.
The dress wasn't what you expected to come from barbarians. Even females wore fur and leather. But this article of clothing was nothing of the sort; it was made of beautiful, sheer, pale blue fabric. It was made to fall off your shoulders, with a few brightly colored flowered adorned at the the top. The sleeves were elbow length and were thin enough you could see your arms through them. The length wasn't very long, only reaching just above your knees, something your mother told you was unladylike. It looked like something a princess or fairy would own.
"My mother made that for you so ya better fuckin' love or she'll beat both of us." Katsuki muttered, eyes gauging your reaction for any signs of anger or disgust.
"It's very beautiful, sir. But-"
"Right, I'm sorry. It's- um- lovely, Katsuki. But isn't it a bit short?" You tried to translate your feelings as delicately as you could, not wanting to risk angering the man before you. Especially now that you knew his own mother made it.
"Who fuckin' cares? What's it matter anyway? You're for my eyes only and I'll fuckin' end anyone who looks at you too long. If you like it, then wear it." He was starting to get angry, you could hear it. Dismissing his unsettling words, you decided to wear it. Not only did you feel forced, but you also didn't want to waste such a pretty artie of clothing.
Katsuki watched you the whole time as you slipped into the delicate fabric. Unfortunately for you, it tied in the back like a corset and you needed help, but you didn't need even need to ask before he was tying it for you. You were surprised at how gentle he was doing it, having been nothing but rough with you so far. Maybe it was that he respected his mother's craftsmanship. He was just as gentle leading you back to the group; settling for holding your hand rather than grabbing at your body.
When you returned to the rest of the warriors, not one of them looked your way. You guessed Katsuki meant it when he said no one was to look at you unless they want to be killed. The blonde lead you back to his horse, giving you strict instructions to stay, then left you alone for the first time since he saw you.
"Kaminari, you fuckin' dunce!" He shouted, walking further into the crowd of men.
He wasn't in your line of vision anymore, and that scared you. Not only were you without any form of protection with killers all around you, but you think you can see the one that was harassing you before you met Katsuki. The big, dirty one who cornered you in your house. Yeah, it was definitely him and he was looking right at you too, a look on his face you couldn't describe
You whimpered, backing up to stand on the other side of the horse to block his view of you, looking over its back to try to spot Katsuki. He wouldn't let anything happen to you, you're sure. Not after all that big talk about you belonging to him and such. Failing to find the large blonde, you glanced back over to see the man closer than he was before. You think a few others noticed what he was doing because he backed off after someone tossed a rock at his shoe. And although he was ignoring you once more, you still felt terrified of him.
"'Fuck happened to my little mate?" Katsuki asked when he returned after another minute, noticing the tears on your face and bad effort at hiding yourself behind his horse.
As protective as he seemed to be, you didn't think you should tell him what happened so you just shrugged in response, allowing him to hug you close. After a few minutes longer of everyone shuffling around, it finally seemed time to start moving again. Katsuki pulled you up with him on his horse, tucking you against him as he did last time before leading his people off.
It was likely around midnight by the time Katsuki helped you off the horse again. It would've been pitch black if it wasn't for the sheer amount of torches coming from what appeared to be Katsuki's camp ground. You were tired by then, worn out mostly from the crying, fear, and stress rather than any physical exertion. Katsuki didn't appear tired at all; his chest was puffed out with perfect posture. He looked like a strong leader. You don't know what he left you to talk to Kaminari about earlier, but you learned that Kaminari was the yellow-haired guy with the funny bolt running through it.
Katsuki didn't want to let you walk, refusing to put you down in favor of carrying you wherever he wanted. There were maybe a hundred tents throughout the area, but no one in sight besides the others who returned with the two of you.
"Are there not more of you?" You asked as he carried you towards the largest tent in sight.
"They're in their tents." He mumbled, "'Not allowed to see you yet."
You wanted to ask more, but you were so tired and the big bed you were just introduced to looked so inviting. The tent you were in was decently dark, the only light coming from outside, but you could tell it quite large, easily the size of the main room in your house. Katsuki placed you down on the bed, tucking you into the red sheets and fur blankets as gently as he was capable of.
"I'll be back, little mate." He kissed the side of your head, teeth nipping your earlobe lightly before he released you and left the tent altogether.
You were asleep as soon as he let go, but less than an hour later you were awoken once more by a large figure joining you in bed. He tucked himself behind you, leaning his face into your neck, the scent of caramel and smoke thick on him. You were fading in and out of consciousness, but felt the distinct sensation of a tongue grazing the bite mark on your neck. Your whimper was shut down by a deep growl.
"Sleep, you damn brat."
A few things to know lol:
Barbarian Katsuki is quite a bit larger than regular katsuki: abt 6'5"-6'6"
I write the reader to be pretty petite but nothing like height or weight will ever be outright clarified
This was pretty tame for barbarian bakugou, but his more violent behavior will be brought out in future parts where our polite little reader is not so polite
You can give ideas and request certain things for future parts any time cuz I'm pretty into this lmao
Kirishima is in the next part '-'
but so is shady dirty man
pls excuse any typos or grammar mistakes, I swear I'm not illiterate
- Admin Duckie
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👀IF U PLEASE,,, creepy stalker!dabi sits next to his object of admiration at the movie theatre when she's watching a movie alone and eventually he starts to feel her up/fingers her (it's up to u if he pretends to be friendly and makes conversation at first or he just goes straight into it) and tells her to be a good girl and quietly take it or else he'll burn this whole theatre to the ground 👀- big brain anon
big brain anon... are we... listening to the same audio porn?? lmao thank you for the request as always your mind never fails to amaze me
nsfw, fem reader, dubcon, stalking
You were always all alone.
That passenger seat was always empty. The other side of the bed. The seat across from you. No one ever occupied that space.
What was a pretty girl like you always all alone for?
Like now. Going to the movies by yourself? That was risky, especially in that short skirt. And sitting all the way at the top, at the edge? Were you waiting for someone?
Were you waiting for him?
“Is anyone sitting here?”
Out of that entire row of seats, he picks the one next to yours. It’s cute, how you throw that shy glance over at him. You’re nervous. What is this scary looking guy doing sitting next to you? When there’s all that seating?
“Um, n- no.” You just smile and keep your hands in your lap. Like the good little girl you are.
“Do you always sit this far back?”
You slightly turn your head, giving him an oh, are you talking to me? look. He cocks his head.
“Uh, yeah. I like it back here.”
“So do I. Really gives you a perfect view, doesn’t it?”
“Mhm.” You nod in response, staring straight forward at the screen that’s displaying previews.
“You like these types of movies? Horror movies?” He already knew the answer. You had a whole collection.
“Y- yeah. I read the book for this one. Did... did you read the book?”
“I did. When I was younger, so I don’t remember much.” Just like you don’t remember him. You don’t remember him, do you? That day at the bookstore, where you actually picked up this very book. Of course, he was only lurking in the aisle. He didn’t introduce himself or anything, but you smiled at him.
Just like you were now.
“It’s a good book.”
“It is.” Dabi never has to try this hard for conversation, but he can’t mess this up. “Do you scare easily?”
He knows you don’t. You live alone and are a horror fanatic. He doesn’t see you up all hours of the night after watching one of your stalker shows.
“I’d like to say I don’t.” You laugh. “But maybe I do.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I get paranoid pretty easily.” You scratch the back of your neck.
“Yeah, like right now... I’ve convinced myself I have a stalker.” You laugh.
“But it’s just me being paranoid, of course.”
“I get that.” His heart is beating against his rib cage. The movie is starting. “If you get scared, though... you can hold onto me.”
“Thanks...” he can barely see you as the lights dim.
It’s not even ten minutes in and you’re holding onto his arm, burying your face in his jacket. So this is what heaven must feel like. He didn’t expect you to be so... afraid. Especially when he watched you watch your creepy movies and fall asleep after.
Maybe it’s because you knew someone was protecting you. Him.
Dabi’s hand comes down to your thigh, and you let go of his arm. This is where the real horror begins, doesn’t it?
“What... what are you doing?” You whisper in that little voice of yours.
“Shh...” his warm hand plays with your skirt. “Just watch the movie, okay?”
“No...” your hands come down to drag his away, but he has his other hand at your throat and mouth by your ear in a second.
“Sit there and take it or else I’ll burn this whole fucking theater to ash, okay? Watch your damn movie and let me have my fun.”
You whimper, squirming as he lets the hand at your throat trail down your body. You’re wearing such skimpy clothing, he can feel everything as he lets his hand come beneath your skirt.
He uses his other hand to flash some fire. “Be a good girl, okay? You wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt, would you?”
He lets the palm of his hand feel up your mound, getting used to the feeling of you beneath him. Your mouth is wide open, eyes getting all glossy.
“Hey, tell me... did you want this to happen to you today?”
“Look at what you’re wearing, sweetheart.” His non occupied hand comes to pull at your shirt, which was so thin he could see through it. “You never wear clothes like these.”
Confusion, fear, and dare he even say arousal? flash through your eyes. Then realization.
“Yeah baby, that’s right. You were right. I’m your stalker.”
He takes the chance to shove his fingers right through you. Instinctively, you cover your mouth before you yelp, tears falling from the corners of your eyes.
“You’re so observant, but not enough. I mean, unless you wanted this? Is that why you watch all those movies? Because you want it to happen to you?” He whispers in your ear. “Did you come and sit up here in your sluttiest outfit in hopes that someone like me would come and grope you?”
You shook your head. No. But the way that you were getting wetter around his fingers told a different story.
“Aw, c’mon sweetheart, don’t lie. I know you, remember? I know what you really like.” His fingers press deep inside of you, curling and hitting that spongy little spot inside of your tight cunt.
You’re teeth are sunken into your hand, your whole body shaking. Fuck, you’re getting so messy and he hasn’t even made you cum yet.
“Is this your fantasy, little girl?” He twists his fingers inside of you, making you tense in your seat. “To get finger fucked in the back of a movie theater by a stranger? By your stalker?”
You shake your head. No no no. But all he can hear are those muffled little moans saying yes yes yes. You’re so close, he can smell it. And Dabi really wants you to cum, to cum all over his fingers.
Tears are dripping out of your eyes as you whimper. Your body is hunched, cunt sucking his fingers deeper and deeper.
“Shh, don’t cry.” He coos in your ear. “Shh... shh... I’m gonna make you cum, okay? You’re gonna cum for me, and-- are you listening? And then you’re gonna come with me and we’re going to take you home and get you nice and cleaned up, okay? Would you like that, little girl?”
He has you hugged to him, fingers pumping in and out, wet and sloppy. You just nod, closing your eyes and giving in. You bury your head into his chest so he can muffle your cries as you cum. He whispers in your ear, telling you how beautiful you are as you shake and convulse.
It’s like a scene right out of a movie.
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Tempting Tempest (Octo!Aizawa)
Octopus!Aizawa x mer!reader
Warnings: le mon, noncon, tentacle bullshit, oviposition, breeding kink, violence
A/N: So like I watched like three national geographic videos about mating behaviors in octopi and learned all about the hectocotylus arm...then proceeded to watch some tentacle shit on an unnamed website, and uhh;;; well, I learned a lot, and decided to just kinda fuck it and do whatever. This is not anatomically correct when it comes to octopus or fish or anything really, so don’t come at me for this one! I don’t accept criticism! I’m pretty sure this is the first monster thing I’ve done of this nature so... have at it, rapscallions. ALSO, I never actually say Aizawa’s name in this. I just kinda figured that an octopus-man that lives in a cave could fare well without a name.
Please do not repost or use my work anywhere without my permission.
A few miles of sprint-swimming was nothing to you, and you were lucky that the shark was distracted enough by all the sand you’d thrown at him so you could get a head start on your escape to the dark sea cave. You didn’t have a moment to spare to ponder exactly what you were getting yourself into when you entered the cave; you only knew that you had to get out of his sight.
A low growl as soon as you entered the cave had your scales twitching, but you soon realized that it was just your stomach. Marlins be damned, you could maybe scavenge some less-than-pleasant fish-food in this murky cave. Hell, you were willing to settle on an octopus earlier, and there just so happened to be an ink-black tentacle slithering under your tail as you trekked deeper into the unknown.
You were glad you hadn’t dropped your dagger when you fled. You had thought about it, but you figured if that blonde shark had caught you, you would need something to defend yourself. Now you could use it to attack—if you could just catch this new octopus.
Every time you were able to touch the thing, it curled and recoiled further into the cave. It was odd that you never saw it take off—odd that you never saw the whole octopus swim away, up and above you, or even attack you, but you were probably a little too jittery from your encounter with the shark to really care about the strange nature of your prey. If anything, you were thankful for this new task to get your mind off that merman—those ravenous eyes...that broad chest...even his blue and white shark tail that, at first glance, was intimidating, but now you were thinking it was honestly kinda hot.
You mentally shook your head. So much for getting that animal off your mind.
You tried to focus on your pursuit instead. As you furthered yourself into the narrow cave, you noticed specs of glowing algae that ignited the path in a gentle iridescent blue. You were happy that you weren’t blind and didn’t have to depend completely on the rest of your senses to hunt. And the octopus was big, so it wouldn’t be too hard to miss when you had the opportunity to strike. At least, you could assume that it was big. Every now and then, you would get to glimpse further up the tentacle and see just how thick its girth was. It might be a little harder to fight, but you’d taken much larger animals in the past, so this really shouldn’t be an issue.
Oh, how wrong you were.
You thought that the octopus had reached the end of the cave because its leg didn’t slither away when you neared it for the seventh time. You were actually able to grab a hold of it, but when you did, its tentacle coiled around your wrist and began pulling at your arm. Scowling, you tried using your dagger to pry its arm off of you, but a second arm found your free wrist and it began coiling around you too, constricting right enough that you had no choice but to drop your weapon, your only form of defense.
With a quick huff of water, you curled your tail forward to try to kick away, but when you shot off in the opposite direction, you were met with a cushiony blockage. And it was moving.
“Leaving so soon?” A low, calm voice ricocheted off the cave walls. An arm from the barricade behind you reached out to your shoulders, undulating as it kissed your skin with its suction disks before wrapping around your arms. You kicked and pulled, trying to escape from your impending prison, but that only encouraged another arm to wrap around your torso, licking at your edges as it languidly encapsulated your shuddering body. From the shadows, a form emerged, slinking nearer just so that the algae under its slithering tendrils could light his figure in a pale-blue glow. He was close enough that you could see red eyes that contrasted against his black sclera, his dark hair floating around his head and shoulders as he scrutinized you intensely. The arms that were slowly encompassing you were attached to him where his tail should have been. You’d heard about his kind before: he was a merman, his kind were considered collectors to some and hoarders by most. Of what, you were unsure.
“And after all that teasing?” The man went on, crawling closer to you. A hand landed on your cheek, his long nails trailing down your jaw and up to your chin so your head was tilted up to him. You pouted as he smirked. “Not a very polite guest we have here. But what else should I expect from a trespasser?”
“I didn’t mean to barge in,” you urged desperately, wriggling in his pillowy grasp. “I didn’t know anybody lived here!”
“Didn’t you? It seemed you were intent on hunting me.”
“That was before I…knew you were a person. I was just looking for something to eat, but I wouldn’t have attacked you had I known...who you were...”
“You mean, you wouldn’t come here if you knew you were going to be my dinner?”
“What?” You gasped, wavering in your not-so-great escape attempt. “But I’m a person!”
“Should that really matter? Now, tell me: what makes a person a person and a food a food?” There was a dark undercurrent in his smile as his tentacles tickled around a sensitive spot near the bottom of your tail. You squirmed and huffed, trying and failing to hide just how stimulated you were. “Take you for example. We could easily hold a conversation despite your pathetic trembling, but is that really what’s stopping me from, let’s say, making you my next meal?”
“Don’t,” you whimpered, your brows knitted up, pleading. He looked pleased with your distress: a sadist—possibly worse than the shark from outside the cave could’ve been. You tried looking back to see just how far you’d have to swim if you managed to escape, but his arms were spread up the cave ceiling, blocking off your exit in total blackness.
He pulled you up to face him completely. Your eyes widened. He was gigantic! You could see his hardened torso and large, muscular arms with dark spots along his gray skin. His hair was long—wild, even for a sea creature. His face was unshaven and scruffy, which could have been endearing if he wasn’t threatening to devour you.
“I have to be honest, I could eat you up. It’s not everyday that my dinner merely swims onto my plate. I’d be a fool not to take advantage of this opportunity. And you just so happen to be oh-so-“ he pushed his head against your neck, the bristles of his beard tickling at your skin as he inhaled as if smelling you- “appetizing…”
“Please don’t,” you begged, wriggling again only to have his coils around your torso constrict you tighter. “Please don’t eat me. I’ll do anything!”
“Anything, she says,” the monster mused, a smirk in his voice. His red eyes found yours and he smiled with piqued intrigue. “Surely you don’t mean that.”
“I do!” You were completely desperate. You could make promises for him: hunt for him, run his errands—any option was better than being eaten.
“Oh, so you’re willing…” His cool hands caressed your face, his sharp nails gently drawing patterns on your cheek. You were about to affirm just how capable you were, but your voice caught when his tentacles brushed over your bare breasts. You thought it was his mistake until they pressed against you with more purpose, his disks cupping your nipples, kissing and sucking them until they were puckering hard. Liquid heat rushed to your center and you tried your best at subsiding all of your tells: the twitching of your fins, the flushing of your skin, but his tentacles were petting you—teasing you, dancing along all the sensitive spots of your tail and stomach until they were wrapping around your tits. He rubbed them greedily, squeezing them with interest, leaving soft little welts whenever they popped off of you...You were being completely violated.
Your body grew warm with both embarrassment and arousal, a fact he seemed to enjoy. Despite your squirming and the whines you couldn’t help but let warble out of your mouth, the octopus kept stroking you with his tentacles, barely toying with the rising mound that was quietly peeking out of your slit.
“Such a pretty creature,” he murmured as his tentacles began stroking your soused folds, “...such a good girl...so responsive…”
He leaned down and attempted to press his lips to yours, but you yanked your head to the side indignantly. “No!!” You cried.
He let out an annoyed sigh and the tip of one of his tentacles slipped around your mouth. It pushed against your bottom lip and you grimaced, trying stubbornly to resist, but with some force, it entered you. He groaned as the arm slowly pumped in and out of your mouth. He enjoyed his lazy pace, the suction of your hot mouth, the purr of your muted objection. Your eyes burned as he thrust in deeper, lodging himself in the back of your throat, gyrating with pleasure. He pulled your body closer so it was flush against his and brushed the floating hair away from your face so he could see your shameful expression. When he snickered, you tried to bite down on him, but the flesh of his octopus arms was impenetrable by your teeth.
The monster tutted at you, as if you were a pet that needed to be scolded. “Kitten likes to play dirty? Please don’t assume that I mind…” the tip of a second tentacle slithered up your neck to your mouth. You yelped out, choking on the arm that was already inside of you. Relief flooded your body when he began to retract both of his tentacles, but your respite was short-lived.
“No?” Asked the octopus. “Really now...all you had to do was kiss me.”
“Please let me go.” You sniffed.
The octopus gave you a baleful glare. “I could just eat you,” he threatened darkly, his hold worsening, but his hands were gentle as he cupped your face and slid the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip. “It would be such a waste, too. You could be enjoying yourself, but you’ve chosen to act like a brat.”
“I haven’t chosen anything!” You spat, but it was hopeless. You were completely at his disposal.
“Haven’t you?” He swiped up your slit with a tentacle, testing your swelling depths, and you shuddered in response. There was a wet, sloshy sound when he entered you with no ceremony. Your mouth parted with a surprised sigh and the octopus hummed in appraisal. “Kiss me,” he said. “This can be good for you if you let yourself give in to our pleasure.”
Our pleasure. There was something about the way he said that, that made you clench around him. A raspy sort of moan came from the back of his throat then and he forced his member deeper inside of you, stretching your crevices, sending a surge of heat through your body. After he entered you, he didn’t move, which you found yourself somewhat annoyed with. Instead, his fingers lightly brushed your floating hair behind your ear once, and again when it began to float away. You knew you should feel breached, and you did, but there was also something almost pleasurable about the subtle way his hands caressed you in direct comparison to the way his tentacles attacked you. He could be right. If anything, this could be over and done with if you just did what you were told. So you obeyed. Closing your eyes, you pressed your lips to the corner of his waiting mouth—a quick shaken peck.
“No-no, pet. You know that won’t do…” He squeezed your cheeks between his fingers and his thumb. “Kiss me,” he commanded again, more impatient this time, “like you want to.”
After hesitating for only a moment longer, you finally guided your lips into his. He hummed against you and went back to stroke your face with calloused fingers as his lips grooved against yours.
His tongue teased you until your lips parted absentmindedly, granting him the opportunity to deepen the kiss. His tentacle pushed into you charitably slow, but it was still too overwhelming to you. You were wet, but your body resisted the unfamiliar intrusion. You don’t know how big he was, if he was using what was considered one of his arms, or something completely different, but it hurt as it began to fill you up, inch by slow inch.
A “please,” warbled out of your mouth as his hands cupped your breasts, lighting kneading them with his palms. “Please, I’ve—I’m not mated...and I’ve never done this before…”
“I know.” His nostrils flared and his eyes gleamed at the fact. “Such a sweet, young creature,” he purred, shifting his hips a little to guide himself deeper and deeper. “You don’t have to worry about a thing. I’ll be sure to take care of you.”
His pupils expanded to an extent that made the entirety of both of his eyes completely black. The thing inside of you wiggled and enlarged, making your heart race. “Relax,” he cooed, and that was when he began to thrust.
Your flesh gave way, your virginal membrane tearing as he pushed in and out. You reluctantly stretched for him, feeling a tension build up whenever he grunted, fanning your neck with bursts of water with each of his gruff sighs. Your stomach twisted with nausea and something else while he forced his lips into yours, his tongue lapping up your pained cries with fervent delight.
His hands embraced you, cradling you while you grew accustomed to his intrusion, brushing up against your skin in a way that made it seem like he cherished you—the parody of a lover’s touch. All the while, his member was buried deep inside of you.
The monster seemed to sense you easing into him, and he picked up his pace, making a show of spinning you around to push you against his cave’s walls as his hips snapped into yours. He was being so forceful that you could feel instant bruises form at the place where you skin met your scales.
To your horror, one of the tips of one of the tentacles that was wrapped around your stomach reached between the two of you and one of his suckers latched onto your clit. The gyration of your bodies had the sucker stimulating you, causing a warm rush to build up from the end of your fluke’s fins to your belly, and there was a tension inside of you that began to grow.
“No,” you plead, your lip trembling as he nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck.
“Yes,” he murmured, kissing your ear.
“No, no, no!” You clenched your teeth as he nibbled at your sensitive lobes. The lowness of his oncoming chuckle made your skin tingle and you began to feel faint.
“If you don’t cum willingly, I suppose I’ll have to force you.” With each stroke of his skilled tentacles, the tension inside of you built and intensified, the insidious pressure starting to gather low in your stomach. You were completely at his mercy: Predator and prey—conqueror and the conquered. You were squirming into his member, a motion that was bringing you closer to some elusive edge. Rather than give him the satisfaction of hearing you moan, you hissed, but you couldn’t stop the hint of a squeak tear out of your throat as a particularly pointed thrust.
“Such a pretty voice. Why are you trying to hide it from me?” He kissed you down your jaw, then at your collarbone, and traveled his way up to the sensitive area between your gills and your shoulder. His tongue lavished your flesh and you had to press your lips together to stop your whimpering. At that, he thrusted more roughly into you and commanded you to open your mouth. You moaned when he bit down.
“Yesss,” he praised before raking his teeth across your flesh harsher. He sucked your sweet spot until your skin darkened with his mark. The ridged discs of his tentacle grooved against the soft padding in your walls, and as if flipping a switch, all your tension seemed to melt away into his embrace, your fluke swishing rapidly back and forth as fire ignited in your belly. You went over in a soft scream, your whole body tightening as the tentacle thrusted faster, deeper, into your contracting cunt.
Seven of his eight arms spasmed, winding and writhing around you, your stomach, and your tail, elongating your vastly overwhelming orgasm. Your hands freed as he moved, but the only thing you could think to do was cling on to his broad shoulders as the tentacle inside you began to swell. His breathing was low and gruff. He panted melodiously as something large and firm pressed against your entrance, and with a coagulating twist of his member, it was pushed inside of you. You cried out as two more circular objects were forced into your womb. His member throbbed then, and in waves, your walls were coated in layers of thick, hot liquid that built up and shot out, the gooey texture clinging to you wherever it landed.
The octopus inhaled through his nose, then let his breath out with a contented groan. His eyes fluttered open and he appraised you, happy to see the affected look on your face. He pressed an open mouthed kiss to your lips, humming with absolute satisfaction. The prison of tentacles loosened a bit, but not enough that you allow you to swim away—you weren’t sure you even had the energy to do so if you had the opportunity.
“You took me so well, my pet,” he commended, running his fingers through the mess of your sea-soaked hair. “Pretty creature...a perfect mate.”
He towed your further into the depths of his cave, beyond a pile of discarded fish-bones and other unmentionables. You noted a few isolated coins here and there, and even few rings. He took you into a room that gleamed in a mixture of orange and red. While half of his arms were busy building something, the other half preoccupied you with pets, licks, and kisses. He seemed to enjoy the pathetic, overstimulated cries you gave him whenever his tentacles climbed along your tail. When he was done, welts and hickeys from his suckers were left all over your flesh. He kissed the part of your stomach that was swollen from whatever the hell he inserted into you.
“Welcome to your new home, my sweet little...treasure.” There was a bite of humor in his voice as he showed you exactly what he had been building. It was a nest, cushioned by kelp, and surrounded by mounds of gold and jewels. It was then you realized exactly what it was this monster hoarded.
He had a collection full of lost treasure and you had just become a part of it.
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Spoils of War /// Shigaraki x f!Reader x Dabi (18+)
✧ 5K EVENT PART 1/6: [SHIGARAKI] + [YANDERE] ✧
Summary: [Military AU] It’s not uncommon for officers to play favorites…it is uncommon, however, for two officers to pick the same favorite.
A/N: Writing this reminded me why I love yandere. It’s kind of meandering but I’m absurdly proud of it? Maybe a little too proud??? This might be the darkest thing I’ve ever written ☠️
Setting is an ahistorical AU where the PLF is an army. Fuck the military industrial complex, but there’s something about a man in uniform.
Tags/warnings: noncon/dubcon, literal war crimes, yandere, mentions of forced prostitution, physical abuse/violence, implied PTSD, possessive behavior, mild degradation, mild breath play if you squint, threats, various war things, lots of inaccuracies about the military
It’s not uncommon for officers to pick favorites.
When he first sees you in the Defense headquarters, arm folded into Dabi’s and struggling to keep up a walking pace as he pulls you down the hallway, that’s what Jin thinks you are. A favorite. No one would mistake you for an officer yourself—even if the wrinkled slip dress you’re wearing and your bare feet weren’t enough to make it obvious, Jin would still be able to tell by the look in your eyes: shifty, darting from side to side, like you’d kill to get out of the light and scurry off into the shadows. The sun from the high windows in the hallway casts an unnatural glow over the dark circles carved under your eyes…not to mention the ugly blooms of purple decorating the side of your neck like a collar.
Bitemarks. Dabi’s bitemarks.
Jin swallows. Hard. He should be used to this by now. He needs to get used to it.
When you notice him looking, you flinch into yourself, hiking your shoulders up toward your neck like that’ll remove the image of your bruised skin from Jin’s memory. Ashamed at himself for staring so openly, Jin looks away, but not soon enough—Dabi’s caught his glance and his pace slows to a stop, yanking you back beside him when you try to keep walking.
“Jin!” he calls across the hall, beckoning the other man over with a genial wave of his hand.
First name only. Jin didn’t realize they were on a first-name basis. Then again, Dabi—or, Lieutenant Todoroki, although no one calls him that—has never been one for formality.
The hall sounds horribly quiet without the heavy rap of Dabi’s boots thudding into the polished floor and your soft footsteps padding after. Jin takes a second too long to follow his superior officer’s command, but if Dabi notices he doesn’t comment on it, instead asking Jin how he’s been and inquiring about his job on AFO’s staff.
“It’s been fine, sir,” Jin says. His back is straight and he doesn’t look at you—doesn’t look at the way Dabi’s grip on your arm tightens every time you make the slightest attempt to shift away from him. “I’m happy to serve. Can’t say I haven’t missed combat though.”
Dabi laughs softly and even without looking, Jin can sense the shiver that passes through you at the sound. “I know what you mean. I’d rather be in the trenches again than have to sit through another one of these bureaucratic meetings. But I hear you’ll be coming with us when we’re shipped out for the southern line, hm? Give you something to look forward to while you’re playing secretary to the general.”
Jin nods, and then regrets it—the second he turns his gaze down from Dabi, he can’t help looking at you. The image you make next to Dabi is undeniably fragile: that thin, wrinkled linen shift that could pass for a nightgown; your loose hair; the goosebumps rising up on your arms from the chilled air of the hallway…while the lieutenant stands next to you in the crisply starched suit of his formal regalia, hand wrapped rigid around your upper arm.
Your eyes are straying up to Jin’s now, and you look so young. So scared. Like it was just minutes ago that you were stolen out of your bed in whatever village the army found you.
“…Yes, sir. The southern line,” Jin answers a second too late when he remembers that Dabi was addressing him.
But Dabi isn’t facing him anymore. “Did I say you were allowed to look at him?” the lieutenant spits, and his tone has transformed from the casual drawl of earlier to something so cold that Jin takes a step back before he realizes he’s not the one being scolded.
“S-Sorry,” you whisper, voice trembling, but Dabi’s fingers are already seizing around your arm. Digging in.
“What did I tell you about paying attention to other men?” He’s admonishing now, not angry but patronizing, like he’s explaining something very simple to a particularly stupid child. “Didn’t I tell you it bothers me?”
You nod quickly, stuttering out another apology, but Dabi’s grip doesn’t let up. He’s turned toward you now, dismissing Jin to trace the line of your jaw with his other hand.
Your arm looks so delicate under the lieutenant’s long fingers. Jin wonders if the pressure is going to bruise. “Sir…”
If Dabi hears the interruption, he doesn’t react to it. His attention is completely focused on you. “Are you acting up on purpose? I said I’d let you come with me today, but only if you behaved.” Scarred fingers move from your jaw to your cheek and then stroke over your lower lip. “Can you behave? Or not?”
It’s like Jin isn’t there. The action is so shockingly intimate that it takes him a second to register the faint wash of heat and tell-tale stench of hair singeing—really, it’s only your sharp intake of breath that alerts him that you’re in pain. “Lieutenant!” he yelps. “You—your quirk, you’re burning her!”
“—Fuck,” Dabi curses, lifting his hand off your arm. The burn underneath is light but tender pink, and as soon as he lets go you’re cradling your arm to your chest and stumbling back away from him. “Idiot—you should have said something—“
Your mouth opens and closes soundlessly, but there’s not even a hint of resistance in you as the Lieutenant pries your arm away to inspect the hand-shaped burn mark. None of you point out the absurdity of Dabi’s last statement—Jin knows why you didn’t tell him he was burning you, and he’s certain Dabi’s not deluded enough that he doesn’t know why too.
But you just stay quiet. And eventually—when it’s obvious Dabi’s not going to turn his attention away from you—Jin backs up and leaves, wishing he could forget what he just saw.
Most officers aren’t so attached to their…women (and yes, Jin knows there are better words for what you are to the lieutenant, but he can’t bring himself to think them). Most officers stick to the same brothel, pick a few girls they prefer more than the rest and make their choices exclusive, but this degree of fondness is unnatural.
That encounter in the hallway is the first Jin sees of you, but it’s not the last—it seems like every other day he runs across Dabi dragging you around the headquarters, forcing you to trail after him in meetings, hand stroking absently up your thigh whenever you’re seated next to him. Jin doesn’t like it. No one likes it, really, but no one does anything. Apparently Dabi’s rank is high enough that he can commit such transgressions and yet low enough that they escape the notice of any who would intervene. Aside from a few tongue-in-cheek comments about the lieutenant showing off his pet whore, no one with the power to reprimand Dabi seems to care.
It’s not until he hears Shigaraki arguing with AFO that Jin realizes Dabi isn’t the only one who’s taken a liking to you.
Jin overhears the exchange less than a week before he’s due to be deployed with Shigaraki’s company for the southern line. He’s finishing up a last round of paperwork for the general (he’s got no damn clue how he got a job as AFO’s secretary of all things, but it’s the second-to-last day so he’s not going to complain) when the man storms in, barely glancing at Jin’s salute before he stalks over to AFO’s office.
Jin’s never seen him before, but he’s heard descriptions—the pale hair, scarlet eyes, the scars decorating his face like records of past battles. Captain Shigaraki is younger than Jin pictured.
The door slams open and then shut but Jin has no trouble making out Shigaraki’s side of the argument, even though he’s trying not to hear. “Fucking bastard, parading her around like she’s his pet, like she belongs to just him—“ The tone is childishly petulant. Jin has to remind himself that this is a well-known captain speaking—his own captain, once he’s deployed.
AFO’s response is more subdued, low and even enough that Jin can’t make it out, but it doesn’t seem to appease Shigaraki. “—she’s mine, too, and I’ve barely gotten to see her since I came back from the front—always all over her, she’s got so many burns—“
That’s when Jin realizes what the captain is talking about. And who.
Now AFO’s voice is a little louder, and Jin makes out a few snatches—something about allowances, diplomacy, regulations. Something about how he’s already made exceptions for Shigaraki.
“—but it’s not fair, she hates him, and I found her first anyway so I don’t see why I have to share—“ There’s a sound like a fist hitting the surface of a desk. Jin can’t decide whether to be disgusted or amused—the captain sounds less like a military officer and more like a kid who’s had his favorite toy taken away…which, he supposes, isn’t so far from the truth.
Apparently AFO agrees. When his voice comes back, Jin can just make it out through the closed door. “Captain Shigaraki. Do you know what happens when two children complain that they cannot come to a compromise? …Yes. An adult removes the plaything that the children have disagreed over. Are you a child, Captain? Do you wish me to step in?”
There’s silence from the other side of the door, tense anticipation. Jin’s put his pen down so he can focus on the argument. Without waiting for Shigaraki’s answer, AFO continues. “I am happy to remove the girl if you and Lieutenant Todoroki cannot agree upon the apportionment of her attentions. Does that sound like a fair solution?”
A pause, and then a reluctant denial on Shigaraki’s part.
“No? Then let this be the last time you approach me with this complaint.”
When Shigaraki leaves the office a few moments later, Jin’s careful to keep his gaze trained at the floor even as he stands at attention to salute, but it doesn’t matter. The captain doesn’t even spare him a glance as he passes the desk. One of his pale hands is clenching into a fist at his side, and the other is scratching his neck under the collar of his shirt—and aside from the peculiarity of the action itself, there’s something…odd about his hands.
He was wearing gloves, Jin realizes an hour later, as he finishes up the general’s paperwork. They were the same fine white silk as any officer’s, but the ring and pinky fingers of the gloves were cut out on both hands. It was intentional, it had to be—the borders were embroidered with scarlet thread as if they were made with care. Jin takes a moment to wonder why, then puts the thought aside and returns to his task.
The next day, Jin’s in a final strategy meeting taking notes for General AFO when Dabi strides in with you in tow as usual—only this time, Shigaraki is flanking your other side, one half-gloved hand circling your wrist. Apparently the threat of your removal was enough to convince them to share you. It’s funny, Jin thinks for a second before he remembers not to make eye contact with you—it’s funny that Captain Shigaraki said you hate Dabi.
Because from where Jin’s sitting, from what he can see of you (hunched shoulders, trembling, too afraid to look up from the floor), it looks like you hate both of them.
Later, Jin will prepare for his deployment in the best way he knows how: by getting stupid plastered drunk with a few of his fellow soldiers. They will share exaggerated war stories and mourn the loss of the wives and lovers and friends they are leaving behind; they will curse out the enemy, their own government, and the spiteful god who put them all in this hellish war to begin with; they will trade theories and knowledge about the men who will lead them in the field, who hold the soldiers’ lives in their hands.
And Jin—Jin will learn what his captain’s quirk is, and he will no longer have to guess at the purpose of those strange half-gloves with two fingers cut out. Instead, Jin will lie awake at night wondering if Shigaraki keeps the gloves on when he touches your skin.
There are rumors—Jin knows, he’s heard them himself—that the captain is related to General AFO. No one’s bold enough to make outright claims of a blood relation, but stories float around camp that Shigaraki is AFO’s bastard son, mothered by a faceless woman of the conquered territory…or maybe Shigaraki was stolen from his parents’ arms as a child when the general witnessed his quirk and saw the war won by his ability…or maybe he’s an orphan, a bloodless monster like some of the more superstitious men believe he is, a demon who brought his own kin to ruin to rise to his current rank under the care of AFO’s steady hand.
The rumors are ridiculous. Jin doesn’t believe them at first, but when he arrives at the camp to find that you’re there too—you with no combat training and no skills; you with your helpless pleading eyes; you with no purpose aside from another mouth to feed and a warm body for the captain and the lieutenant to trade between them—he has to wonder. Why else would AFO allow this?
There are rumors about you, too. There’s not much else for the company to discuss, and it doesn’t help that Shigaraki and Dabi barely allow you to speak a word to anyone outside of the two of them. Some of them think you’re a girl from beyond the enemy border, a country lass whose beauty was too captivating to leave behind when the lieutenant razed your village to ash. Others think you’re one of the poor souls from their own nation, a patriot, who signed up to support the war effort thinking she’d be stitching uniforms in a factory but was instead forced to serve her country through less honorable means.
The rifleman on Jin’s fire team has a theory that you were an officer yourself on the other side, that you’d orchestrated devastation on soldiers of the PLF until the captain brought you to heel. Jin doesn’t believe it—every delicate line of your body screams that you weren’t made for war—but he never disagrees. It’s easier for them to accept your presence here when they can pretend that you’re an enemy. That you’ve killed men like them. That you deserve the bruises that litter your skin, the ragged scratches, the constant submissive fear in your eyes.
You limp. Everywhere, always. Sometimes Jin catches you stumbling out of one of the officers’ quarters early in the morning and thinks he might be sick looking at you.
But is he really capable of condemning their actions? They’ve been at the southern front two months and in that time the captain has more than earned Jin’s trust. It’s obvious now where the rumors of Shigaraki’s demonic origin came from—he moves like something inhuman on the battlefield, reducing enemy soldiers to dust faster than they can raise white flags of surrender.
Dabi, too—Jin met Dabi years ago when he was first recruited, and it still looks strange to see the lieutenant in his formal uniform. Jin remembers Dabi best in combat fatigues, always letting the jacket hang open over the loose undershirt no matter how many times he was scolded by a superior officer. Dabi’s killed for Jin, risked his own life for Jin, and Jin’s done the same in return.
Even if Jin didn’t owe his life to the two of them, though, he doesn’t think he’d be able to do anything about…you. There’s something in the way they talk when they’re camping out before battle, speaking of a changed future, spinning tales of how the PLF will pare away the blight from this corrupt world. Destruction for the sake of creation. Maybe it’s the way Shigaraki’s eyes catch the firelight or the glint of Dabi’s white teeth when he smiles, but Jin has no doubts: the captain and lieutenant could announce an offensive front into Hell itself and Jin would follow.
It’s just a little hard to remember that devotion when the lieutenant forces you to suck his cock in the middle of the mess hall as punishment for not finishing your breakfast fast enough. Or when the captain makes you walk around half-dressed in his worn-out fatigues because you don’t have any clothes of your own. Or when the two of them catch you wandering around the camp at night (“just lost,” you pleaded frantically, “wasn’t trying to leave, I promise, I promise”—and Jin hasn’t forgotten how high and thin and shaky your voice sounded, how fucking terrified you were) and they tell you in alternating jagged snarls that if you even think about setting foot outside the perimeter without one of them, they’ll tie down to one of the infirmary beds and let every man in the crew have his turn with you.
You really are the only thing they can agree on.
Jin doesn’t think they would go through with it. They’re so fixated on you, so possessive that aside from battle, Jin would be surprised if you’ve been left alone for more than an hour since you arrived at camp. Their respective obsessions with you manifest in different ways (Shigaraki seems mainly concerned with trying to monopolize every possible ounce of your attention, while Dabi is more jealous—the last soldier who accidentally brushed your arm in passing has burn scars to prove it) but Jin doubts either of them would be willing to let another man put his hands on you if they had a choice.
They haven’t had to use the threat twice. After the first time, you refused to eat for days—Shigaraki was worried; Jin overheard him arguing with Dabi—but you haven’t tried to leave camp since.
Still, you never talk back. You don’t complain. How long have you been in their…service? Did you ever try to argue with them before?
What did they do to punish you when you did?
It’s always cold here. Up North, in this nation. You aren’t used to it yet. You don’t want to get used to it. You’d rather be at home.
You want to go home. You want to go home want to go home want to go home—
The cold isn’t so bad with Touya. He usually makes you sleep with him. And he’s hot to the touch, a human furnace. Skin all over yours, touching you everywhere he can and it makes you sick, makes you feel like you’ve got a fever in bed with him, makes you wake up drenched in sweat. His bare chest flush against your back is like an iron on your skin. Like a brand. You hate it. Then again, you’d be hard-pressed to come up with something about your current living situation that you don’t hate.
No. Make a list. There are things in the world that make you happy, and you’ve learned (the hard way) that you have to be able to remember them if you want to survive.
Raw sunlight on your shoulders when they leave for battles and you get to walk around camp by yourself.
Birds calling to each other in the early dawn hours.
That soldier, the one with blond hair and the scar on his forehead (what was his name again? Jin?) smiling at you when you accidentally meet his gaze. Not a leer, not like how the other men in the camp look at you. He’s more…nervous. But still kind.
See. If you really, really try, you can remember what it feels like to be happy, too.
But now isn’t the time to be thinking about these things. Imagining being in the sunlight just makes you feel colder.
You’re cold because you’re with Tomura tonight. He was annoyed about something—angry at you for some mistake you made maybe. Or angry because you spent most of the day with Touya. Not that it matters. When he’s mad at Touya he ends up taking it out on you anyway. It’s not fair, is it? But you’re past the point of expecting humanity from either of them, much less fairness.
The bed and the blanket are made for one person. Yet another reminder that you’re not supposed to be here. You’re out of place, you have nothing of your own—nothing that they don’t give you. You’re useless, aside from cheap entertainment for Tomura and Touya. That’s who you are now. That’s the only purpose you serve, the reason you were put on this earth. At least, that’s what Touya says to you. You didn’t believe him. At first.
Tomura doesn’t say things like that. Sometimes he talks to you like you’re important to him, like he needs you. He confesses to you. Tells you his secrets. Tells you his fears. Makes you say things to him, promises, lies so bitter you think they could burn holes in your tongue from speaking them. Your mother told you not to tell lies. She raised you to be honest. She raised you to be good.
Don’t think about your mother.
Between Tomura and Touya, you’re not sure which you prefer. With Touya you don’t have to pretend so much. But Tomura isn’t as cruel. Choosing one over another would be like choosing between pain and fear. And in the end, it’s not really your choice, so who cares.
(Sometimes they ask. Sometimes they try to make you choose. You don’t. Don’t make them angry. Don’t make them angry.)
He sleeps lightly. Too lightly. You try to keep away from him, try to curl up on the other side of the mattress with a thin barrier of empty air in between you, but he must have felt the bed shift when you trembled in the cool air because he’s awake in a second, blinking sleep out of his eyes and wrapping his arm over the dip of your waist to tug you closer. You want to pull away but there’s nowhere to move.
“Why are you awake?” he rasps out. “Had a nightmare again?”
You nod. It’s probably true, even if you don’t remember.
“Go back to sleep.” Tomura’s hand slides up under the hem of the shirt you’re wearing (his, probably, or Touya’s) to rub your back in a way he thinks is soothing.
You give another pathetic nod and turn away, slide over to your side on the edge of the bed, mostly as an excuse to face away from him and get his hand off you. His ring and pinky fingers are wrapped in medical tape, the edges rough and sticky where they brush over your skin, but you still hate the feeling of his hands touching you. You’ve seen what he can do with his hands. Even if he always uses the tape when you’re in bed with him, you can’t get used to the feeling of having such a fragile barrier protecting your own mortality.
You suppose it’s a kindness. That he bothers to do it at all. That’s what passes for kindness in your life now: the barest, simplest precaution taken so that he doesn’t kill you in his sleep. You should feel grateful.
You feel like you want to throw up.
“You’re not sleeping.” The cot creaks and then Tomura’s pulled into you, holding you like a lover and draping the blanket over both of your bodies. “You’re cold. If you want the blanket, you should say.”
“I don’t…” Your voice is hoarse from lack of use and you have to clear it to speak further. “I don’t want the blanket.”
“What do you want, then?” You can tell by Tomura’s voice that he’s getting annoyed. You can’t. Can’t let him get annoyed.
“I…um, I want, I want…” You cast around desperately for something you can ask for that won’t make him angry. You want your own bed. You want him to stop touching you. But you can’t say that, he’ll be mad and then he’ll be mad and the wave of fear that seizes up your muscles is so heavy and overwhelming that you feel your grip on the sheets get tighter and you open your mouth and the worst possible thing comes out—the truth. “I—I want to go h-home.”
It’s quiet for a second. You feel Tomura tense behind you, his arm around your waist going rigid. You suck in a breath and then cringe, already fighting the instinct to get out get away from him run away. Why did you say that? You’re an idiot, you’re so stupid, he’s going to kill you.
Then you hear the sound of him shuffling, shifting back in bed and scraping at his neck with his own blunt fingernails. “I told you not to say that anymore. I said I don’t like it when you say things like that.”
“I—I’m sorry, I didn’t, I didn’t mean—“ You try to sit up next to him but he shoves you back down flat on the bed, caging you in with his hands on your shoulders, achingly close to your neck.
“You don’t listen. I hate it when you—you don’t listen to me,” Tomura seethes.
“I’m sorry!” you choke out again in a whisper. Don’t give him a reason to shut you up.
He ignores you, scratching again at his neck and then settling back into the bed. You feel his hair tickling against your cheek and then his voice is right up next to your ear, a false layer of boredom barely concealing the anger in his voice. “Besides, you don’t have a home to go back to anyway, hm?”
You go still.
Don’t think about that.
Ash falling from the sky like snowflakes. Your lungs stinging from the smoke in the air, so thick that you could taste cinders. The hush and snap of the dry plants under your shoes as you waded through the high fields of wheat. Don’t look back. You looked back and it was a jewel-blue hearth fire on the horizon. Grey plumes of smoke smudging silver over the rising sun. Your little town, burning to embers.
You tried to run.
They found you anyway.
“You’re crying now?” You can feel Tomura’s body relaxing, lulled to rest by your silent shaking. How comforting, that your distress puts him at ease.
“I’m not crying,” you sniffle, although you don’t know why. You both know you’re lying.
“Shh…” Tomura’s arm curls under your neck so he can tilt the brace of your shoulders into his, angling your face up and rubbing the saltwater into your cheeks. His fingers—the taped ones, his ring and pinky—brush over your lips, stroking until you part them and let him rest the covered pads of his fingers on your tongue. He sighs softly and then the cot is squeaking again and his hips are pushing up against your backside. The thin layer of fabric from his underclothes isn’t nearly enough of a barrier for you to not feel the heavy weight of his cock through it.
No. Wait. You can’t. You don’t want to. You’re too fragile and you’re still sore from earlier (you’re always sore) and he doesn’t care. He’s not going to stop.
“Nn—“ You can’t say no, can you? He’s already angry at you from before. But your body doesn’t work in sync with your mind anymore; you’re already trying to wriggle away from him. “Tomura, Tomura, wait, I can’t—“
“Quiet.” His hand clamps flat around your mouth just as you try to inhale and your lungs ache, sucking in at nothing. You thrash your legs, try to kick the blanket away but he catches your thigh in his other hand. “You’re cold… I can warm you up.”
You shake your head, trying to mount a denial, trying to express to him in some way that you can’t, you can’t, you can’t let him fuck you like that again right now, you think you might break if he does. Your arm raises up, ready to claw at his hand, but before you can get up the nerve to do it your fingers fold into a loose fist and than drop back down into the sheet. You’re a coward. All you can do is struggle weakly in his grip, knowing full well that it’s futile, and even that pathetic defense is gone when he squeezes your thigh and digs fingernails into your skin.
Like a kitten getting picked up by the scruff of its neck. You just go limp.
“That’s right. You don’t try to fight me,” Tomura tells you, and the pressure on your thigh eases until he’s carefully stroking the reddened skin.
“Tomura,” you whimper again, and even though you want the sound to be strong you know your voice is quivering. But you say his name again. He likes it when you say his name. “Tomura, I’m—“
—too weak. But your voice gives out before you can finish.
The feeling of his hand petting your cheek slows. “It still hurts from earlier?”
You pause, wait for the trick, wait for the part where he laughs at you and holds you down and fucks you anyway. But he doesn’t laugh. So you nod tentatively, wondering if it’s possible that he actually, actually might go easy on you. For once.
“Probably that fucking asshole’s fault,” Tomura spits, and the second you hear his voice raised you cringe and then he’s pressing himself back into you, molding your body into his chest so close you can feel the kick of his heartbeat, thrilled into a higher rhythm by the thought of Touya hurting you.
‘That fucking asshole’ is Touya. You know this. You know it makes Tomura feel better to believe Touya’s cruel to you in ways Tomura isn’t. Is he? It doesn’t matter. At some point it all started to blur together for you.
“He’s too rough, I keep telling him he’s too rough,” Tomura mutters, half to himself, and some little cell in the back of your brain that hasn’t had the defiance snuffed out of it yet screams HYPOCRITE but you keep your stupid whore mouth shut because you don’t want to ruin this. Maybe if Tomura believes Touya’s been unreasonably brutal to you (and what Tomura would consider unreasonable brutality you don’t really want to know) he’ll let you go back to sleep without touching you.
Tomura’s hand snakes down your hip to cup your sex, and when you hear his voice again it’s accompanied by the steam of his breath over your neck. “Okay…okay, fine. I’ll just take care of you. Can’t go to sleep without cumming, little whore? I’ll make it better.”
The panic is back, double this time with his fingers lazily petting your bare mound. You push down on the cot, try to lift yourself but all he has to do is shift his weight just so and you’re pinned. “Tomura, I don’t—I can go to sleep, I’ll go sleep—nngh…”
His tongue is in your mouth, fingers bracing your chin in position to tilt almost painfully back toward him. The slimy muscle of his tongue pulls over yours and you almost gag—maybe from the unexpected intrusion in your mouth, or maybe because he’s effortlessly pushed his hand between your thighs to slide two fingers down to your cunt.
Tomura laughs roughly when the pads of his fingers meet your little hole. “Still wet. You really want it that bad?”
You are wet...not from arousal, but because he didn’t let you clean up after he came inside you earlier tonight and his semen is still slicked through your inner walls. Regardless, the liquid dripping out of your pussy is enough lubrication that when he pushes his middle finger inside, the sound it makes is audible to both of you.
You bite the inside of your cheek to hold back an instinctual whimper of discomfort when another finger presses in along with the first. “I don’t want—Tomura, I don’t…”
“Don’t lie to me…you’re all hot and tight on my fingers. You can barely take this, but you want more, don’t you?” Tomura’s hips buck against yours, and you can feel his thick bulge, stiff and ready, through the fabric of his underwear on your ass. “Whores like you can’t get off without cock.”
“I— No—“ You squeeze your eyes shut to block out the dim outlines of the room, but that does nothing to extinguish the feeling of his hands on you, pumping through the length of your pussy and petting at your g-spot like he owns it.
And he does own it. All of it. Your cunt, your body, your mind. You don’t think there’s a piece of you left that he hasn’t tainted.
Your eyes sting. Again, again, again.
“Oh…oh, that’s right. You’re too fragile to take my cock like a good little fuckpet.” He punctuates the word ‘fragile’ with a particularly sharp thrust and the base of his finger grinds coarsely into your neglected clit. “If you don’t want me to fuck you, you’re going to have to cum on my fingers.”
You open your mouth and a whine comes out—a plea—you’re whimpering and begging him in broken little phrases but your hips are slowly rolling back into his rhythm, just like he’s trained you to. You don’t want it, you hate it—but your body doesn’t know any better. The slick kissing sounds of your cunt over his fingers and his jagged, breathy pants in your ear are mixing together and pushing you under, making your brain go fuzzy, making you forget things you’re supposed to remember, and it’s nice, it’s good, it doesn’t hurt and it’s building up, rising up in your core and you want more and you don’t have enough energy to care about anything other than yes yes yes please, please, I like it, I like it—only the last flimsy shred of dignity you possess stops you from saying it out loud.
But Tomura can tell. He always does. “That’s my girl,” he growls, and ruts his clothed cock against your backside again, pushing into you so roughly that the cot squeaks and lists off balance for a second. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Who’s making you feel good?”
“Nn—uhh…” You want it to stop, you want it to stop want it to stop but no matter how many times you repeat yourself in your head you can’t pick out whether you’re thinking about him or about yourself. Sick, sick, you’re sick, you’re helpless stupid pathetic dumb little whore just like they say. You’re property. And no matter what he does to you, no matter what laughable little denials you try, you both know your place is underneath Tomura.
Instead of answering him you let your lungs deflate, try to hide your face in the pillow so you can just get this over with without having to look at him or think about him or acknowledge that he’s drilled obedience into your body so deeply that the thought of actually trying to push him off you makes something half terror and half nausea push up in your throat so heavy you think you could throw up right here but you can’t because if you do that he’ll kill you, he really will fucking kill you—
It feels good. Stroking over your insides, rubbing tight little circles around that little button at the top. Don’t think about anything else. It feels good.
“Look—ugh, look at me.” With his free hand Tomura wrenches your head back around and his chapped lips meet a tender spot on your throat—when he bites down it hurts, more than you expected, and you realize a second later that it’s because he’s layering his bitemark over one of Touya’s. “Who’s touching you? Who’s making you feel good?”
“Ah, it’s— you, it’s you,” you whine, and your hips are pushing back against his, grinding back into the hard outline of his cock while his fingers brush roughly up your slit, mindlessly seeking stimulation.
Tomura exhales in a hiss, face presses into your neck, eyelashes flutter over your jaw. “Say…say my name—come on—”
“Tomura!” It’s not fair, not fair that he can do this to you but the heat is curling up inside you and your brain is filled with cotton and you want him. “—touching me, you’re touching my—m-my cunt—“
For the second you see his face he looks almost…happy? And then he pushes in to kiss you again—why? why bother? not that you care, you barely even notice at this point—and every place he’s touching you is alive with heat and tension. Your legs twitch, thighs jerking around his hand, come closer, closer, touch me like that just like that. You’re going to cum. Your cunt is twitching too so you know he can feel how close you are. “I—ah, ah T-Tomura, I’m gonna, gonna cum please let me cum—“
“Fuck…!” Tomura snarls and his fingers pull out of your cunt to drag frantically over your clit. “You—you’re mine, this slutty little pussy is mine, you fucking belong to me, don’t you? Who do you belong to? Say it…fucking say it!”
“You! I’m yours, Tomura, Tomura, I belong to you—oh fuck—“ You’re giving him what he wants and you know you’re going to regret it tomorrow when he brags about this to Touya but you’re too focused on your climax hitting you like a wave—not like that, like a fucking bombshell exploding—your hands grip the scratchy canvas of the sheet, wrinkle the fabric, and your spine arches back to push your ass into the bulge of his cock he’s still dry-humping against you, and you cum—
fuck you’re going to scream you can feel the sound gathering in your lungs involuntary like everything else because your body really doesn’t belong to you anymore—but Tomura’s hand is wrapping over your mouth again before you can make a sound, sealing over your lips and pinching your nose shut so you can’t.
“Shh, always so loud,” he laughs breathlessly, and as the comfortable haze melts out of your brain you hate that you can tell just by hearing his voice that he’s close too. “You’re gonna wake up all my men…gonna let them know what a whore you are, yeah? Is that what you want?”
You don’t answer. The exhaustion, the overwhelming pleasure of him making you cum is slipping away, leaving you empty except for the usual: misery. Fear. Self-disgust. You sink deeper into the bed and do your best to hold still despite your sensitive, throbbing pussy as he grinds himself into you. He’s more frenzied now, jerking against you without any kind of rhythm and holding your hips in place with both hands. It doesn’t take him long—you knew it wouldn’t—and you only have to lie there like a dead fish for a little longer before he’s shoving his body on top of yours to finish, whining your name and leaving a trail of hickeys over your shoulders and back.
So close. He’s so close, the oppressive weight of his body on top of yours, the pulsing of his cock in his boxers against your skin. So close you can feel the dampness and heat of his cum soaking through the fabric. Tomura says your name again—a sigh, this time—and his hand traces lightly over your cheek and through your hair, almost like he’s going to try and fix it for you, smooth it down except—
you flinch. Too lucid now. Can’t pretend that the thought of his hands touching you (the hands that have decayed so many people and could destroy you just as easily) doesn’t make you want to scrub yourself clean. With bleach.
Tomura pauses, pulling back from you and flipping you onto your back. You wait, wait for a reprimand, a demand for affection, but he doesn’t say anything. When the silence is stretched too long and he makes no move to let you up, your mouth moves.
“I hate you.”
It’s the truth, but you still can’t look him in the eye when you say it.
It doesn’t feel real.
A highlight reel of your worst punishments to date is playing in the back of your head (when Touya burned his initials into your arm, you still have a scar—when Tomura kept your hands cuffed behind your back for a week and made you beg for him to feed you by hand—when they said they’d make you service every man in camp if you try to leave them) but the part of your mind that’s capable of caring is so, so tired.
Tomura’s eyes get wider.
You imagine him unwrapping the medical tape from his ring and pinky fingers, letting the dingy white cotton fall in ringlets into the bedspread. You picture him touching you with his bare hands.
But he doesn’t. He sits back off of you. And looks away. And scratches his neck.
“You think I...think I don’t know that?” His voice is agitated. He’s panting from his climax but he’s upset. “Whenever we’re having a good time you always have to ruin it… I know, I know you hate me, of course you fucking hate us. I know you want to go home. You don’t have to say it. Like I don’t hear what you say when you talk in your sleep.”
You hold your breath, frozen on your back underneath him. What is happening.
“But…it doesn’t matter.” Tomura’s voice slows, evens out back to the unaffected drawl you’re used to, and his hand drops down away from where he was picking at his neck. “I don’t care. You’re still mine, even if you hate me. You still belong to me.”
It sounds like truth. Not dirty talk like before. It sounds like a confession.
Six months ago you would have argued with him, but six months ago you had a life that existed outside him and Touya. And now you don’t. So you nod. Because you know, you know—agreeing will make him feel better.
“Get off the bed. You’re going to clean me up.” Without giving you a chance to follow his order, Tomura yanks you off the cot onto the floor and pulls down his cum-soaked boxers, shoving his sticky cock in your face for you to lick clean. You’re limp enough that you crumple as soon as you hit the ground, but he twists his fingers through your hair and drags your head up to his level. “Make me clean, now.”
It’s cold. The floor, it’s like ice. You wonder if you’ll ever get used to the cold, ever learn to like it. Probably not. At some point you’ll just forget what it feels like to be warm.
You hope it happens soon.
Don’t make him wait, you think, and you open your mouth.
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Request: I read your panties thieve imagine and the shouto's part makes me want to request this; a scenario where his darling caught him jerking off and cum on her panties, ofc she started screaming so he had to pin her down and shut her mouth with, well, that panties. And maybe he get turn on again and couldn't resist the idea of giving her a nice creampie 👉👈😳
(A/N) I’m actually kind of proud of this? Also is it just me or does yandere Shoto hit different when it comes to bnha yandere’s? Oh and the panties request they’re talking about is here
(note: All characters are aged up in this!!!)
Summary: You walk in on Shoto jerking off with your panties and he decides to indulge in one of his fantasies
warnings: Non-con, slight bondage, yandere themes, panties being used as a gag
You weren't supposed to find out. You weren't supposed to walk in on him with your panties around his dick which are now stained with his cum. He should have just keep doing this in his room, but when he got to your room to take another pair the desperate side got the better of him, now here you are staring at him with disgusts and shock.
“You weren't suppose to-” Shoto says abruptly standing up, but still gripping onto your dirty panties.
“What the fuck are doing!” You screech, charging at him. Panic shoots through him and before he can comprehend what he’s doing he’s got you pinned on the bed with your panties shoved into your mouth.
Thousands of thoughts go through his head simultaneously as he tries to figure out what to do next, meanwhile trying to ignore his growing erection. He can’t help it, seeing the tears stream down your face while you try screaming for help, only for it to be muffled by the dirty panties, it’s almost just how imagined it. He licks his lips and looks around, there’s got to be something he can use to make sure you don't run away. Out of pure luck he spots a belt splayed out on the bed, maybe if he’s quick he’ll be able to snatch it up and use it.
He puts his plan into action and quickly flips you onto your stomach, you try pushing yourself up to throw him, but he is much stronger than you. Lunging for the belt he grabs it and forces your hands behind your back, once tying them together, he flips you back to be facing and he covers your mouth again. He leans in close and shushes you, “I’m not going to hurt you, just be good for me.”
You ignore his pleads and continue struggling, suddenly he has a hand in your face with mist pouring off and little splotches of frost going across it. “I said stop, before I just freeze your mouth shut and your hands together.” Shoto threatens as his tone remains calm, you flinch, but quickly stop. He snaps out of it and begins shushing you again while petting your hair gently, ”I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get angry. I won’t do it again, I promise.” Shoto says as he gives you a gentle smile.
He pushes himself away and walks over to the door, he can’t have anyone else walking in on him again, especially now. Locking it he heads back over to you and ignores the way you try to wiggle away. He stays quiet as he plants himself between your legs, too busy thinking of how he’s going to convince you not to tell anyone. You’ll do that for him right? You just need to understand the context behind everything, he refuses to believe that you won’t listen to him, you’re too much of a good girl to misbehave like that.
Shoto rakes his eyes over your trembling body, he’s reminded of his other problem as he takes in your pajama shorts that could be easily mistaken for underwear and a thin tank top which has been pushed up allowing him to see the underside of your breast. His eyes snap back up to your face when he hears your muffled voice whimper out his name, at that moment any self restraint he had is broken and he finally indulges in his fantasy.
He pushes your tank up further and roughly grabs your tits and starts massaging them, pinching your nipples lightly. You squeal and try squirming away, but he pulls you close to lean down and latch his mouth onto your nipple while playing with the other one. He moans softly as he swirls his tongue and harshly sucks, you’re so soft and warm, you’re everything he’s dreamed of and more. He finally pulls away and starts kissing your neck, his hand going down to take of your bottoms off, quickly getting impatient he just rips them off and the faint smell of burnt cloth fills the room as he singes them.
He does the same to your underwear and just shushes you as you begin to cry harder. He runs his finger between your lips, god you're so wet, maybe you want this as much as he does? What is he talking about, of course you do. He pulls back from your neck and brings his finger to his mouth to taste you. He lets out a soft moan the moment your addicting nectar touches his tongue, a line of drool connecting to his finger when he pulls it away from his mouth. He’s imagined how you taste so many times, yet he never imagined you tasting as delectable and sinful as you do. As much as he would love to drink you up until he’s drunk on your love he knows he doesn’t have all the time in the world.
“Don’t worry, I’ll go slow princess, I promise.” Shoto says as he positions his tip at your entrance and slowly eases his hard length inside you, a groan clawing itself out of his throat as your walls seem to suck him in. He stills for a second as he’s now halfway in, his pupils are blown wide and he tries not to cum right then and there from the way you clench around him.
His hips slowly rock against yours in shallow thrusts, each time inching himself further inside allowing you to get used to the pleasant stretch, he knows he’s on the bigger side. A moan tumbles from his lips when he feels his cock bottom out inside you, his knuckles turning white from how hard he’s gripping the sheets under him.
“You feel so good wrapped around my cock, princess.” Shoto pants, ignoring the way you rapidly shake your head no while trying to squirm away from him.
Shoto plants his arms on both sides of your head, letting his fall onto the crook of your neck, he allows himself to soak in the blissful moment before snapping his hips into yours. You let out a shriek as he pounds into you, your tits bouncing with each thrust.
“Oh princess, you’re amazing, so tight and warm.” Shoto groans, lifting his head to gaze into your eyes. “I’m sorry I had to use your panties, I didn’t know what else to use to keep you quiet. Can you taste my cum? These aren't the first ones I’ve used.” Shoto’s not sure why he’s telling you this, but the sudden urge has his filthy thoughts come pouring out.
“I imagined this so many times, making you take my cock, watching as you slowly become addicted to me.” He purrs as his pace slows while his thrusts remain strong, each time a slapping noise echoing out as skin hits against skin. Soft moans now replacing your scared cries, your eyes rolling back slightly with each time he hits that spot inside you that makes you see stars.
Feeling his own release drawing upon him quickly from your tight cunt clenching around him, his pace picks back up again, growling as his balls slap against your ass. His mouth hangs open with a choked moan forcing it’s way out when he feels your cunt convulse around him, making his hips stutter against you. He rips out your gag and crashes his lips against yours, shoving his tongue into your wet cavern to explore.
“I’m gonna- fuck- cum inside you, fill you up. You want that princess ah, for me to fill you up with my cum?” He pants into your ear, his release getting closer and closer.
“N-no please, not inside-” You beg with fresh tears streaming down your face. “Please it’s too much!” That one statement pushes him off the edge as his thrust become borderline painful.
“Yes! take all of my cum- fuck take it all, take it princess.” He growls and thick, hot ropes of cum deep inside you.
He rides out his orgasm with a few more sloppy thrusts before sitting up, hissing through his teeth as he pulls his softened cock out. He watches as your pussy clenches onto to nothing and cum dribbles out of you. He sits there catching his breath, extreme heat pouring off of him while he admires your twitching and sweat covered body. He leans in and presses his lips softly against your temple, you flinch and twist your eyes shut, but he doesn’t care. After all, you confirmed that you felt the same way when you squirted all over his cock.
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Pro-hero BAKUGO with his own agency obsessing over his new sweet perfect little assistant, just needing to have her all to himself, the JELAOUSY
yandere boss ! BAKUGO KATSUKI x assistent
goodiebag WARNINGS: nsfw, misogyny, obsession, dubcon/noncon, profanity, this got looong, Kirishima is such a jock, abuse of power, not that much jealousy per se, but Bakugo being protective and obsessive and horny af, uhm slight mommy kink kinda
WANTS & NEEDS
Bakugo stormed towards the elevator, not letting the sliding doors of the entrance to his agency slow him down, making a dedicated beeline towards his office on the sky-floor.
Anyone else would have thought he was grumpy as per usual, therefor keeping their distance, but like always, it didn't stop Kirishima.
"I don't want another wide-eyed snivelling slutty ditzy assistant, Shitty-hair." The explosion-hero grumbled in the elevator, still visibly pissed off that he wasn't allowed to simply explode his way to the top, reduced to wasting a whole two minutes standing still, forced to listen to the makeshift red-head's yapping whining on about what he can and can't do, what he must and mustn't, what he needs and needn't, what's best of him and what's best for him, with a thousand means to no end.
"Give her a try-" The red-head pushed in a drawl, only barely having lost any of the enthusiasm he started off with when they were on the first floor. "I heard she’s supposed to be great!" He beamed, teeth shiny like razors in his mouth. "And pretty."
Bakugo didn't even bother giving him a glance, rolling his eyes beneath his eyelids, the toothy smile of his friend and coworker too bright an annoying light to face in the morning.
"I don't understand why you bother..." He sighed.
The ash-blonde allowed himself to calm down, knowing it was about another minute left in the tight space, and how no one else could hear his crude words, nor the insecurity hidden in them.
"If it’s a lady she’s gonna be too sensitive anyway." He mumbled.
He always sent them crying. This one would be no different.
"One; you’re the one who’s too insensitive." Kirishima raised his finger, another one following, marking his additional argument. "And two; that’s wicked misogynistic, Bakugo."
"It’s been true so far." The ash-blonde grumped.
"Yeah, but please don't say that shit in front of anyone but me, yeah?" He urged. "At least not when we reach the top floor."
Katsuki turned to look at him for the first time that morning. "What's on the top floor?" He did not look amused.
Kirishima twirled his fingers innocently. "Well... I might have gone and taken the liberty of hiring you a new assistant-"
"Fucking dammit, Kiri, I told you! I don't want a new assistant!" The pro-hero groaned, whining like a child only with the growl of a man, trying to keep his breath calm while carding his fingers through his hair, yanking on it, feeling the need to rip it from his scalp to hold himself back from punching the apologetic smile off of Kirishima's face.
"Man, you need one!" The red-head defended, finally stopping at treating his friend like a piece of glass, seeing that his shell had already broken.
Katsuki only grunted in return, shaking his head, sighing. Giving Kirishima the cold-shoulder. Knowing that if he opened his mouth to say anything now, it would be far pretty. He instead opted for reducing his anger to mere growling and brooding for the remaining minute stuck beside the pest that was his bothersome friend.
"You'll love her." The sturdy-hero insisted, putting his fists to his hips while puffing up his chest, chin raised in a way that told Bakugo he couldn't be told otherwise.
The brute huffed as he folded his arms back over his chest, wordlessly disagreeing. Looking up with glaring alarm-red eyes to the lit numbers above the door while tapping his combat-boot-wearing foot loudly against the floor, frustrated with how Kirishima stood beside him optimistically drumming his fingers on his thigh to the beat of the brain-rotting elevator-music, yet slightly uplifted to see he was closer to being allowed to lock himself away in his office and stay there unbothered by the likes of pesky meddling friends and dumb fragile assistants.
She stood there, awkwardly awaiting her new boss where the red-head had left her to go receive him.
Kirishima was nice, a type of friendly she knew she shouldn't be expecting from the explosion-hero. Which is why her palms were sweating so embarrassingly much, making her wipe them down her skirt, also in an effort to straighten it, where the ding of the elevator only aided in making her heart skip along faster, looking down to see if her blouse was still perfectly situated.
She swallowed her anxiety as the two men neared her, trying to wipe her face free of timidity, knowing how such fragility would not survive here, in Pro-hero Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight's Agency.
She reached her hand out first, wanting to make a strong first impression, the intent almost leading to her leaping forward into the man. "Hie! I'm-" But her offered hand was disregarded before she could do as much as finish her introduction.
Without giving her so much as a glance, the tall muscular male didn't even slow down, but continued to walk straight past her, leaving her only one curt cruel comment.
"Listen, kid, I don't need another snivelling crybaby getting tears in my coffee. Don't bother unpacking." He grouched, cutting her off, trying to stomp off in direction of his office, yet stopped by the other male who had his mouth gaping in disbelief at his rude friend.
"He doesn't mean that." Kirishima rushed to assure. "He really needs you-" He tried defending, but apparently it wasn't needed.
She was ambitious to prove she could handle herself.
"I'll be sure to put a lid on the cup, sir." She made her voice sound cool and unbothered, face relaxing nonchalantly though still with a small soft smile to compliment her pretty face.
Bakugo gaze went from glaring at the red-head to offering the snippy thing a side-look.
Kirishima looked stunned for a moment too before giving a loud grin, eyes glinting. "See? She can handle you!" He nearly shouted, enthusiastically giving Bakugou a punch to his shoulder. "Come with me! I'll help you settle in."
The man placed a massive gravely hand to the small of her back, guiding her, taking her box from her without asking in order to carry it for her. She would tell him she could manage on her own, but she'd already come to terms with his slightly domineering acts of manliness and opted for simply smiling in gratitude instead of going full feminist on his out-dated acts of chivalry.
"You'll be primarily Bakugo's assistant and receptionist. But, to be completely honest with you, you'll probably have to be a bit of a babysitter and maid as well."
The ash-blonde gave a sigh as he stalked on, leaving Kirishima to take care of the new office pretty addition, not happy with how his friend was describing him, yet not bothered enough to stop him.
"He's very needy, lazy in a sense, he can't be bothered with fixing his calendar and getting his coffee, addressing the public and that sorta thing, so you'll take care of it for him." He informed as he walked her to the glass desk placed lonely outside Bakugo's transparent office.
"Of course-" She nodded her head, listening and agreeing. "I'm here to make his life easier."
"Exactly!" Kirishima said with a smile. "I knew you were perfect!"
Bakugo shook his head with little thrill.
Kirishima said that about every assistant he'd gone and hired on his behalf.
He looked at her before closing the door to his office, analysing what he saw with an uninterested face, taking in her straight posture, standing there like a doll with her knees together, hands on her lap, nodding her head pliantly to Kirishima's every word.
He allowed for his scarlet-eyes to judge.
Mundane pencil-skirt tight-fitted, yet appropriate, reaching just beneath her knees, showing off calves and nothing more as her boots hid her ankles. It was the first time he'd seen a woman in an office without stilettos or any other annoyingly loud power-heel on. Her blouse was modest too, no see-through fabric, no bright pop colour, no cleavage, just boring rose-beige reaching up beneath a set of pretty collarbones and an un-necklaced throat.
Pretty in a plain sort of way.
If she was wearing makeup, it couldn't have been much. But her lips had a certain shine to them. Not much colour sept for natural, but glossy in a way making them look pillowy and soft.
He made a note of how she wasn't dressed like a slut, how she looked nothing like those other assistants that came before her, who curled their hair to crispy meanders bouncing as they fake-laughed, with pink manicured nails curling around Kirishima's bulging biceps as he flirted with them.
He's pretty sure the red-head had banged about every bratty bitchy lazy assistant he's had, knowing how the toothy moron has it as some type of wager with himself, a goal to make each dumb pretty-girl even dumber on his dick.
This one looked sweet though.
Not at all like some brain-dead plastic bimbo hoping to be swept up by a sugar-daddy, or a power-hungry manipulative bitch looking for fame and publicity.
This one simply looked happy to be there.
No ulterior motives sept to do her job.
He nearly felt bad for her, knowing how his dumb-as-a-rock friend was going to abuse his popularity yet again and play her like a football match; first base, second base, third base, and home run, only to then kick her to the curb. Leave her as a crazy ex-girlfriend, bitter and sour with a thirst for vengeance, or a brokenhearted mess, whiny and snotty with mascara streaming down her face, ending up just a complete ghost in a shell, featherbrained and simply useless. Making him do the dirty work of firing a poor snivelling mess only because his stupid friend couldn't control his sadistic carnal urges.
With just one more glance, he clicked his tongue and huffed, closing his door with a mumble. "She'll be gone before the week's up."
First day went by without speaking to the boss, but she was adamant on making a change the day after.
Realising she couldn't expect him to meet her halfway, she recognised how he needed her to do most of the talking and approaching all on her own.
So, she ran her hands through her hair a couple more times like a comb, straightened her skirt and fixed her blouse, cradled her tablet in her arm for quick easy note-taking and pulled her bag onto the other shoulder.
Holding the boss' coffee in one hand, she took a deep breath and knocked on his door with the other.
He made a grunt, which could have just as easily meant go away instead of enter, but she decided on the latter.
"Good morning, sir."
She trotted inside the spacious office, allowing for just one brief moment to take in the breath-robbing panoramic-view of the entire skyline of Japan shown through his curtain-windows. Refraining from gulping at the vastness of it all as she placed his cup down on the clear glass of his desk.
"Coffee, snack, newspaper, agenda for the day." She listed, placing each item down neatly on his desk, having organised and printed out his schedule the day prior in order to come in prepared. Feeling slightly like she was baby-sitting, rethinking that the snack might have been a touch too much, giving he was a grown man and not a toddler. Yet, she couldn't shake the feeling he'd either skimmed or hadn't gotten his full-amount of breakfast. Her sixth-sense telling her he was hungry.
He didn't look up, busy studying his gauntlet, struggling with cleaning out the insides of his gloves, but took a second to reach towards the newspaper, face scrunched in concentration and mild frustration.
She'd picked up the inkling feeling that he preferred the paper-version news above electronic, something that seemed to prove as true as he wordlessly started flipping the pages.
Understanding she wouldn't be getting much more of a reply, she continued explaining the agenda. "Pro-hero Deku filed to have your ten o'clock meeting moved down to twelve. He's awaiting our reply." Short, sweet and impersonal is what she'd decided the best tactic when speaking to her new boss, leaving all pleasant but unnecessary chit-chat in the dust.
"Tell him to fuck off." He mumbled, still not looking up, however apparently listening.
Without much hesitance she replied. "Sure thing, I'll proceed to tell the number-one-hero to fuck off." She repeated, scribbling down the note on her tablet. "I'm sure he'll understand the meeting will be held at ten like originally scheduled, and no later."
At least she doesn't cry over curse-words, Bakugo thought, pretending to read with an unfazed expression on his face. She brought him a snack? That's kind of weird, no other assistant had ever done that... but he was hungry. Strange she knows how he prefers things in a physical form, both the newspaper and the schedule printed out instead of e-mailed to him. Kirishima had probably shared the knowledge.
He reached for the coffee, making a note how it wasn't poured in some flimsy plastic or paper cup, but a glass mug, just the way he likes it.
Her and Kirishima must have been talking about him for a long time if she already knows all this about him, or maybe it was just all on her whim.
That seemed unlikely.
But still, even with Kirishima's guidance, it was impressive how everything had gone strangely perfect so far.
He put the cup to his lips, taking a sip. What the.... hell?
The coffee tasted different. Good, but different.
But... really good.
"The HPSC has filed for a call at two-" She continued, not noticing the puzzlement hidden beneath his gruff expression, too occupied with quietly studying his fairly barren office, noting how it was just his desk and a bookshelf and an absurd amount of empty space. "But I believe I can handle the meeting on my own where we're most likely to discuss your public face." She offered, getting a feeling he didn't enjoy discussing trivial maters on call with a room full of suits. "I could tell them to fuck off as well, but I suggest we offer something that'll ease their worries."
Bakugo scoffed. "Who the fuck knows what they want? Nothing's ever enough for those asshats." He nearly chugged the rest of the coffee after his statement, setting the cup down with a bang on the glass table-top, going back to tweaking at the gauntlet leaking oil all over his desk.
She noticed the mess. Dirty clean-wipes scattered everywhere as though he were sick, but clearly made dirty by grease, crumpled and tossed aside when no longer useful.
Cringing, she decided to walk about and pick up after him while speaking, feeling awkward simply standing there.
"I could tell them that you're willing to colab more with pro-hero Deku."
He made a sound, but she decided to push on, dumping a sum of a dozen clean-wipes into the trashcan beside his desk.
"Unlike you, the public adores him. And lucky for you, he seems to adore you." She explained, fishing a new container of clean-wipes form her bag, placing it on his desk. "I would think giving the media a piece of your upbringing as childhood friends to rivals to coworkers will be an easy way of giving your likability a boost."
He scoffed, reaching for the fresh wipes she'd placed down in front of him, pulling out a handful to rub away the sweat of his quirk smeared on the insides and clogging up the mechanism of his gauntlet.
"Deku'd get a real fucking hard-on if I ever agreed to some pussy-shit like that."
She didn't pay his swears any mind. "It's just a thought. Perhaps something you can bring up at your ten o'clock meeting if you change your mind on the matter." She professionally dismissed his unprofessional choice of words. "I'll think of other less crucial options that you might favor until then." She made some more notes on her pad before continuing. "Other than that, Red Riot wished to relay a message: he's taking the one to five patrol, and requested you take the morning. I have already made arrangements for another hero to take on the patrol between nine and one where you'll be caught in your meeting with pro-hero Deku. I can do further arrangements to clear up you're entire day if you wish to prepare-"
"Nah, I'll do it." He stood up, stretching with a yawn. "Anything else people need from me today?" He grabbed the snack, ripping loose the paper before stuffing his face.
She watched the crumbs fall to the floor and made a mental reminder to vacuum while he was out. "Not at this moment, but I'll be sure to let you know."
"Fine. Leave." Mouth full as he ordered, giving a half-hearted swat of his hand in the direction of the door, shooing her off as though she were a bug buzzing about him.
She didn't take offence, rather finding her first day going off to quite the good start seeing how he hadn't yelled at her yet. "I'll see you at nine, sir." She turned, walking off just the way she came, opening and closing the door behind her with a soft click.
Bakugo watched her go.
That wasn't terrible.
"Fuck's this?" Was the first thing the boss said as soon as he walked into his office, back from his patrol, pointing a straight finger to the steaming cup on his desk while she was busy organising the documents stuffed hap-hazardously into the bookshelf, fixing the scotch bottles and glasses that laid hidden behind trash and other documents, fan mail and gifts she'd taken the liberty of opening, most of them written and drawn by little kids.
Looking back over her shoulder, she answered. "Tea." Refraining from turning around completely to acknowledge him, otherwise busy dusting the shelves.
"I ain't ask for tea." He grumbled, ridding his arms of his already dirty gauntlets on the table she'd just rubbed clean. In spite of it, she didn't let herself fret.
"Your nerves are static, tea will smooth them over before Pro-hero Deku arrives." She explained, finishing up with the bookshelf, turning around, taking in the muddled look on his face. "You needn't drink it, I just thought I'd give you the option of..."
She wanted to find a better word for it, but figured the straightforward boss probably favoured straightforwardness.
"A sound mind." She picked her bag from the floor, and started heading out. "Drink, if you wish, I'll go see to it that the conference room is-"
"What's this for?" She stopped, looking back to see him lifting the suit she'd picked from the dresser beneath the bookshelf, dusted free of rubble and other dirt, ironed to perfection by herself just half an hour before he arrived.
"The suit?" She tilted her head to the side, looking puzzled. "Well... it's a business meeting."
She looked him up and down, smog coating his otherwise tan sand-coloured skin, some small cuts still bleeding red.
Her brows furrowed. "You weren't planning on going like this, were you?" Her finger pointed at him, bobbing at his hero get-up, trashed and tethered and in no way presentable.
"I ain't dressing up for Deku."
She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Think of it this way." She threw her hands up in a wordless request he hear her out. "One picture."
She looked him in the eye, needing to make sure he was listening, even though he'd hadn't proved himself to be one that doesn't pay attention.
"One lousy picture on Pro-hero Deku's snapchat feed or instagram or facebook of the two of you in suits would do wonders to your reputation."
It was Bakugo's turn to sigh now, groaning out in exasperation.
"Don't get me wrong-" She defended quickly, noticing him slipping on his focus, needing to real him beck in. "Greasy sweaty pictures of you and Pro-hero Red Riot grant you many fans. The media loves your bromance, but that would double if you prove yourself civilised and friendly to the number-one-hero." She argued, fishing for his agreement, feeling as though she was loosing him to his irritation. "He talks of you constantly, how you were the inspiration for his hero-name, how you made him the man he is today-"
"I ain't gonna freeload of Deku's cheesy poster-boy smile." He insisted, throwing the suit to the desk and plopping down like a sack in his chair.
She huffed, small fists balling at her sides, not ready to give up and not done stating her case, stomping up to him.
"That's not what you would be doing." She denied. "As it stands right now, the way the public view you is as a bully who cares only for one thing-" She chastised. "But sit down with Pro-hero Deku, he'll ask for a picture, like he always does, probably an autograph as well, and all you need is just grin that trademark smirk that have the girls go weak in the knees and suddenly all of Japan will know that there are plenty of sides to pro-hero Dynamight aside from being an explosive in the field."
She picked up the suit so it wouldn't wrinkle, hanging it on the minimalistic mute servant by the door.
"Furthermore, the HPSC will get off your back and won't get back on it, because that one picture with Deku will have such ripple-effects in your carrier that no one can chastise you for being too scary or unapproachable or-"
"Fine." He stopped her rambling, seeing her point. "Where exactly am I supposed to change?" He had an attitude about his tone stating he didn't really enjoy being forced to see reason, despite it being for his own good.
"First-" She picked up the remote she'd found stuffed in one of the drawers of the bookshelf, forgotten in the mess, clicking on the button she'd found out opened up for a built-in shower at the corner of the office. "Shower." She pointed like a strict mother, or a master ordering her dog around.
"You expect me to shower in front of the entire office?" He asked, tone rather childish in its aggressive sarcasm.
But she only giggled at his attitude, clicking another button on the remote he had no idea controlled anything more but the lights.
"I'll leave you to it."
The blinds rolled over all four of his window walls, the office carpeted and the lights of Tokyo city snuffed out, his glass-cage turned into a blackbox, dim moody lights brightening on their own.
She placed the remote on his desk and turned to leave.
"Call on me if you need help with your tie."
Why did she have to say that?
Almost as though she knows he couldn't tie one even if his life depended on it.
He hated wearing suits.
Too tight and constricting, too easy to rip.
And warm and sweaty.
The cotton and wool doesn't breathe enough.
And it's loud.
The polyester-lining swishing and rubbing when he walks.
It's the same type of embarrassing as when girls where heals that echo through the hallways with each pounding step.
He felt like a fucking show-pony.
An uncomfortable show-pony at that.
He thought of his assistant. How it had only been a day and she was already forcing him to act like some bloody dance-monkey, and succeeding no less.
Why the fuck was he taking advice from some brat in boots anyway?
Dressing up for a dipshit like Deku just because she told him to?
What the fuck has happened?
What the fuck did she put in that tea?
Calm his nerves?
What the fuck does that even mean?
He's always calm! He's never not calm!
He's the fucking definition of calm!
He stormed out, but stopped immidiatly at the giggling behind his door.
"So, any plans for the weekend?" Kirishima sat on her desk, bright smile plastered on his face, the one that makes people feel as though they can tell him anything, as though they can trust him with their deepest darkest secrets.
"Why yes, actually." She replied, small secretive smile curling her lips, making her dimples pop.
"Hmm, let me guess..." The red-head chuckled a playful light-hearted laugh, wiggling his brows at her. "A date?"
She gave am impressed look, mouth slightly parting before giving him a smile. "How'd you know?"
"My excellent people-reading-skills." He boasted with a grin, before leaning down to her level, voice significantly lower, the voice Bakugo had heard him use too many times on countless poor unsuspecting ladies, each one hanging off his words like moths to fire, so quickly to burn themselves. "You've been smiling to yourself all day."
She turned red. "Have I really?" She hurried out in a whisper, eyes timid like a baby-deer, bashfully looking down at her lap. "Is it that obvious?"
Dorks are so fucking cute.
Kirishima had to stop himself from licking his lips.
"You're blushing like a schoolgirl." The goofy smile on his face turned sharper and sharper, almost amounting to that hungry smirk Bakugo knew always lied in wait like a predator, waiting for the moment he felt he'd played enough with his prey. "Been a while, buttercup?" He saw the way Kirishima's eyes gleamed, thrilled and basking in making the little assistant blush, flustered and embarrassed by his questions and flirty devil-eyes.
"No..." She said sheepishly, obviously lying, but Kirishima just found that cuter.
"But this one's different?" He pried, adoring the way she pressed her knees together beneath the clear glass of the desk, toes pointed inward at each other meekly.
"I don't know..." Her smile was gone, eyes shy under Kirishima's domineering charisma, resisting the urge to bite her lip.
But someone had heard enough of their conversation to allow it to continue.
"Keep your fucking personal life to yourself." Bakugo barked, announcing himself, rescuing her from getting caught on Kirishima's teeth.
"Wow, Bakugo, dude-" The red-head feigned innocence, but Bakugo gave him a look.
"You got that?" He looked to the girl who wore an expression that seemed oddly happy to see him, relieved in some sense.
"Yes, sir." She nodded, feeling her heart slow to its normal pace.
"And quit taking up Kirishima's time, he's got better shit to do than flirt with you." He seemed angry, but she remained bright nonetheless.
"Of course, sir."
Red Riot rolled his eyes with a smirk on his face, throwing his head back with a laugh. "Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed."
"I ain't fucking around, Shitty-hair." The boss bit out through grit teeth. "If you're gonna stay at my agency, you gotta make yourself useful." Bakugo's voice was gruff and final, words spoken in a tone no one would ever dare defy.
All except Kirishima, of course.
"Grouchy ouchy." He commented, pushing himself off her desk with an unbothered chuckle. Giving her a wink while flashing a grin, eyes seeming a deeper more bloody shade of red than before. "See yah."
She only gave a stiff smile in return, finding the male's disregard for her personal space less and less charming for every moment she was caught alone, forced to share intimate moments with him, watching his mask chip and flake away, revealing the man she got the unsettling feeling had less pearly-white ulterior motives lurking behind that perfected pearly-white smile on his face.
"You." Her boss's piercing voice cut her from her thoughts, making her take her eyes off the retreating muscular back of the topless hero.
Gaze snapping to the tall broad figure still standing in the threshold to his office, groomed free of his usual coat of battle-rubble and instead clad in a velvet-red silk-shirt, oblivion-black vest hugging him perfectly, tailored to perfection with vines of pale-roses adorning the sides.
His scarred calloused hand gripped onto the complimentary tie in visible frustration.
She sprung to her feet, pondering whether or not she should thank him for chasing the rowdy red-head away, but decided not to while fingering the soft silk-tail to his tie.
She needed to tip back and forth on her heels and toes in order to get the height on him, still whole heads shorter, arms reaching almost as though she were to embrace him as she swung the tie around the back of his neck.
And, with having tied a couple hundred ties in her life, she made to look up instead of focusing on her handiwork.
"Your hair does that naturally?" She asked, viewing the way it had already poofed to all corners all without being gelled or blown with a hairdryer.
"Like a Pomeranian." She commented, getting the feeling he needed a distraction, where between being stuffed into a suit and awaiting the number-one-hero he seemed far too tense for her to simply ignore.
He made a grunt, but she swore his face softened just a bit. The knot set deep between his brows loosening, his gaze set forward, skimming the top of her head as she looped his tie once then twice.
"Don't ever say shit like that again."
A giggle bubbled from her throat as she smiled up at him. "Of course, sir." Tweaking his tie to sit perfectly beneath the collar of his burgundy shirt, brushing his shoulders down when she was done. "I meant a proud lion, obviously."
It was disarming having someone other than the likes of Kirishima and the devil himself be so calm around him, especially a person who wasn't even a hero, especially a woman.
A small cute woman who brought him snacks and tied his tie for him, who compared him to a cuddly fluffy couch-dog the size of a football and teased him when his pride was hurt by it.
He refrained from swallowing or coughing or stuttering on his words when she caught him staring at her for just a moment too long.
He looked off to the side, serious frown returning. "What time is it?" He grumbled.
"The current time is nine forty-eight." She answered while walking to retrieve his jacket that was left back in his office, stopping abruptly in her tracks.
The floor was absolutely flooded.
He certainly hadn't bothered trying to maintain the water to one part of the giant space, but rather spread it out to every which corner of the room.
He observed as she tiptoed about the puddles on the floor, manoeuvring to reach his desk in her cute flat-heeled boots, small delicate hands reaching for the last edition to his suit. Again looking to the floor to avoid slipping and falling on her butt, smiling once having made it back safely to the threshold of the door.
He was half-waiting for her to throw the jacket around his shoulders and help him into it, taking a moment longer than what he was proud of to receive it as she handed it to him.
He tread on the jacket by himself, but the nitpicky assistant followed shortly, coming to his aid with smoothing and straightening it over his shoulders and sleeves, pulling forth a pair of cufflinks she'd kept safe in the pocket to her bag, attaching them to decorate his wrists.
"You have about ten minutes before pro-hero Deku arrives."
He groaned, carding his warm hands through his still damp locks in hope to dry them faster.
With closed eyes he sighed, wanting to go punch something, but with the tiny assistant standing right there, so intimately close, and smelling so enticingly good while looking so adorable and pleased with her handiwork, he didn't want to disappoint her with ripping or ruining his suit with scorch marks.
So, he opted for a less nuclear option.
"What animal is he?"
Her eyes widened as she peered up at him, his question muttered but still clear, causing her smile to widen. "Animal?" She gave a false puzzled look. "He's no animal... Green hair? He's obviously a vegetable."
Giggling, she kept tampering with the suit, making it sit perfectly, touching him so softly he wished she wouldn't touch him at all with how much he was beginning to sweat under her gentle hands stroking delicate touches over his tense and abused muscles, being so fearlessly careless around him despite his reputation for being a temperamental asshole, where aside from that, additionally, she was also doing something so daring as mothering her own bloody boss.
"Something between a celery and a broccoli." She mused. "Though-" She giggled, and his heart seemed to stutter in his ribcage at how endearing he found the fruitful sound. "There was this one time he'd been on vacation and came back looking like a carrot."
Bakugo cracked on smile.
"That fucking idiot." He laughed.
The boss was laughing.
And it wasn't at all in the same gut-wrenching manor the other pro-hero had chuckled when squeezing her thigh.
Sure, Pro-hero Dynamight was rough around the edges and a bit colourful with his language, but he was by no means the raging demon others had made him out to be.
She was left smiling like a goof, feeling as though she'd fully completely and utterly crushed it on her first real day as Mr. Bakugo's new assistant.
She walked on ahead, taking the express elevator straight to the bottom-floor in order to guide Deku to the destination of the meeting, having told Bakugo to go along with Kirishima to the conference-room.
"The fuck was that about?" Kirishima asked with his normal jockish attitude, dressed in a grey suit and a black shirt, wearing his signature apologetic toothy grin, having his hands up in defence as he followed Bakugo into the elevator.
Annoyed, he didn't bother giving the red-head a glance, standing strictly straight, eyes locked on the closing elevator doors, hands balled at his sides, a growl in his tone as he spoke. "Keep it in your pants for once, will yah?"
Kirishima cocked his head, looking at his friend slyly. "So... you finally like the assistant I picked out for you?" He had that playful tone of voice that Bakugo hated, the one that was always so adamant on embarrassing him.
"She's fine." He answered curtly, still with his focus on the clean view of Tokyo city through the glass walls of the elevator.
"Cute too." The red-head pushed, just like he always did, pushing his buttons, pushing his temper, pushing his sanity. "Don't you think?"
The ash-blonde could hear the type of salacious, almost sadistic, mockery kept on Kirishima's tongue, how it seemed to drip with venom, those sharp teeth waiting to spot a weakness, only to pounce and sink them in deep.
"I guess." Bakugo offered, knowing ignoring the red-head was just as much use as indulging him, thinking that keeping his words short and arbitrary would help put an end to his friend's bloodlust.
But alas, the curt answer was more than enough to have the stars in Kirishima's red eyes go supersonic.
Kirishima smirked. "Come on..."
The boss was stupid if he thought the sturdy-hero was going to let his obvious lack of dislike towards the pretty little helper go on unchecked.
"You're subtle but I see you." His grin glinted, eyes shining with an eager will to tease. "The way you look her up and down when she isn't looking."
"I always knew you were a momma's boy."
Bakugo sighed with a rust, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to tune the mocking jeering of the stubborn rowdy male out of his mind, trying to grab onto the calm he felt after talking to the assistant. The laughter of making fun of Deku now tainted by his own friend pulling his leg.
"You love seeing her clean up after you. Pick out your clothes, give you snacks... bet you wanna button up that blouse, give her tits a suck."
"For fuck's sake, Kiri, would you shut up?" The ash-blonde snapped and turned, brows set deep on his face, eyes narrowed to mere red slits as he glared at the grinning asshole he was stuck with.
"I worry about you, man!" Kirishima said in defence, worn hand coming to pet the seething threatening angry blonde's face, with no concern for being bitten, pinching and pulling on the chub of his cheek with a smile. "It's not natural to be this good looking and not fuck."
Bakugo pushed him off with a hand grabbing his collar, a snarl on his lips like the face of a wolf. "Maybe I just ain't a hyperactive hormonic spaz like you." He seethed, letting him go with another shove.
"Yeah yeah, insult me all you want, you angry dandelion."
Kirishima pulled himself off the glass-wall, still bearing his smile.
"But you know I'm right."
He straighten his tie and pulled on his jacket to flatten the wrinkles made by Bakugo's split-second hands-on anger.
"She's perfect for you, man. Sweet and nice, smart and tough, cute as a fucking button, and so professional, so eager to please..." The red-head listed, trying to get another rise out of the explosion-hero. "I mean... could you imagine her down on her knees-"
"Stop." Bakugo's voice was definite, carrying the type of tone that made goosebumps spring to the surface, but as usual had no effect on the sturdy-hero.
"Oh, so you have already?" He teased, smiling knowingly.
"I'm this close to punching you, shitty-hair."
Bakugo showed two fingers that were touching, but his threats hadn't spooked Kirishima in a long time.
"I'm just calling 'em like I see 'em." The red-head said, knowing they were as thick as thieves despite all the empty-threats and crude name-calling, and how the elevator was their boys locker-room where they could share all wolfish dirty secrets. He just needed to give the blonde a little nudge and he'd soon fold. "You wanna tap that, zip her out of that skirt, bend her over your lap-"
"I swear, Kiri-" Bakugo growled, but with less acute anger this time, a difference Kirishima had learned meant he was lowering his walls, granting him enough of an opening to cut him off.
"If you're scared, we can do it together, Kachan~" He laughed, and the blonde sighed heavily, closing his eyes, exasperated to the point of defeat.
"I fucking hate this elevator." He mumbled.
"What?!" The red-head feigned offence, clutching his chest. "We have our most important conversations in here!"
"Fuck you." Dynamight drawled, body slumping, hunching forward as he rolled his eyes.
"No, fuck her." His friend urged in a whisper like the devil on his shoulder.
"She's useful." The ash-blonde argued, but the red-head merely clicked his tongue at the weak statement, offering a solution.
"Then fuck her and marry her."
"Just don't touch her." Bakugo was serious, more so than what he usually was, and Kirishima could tell by the way he looked him directly in his eye, pools of red bleeding into a set of equally red puddles.
The sturdy-hero laughed, slapping a hand on the other man's shoulder and giving it a firm reassuring squeeze.
"Don't worry, boss."
Kirishima smiled, a smile lacking the childish mockery from before, a friendly trustworthy smile, the smile Bakugo knew was reserved for only the very few that knew him through and through.
"She's all yours."
Next day, Bakugo walked into his office. His schedule, newspaper, coffee and snack already lined up on the desk which had his gauntlets looking just shy of brand-new if it weren't for the marring in the paint-job. His hero-costume too, which he'd left in a heap on the wet floor the day prior, was not only hung to avoid creasing but washed free of rumble and smoke from yesterday's patrol.
"Bloody hell... is she a suck-up or a work-a-holic?" He breathed, noting how the floors had been polished as well, strictly clean, and that the mess that had littered the bookshelf with fan-mail and other documents he hadn't bothered to sort out was now tidy, papers neatly placed in binders labeled with easily understood titles, organised after importance. "Probably afraid I'll fire her..."
Not before he'd taken in the total lack of chaos, coming to terms with how it was still his office, getting over the feeling that he wasn't welcome in the sheer tidiness of everything, shook from the questions he voiced out loud about the assistant, was the vixen herself standing outside his door, drumming a little tune on the glass separating them.
"Come in." He granted, watching as she popped open the handle and stepped inside, same practical boots from the day before, but accompanied by white-knitted leg-warmers this time as it was a colder day. The blouse was swapped out for a warmer sweater, large on her small frame, but the skirt remained the same, tight over the curve of her ass, formfitting running down her thighs, a slit in the overlapping fabric, giving for a peek at her one knee.
It was enough to make his throat tighten.
"Did you see?" His eyes traveled up to her face.
"What?" He nearly stuttered, nearly tripped on his tongue and the water pooling beneath it.
"The popularity poll!" She squealed, walking with hurried enthusiastic steps over to his desk. "You've already risen five places! And it hasn't even been a full twenty-four hours yet!"
She supported her tablet on her forearm, resting her elbow on her hip, similar to how one would hold a toddler.
He didn't know why he was making the comparison.
Or he did...
"I always thought GEMGD was a bully, turns out he's just a bit rough around the edges. That smirk has me weak. Explosion-boy looks even hotter in a suit! Dynamight makes my heart go boom!" She read aloud. "All the comments are for you! And they're endless."
Her finger scrolled through the display on the screen, eyes running over the fan-comments beneath Deku's post of the two of them. The green-haired freckle-faced hero smiling a big gritted grin, eyes scrunched closed from the force of it, whereas her ash-blonde boss bore a more crazed expression, open-mouthed smirk stretched across his face, way huskier than his goofy counterpart who'd also had the audacity to throw up a a peace sign behind him, looking like a pair of bunny-ears; Deku's trademark.
She decided not to comment on how cute they looked.
"They're begging pro-hero Deku to post more of his quote on quote best friend."
"You said one lousy picture?" He raised a brow, looking displeased.
She bit her lip, and he really wished she didn't as he felt the pull in his pants immediately, something twitching by the display of her looking down at her feet, something so unfairly sexy in the timidity of her grinding the tip of her toe into the floor.
"Well... what I meant was that... one lousy picture could spark something..." She explained sheepishly. "We'll still have to feed the fire a bit from time to time."
She bent down to gather the cardboard shipping package he'd ignored once stepping inside his office, dropping the large box down on the desk with a thud.
"But you're a big boy- you can survive a photoshoot every now and again, and a couple of ten minute interviews."
He should tell her to fuck off with the name-calling, but damn... he really didn't want to.
"Oh- that reminds me-" Hands flat on the top of the box, she drummed on the cardboard with her fingers. "Heroes Fashion Magazine request you model for them."
"Modeling?" He nearly shouted, face twisted in confused disgust, offended she'd even suggest such a thing. "Fuck no."
"Well-" She ignored his outburst. "I said we'll consider it and they already sent over a box." She patted the package put down on his desk with a smile. "I took the liberty of taking a look and I think you'll actually find what they've come up with in your image quite amazing."
Her attitude was a nice thing in the morning, he thought, despite talking about things he didn't give a shit about.
"They've done some designs based around your trademark skull, which I think will be a huge aid, given right now it's associated more with villainous things rather than heroic, when we want to give the image of a badass and not a bully."
There she goes with the fucking nicknames again, making his head hot.
"Also, Pro-hero Deku would like to post a picture of the two of you in your youth."
"He's already posted the class-photo." The boss mumbled.
"I believe this one is more in the time of your kindergarten days." She informed, searching through the files kept in her bag, pulling out a sheet of paper. "Here, I printed it out for you."
Laying the picture on the desk, she smiled with a tilt of her head, looking over the two boys' bright faces, her boss wearing a black T-shirt with a skull-print on it, similar to the one the paparazzi so often catches him wearing when dressing casually. She found it quite adorable and amusing how the design seemed to have grown up alongside him. Then there was the All-Might trading-cards the two of them clutched so protectively in each their small hands, their ambition of following the great hero in his footsteps clear in their large eyes.
"It's cute." She stated.
And though it was put simply, the comment nearly had him blush if he hadn't given his thigh a rough pinch to control himself, head pounding from yesterday's conversation with Kirishima in the elevator, unable to look at her or listen to her without twisting everything into a something dirty.
"I think it'll be good to show the public you were a bit of a geek."
And then there was the fucking teasing name-calling again.
He could prove to her how much of a geek he was. He went to the boy-scouts. He still remembers every knot in the book.
He would love to try them all out on her.
"Fine." He gruffly voiced his approval, quitting his own raving thoughts.
She made a couple movements on the screen to her tablet, noting his answer. "Very well, sir, I'll inform him." And at that she turned on her heel to leave.
"Oi, toots." He called. "Stay." Stopping in her tracks, she spun around and blinked, preparing herself for a correction or a scolding in the form of a loud slew of curse-words. "Something's been bothering me."
She felt her heart climb up her throat, as though she'd swallowed some living creature who fought to claw its way to freedom through her mouth.
"My coffee’s different every time." He stated, voice strangely serious to be discussing coffee. "It’s... not bad. Just weird." He informed, and she was left with another deafening pause to wonder what she'd done that was an issue. "Is your quirk making coffee or something?"
He'd been wondering what the tiny assistant had been gifted with for a while, not having found it on file as it probably wasn't worth the effort. Deciding, as her boss, it was in his rights to to simply demand an answer of his employee.
She blinked. "Oh-" Her heart rested and she exhaled in relief, smiling while giving a short laugh. "My quirk." She repeated, resting her focus, forgetting her anticipation of being shunned and fired. "Well... uhm..."
Her brows knitted, pondering what way best to describe her rather mundane quirk to the man who literally sweats explosives.
"Boring and stereotypical, or ironic, as it may sound, it's called Assist." She informed, hands displayed in offering. "Basically... I guess... you could say that I naturally know what people need and how to assist them." She explained, but came to her own correction quickly. "It only counts for small things though..." She blurted out. "You know, like... what type coffee you'd prefer and... whether you wish for your schedule to be printed out or sent to you."
The man gave a huff, indicating he understood. "Obviously, you wouldn't be working here if you could cure cancer." He wore a new type of smile she hadn't seen yet, a type of smug grin she'd expect to see on haughty jocks back in middle-school, eyes jaded, relaxed as he looked at her. "Practically made for this job, aren't yah?"
She nearly pouted, but sucked it up and stiffened her upper lip. "It might sound mediocre, but it sure comes in handy." She defended herself, raising her chin proudly. "So while you’re off keeping the world safe, I’ll be here tending the fort, keeping you happy."
He gave another smile and a small amused chuckle, eyes gleaming in a way she found deeply unsettling, the same type of eerie focus she'd seen displayed on Kirishima, the type of look she wanted to run from.
"Hate to break it to you, buttercup, but it’ll take a lot more than a good cup of coffee to make me happy."
She swallowed thickly, trying to keep up appearances despite feeling her face drain. "Ah- of course, sir."
She ignored her additional sense telling her he was thirsting for something far different than coffee altogether, as she wished she could rid herself of the feeling before allowing her mind to slip and stray to what indecencies she felt were suggested in his tone, knowing she was being ridiculous for even thinking that her esteemed boss was hinting at something of the sort, knowing it was all most likely due to her own stupid female instinctive fears for twisting his words.
But then she felt the unmistakable pull of her quirk telling her the truth of it.
Her cheeks heated as the treacherous urge to assist him with his needs arose like instinct, feeling the place between her thighs get hot as she busied herself with reminders that he was a public servant who protects. That he would never ask something like that of her even if he humoured the thought within the privacy of his own mind.
He was her boss.
An honourable man.
A respectable professional.
His focus left her and she felt like she could breathe properly again, still feeling dizzy as she watched his hands aim for the newspaper, his eyes skimming the headings.
"At least you’re not useless like the last one." He offered and she gladly accepted, too thankful to be let off his stare to pick up the derogatory substance of his sentence.
Face brightening a smidge. "I'll take that as a compliment."
She brushed the icky feeling of his former attitude off on the fact that boys gotta be boys sometimes, just the same as girls will be girls at moments too, though not able to discard of the incident completely without giving her outfit a second thought and the mildly seductive gloss she wore on her lips, feeling stupid while thinking it was perhaps in her best interest to say goodbye to the tight pencil-skirt showing of the entire curve of her ass.
"Sir." Dismissing herself, she turned her back, red eyes looked up from pretending to read as she opened the door and slipped out, leaving her boss to his own thoughts.
Her quirk should be called Housewife.
Following his schedule, he left early, the little assistant wishing him luck from where she sat working at her desk, waving him goodbye with dancing fingers as the elevator doors slowly closed and sent him down to ground level.
Patrol was uneventful in its boring four hour-long walk. A couple of small-fry villains quaking in their boots, regretting picking Pro-hero Dynamight's district as he sent them flying, leaving them to be scraped from the sidewalk up by his sidekicks. Finding himself counting the minutes until he'd be back in the office.
Good thing it was a quiet day in the streets, what with him being so very distracted and all, conjuring up dirty pictures of his cute little assistant. Sitting at her desk with her knees glued together, squeezing her thighs close, so oblivious to his stares. Lost in her own world when planning his itinerary for him, making herself so useful for him, his pretty little helper, doing her best to keep her promise, to make him happy. Hand holding onto her pen, tip of it caught in her mouth, plump lips having no issue sucking on the small thing, making his head spin, thinking of how she'd handle something bigger.
He came back just shy of ten o'clock, happy to miss getting caught with Kirishima in the elevator again.
But, the study-hero had already sowed his seeds in the muck of the explosion-hero's head, and the roots had already twisted their way through his gut, flowers blooming, nectar oozing and dripping, spilling down the vines, sweetening his senses, pollen fogging up his mind, only allowing him to think of one pretty little busy worker-bee, and how he wanted her to lick up his honey-spill.
"The fuck are you wearing?"
This was the last fucking straw. She couldn't be fucking serious with her innocent act, she had to be doing this on purpose.
She looked up from her tablet, eyes round as she processed his lack of greeting, before looking down at her clothes, trying to spot what he was attacking. "Oh- I tripped with my coffee and spilled it all over my sweater, so I decided to- uhm- test out the product." She explained, pulling on the black fabric to the oversized hoodie she'd pulled on. His trademark large white skull plastered on the front.
His head pounded, growing hotter, boiling, palms sweaty at his sides, tongue feeling heavy and large with the sting of sweet saliva pooling beneath it. Something snapped in his pelvis, drumming, pumping, growing warm and heavy, thankfully kept hidden in the expanse of his large cargo-pants.
"You should model." He let slip, eyes kept on the hoodie thrown on her tiny shape.
The cut was definitely finer, skull tweaked to look uniquely and unmistakably Dynamight. The edges were rough, decidedly unfinished. She'd tied the strings to the hood into a little bow on her collar, but he hadn't the time to bask in the details, when he was too caught up in thinking how it looked as though she'd put on one of his hoodies, mind forcing forth the thought of him having fucked her good first, made her sweaty and dumb on his dick before finishing up with dressing her up, showing the entire world how she belonged to him.
He cleared his throat, brought back to reality by the blank face she gave him, puzzled by his prior comment, undecided whether it was an inappropriate compliment or not.
He wouldn't give her any more time to think about it too much. "Tell the magazine people they have a go on the merch."
She let his former comment slip, deciding to forget about it. "And the modelling?"
"Thirty minutes tops." He answered, walking towards his office.
"Very well, sir. I'll inform HFM right away." The cheeriness in her tone had him curl his brows and squeeze his eyes shut, fists clenched at his sides, stiff as he opened the door.
"I have reports, don't bother me." He informed coldly, not waiting for a reply before he shut his door, never giving her second glance, even as he handled the remote that had his blinds gliding over his windows, leaving him alone in the darkness of his office, no pretty assistant with adorable doe-eyes giving him anxious flickering looks as he unbuckled his belt and popped the button to his pants, zipping open his fly to free the painfully erect large tented bump in his boxers. "M'fuuhck..."
His mind reeled, letting his eyes glide close.
Where would he take her first?
His hand dipped beneath the band of his expensive black briefs, running over a bush of mousy blonde curls to wrap around the warm thickness fighting desperately against its confinement.
On the desk?
Lay her down on her back, hand on her throat, thighs spread by his hips, legs tangled over his back, keeping him close, moaning so prettily for him, perky tits bouncing on every thrust up into her tight cunt, nipples hard between his lips. She'd gasp as he bit down on the little nubs, cry out for him, eyes large and glossy looking up at him, waiting for her orders.
"Fucking hell..." He groaned, tugging slowly on his base, so sensitive he had to hiss when his thumb brushed over a particular pulsating purple vein, bulging tip blushed an angry red, a drop of pre-cum spilling sweetly from his slit, running down his shaft, getting caught on his fingers as he smeared the wetness up and down his length.
Or maybe he should bend her over it instead?
Pretty tits mushed against his desk, her small wrists caught in a cross behind her back, held tightly in his fist, cute face blushed red and dewy with sweat, pressed against the cool glass, lips parted and panting for breath, crying just a bit by how her hips would ache against the edge of the table, but blissful nonetheless with his cock filling her up snugly form behind, cute ass smiling at him, begging for him to give the soft plush flesh a squeeze or a little slap that would have her yelp, hiccup on her moans.
"Fuck..." He chewed his bottom-lip, fucking up into his hand slowly, savouring the feel of his fingers wrapped tightly, rubbing over every vein, squeezing on them just like her tight pussy would.
On his black Italian-leather-chair?
Have her kneel on the seat, back curved like a pretty little kitty, ass arched up into him, rubbing against his crotch, teasing him desperately for his cock. He'd have his hand yanking her hair back, strong fingers tangled in her soft locks, making her stare up at him, her hands gripping onto the plush chair for support, nails marring the leather as he rocks into her, make her drool at the curve of his cock brushing up into her cervix, his other hand slithered around her stomach, coarse finger painting cruelly delicious patterns into her throbbing little clit.
He'd fuck her against the window.
All of Tokyo at his feet, laid bare before him, just like his tiny tight assistant wrapped around his cock, clinging to him so needfully, small soft hands holding onto him, thrown around his shoulders and down his back, warm doughy thighs hugging around his torso, squealing for him each time he snaps his hips forward, buried deep in her grateful little wet cunt, pretty words on her lips.
Am I doing good, sir? Please, sir, I want to make you happy... I want to give you what you need~ I want to help you, sir. I want to be useful to you, sir. Please, let me be useful~ Thank you, sir~
I love you, sir.
He bit his tongue.
Good thing she'd been a doll and placed a new packet of clean-wipes on his desk... what with the white mess decorating it.
The boss remained in his office well beyond working hours. She contemplated whether or not she should knock on the door and tell him she was clocking out, but decided it was unnecessary in the end as he'd given her strict instructions not to bother him.
Coming back early next morning, walking into the spacious floor only to find her desk, not exactly cleaned out, but gone entirely.
The blinds where still drawn before Mr. Bakugo's office, where she, anxious as it made her, walked to the door and knocked.
He was prepared to bark at anyone to leave him the fuck alone, but recognising the tune drummed on his door, he would make an exception. "Come in."
"Morning, boss..." She stated timidly, as though something was amiss and he felt his gut wrench in fear that she might have heard him moaning her name all day long the day prior when he was supposedly doing paperwork reports. "I hate to ask... but have you seen my desk-" She asked, before turning her head to look over what was taking up the former empty corner-space in her boss' office.
"It's been moved." He informed while she took in the relocation of her usually lonely desk, still positioned four meters away from mr. Bakugo's desk, yet no longer separated by neither glass wall or blinds. "Is that a problem?" He dared.
"No..." She replied, still confused as to what purpose the change would benefit, but mostly if he at all would like it this way, be it beneficial or not. "But are you sure I won't be a bother?"
She's been a bother from the start.
"I ain't here too often." He explained.
She fiddled with her fingers, braiding hem together as she briefly thought it over, thinking she actually wouldn't mind a space of her own where she could escape the lingering stares of one certain conversational red-haired hero.
"This is perfect!" She cheered then, not in need of more convincing. "Saves me the time of knocking."
She smiled, placing her bag on her chair, already liking her little nook in the office, gratefully admiring how whomever had moved her desk had made sure everything was still in their designated place, eyes skimming the digital clock stating the time, brows furrowing.
"You're here very early?"
Her question gave him just enough of a warning before she turned around to look at him, allowing him the time to take his eyes off her ass and wipe his expression free of the sour look he'd adopted when spotting how she wasn't wearing the skirt he'd come to love.
"I didn't leave." He confessed, flipping the page of the hero-magazine he was pretending to be absorbed in.
"Have you not slept?" She sounded worried, and his gut warmed at her sweet motherly tone, hand twitching, wanting to pet his cock despite having wrung it for every drop his balls were worth all night.
He sighed heavily, a type of growl that sounded fed-up. "I have."
"Not well, I gather?" She pushed, as though scolding him, placing his coffee, newspaper and schedule down on his desk.
"It's fine." He reached for the coffee, stomach fluttering for the taste of what new flavour she'd concocted for him today, though letting none of his excitement show on his face.
She hummed in thought. "Well, you don't have patrol until two o'clock, which isn't for another eight hours." Tapping her pointer-finger on the schedule placed before him, she continued. "And as you have the time, where there are no ongoing big cases that require your attention at the moment, I could make arrangements for you to sleep on the couch in the conference room, or you could go home and have a nap before returning-"
"I ain't a child, toots." He glared at her, face in a frown.
She took it lightly, which only served to frustrate him even more, with how she seemed to brush away his anger like a mother does her temper-tantrum-throwing child. "Of course not, sir."
"Then quit suggestion shit like naps." He ordered.
"Very well, sir." She nodded, still with that small soft smile that seemed unshakable. "Have you eaten?"
Why ask if she already knows the answer!?
He gripped the arm-rest, knuckles turning white in his frustration. "No..." Voice in a muddled grumble, childishly admitting defeat.
"Well then..." Her tone so charmingly patronising, eyes soft as she looked at him. "Does the grown man want a snack?"
Who the fuck does she think she is!? Poking fun at her own boss like it's nothing?! Not just her boss, but one of Japan's greatest and toughest heroes! Ridiculing him in his own fucking office!
He ought to teach her a little lesson...
But fuck- just give him his fucking snack already!
He snatched the offered food from her palm with another grunt, slumping back in his chair. "Wipe that fucking smile off your face."
Her lips pulled further up into a smile, making her eyes shine. "I'll try my best, sir."
It was late, roughly seven o'clock, and everyone had long gone home for the day. But, with the rising her boss had done in the popularity ranks, he'd received a ton of new fan-mail, which she felt the need to go through before calling it a day.
Meaning, she was there alone.
However, not for much longer, for as she was slipping the last fan-letter into it's designated binder, was someone staggering into the office.
She nearly screamed, jumping from her seat, needing to squint for a moment or two to recognise who it was, not having noticed she'd been working in the dark for the last half hour. But, as her eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room did she not only identify her boss, but also the blood staining him.
"Oh my goodness!" She squealed, hurrying over, helping him to the chair. "Are you okay!?"
It wasn't fair to him that she was this perfect.
"It's nothing." He brushed off, groaning as he repositioned himself in a strive to get more comfortable with the ache in his body.
"Are you sure?" She sounded too sweet, too worried when looking at him, brows knitted all hopelessly, eyes large and shimmering, lips formed into a little pout.
If she kept looking at him like that he was sure to do something he might regret.
"What?" He snapped, shaking her from her blank-staring state.
She gave a little whimper. "Nothing." Shaking her head just a bit, yet remained just as distressed. "It’s just..." She bit her lip, eyes skimming over the many bleeding cuts decorating his upper-body, no mind to the blood staining her own clothes from helping him sit down. "It's just- uhm- your needs are all over the place."
He chuckled, unable to hold it back, finding her absolutely adorable.
"Then get to them."
It feels good having a pretty little thing fuss over nothing more than a couple of scratches.
"Isn't that your job?"
She drew in a breath, trying to toughen up with a nod. "Of course, sir." Walking to the bookshelf, she started pulling out drawers, mumbling some to herself. "Assistant, receptionist, maid, baby-sitter- Mr. Kirishima should have put nurse on the list of qualifications as well..."
Coming back, she slid a rocks-glass onto the desk, lifting the diamond lid from the crystal whisky-bottle before pouring him a drink. Proceeding to pull out cotton-pads and disinfectant, resting her butt against the desk as she reached out small pretty hands, softly caressing his chin to steady him when with the other hand dabbing softly at the cut on his brow.
"Does it hurt?" She asked, eyes focussed on her task. "I'm sorry, stupid question, obviously it hurts." Dismissing herself with a shake of her head, she shut up in favour of focussing.
He didn't care much that it was a stupid question to ask.
Not when she was this sweet with him.
She continued working, placed between him on the chair and the desk she leaned on. Her knees between his knees, right in front of him. Tight black jeans, form-fitting around her thighs, over the curve of her hips, tightened in a stop at her waist with a black belt, where his large hands would sit so perfectly, squeezing her, pulling her close.
He didn't know what he was doing before it was done.
Hands placed exactly where he'd imagined them, hoisting her up to sit on the cool glass surface of his desk
He grabbed her chin before she could finish, fingers pressing into the adorable chubs of her cheeks, squishing her lips into a soft pillowy welcome, greeting his lips with ease as he pushed forward, sinking in, mushing his face against hers, kissing softly, slowly and yearningly, without teeth and without aggression, but deeply, with passion, with an urge to stop breathing, incessantly, with a mellow yet disturbingly hungry bottomless obsession, with a thirst to put a fire out.
Her brows furrowed. Hands dropping the blood-dirtied cotton pad when needing to meet with the warmth of his chest, steadying him in his needy pursuit.
She had been so adamant on making it.
So determined on succeeding at this job so many others had failed in.
She was so certain she could survive crude merciless curse-words flung at her face, completely aware she wouldn't be receiving any form of appreciation back for her hard work.
She'd heard Kirishima would try his best to have his go and was prepared to block any of his advances, having made peace with the fact.
But... she wasn't at all expecting to have to deal with choking on her own boss forcing his tongue down her throat as well.
She couldn't pull away, wasn't allowed to, only able to keep her eyes wide as her boss sucked her face, finally detaching with a thick string of drool connecting their tongues, his heated gaze troubling her, suddenly feeling very small, stuck and caught before his tall massive muscled form.
"Ah- I- I think I should leave, sir." She tripped at the taste of his tongue, keeping her lips parted, hesitant on swallowing the mixture of his and her spit caught dripping, smeared and painted on the walls of her mouth.
His breath was warm on her face, panted on her glossy wet lips.
He didn't pull any further off, finding it quite amusing how small her tiny little hands were, placed on his chest as though it would do her any good.
Looking into her large anxious little eyes, he could only think of two things.
She'll definitely quit if he let's her leave...
... and he can't afford to lose her...
And with that in his mind his hands moved from the chubs of her cheeks to her throat.
"Ah- sir?" She gasped, but the breath caught in her throat, kept from her by the way his hands slowly and carefully squeezed her free of air.
Her hands clung to his arms, trying to push him off, tears given just enough time to slip from her moon-wide eyes, but he remained happy when she gave out quickly.
Like a flower in a forest fire.
She woke up softly. Looking like a scene in a movie.
A way too cute girl laid down in a bed of expensive black sheets she didn't belong in.
He'd brushed the locks of hair out of her face, half-way submerged in the dune of his pillow, small hand clutching the air in her sweet dreaming.
Soft snores left the rise and fall of her chest where he'd done the dirty deed of removing her blood-stained clothes, leaving her in a pretty pink lace-bra, cupping the light weight of her breasts in a rosey pattern just shy of being see-through, and her cute matching panties, a simple and chaste piece, but still so very tempting in it's innocence.
He'd needed to stop himself before going too far, his rough hands running over smooth plush flesh, becoming addicted to the softness before backing off with a groan, pulling his armchair up to the bed, reduced to simply watching her, studying every freckle adorning her flawless shape. Every curve, every dip, noting down some unexpected scars marring her skin, cocking his head at the marks, wondering what caused them, if she was a clumsy little thing who snagged herself on sharp things or if she somehow was a tiny little brawler at some time. He chuckled at the thought, thinking the former was more likely.
She made a moan, humming out a tiny pretty whimper as her brows furrowed, scrunching as she grasped for the light seeping in through her eyelids.
He rested his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together as he hunched forward with his lips kissing his knuckles, monitoring her with keen eyes.
"How're you feeling?"
He knew she was fine. He'd choked her out with expertise, knowing with out-most certainty he hadn't hurt her, only merely forced her into a safe temporary loss of consciousness.
Her eyes fluttered open, stirred by his gravely tone, met with blurry surroundings. Brows remaining curled as she blinked slowly on repeat, confused and adorable as she tried adjusting her eyes to the light, most definitely disoriented.
The poor thing.
"Scared shitless, I bet."
With eyes growing larger, and breath picking up speed she flushed and shivered on a coat of goosebumps upon the voice, finding her boss sitting in an armchair a rough meter away from the soft but foreign bed she was placed in.
"Mr. Bakugo?" She croaked, eyes growing more and more swivelled with panic, mind crumbling, spinning and splitting until it ached when peering down at herself, seeing she was in nothing but her flimsy undergarments. "I don't understand-" She spluttered. "What happened? What-"
Panicking, she tried covering herself up with the Egyptian-sheets, a type of soft comfort he bet she'd never had the luxury of feeling against her skin.
"Where am I?"
He pushed himself up from his chair and come to her side, trying to calm her down once she started hyperventilating at the sight of her bound hands.
"You're safe. M'sorry I tied you up-" His attempt at soothing her wasn't appreciated, only aiding in making her even more panicked.
"What's going on- sir? What did I do? What did... what did you do?" She tried scurrying away from him, pushing with the balls of her feet digging into the mattress. "You... tried to kill me."
"No." Grabbing her conjoined wrists he climbed after where she tried to worm herself away from him, pulling her back to rest on the pillow. "I just knocked you out." He defended, tone casual as though it was the most obvious thing, as though she was overreacting.
"Knock me out? Why- You-" Tears sprung to her eyes as she writhed beneath the large man, feeling smaller by the second, weak and helpless as he loomed above her.
"Quit being scared, I ain't gonna hurt you." He cooed, trying to control her struggles by gripping her waist, needing to tighten the grip where she thrashed around like a fish out of water, aiming to fend him off with hitting at him with her bound hands.
"Please let me go, please, I- I won't tell anyone, I promise, I promise, sir, I-" She pleaded, but Bakugo couldn't care for the hysteria cooped up in her ditzy little head, annoyed with her pathetic rambling, needing to make her understand the new situation.
"Shut up, toots." His fingers found the plush of her cheeks roughly and squished them to make her still, chuckling crudely at how large and hopeless her eyes shown up at him. "You think you can play perfect little housewife and not own up to it?"
His eyes had her frozen, glowing scarlet with crazed predatory heat, the carved knifelike smile on his face looking like that of a hyena in a hunting frenzy, eyeing cornered prey.
"Uhm- sir?" She whimpered, twisting at the stench of his breath wafting over her face with warmth.
"You stopped wearing that skirt I liked." He dismissed her. "Got tired of your quirk telling you how I needed to bend you over my desk?"
She gasped, eyes widened even more, going completely silent, dead-still under his touch if it weren't for the heavy sporadic rise and fall of her chest. "You're scaring me-" She whimpered and his smile grew, eyes going dull, lazy with awe at her adorable little pitiful face.
"And the lipgloss-" He ignored her outcry again. "You stopped wearing that too."
He scrunched her face tighter between his fingers, making her whimper beneath him.
"Too freaked out by how your boss needed you to come into his office and lock the door behind you? Huh?"
She hiccuped at the feel of her heart jumping to her throat and how his eyes seemed to want to drown her in red.
"How I needed you down on your knees in that tight pencil-skirt, plump pink lips wrapped warm wet tight around my cock."
"What? You gonna make me some tea? Help me calm down?" He teased, drawing in closer, face less than an inch form hers where tears spilled rapidly from her poor glass-eyes. "Nah... what's your quirk telling you that I really need right now, huh?"
She trembled, shaking her head.
"I- I don't understand-"
"You don't understand?" He interrupted, voice pouty in mockery. "Just so innocent, huh?"
She thought she might faint when feeling his hand drumming thick sand-paper fingertips down the soft skin of her stomach.
"'Cause... to me it feels like I need to be eight inches deep in my tiny assistant's tight twat."
She started sobbing then, wanting to push him off or hold onto her underwear when he hooked his fingers into the flimsy band and starting running them down her thighs. Unable to do anything when kept levelled by the eyes staring her deep in her little terrified soul and the hand holding her cheeks, forcing her to face him. Where no amount of struggling would loosen the rope keeping her wrists together, only succeeding in chaffing the delicate soft skin found there.
"Sir, please- think about this- ah- please- don't- don't do this."
Her legs kicked, but small as she was all he needed to was push her knees aside, spread her wide, the cool air kissing her bare cunt, quivering beneath him.
"You're too obsessed with giving people what they need." He drawled, body sagging in awe at the pretty sight in front of him, her cute face torn with anxiety, caught in his hand, lips juicy wet with tears as she sucked in her breaths, in full focus on him and his hand coming to play with her scared little sex. "How about I give you what you need for once?"
"No- sir, please, stop." She tried twisting away, tried inching further up on the bed, scurrying away from his touch, but wasn't given the freedom. "You said you wouldn't hurt me-" She accused, voice wet and broken with hopeless betrayal, desperate to make him stop.
"And I ain't gonna hurt you-" He reassured, though acting as the farthest thing from assuring as he dipped his roughened fingertips into her soft tender folds, messaging the slit gently. "I'mma take care of you, proper care."
She felt like she was suffocating, throat tightening, tongue a heavy foreigner in her mouth, the room a taste of blood.
"Truth is, little assistant, you make me hate being alone." Tone so very gratingly overbearing, burning in her head, words like flames licking at her ears. "Only right you fix it."
She whined in protest. "Please, sir, stop." Insisting in small prayers, blubbering like a little bawling toddler, lips quivering, shaking on each sob.
He lifted his hand and put two of his fingers into his mouth, gathering a thick coat of saliva on them before motioning it back between her thighs. "I need you warming my bed more than I need you running errands anyway." He whispered, smearing the thickness of his digits between her folds, running over her clit before skewering his middle-finger inside her tight little hole.
She wrenched uncomfortably. "Please, sir-" Quaking on her shaking sobs with her breaths hitching in her throat, thighs jolting, squirming in small pitiful hopeless struggles.
"Shh, baby." He cooed, but she only cried harder. "I won't hurt you- promise." Repeating the vow, he placed a chaste kiss to the side of her mouth, tasting the salt of tears on his tongue. "It's just like you said..."
He continued laying a trail of wet slobbering kisses down her neck, nipping at her skin playfully with the teeth of his smirk, watching with idle eyes her chest heaving in shallow panicked breaths.
"You just keep up the good work..."
His finger pumped into her slowly, thick and boney, crooked by many years of breaking bones, both his own and others, reaching in deep, hooking into the tender spongey wall, so sensitive at the hand of his brazen confident touches.
"You keep me happy, while I go save the world."
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Office Yandere HCs
Pairings: Assistant!Izuku Midoriya, Investor!Shoto Todoroki, Chauffeur!Hitoshi Shinso x Boss!Fem!reader
Summary: Ever wonder what it would be like to be the boss of some office yanderes and basically have a harem? Well, look no further, cause here it is!
Warnings: smut !!18+ ONLY!! (spunking in food + masturbation + dirty thoughts + oral), yandere themes (noncon)
A/N: Bc my brain kept me up at night with this concept and has made it’s final decision on turning a one shot I was in the middle of writing into a series, I decided to write some messy hcs to take a lil breather from long works (evn tho this is kinda long already). Also, if you think this is the last you’ll hear about office yanderes, no no no, I have some other thoughts for other characters
He is over the moon to hold a position that’s the closest to you
Out of your entire yandere office harem, he gets to spend the most time with you
He also definitely has an advantage since he practically schedules your entire day
For example, Shoto constantly tries to schedule one-on-one meetings with you in the guise of it being a matter of business, but Izuku cock blocks him by filling your day with a bunch of other events in order to make the meetings as short as possible, and sometimes, even cuts them out completely
He doesn’t like doing it often tho since he knows you can get too stressed with too much going on so he reluctantly has to give away some time for you to meet with the other yanderes (he’s still kind of a sweet and considerate bby as a yandere)
Will not give you personal space
Stands close to you during meetings, constantly visits your office to work (even tho his personal office is right next to yours), etc etc
Even if you don’t ask him to, he will fetch your meals and give you snacks throughout the day because he wants to take care of you and show how sweet he is (also because he wants you to imagine how good of a boyfriend he’d be if you just gave him a chance)
Now let’s get to the part that just popped up into my mind and inspired this entire post: if he can hide his cum somewhere in your food, he will do it
That coffee he gave you that tasted a little salty? Izuku spunked inside it.
The sandwich he bought that seemed to have more mayo than usual? He spunked in that, too
Whatever you think doesn’t taste right, it’s definitely because of Izuku
// // // // //
Izuku is thankful for his job because of two specific things: he gets to interact with you for most of the day and his office has a built in personal bathroom.
If he were to be forced to use the regular employee restroom, his lewd acts would have been exposed immediately by anyone who happened to walk in; he was never the best at holding his moans and grunts while jacking himself off after all.
In the privacy of his own bathroom, he could be as loud as he wants with both his breathy, pleasure-ridden voice and the slick sounds of him stroking his lube-covered cock. In fact, he’s even trying to be as loud as possible.
Since your office is right next to his, there’s a small chance that you may be able to hear him through the walls. He can visualize you entering his office, concern decorating your features, wondering what he could possibly be doing to make such noises. If you were to open his bathroom door, you’d be met by the sight of Izuku sitting on the lid of the toilet, his hand vigorously pumping up and down his shaft.
And he wouldn’t stop.
He’d just keep going, all the while staring at you right in the eye. He wonders what you’d do then. Would you just stay frozen at your spot, being unable to take your eyes off of him? Or maybe you’d get on your knees, completely turned on and ready to have a taste of his cum? What if you were actually more dominant than he thought and you’d just dig your heels into his dick, punishing him for slacking off his job by not letting him find release?
Fuck, any of those scenarios would be fine by him.
Unfortunately, as he gets close to reaching his peak, you don’t come into his office at all. That’s alright, though.
He’ll just settle with spunking into your coffee, for now.
Needs your attention
Like I said earlier, Shoto will keep trying to schedule meetings with you in the guise of it being a matter of business
really, he just wants to spend time with you
During the meetings, he will also try to convince you to fire Izuku so that he can get rid of who he deems as someone deliberately keeping the two of you apart (which, for once, is a pretty spot on theory from Shoto)
Will try to spoil you with gifts and make excuses or pass it off as a casual thing so you don’t reject it or deem it as inappropriate for a workplace relationship
The beautiful bouquet of flowers? He was buying flowers for his mother on the way over and the flower shop had a 2 for 1 deal so why not?
These gourmet chocolates? A fellow business partner of his gave him a box as thanks for his investment. Unfortunately, he’s allergic to one of the ingredients, but it would just be a waste to throw them out, no?
This exquisite diamond necklace? weLL-
You get the point (also, these gifts are definitely inspired by romance movies he saw his sister watching while growing up cuz oof he did not know any means of romance until he met you)
He aims to schedule his meetings with you around lunch time so that he has an excuse to treat you for lunch
He loves providing for you AKA he loves providing for you and showing off how he has the means to take care of you (much like Izuku)
If you were to become his wife, you wouldn’t have to work another day in your life
You can just stay at home and relax
Maybe you can even cook him breakfast and pack lunch for him before he works
That’s basically his dream
He wants you to stay home, waiting for your sweet husband to come back from work
Basically, he’ll take care of your every need, and he means EVERY need
// // // // //
It’s one of those nights again.
Shoto can’t sleep because he’s plagued by thoughts of you. Today, you weren’t able to meet him for lunch because you already had a flood of other appointments to attend (he was willing to bet his entire fortune that it’s because of your stupid assistant’s scheduling that you weren’t able to make it).
So, needless to say, he was pent up. He can only hop that you fall in love with him sooner. Did his charms just not work on you? Do you not like the cool stoic type? Maybe he just wasn’t giving you the right gifts. Were they not expensive enough to impress you? Not expensive enough to show he could provide for you?
He knows he can take care of you so well. You would never have to work another day in your life. You can just stay home, surrounded by luxurious gifts and servants who’ll be at your beck and call while you wait for his return.
And once he actually did come home after a long day of work? You’d be bathed in affection. Kisses, hugs, cuddles... and more.
You’d want him just as much as he wants you, right?
His poor wife, lonely and deprived of the one person she loves for such long hours. He’s got to show that he’s sorry for neglecting you.
Pushing you down onto the bed, he’d run his hands all over your body, massaging your shoulders, pinching your hardening nipples, brushing over your sensitive thighs... And since he’s also quite needy, he’d be grinding down his still-clothed cock on your pussy, showing off that he’s missed you, too.
Shoto doesn’t even think he’d have the patience to take off your clothes. He’d just keep dry humping you, desperate for his own release. The thin cloth preventing the both of you from making actual skin-on-skin contact would make such great friction. He can practically feel it now.
... And yup, the feeling was definitely not just from his imagination. Without even needing to glance down, Shoto already knows that his thoughts of you has caused him to pop a boner.
Hopefully, a quick jerk off session can tire him out enough to fall asleep, but with how much his hard cock throbbed, he doubted it.
2nd most envied out of your office harem for his job (he’s right next to Izuku)
Why? Well 1 - he gets one on one time with you daily and 2 - that one on one time is him and you in an enclosed space
Sure, he may not get as much time with you as the others, but he sure makes the best use of it
He’ll be chatting you up, getting to know you personally in order to make the atmosphere less awkward between the two of you (tbh, because he gives off standoffish and cold vibes, y’all are gonna be kinda tense when he’s just gotten his job as a chauffeur)
and he does it so discreetly
He’ll start the conversation of lightly, talking about the weather, how busy you’re going to be that day...
and then somehow it just transitions onto friendlier and more personal topics such as your favorite places to eat, what hobbies you’ve been trying out lately, etc
And he uses that info to his advantage
If he senses that you’re feeling stressed or down, he will drive you over to your favorite places and remind you that you should relax
But not only does he get brownie points for that, but would you really be so mean as to make him wait for you while you eat a meal or walk around the mall when he’s the one who’s trying so hard to cheer you up?
Of course not, you’re going to invite him and thank him for considering how you’re feeling
And if not, well, that’s okay, too, he understands (so long as he gets his brownie points)
As the boss of your own company, you’d often be asked out to meetings or social gatherings that involve drinking
Shinso’s always there whenever you get shit faced, and happily so
You’re drunk and you’re not gonna remember it the next morning, anyway... so why would he waste such a golden opportunity?
// // // // //
Shit, you feel great on his body.
Currently, Shinso is living out one of the best moments of his life. He’d come to pick you up from a drinking session with some investors and was ecstatic to find you drunk out of your mind. Hell, you could barely even slur out your orders for him to drive you home. Now, you’re pressed up against him as he holds you up and guides you to the car.
Testing out the waters, he cheekily squeezes the flesh of your ass. If you were conscious enough to reprimand him for it, then he could easily just apologize and pass it off as an accident since you were stumbling around so much.
And if you didn’t mention anything... well then, that was the single indicator he needed to know that you wouldn’t remember anything once you woke up in the morning.
To his delight, you barely reacted to his touch and even let out a high-pitched giggle at his actions. As quickly as he possibly could, he opens up the back of the limousine and pushes you inside. You plop down onto the seat with a huff, completely inebriated.
You don’t even register when Shinso crawls in and nudges himself in between your legs.
When the door slams shut, you flinch a little, prompting Shinso to massage your thighs in an attempt to soothe you. He gazes at you lovingly as you look down at him with your dilated pupils. Fuck, you look way too innocent and adorable for what he’s about to do.
Quick with his hands, he pulls down your waistband and completely exposes your sex. Before diving into his meal, he places light kisses that trail from your calf all the way up to your thighs. He wishes he could leave marks on your skin, but he wouldn’t want you to panic the next morning when you see clusters of purple and blue spread out all over your legs.
He eats you out like a man starved, slobbering all over your pussy. All the while, you’re making such cute noises for him. When you gush all over his face, he’s happily lapping it all up, trying not to waste a single drop.
Once you’ve come down, he dresses you back up as if nothing happened, which, in your mind tomorrow, nothing did.
Shinso hesitates when he’s about to slide the panties back onto you. Maybe he could get away with just a little souvenir?
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NSFW ahead! Nasty af!!!
Endeavor teaching Natsuo and Touya (when they are above age) how to carry on the Todoroki family line by kidnapping a sweet little thing to practice on.
Maybe the Pro Hero sees your nice full hips and lovely soft body and decides that his eldest sons need a lesson on how to breed a bitch properly. It won’t be very hard to get you to trust him (why would a top hero hurt you?) and into his home where it doesn’t take much for him to strap you to his bed, tying you up with your legs folded and spread with your knees pressed against your chest.
Enji brings both of his sons and they are oh so excited at the prospect of using you. He spreads your soft lips open so the both of them can watch your hole twitch as he starts to rub your clit with a big warm finger.
And you’re struggling so so hard against your bonds, begging him to stop touching you even as your cute little pussy starts dripping.
Enji mounts you first, pining you down with his muscular thighs as he shows you no mercy with his violent thrusts. All the while he’s talking to his sons on the finer points of breeding, like how to get as deep as possible and how to angle your hips so that your eyes roll back in your head. His cock is so heavy and hard inside of you and you already feel so ruined as he slams the succulent tip of his cock into your cervix. His warmth once it fills you is nearly burning and when he finally pulls out it squirts out of you like a geyser.
Touya quickly takes his place, eager to act out his sadistic desire to use you as a cum dump as he bends you nearly in half, your hips lifted off the bed as he slams into you. He’s almost rougher than his father, grinning wickedly as he makes sure every thrust is bruising and punishing. Degrading remarks hiss from his gritted teeth as he grinds into you making you choke and gasp as the line between pain and pleasure blurs and leaves your mind blank. Even after he finally comes he still pistons his hips inside of you, muttering how he needs to make sure it all stays inside.
You’re a crying, trembling mess when Touya finally finishes up with you. You feel like you have come ten times over but still your cunt burns as if you had been edged for hours. It’s too much and you beg to go home as Natsuo climbs atop your form. He brushes the tears off your red cheeks as he shushes you, placing little kisses on the corner of your mouth in an attempt to comfort. He tells you it’s going to be alright as he unties your shaking hands only to drape them around his neck as he presses your chests together. Natsuo presses in nice and slow, kissing under your jaw and murmuring how good you are as he pushes in all the way to the base. It hurts just as bad as when the other two hit your cervix but it’s made even worse by the ice user whispering sweet nothings in your ear. He starts steady rhythm that despite your self has your toes curling and your arms pulling him closer. With your tear stained face buried in his shoulders you miss the smirk that he shoots at the other men who are eyeing the both of you with nothing short of jealousy. He is so so cold compared to the other Todoroki’s and it makes you shudder violently as soon as his come hits your hole. Like Touya, Natsuo stays inside of you after he comes but he keeps his hips still as he pets your hair and cradles you, pointedly ignoring the distasteful glares that are being shot at him. You’re not going anywhere and Natsuo knows it, the least he can do is give you a bit of comfort before you’re railed so hard you won’t be able to walk for weeks.
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it will come back [pt. 2] /// Yandere Shigaraki x f!Reader
Summary: You have a bad habit of picking up strays, and the half-dead villain you find bleeding out in a dumpster is no exception. [Part 1] [Part 3]
A/N: Title from the Hozier song—“don’t let it in with no intention to keep it / jesus christ, don’t be kind to it / oh honey don’t feed it / it will come back.”
Tags/warnings: yandere, violence (not directed toward reader), crying, Shiggy REALLY likes you, reader needs a friend and a good night’s sleep, non-explicit sexual content. [In later parts: 18+, sex, other stuff]
At first you think it’s because of the free medical care, and you wish you had the spine to tell him to suck it up and go see a professional. After a couple weeks turn into a couple months and his wounds fade into ragged purple scars, though, you start to think differently.
Within a short time Tomura has figured out your work schedule, and he does a decent job of not showing up after your long shifts. The unavoidable consequence of this is that he ends up monopolizing your precious days off, but you come to the realization about a month and a half in that you don’t actually mind. You like it. It’s like spending time with a friend.
Mostly you guys talk. It doesn’t seem like Tomura really has anyone to talk to the way the two of you do, but that’s probably just you projecting. It’s usually shallow stuff—TV shows you like, video games he plays, funny stories from patients you treated. Sometimes when you’re cooking for yourself, you make extra for him. (It happens a lot, actually, and at one point you bring up how much his appetite is costing you and the next time you see him he brings a bag of rice and makes you a porridge that crunches between your teeth when you try to eat it. You can’t finish yours, but he eats an entire bowl and insists that you’re being picky.)
Sometimes he sleeps over on the couch, but he’s always gone when you wake up.
The two of you skirt around the heavier stuff, and you know it’s intentional on his part. You have to resist the urge to ask him about being a villain—he’s all but confirmed it for you, and it’s human nature to be curious, isn’t it? In the same way you can’t help looking at a car crash, you want to poke and prod and find out what it is, exactly, that Tomura does for a living. That part of his life is suspiciously absent from your discussions—if you didn’t know better, you’d think he spends all of his time sleeping and playing games and breaking into your place.
On the other hand, you don’t want to know. Plausible deniability. You can accept criminality in the abstract, but you’ve treated too many victims of the bullshit hero–villain battle to be comfortable really knowing why Tomura avoids public places.
So you don’t ask about it, and Tomura doesn’t tell, and you don’t look up his name. And it’s easy. It’s nice. You’d forgotten what it’s like to come back to a home that isn’t empty.
And then one day when you get off a few hours early from your shift, you stop by a convenience store to pick up some snacks for yourself (hey, you’ve been working hard, you’re entitled to binge a little on foods that you’re afraid to look at the fat content for), and you think, Hm, I wonder if Tomura wants some.
[You: 7:49 PM]
> Are you coming over today?
[T: 7:49 PM]
> Yeah why
[You: 7:51 PM]
> Getting snacks
> Want some?
[T: 7:51 PM]
[T: 8:12 PM]
> When r u coming back to ur place
[T: 8:58 PM]
> Hey where are you
[T: 9:39 PM]
There’s a man with a gun in the convenience store.
It takes you a second to process at first. You’re standing in the snack food aisle seeking out Oreos and debating the merits of Double Stuf vs. Mega when you catch the mumbled demand and the metallic clicking noise you’ve only ever heard in movies before. It’s a gun—you know that, but your mind dismisses it because it’s ridiculous. Guns are rare in hero society. People don’t go around robbing bodegas at gunpoint anymore.
(You should know better. You work in a goddamn ER. But you compartmentalize, and the crimes you see written across your patients’ bodies stay out of the realm of your personal life because you need them to.)
It’s only when you see the muzzle of a hunting rifle pushed up to the cashier’s sweaty neck that you really understand what’s happening.
You drop to the ground immediately, looking toward the exit but it’s shut and there’s some kind of metal…thing holding the door closed. The cashier mumbles a denial and you can hear him fumble around with the cash drawer for what feels like ages.
It’s real. This is real. You’re in the middle of a robbery. Where are the heroes? Why isn’t anyone doing anything?
God, you’re a hypocrite, cowering behind the aisle divider and waiting for someone to step up while the robber’s demands get increasingly louder and more frantic. He wants money, and the cashier (who, you remember, is a man in his sixties with hands that shake with Parkinson’s when he holds out your receipt) isn’t being fast enough.
“That’s it? There’s no more? Are you fucking kidding me, there’s gotta be a safe or something—“
“No! No, p-please, I’m sorry, this is all I have!”
You cringe, crushing your eyes closed as if that will make it go away. You’re surprised you can hear at all over the sound of your blood rushing in your ears.
“Don’t fuck with me old man, I know there’s more! Show me the safe or I’ll blow your goddamn brains out!”
No! You have to do something. You can’t just sit here. You’ve heard plenty of death threats from your patients (not to mention that one from Tomura), and you know the difference between a bluff and a serious warning. Maybe you can catch the robber off guard, try to pull the gun away? You stand up quickly, hoping against hope that you won’t regret this, but in a split second you see that the cashier has the same idea and he’s trying to pull the rifle out of the robber’s hand and—
Something warm and wet splatters across your face.
Tomura is angry when you get back to the apartment. As soon as he hears your key in the lock he rises from your couch so he can grab your collar with three fingers, jerking your head up to force you to look at him. “Where have you been? Do you know how long I’ve been waiting—“
But he cuts short in the middle of his sentence. Maybe because he sees the look on your face. Or maybe he just notices the traces of blood you haven’t been able to wipe off.
“What happened,” Tomura says. It’s not a question. He adjusts his grip slightly so it’s not quite as punishing, but you hold still anyway.
You have to force your mouth open in order to speak, but when your voice comes out it’s more steady than you thought it would be. “It’s not my blood. There was a robbery at the store. The cashier got shot.”
“Oh.” He releases you and frowns. “That’s it?”
“Fuck you.” You push past him into the kitchen to get yourself a drink with trembling hands. Pantry’s out of shōchū, whiskey will just make you sicker—ahh, there it is. Baijiu. The glug glug glug of the liquor into the glass does nothing to put your nerves at ease, but you pour yourself a double anyway.
“Wait—wait.” Tomura’s hands twitch and rub over his arms like he’s trying to stop himself from grabbing you by the shoulders and shaking you. “Calm down. Why are you so upset? Don’t you see this stuff every day?”
You do. You’re an ER nurse. There’s no injury you haven’t seen. But it’s not about the blood. “I...I knew him. The cashier. He was nice. He had a grandkid on the way. I—“ You bite your lip and down the baijiu in one gulp. It burns.
Tomura clearly doesn’t know how to comfort you; probably doesn’t even really know why you need to be comforted. What does it mean that death is so meaningless to him? you wonder. But you need someone to listen to you, clueless or not, and Tomura will have to do.
The baijiu is still bitter and hot down your throat when you speak again. “You know something? Know what they asked me when the heroes finally showed up and pulled us out of there, me and the corpse?”
“…What?” Tomura asks warily.
“They stuck a camera in my face and asked me if there was anything I wanted to say to the hero who saved me. Any words of gratitude I wanted to share,” you spit. Now it’s your turn to feel your hands making fists at your sides. Your fingernails scratch into your palms like the pain can be an outlet for the sudden overwhelming fury spilling over you. “They didn’t save him. They were too late.”
Tomura’s eyes widen, and through your curtain of anger you can tell he’s looking at you in a way he’s never looked at you before. It’s unlike him to even look directly at you, and when he does it’s usually in disinterest or half-sincere irritation. This, though…this is different. He’s watching you like a believer watches a prophet. You can tell—or at least some deep, ugly part of you that you hope is wrong can tell—that he’s trying not to smile.
“I hate this,” you say, and the first tear drips out of your eye and runs down your cheek. It’s awful. You don’t want to cry in front of Tomura. You don’t want to show him how weak you are. But before you can wipe it away, Tomura’s hand comes up and does it for you, smearing the tear over your cheek in a gesture that—for him—is oddly tender.
Then he hugs you.
It’s stiff and awkward, like he’s forgotten how to do it, but the intention is clear. His arms fold around your back, pulling you into his chest while his chin makes its way to rest on your shoulder. He’s leaning into you so deeply that your spine is arched back, and you stagger away from him only for him to step closer again to make up the distance.
“It’s not fair, hm,” he murmurs into your hair. His tone is the closest thing to sympathy you’ve ever heard from him, but there’s an undercurrent of excitement you can’t ignore. “They’re always too late, aren’t they? The heroes… And everyone will watch that video of you thanking the heroes, and they’ll think they’re safe too. They’ll keep going about their lives and think that nothing bad can happen to them because a hero will always be around to save them…but you and I know that’s a lie.”
It takes you a second to recognize the emotion that’s raising goosebumps over your arms while Tomura rubs circles into your back, but when it clicks you shiver because it’s fear. You’ve never really been afraid of Tomura before, even when you should’ve been. Does he realize he’s backing you up with how forcefully he’s pushing himself into you? The backs of your knees hit the arm of your couch and you topple onto it with Tomura following.
He holds himself above you on his hands, legs tangled with yours. His eyes are wild and he’s not even trying to suppress his grin now. You’re trapped lying on your back under him—pinned like a butterfly under glass.
“Get off of me,” you say as calmly as you can.
“It’s all a lie, all of it…” A hand comes up and strokes your cheek, rubbing with two fingers at a stray fleck of blood on your neck. “I’m sorry it had to be like this, but I’m so glad you understand…”
“Let me up now, Tomura.”
He holds still for a long moment—waiting, thinking, considering—and then sits up, still straddling you but loosely enough that you can scramble back away from him on the couch. Your heart is racing, but you try to slow your breaths so he doesn’t pick up on how scared you are.
“Don’t freak out. You’re no fun,” Tomura says, and you exhale a sigh of relief at how normal he sounds. You never thought you’d be so happy about him looking at you like you’re nothing.
“I think you should go,” you say carefully.
He rocks back on his heels and runs a hand through his hair. “Are you mad? I thought I could stay here tonight, like usual. Since I waited for so long.”
“I’m not mad. I just…want to be alone.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be alone tonight. Not after what you’ve been through.”
Oh, now you care. “Fine. Okay? Fine. You can sleep on the couch.” You’re too tired to argue any more, and you’ve never really been good at convincing Tomura to do anything he doesn’t want to. It’s a miracle he listened to you when you told him to get off you. Considering how often he breaks into your apartment, it’s not like you could keep him out anyway.
So he stays the night. He doesn’t bother you when you take a shower and go to bed, he just lies on the couch in his street clothes. When you wake up in the morning he’s disappeared like he always does, and for the first time since you met him you’re truly relieved that he’s gone.
You always thought it would take some level of courage you don’t possess to actually bite the bullet and look Tomura up. To do so would mean saying goodbye to whatever strange relationship the two of you have built over the months, and you’re just not brave enough to risk it.
Turns out it’s not courage that makes you type his name into the search bar. It’s cowardice. You’re lying in bed under the covers when you do it, and the blue-white screen of your laptop is the only light in the room. Your comforter is pulled up almost over your head like it’s a wall that can block out reality.
“tomura”, you enter into the search bar, but you don’t hit return. Instead, you look at the search suggestions.
> tomura shigaraki
> tomura shigaraki league of villains
> tomura shigaraki decay
Something about it sounds familiar. But you’re not ready. Still, after everything, you’d rather keep your eyes closed. You backspace and snap your laptop shut, and when you do your room is so dark that you think the emptiness might swallow you up.
[T: 5:52 PM]
> Are u going to be at home tn
[T: 6:14 PM]
> Hey check ur phone
[T: 6:42 PM]
> Stop ignoring me
[T: 6:46 PM] 3 MISSED CALLS
[You: 6:50 PM]
> I’m at work
[T: 6:50 PM]
> Don’t lie
> you finished an hour ago
[T: 7:13 PM] 1 MISSED CALL
[T: 7:14 PM]
> You said you werent mad
[You: 7:15 PM]
> I’m not
[T: 7:15 PM]
> Then stop being a brat
> im coming over
> ill bring takeout
You’re nervous about seeing him, but in the two weeks since he pushed you down on the couch you’ve found yourself…missing him. Like it or not, he’s made himself a fixture in your life. So when you get home you’re brimming with anticipation, wondering who you’ll get when you open the door—the normal Tomura you’ve come to like over the past few months, or the one from that night. The villain.
But it’s just him. Good old Tomura, laden with plastic bags and containers of greasy fast food for the two of you to gorge yourselves on. You tease him for being cheap and he argues that you’re just a snob and everything seems so normal that you can almost forget the look in his red eyes when he told you that you understood.
You probably have no idea how good you look when you’re crying.
Of the couple thousand views on the news channel video of your “rescue” from the convenience store robber, at least a tenth are from Tomura. Eventually he just downloads the video onto his computer so he doesn’t have to read the inane comments that the other viewers leave on the webpage. It seems like everyone but him thinks you should feel lucky that you were saved by a hero before the robber could get to you, too.
As always, the public are a bunch of shit-soaked morons. Reading the comments makes him angry, so angry he’s tempted to look into a few of these brainless sheep and see how lucky they feel when they’ve caught the attention of a violent criminal. But that wouldn’t be productive, so he saves the video externally and leaves the news website alone. It’s for the best. Besides, seeing the “views” counter on the website tick up and up by the dozen every time he refreshes is just another reminder that other people are watching this; other people are seeing how delicate and vulnerable and pretty you are with tears spilling out of your eyes and the cashier’s blood sprayed over your clothing.
Thousands of useless fucking NPCs are looking at you just like Tomura is. They’re probably thinking about how sweet you look, just like he is. And they’re probably imagining all the ways they can take advantage of your fragile emotional state, just like him.
You’re too trusting for your own good. Tomura used to think it was a virtue, and it is, but only when it comes to him. Whenever he thinks about how your face is slapped over a dozen different news websites for the whole world to see, he has to dig his fingernails into his neck to keep calm. It’s better when he can just watch the video and pretend he’s the only one seeing it.
And it’s not like not watching the video is an option. Tomura can’t resist your crying face. There’s a point around the three minute mark where your voice breaks in the middle of your statement, and sometimes Tomura skips there in the video just so he can hear that pathetic little sob and replay it over and over and over. Maybe it’s sappy, but Tomura really does feel his heart skip a beat at the way your eyes and nose are rubbed red from your misery.
How fucked up is it that he gets off watching you cry?
Would you be angry if you knew? You probably would, but you put up with so much from him already. Maybe you’d be okay with it if he told you he really and truly tried to hold out. The first dozen times Tomura watched the video, he refused to touch himself no matter how tight his pants got while you choked out your stilted answers to the reporters’ questions, but at this point he barely has to click “play” on the video before he gets hard and takes matters into his own hands.
At the end of the day, it’s your fault. Everything about you is so erotic, from your shaky voice to your pouty, bitten-red lips. Isn’t it completely normal to be aroused while looking at the person you like? And Tomura likes you, he really likes you. He doesn’t have any pictures of you, and with the high definition of the news channel’s video he can see every perfect contour of your cheekbones, every pore in your skin, every glistening wet eyelash.
It’s not that Tomura doesn’t feel sympathy for how upset you are in the video. He does! Not even just sympathy, even—he’s empathetic. He knows exactly how it feels to be let down by the heroes. How dare they tell you you need to be grateful while you’re still trying to wipe brain matter off your shirt? Always too little, too late. It’s not fair.
But if he’s being honest? As miserable as you are, Tomura is happy that you were in the store when that robber came in and that you had to watch a man you knew get his brains blown out in front of you. You need a wake-up call to lose faith in hero society. If you have to suffer some emotional trauma in the process, that seems like a fair price to pay.
And the fact that Tomura gets to jerk off to it? It’s almost like destiny.
➠ [Part 3]
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Sweet Talkin’. Yan Dabi x Reader [COMM]
There’s been an abnormal amount of sirens tonight.
It should be unnerving -- and to an extent it is -- but this isn’t what keeps you awake. Not that, or even the dogs barking outside accompanied with an occasional derogatory yell. With a heavy heart, you can say that you’ve gotten used to all of that noise. No, it’s something different that steals you from the welcoming comfort of a deep slumber.
The thing that truly keeps you up is the anticipation of what is to come. Or more precisely, who.
The bright glow of your phone strains your tired eyes, but it’s your best shot at finding entertainment. Squinting at the blinding light, exhaustion seeps into your being despite your best efforts to ward it off. No matter how much caffeine you drink later on in the day, it’s not enough to to thwart your natural inclinations to sleep.
For most, nighttime is a relaxing time of day that’s coveted. It brings a time of solitude, to reflect and rest up for the next day. While you wish you could return to the days where you felt like that, it’s long behind you now. Instead, you evade sleep, in fear of what could occur when you’re in the defenseless state.
An illusion of control is better than none at all.
“You’re gonna get dark circles under those pretty eyes if you keep staying up this late.”
A deep voice rumbles from the entrance to your shared room, one that you instantly recognize. Even in your groggy state, your emotions heighten in his presence. Turning off your phone and placing it down, you stretch your arms out, a yawn leaving your lips in the process.
So he’s back.
“Yeah, yeah…” you grumble back, caring little for the teasing comment. After feeling around your nightstand, a click resonates, light illuminating your room. Once your eyes adjust, you spot your unwelcome visitor, who makes himself at home. Dabi walks towards you, your bed creaking under his added weight as he sits down. Untying his shoes, he throws them carelessly in the corner.
Sensing your staring, he looks over his shoulder and grins at you. “Awe, you miss me or somethin’? How cute.”
A groan leaves your lips, and you reach to throw a pillow at him. He easily deflects it with a snicker, working on taking his shirt off next. At least now that he’s back you feel more inclined to sleep, knowing that he can’t sneak up on you. Splatters of dark vermilion catch your attention, mouth curling downwards into a frown.
If there’s anything you’ve learned in your time with Dabi, it’s that you shouldn’t ask where the blood stains come from. Ignorance is bliss, right? It’s still an unnerving sight, especially since you know it isn’t his.
The relationship you two share is nothing if not unconventional. His occupation -- if you can even call it that -- has him coming and going at unholy times at night. Sleep is difficult to come by, not knowing when he might make an appearance. It’s what leads you to stay up some nights, a preferable experience to tossing and turning with anxious thoughts plaguing you.
As long as you stay in your designated place, Dabi holds true to his promise of doing you no harm. Thinly veiled threats under the pretense of being your “roommate” lead you to the current day, an awkward routine settling in. For all it’s worth, it could be worse. You’re acutely aware of what Dabi is capable of, having seen the ashes of corpses blurred out in the news.
Why he’s taken a liken to you is beyond you. It still beats dying, only by a sliver.
“There are some leftovers in the fridge,” you tap your phone, reading the time. Three in the morning. Great, and you have work tomorrow too. “I think I’ll give sleeping a shot now that you’re back.”
Dabi raises an eyebrow at this, a fresh shirt without blood stains now on. “You always sleep when I get back. It hurts my feelings. What, am I not good enough company?”
‘If I’m being honest, not really.’
He grins at how you shiver, lazily crawling over to be by your side. His sudden presence fills your nose with unknown scents, ranging from smoke to burnt leather. Underneath is hints of his cologne, all mixing together to disorient you further. Dabi loves riling you up, testing the limits of what you can handle.
You take a deep breath, hugging your knees to your chest. As long as you don’t let it get to you, it’ll be fine. He always gets bored eventually, leaving you to do as you please. That’s what you’ll aim for.
“It’s not that. I just have stuff to do tomorrow, and I don’t like being exhausted. It’s my long shift.”
His trademark grin melts away, furrowing eyebrows and a grimace taking its place. Mentioning your life outside of him is a tricky battle, and you can’t help but regret mentioning it. Being in a sleep deprived state is a major disadvantage in your interactions with him.
“This again? I thought I told you to quit. Rent or whatever won’t be an issue, I’ll handle it.” Dabi scoots closer to you, wrapping an arm around your bare shoulder. His skin feels rough against yours, coarse hands rubbing circles into you. You bite your lip at the sensation, hair on the back of your neck standing.
“I... I like my job. Sure, it can be irritating at times, but it gives me something to do during the day. I’d go stir crazy without something concrete to focus on.” The words are heartfelt, unfiltered. When he responds in silence you worry you’ve made a mistake, upsetting him with your defiance.
He huffs against your neck, lifting his head and shooting you a displeased look. His voice is a low murmur, one that reverberates into the core of your very being. “Always making trouble for me..."
Dabi’s grip around you tightens, and you gulp thickly. With how casual he speaks to you, it can be easy to forget the major power imbalance. Instead of greeting you with insults, or worse, he lightly flicks your forehead.
You blink, baffled.
“Don’t most people hate their jobs? I figured you’d be jumping at the idea of having more free time, or whatever. So you can focus on other things.”
It’s not a confession you were expecting, your cheeks flushing at the considerate nature of his words. While it’s true quitting your job is an appealing thought, it creates a semblance of balance within your now chaotic life. Helping you stick to a schedule, in the same way school used to.
Now feeling confident in expressing yourself, your taut muscles relax into his touch. “I’m too tired to think about it properly, if I’m being honest. I don’t know how you can stay up this late all the time without losing it.”
Deflecting from the previous topic makes you feel better. If Dabi notices your intentions he doesn’t point them out, allowing you to take control of the conversation without complaint. He must prefer it over when you’d just shake and cry in his presence.
“You get used to it, sweetheart,” he drums his fingers against you, smirking. “I’ll make a night owl outta you yet.”
Any implications in his words go straight over your head.
“As tempting an offer as that is, I think I’ll pass. ”
He shrugs at your indifference, removing his arms from your frame. The lack of enveloping warmth causes you to shiver, Dabi searching through his bag. You peak over his shoulder out of curiosity, his scarred hands settling on an object which he pulls out.
It’s a copy of Animal Crossing, in all of its beautiful glory. You wipe your eyes, unsure if what you’re seeing is reality.
“W-what?” you guffaw before your brain has the chance to stop you, jaw agape and head tilted. Dabi places it on your lap, and returns to his previous position of holding you. There’s clear amusement in his eyes at your stunned state, relishing in your every reaction.
“Did I get the wrong thing? This is that game you wanted, isn’t it?”
It had to have been a week or so ago. You lamented to him about not being able to afford this, not even realizing he was giving it any attention. To think he remembered, and acted on it for your sake... is a touching sensation. Maybe he is capable of selflessness after all.
The cute box art puts a smile on your face, one that Dabi stares at.
“I have to say, I’m surprised,” you pick it up, looking at the back with wide eyes. “Did the cashier give you a funny look when you picked this out?”
‘I really need to start thinking before I speak.’
He shakes his head at your blunt comment, not taking any offense. “I didn’t get it that way.”
‘Oh, well... better not ask more than necessary. There’s no blood on it so at least that’s a good sign.’
Wiggling free from his grip, you rotate your legs over the side of the bed, intent on getting your switch. An opportunity like this must be taken advantage of, and you’ve wanted to play this game for some time now. Dabi must’ve read your mind, and pulls you back to him with little effort before you get the chance.
“If I remember correctly, you said you were tired just a few minutes ago.”
He plucks the game from your fingers, and places it on the side furthest from you. What a cruel world this is, to have paradise so close and yet so far. You can’t help the pout that forms at his actions.
“The situation changed, I’m wide awake now.” you explain to an unmoved Dabi, launching over his lap to get your coveted game back. He picks it up, lifting it over your head with a chuckle. So that’s how it’s going to be.
Defeat settling in, you retreat for now. A sigh leaves your lips, arms crossing over your chest. You should’ve known better, Dabi has made it clear to you that he wants your attention. Looks like you’ll have to wait until after work to get a taste of Animal Crossing.
There’s a glint of mischievous in his azure eyes, one that you’ve seen more often than you wish. Dabi sighs in mock hurt, placing a hand over his heart. “Not even so much as a thank you for my efforts. That’s cold, babe. Real cold.”
“I’m sorry, you’re right. Thank you, it means a lot.”
He shakes his head, clicking his tongue. “That’s not what I was looking for. Try again, sweetheart.”
A flurry of thoughts fly through your mind, all competing with one another to offer a solution. Does he want money for it? He should know that you’re not capable of producing that amount, or you would’ve bought the game for yourself. Dabi gives you a moment to think, before offering the answer to you.
He puts his pointer finger on your lip, maintaining eye contact while doing so.
“So glad to see that you’re finally catching on.”
It could be the summer heat winning over your AC, the room suddenly feeling warmer than it did a few moments prior. You look down at your blankets, focusing on anything other than the person in front of you. This level of teasing is nothing new with Dabi, he always manages to fluster you.
He sits, relaxed, waiting for you to make a move. There aren’t any other options that you can think of, so you give into what he wants. Moving closer to his face, you feel his warm breath fanning against your skin. Your hand twitches, pressing against his chest to offer balance.
Squeezing your eyes closed, you tilt your head, soft lips brushing over his own. All of your movements are hesitant, your entire body feeling like it’s on fire. Heart pounding violently against your chest, you move to pull back. Only to discover his hand on the back of your head is stopping you from doing so.
Dabi slants his lips back over your own, nibbling your bottom lip. You freeze, the unexpected affection leaving you incapable of reacting. It’s when you squeak that he finally loosens his grip, opening his eyes to take in your embarrassed countenance.
All things considered, it wasn’t an unpleasant experience.
You cover your burning face with your shaking hands, feeling the warmth emanating off of you. He makes it even worse by chuckling, the low rumble filling you with indignation. There never is hope of catching a break with Dabi.
“You might be the one with a fire quirk after all,” he leans forward, placing a hand against your hot forehead. “Mm... that look you’re giving me is too much. You have to be doing it on purpose at this point.”
Fed up with his relentless teasing, you smack his hand away and purse your lips. He props his arms behind his head, letting you glare at him to your heart’s content. From his lack of reaction, you get the feeling he isn’t too intimidated by you.
“Whatever, I’m going to bed,” you huff, returning to your side and pulling up the blankets. He doesn’t make a move to stop you, and you take the opportunity to lay down on your side. Refusing to look at him, you focus on the wall.
Dabi pokes your cheek, which you ignore.
He lets out a long sigh at your antics, joining you underneath the covers. You hear shuffling behind you, and can’t help but wonder what it is that he’s up to. Maybe he’s succumbing to his own exhaustion, and will let you sleep in peace? What a perfect world it’d be if that’s the case.
The thought is entertained for three seconds before you’re pulled against his firm chest from behind, toned arms snaking around your torso and staying there. His body is always so warm. It doesn’t help that you’re already embarrassed from before. Dabi grumbles something incoherent, placing his head in the crook of your neck.
Accepting the situation for what it is, you stop moving. He reaches over you to turn off the light, and darkness surrounds you once more. All you can hear are your own labored breaths, and rapidly pounding heart. It might be impossible to sleep like this.
You’ll call out of work for tomorrow.
“... Dabi?” you whisper, voice soft and barely audible. He grunts in response, nuzzling further into your neck. For the past few months, there’s been a thought that haunts you at every turn. One that you can never find an answer to, and have been too frightened to investigate beyond your own musings.
It’d be easy to play this off as sexual attraction alone, yet a voice in the back of your head says otherwise. That what Dabi feels for you goes beyond that, into a sinister territory that you want desperately to avoid. Why is it he’s patient -- borderline kind -- with you, yet cruel to everyone else? None of it makes logical sense, his actions erratic and seemingly without reason.
Maybe you shouldn’t know. Still, you ask, against your better judgement.
“Why do you like me so much?”
You feel how he smiles against the skin of your neck, the sensation stirring up unknown emotions within. He squeezes you against him once, letting out a low hum as he considers your words. While waiting for him to speak, you hold in a breath.
“Dunno. Just do,” Dabi offers a noncommittal response, one that leaves you greatly unsatisfied. It seems he’s not even aware of it himself, the effect you have on him unlike anything he’s ever experienced. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”
“... Alright, I won’t.”
“Good. Now get some sleep, before I ask you to kiss me again.”
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I am weak for yanderes, and ABO♥️♥️💛💜!!! What's your take on yandere alpha shinsou/aizawa/hawks finding out his pregnant omega left without him, but finds them in a hospital bed with the baby wrapped up in their arms? Me seeing you write: oops lemme just🤰🤰
Yandere! alpha! Hitoshi shinso, Shouta Aizawa, and Keigo Takami x Pregnant! Omega! Reader
His inner alpha was snarling at him as he ripped your den to shreds, looking every possible where for you.
He was livid.
He had told you- no, demanded you tell him if you went anywhere without him.
Ever since you fell to Stockholm syndrome, he’s trusted you outside as long as you tell him.
He should’ve known he was stupid trusting you so easily.
God, he was an idiot.
You were literal days away from your due date with his pup, which meant you couldn’t have gone far. You would still be in Musutafu.
Throwing on his capture weapon, Hitoshi stomped his way to the front door, only to pause as the house phone rang.
An unknown number showed up, making Hitoshi furrow a brow.
Maybe he was a bit too brash. Maybe you had gotten lost and your phone had died.
You were such an obedient thing, he had trained you well.
And oh, yeah.
You were pregnant with his pup.
Picking up the phone, Hitoshi was back to rushing once more this time, not boiling with rage.
No instead, he was brimming with joy.
Absolutely smitten as he ran to the nearest hospital. He had been there a dozen times with you for ultrasounds and such.
Now he was going there to meet his new pride and joy.
He didn’t even need directions, as they had a private room booked in advance for you in case you went into labour early, as you did.
Hitoshi took a minutes to calm himself before walking into your hospital room, nearly choking on his spit.
You were sitting there, tired, but glowing with a small pink bundle in your arms, beaming up once you noticed Hitoshi.
“Alpha! I’m so sorry! I meant to call you but the contractions just increased so suddenly and then-”
He held up a hand, choosing instead just to walk over and sit with you.
You could explain later, for now, he was just happy to have you ant his pup and his arms once more.
Aizawa had spies all over the place. he was a teacher for gods sake.
He trusted class 1-A with knowing you were his omega, and when he told them you were pregnant, the understood his protective stand point even more.
If you told Aizawa you were going out, he had at least two of his students follow you everywhere.
They stayed far enough back that they weren’t seen, easily staying on your track nonetheless.
So when you told Aizawa you were going to head out for a small cravings run, he had two of his best stealth students follow you.
To say he was startled when they came running back, panting and hair wild would be an understatement.
They quickly explained that you suddenly collapsed, an ambulance being called before escorting you to the hospitals.
He called in mic to sub before he himself was rushing off
Was something wrong with you and the pup?
Were you going to be okay?
Aizawa cared and loved for your unborn pup of course, but mom came first.
You would always come first.
Walking to your room, Aizawa let out a questioning chirp, relaxing ever so slightly when you answered.
Walking in, he purred at the sight of you in the hospital bed, perfectly healthy-
Your once prominent bump was now flat, making aizawa frown.
Where was your pup?
You seemed to sense his confusion, shaking your head with a smile before shuffling a little. an incubator was beside your bed, a blue bundle squirming inside of it in a restless slumber.
Like father like son you supposed.
You explained that you collapsed from pain, but you thought they were phantom hicks.
Nope. Before you knew it, you were delivering your son.
Aizawa made a mental note to make a list of people to watch over your son.
No problem child was not on it since he was a magnet for trouble.
He was totally on it because he was strong and would protect you and your son till his dying breath.
Keigo was a top ten hero, you bet your sweet ass he followed you whenever possible.
He constantly had a feather with you always. whether you knew it or not.
He could tell when you were too hot, too cold, in trouble, didn’t matter.
He rerouted his patrol to cover places you frequented a lot.
He was always near you.
It didn’t matter.
He was your alpha and he took that position with pride.
that and the position of the father to your pup.
He took that position with pride.
When he got a text from Miruko that you were seen detouring from the area Hawks allowed you to travel
That immediately had his hassles raised as he took off, abandoning his hero duties in favor of finding you.
He followed his instincts, and the connection with his feather, landing in front of a hospital.
Immediately, his mind went nuts, thinking of everything that went wrong.
Whatever it was, you had the sense to get yourself to a hospital, so you were safe in that sense.
When he walked in, a nurse was already waiting for him escorting him to your room.
He caught you just as they were wheeling you back into your room, a yellow bundle in your arms, which you were cooing at constantly.
When you noticed him, you smiled before using one hand to move the blankets away slightly, Keigo watching as bright red, small little wings fluttered free.
Keigo could only preen in joy, purring into your ear just how proud of his dove he was.
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How would the yanderes react if their darling was the one to initiate intimacy/sex for the first time, and how do you think their darling would come to that point? (stockholm syndrome? being touch starved/deprived as punishment? etc.)
thirsty ! BNHA imagines
Support me at KO-FI if you feel like it<3
goodiebag WARNINGS: yandere, noncon/dubcon, abuse, profanity, anxiety, guilt, kidnapping, Stockholm syndrome, manipulation, mind control
BAKUGO KATSUKI - KACHAN
She was riding for dear life, chasing the light at the end of the tunnel, eyes tightly squeezed shut as she hopped up and down, sliding upon Bakugo’s impressive girth, moaning each time his tip poked into her cervix as she clapped down onto his lap again and again and again and again, harder and harder, deeper and deeper, hitting knew spots upon new spots, messaging uncharted territory, rearranging her organs, poking and prodding and fitting so snuggly and perfectly inside her she could cry from the bliss of it all, she was crying, hot tears streaming down her cheeks, numb with how warm she was, feverish and febrile and growing madder with pleasure, drunk and drowning in euphoria.
“Fuck.” He was barely holding onto her hips anymore, inspired and insured that it would be fine to let her move on her own now, knowing he’d made it clear enough she wouldn’t be going anywhere without him being satisfied, thinking she was showing so much enthusiasm simply to make him come quicker, though not yet sensing how desperately she was chasing the same release he was, especially because he’d already made sure she came twice before they even started, once on fingers, once on his tongue, he wasn’t at all thinking she was preparing herself for a third time, especially not on his cock.
Having left her to do all the work for a while now, having been rendered completely blissed-out and awestruck with feeling her eager movements on top of him. He couldn’t really care much for how pathetic a mess he must have looked beneath her, his eyes scrunched together to hold onto every sharp movement of her hips, lips pursed out and puckered with his grit-teeth, his cock standing proudly, pushing into her again and again at such a fast pace he was barely able to feel his climax coming dangerously close, too numb with pleasure to part it from his release, but as his balls were emptying inside her he shot up into a sitting position in favor of lying down, needing to hold her still so he could pump his load without it spilling, arms reaching around her to keep her pushed down and impaled on him. She tried humping for more friction even in the tight secured lock, rocking into him, kept snug against his chest, trying so desperately to reach with his cock what was screaming inside her.
He made some indication he was done, arms losing their grip around her torso, head resting on her shoulder as he panted, not yet understanding what hell or heaven he was in for, taken by surprise, by overwhelming panicked surprise.
“No!” She roared, hands protruding nails digging into his chest to push him back down on the bed, then continuing to ride despite feeling him tense beneath her.
He tried moving again, fearing, panicking because of his overstimulated cock being continuously pleased, a hunger already quenched, yet she kept feeding it, drowning the thirst. Her hands moved to yank his hair, pulling him back to rest on the pillow, her other hand pushing, seizing around his throat, violating his Adam’s apple, forcing him to gasp as he choked both on the action itself but also at the sheer controversy of it all.
Her mouth hovering above his own as he groaned from the pain of having his hairs ripped from his scalp and his vocal cords abused, whereas she only moaned in return, too concerned with feeling every inch of her being on fire to care. “Oh fuck, please, Katsuki, please, more.” Begging, his name dripping from her tongue like honey as she continued going up and down the length of his oversensitive cock, slipping even easier in now when coated in his sperm, her thighs sticking to his in juices as her head dipped to lay against his chest while she continued slapping, jumping on his cock with an unrelenting, unsatisfied determination.
His cock throbbed inside her, nearly crying, screaming with something akin to pain, a pressure building again even as he thought it impossible. She was stabbing herself with his cock, squeezing and seizing and fluttering around the blade, driving him mad. However, as soon as he got over the feeling of bursting, she having rode him all through his peak, he was pulled back into his element. Now grabbing her waist and hoisting her off him, followed by her nearly sobbing at the loss of contact. He pouted in mimic, condescendingly. “Is the little slut begging for more?” He grinned maniacally, surprised to see and feel her desperately trying to get closer as he pushed her down into the sheets beneath him, lining himself up with her sopping greedy cunt, again impaling her on his length, pushing all the way into her in a mere swift second, dragging a real pornstar-beautiful moan from her, gleeful to see her squeal with pleasure as he began thrusting into her sharply, angled to hit that sweet blissful spot inside her. “Be a good girl and come for me again.” He growled and she swore she felt it like thunder in her stomach, explosions, like lightning striking. “That’s what you want isn’t it?” The frenzy in his voice, once only terrifying, now made her toes curl and her head feel like cotton. “You want me to make you come? You want to come on my cock like a real slut? My slut, come on, come for me.”
She was being fucked completely silly, tongue falling from her mouth along with a string of wet moans and drool and his name, her eyes swimming with tears as she tried focusing on his and the gut-churning look of feral dominant lust in the heat of them that had her pussy clenching around him, yet was barely able to hold his gaze as she was being fucked into a cross-eyed mess, feeling the pressure build and build and build and getting so close to bursting she was crying with how she was being kept from her climax by some unknown cruelty. She just needed him to go harder, go faster. She just needed more, she just needed him, needed him and his glorious cock to help her.
DABI - TODOROKI TOUYA
They were doing what they always did: simply lounging, slugged on the bed, in each-other’s arms. Sickly sweet fumes in the dank room, air thick like a cloud, dark and grey and matt, the walls having been erased or rather blurred out into nothing, leaving them there, floating in and about nothing, each-other’s warmth the only constant. Where in the complete lack of scheduling it had become like schedule, like ritual to simply lay and do nothing, then do something that threw them back into exhaustion which in turn resulted in yet again doing nothing, except maybe sleep. The day lacked much, and in its lacking: there were certain expectations, certain instincts and impulses that had arisen inside her. She knew something was coming, anticipation, she knew something was supposed to come, and yet they still laid there and did nothing, when they were supposed to be doing… well… something, so that they yet again could go back to doing nothing.
It was safe to say her head was rather empty at this point.
“Are we forgetting something?” She felt the need to ask, felt the need to hear Dabi tell her, give orders in where she should go and what she should say, something not allowing her to feel the terror of why those necessasties had become second nature or why she found refuge in them.
He mumbled in return, tone dark and scratchy like gravel or coal, evoking something to twist in her lower abdomen, purr with pleasure. “And what would that be?” Dabi’s hand still fingered a rolled blunt, perfect with his expertise and nimble lanky fingers. Hand dragged to his mouth to take the final blow, smoke puffed out into the small space of the bedroom, layered thickly in the air. Her eyes puffy and watery and red yet remaining open out of habit. Her lips burned, or rather stung, prickled from the after affects, her mouth dry as though full of ash, and as she breathed she felt the scratchy raw feeling of her throat by how much she’d been coughing earlier. Dabi was always certain she didn’t take proper drags, therefore resulting in taking the drag for her, locking his lips painfully tight around hers, blowing until her face turned red and he could be sure the smoke reached her lungs. He was never satisfied before her eyes glossed over, blank and stupid, blinking at him so softly, as all off her became softer and softer, both her gaze, her voice, her words, her actions, her thoughts, her resistance.
“I don’t know…” She honestly didn’t, all she felt was that something was missing, that she required something, or that something was required of her, the feeling that she was supposed to be doing something or have something done to her.
Dabi turned his head to look at her, inspecting her features, the cute confusion warping her face into a feeble timid expression, brows softly scrunched together, eyes focusing on nothing yet something as she raked through her empty head, her foggy ditzy subdued head. A look of near endearment present on his face as he watched on for a second for the sake of amusement.
He cupped her cheek, her eyes quickly skittering to meet his, as though on command, knowing by instinct that was what she was supposed to do. “Are you waiting for something, doll?” Her lips quivered, and he could already spot the brimming of bubbling tears that came flooding to the surface, soon to be spluttering out hopeless mumbles if he didn’t save her from the fall first. He was almost tempted not to, if only to scoop up what was left afterwards, put the pieces back together in whatever order he so wished, but he was feeling benevolent that night.
His smile was soft as it neared her, deceptively so, kind, well-wishing, as his lips met with hers. It felt like salvation, it felt like peace, it felt like all was falling into place, the way they should be, and she felt safe, no… she felt saved. From what? She did not know, as she had not the mind to care, all she had the mind for was to kiss back.
She moved more on her own now, with the reminder of his tongue in her mouth, the taste making her feel like she was being welcomed home. Leg sweeping over his to plant herself in his lap, in her rightful place, feeling the all too familiar poking of his hard cock kept bulged beneath the comfort or discomfort of his briefs and jeans, brushing into and past the thin fabric of her cotton laced panties, soon to be drenched, as on cue, as though she’d been taught that would be best.
Her eyes were wide, wide with falling, with being lost, with wanting him to catch her, to save her, wide with waiting, hanging onto his every movement, as though incapable of doing anything on her own, as though only capable of taking orders, just as he’d shaped her.
His finger drummed alongside her thighs where she knelt on his cock, his other hand doing the same, meeting where his jeans were kept on, unbuttoning, then zipping down, all so slowly, all to watch her features turn even more lost, into something that looked so adorably like hope. “Is this what you wanted?” He pulled his stiff dick out of his boxers, having it spring and stand proudly in the air, curved and pierced with all sorts of fun. She licked her lips mindlessly, eyeing the pole, wanting, no, needing, no… compelled to pull her underwear aside, revealing what dripping drooling well-trained mess had pooled from her.
Feeling so utterly fulfilled, it feeling so positively right, as though what she’d lost was now returned, was she’d been missing she’d found, and what more, what she’d been missing had been missing her as well, hungrily so, painfully so. And it was all she could think of when she eased down onto the towering pole until she was filled up to the brim, only to push down some more to envelope him entirely, feel him stretch and curve inside her. More after that, she didn’t know what she needed to do, but she was sure she’d know once she got there, she was sure Dabi would be a saint and tell.
She was losing her mind. It was a horrendous type of silence. Silence that wasn’t really silence at all as it was cut and sliced and murdered and bled out into the tactless endless mocking clicking of Tomura’s consoler, sharp aggressive smacks where he thumbed the joysticks, quick slaps with his long veiny bony fingers slamming with unneeded force into fragile buttons.
“I’m done.” She barely recognized her voice, though she knew she mouthed the words and she knew she added timber and tone to sound them, but that whine, that sickly sweet defeat that laced the syllables, as though she were crying, as though she were begging, that wasn’t her, but that was who she’d become. “You win.” And she wasn’t at all sure if she cared anymore about her defeat.
“No… I’m about to.” He mumbled, eyes glancing to her briefly, split-secondly, before they swiftly, with lightning speed, stuck back to watch the bright screen, the clicking made by his ruthless fingers never once stopping. She wondered how such force was even possible, given he had to lift one digit on each hand in order not to destroy what he held so preciously. How he had the grip, the agility, the mobility and speed and precision was something that spurred through her mind each time she watched him go on, winning more so than losing. She guessed it was practice. Sometimes it would amaze her, somedays she would watch mindlessly as he sped through all levels, all ranks, all challenges, all side quests, win after win, wondering if it even posed any challenge, any stimulation when he seemed to complete them all with such ease and finesse, effortlessly. Sometimes it would amaze her, but this was not one of those times.
She swore her ears were bleeding, they were screaming and crying and strangling all wishes to sleep in their deathbed. The bed felt soft and everything was too soft, too quiet, yet not quiet at all and she was so fucking bored, so fucking drained of everything and anything except irritation and the need for something, anything, something loud, something sharp to wake her up, something terrifying or something anything everything that could make her feel something anything everything. She needed it, and she needed it desperately, all things aside, fuck who she was, and especially fuck that shitty fucking game he was playing. “Fuck! Your stupid! Game! Tomura!” She hadn’t even realized she’d slid off the bed and was standing on her numb feet, game controller snatched from him in one second and smashed to smithereens on the wall in the next.
She looked more shook than him, if he was being honest. Nonetheless. “What the fuck?!” He was mad, no, he was fuming, and she lived for it. “I swear, you’re gonna pay-” He hadn’t even reached her before her lips split into a grin, eyes like lightning awaiting the thunder.
“Gladly, punish me, do something, do anything!” She wasn’t proud with her playful hinting, but you aren’t supposed to live your life without doing things you regret. And though she was playing spoiled brat for a notorious villain, the most dangerous individual she’d ever met, he also had a cock crafted by monsters that seemed to hit every spot it needed to, finding and creating new ones as it filled her up to the brim and she was salivating just by the thought of being split open on it, especially by seeing what mood she’d conjured from him. Though, her pride dripped from between her thighs, she was not too eager to plainly say that she desired his cock balls-deep within her needy cunt.
“What?” He’d stopped in his tracks, eyeing her. And though some part of him wanted to believe what disgusting depraved thoughts he had regarding why she was seeking his attention, he knew better, rendering her annoyance to simply picking a fight with her captor, quite like a how child throws tantrums at their parents.
Her words did little to sway his thoughts regarding the situation. “You’ve been playing your dumb videogames all week!” She whined, screeched almost. Eyes angry, lips pouting, and he wanted nothing more but to show her what bad behavior will give her, but seeing how punishment would be giving her what she had requested, he wasn’t too quick to fold to his desires. “It feels like I’m dying, make me feel something, anything…” She was pleading he realized, and stopped in wonder at the revelation. She was pleading with him, begging for him, for anything of him, anything meaning anything… yet… surely not what he wanted it to mean.
“No.” He forced on a nonchalant tone. “You smashed my controller, I’m not rewarding you for that, there are nicer ways of asking…” He drawled, turning to get back in his chair, needing to order another custom-made console, having a couple things he wanted to fix anyway.
Was she really going to have to be so literal? Was she really going to have to bend over and beg for him to take her? Was she really going to have to serve him her heart, her spirit, her mind, and soul and body on a silver platter for him to take it? She thought he was greedy. She thought he was depraved enough to hear what she was asking of him, no way he was ignoring the invitation, right? If that were the case, he could at least mock her for her begging, but he barely seemed to even recognize her change in attitude, granted she couldn’t really see much of his expression beneath that mop of hair.
She wanted to scream, pull her hair out of her head, yet as her knees hit the floor and Tomura sat back down in his chair, she realized she had but one thing to do: crawl. She was silent, shuffling under the table, taking one gluttonous drag through her nose, mouth: watering at the reek of male musk, his musk, Tomura’s musk, a smell so undeniably him. She wasn’t sure she wanted to let him know she was there yet, but decided to better prepare him for what she was about to do. Experienced and confident fingers pressed a woman’s touch to his ankles, running skilled tender touches over the flexing of his calves’ muscles, despite feeling him tense beneath her, undiscouraged as they went smoothly over his thighs to reach the hem of his boxers, reaching inside them to pull out what she was proud to feel thick and stiff and just as needy as her. Handling him delicately before closing her mouth around him.
He broke instantly, now knowing it wasn’t his mind playing tricks. “Fuck, you win, you win!” He hissed, hand wrapping around her throat to pull her up from her conquering. “If I’d known what a needy little slut you are then I would have given you my cock earlier, you should’ve just said so...” They both giggled ludically as he threw her on the bed, thrill already bubbling on her insides with such lust to be fucked out of her bloody mind.
She knew she should be disgusted, she knew she should be angry, she should be fighting it. If she were the feral creature quite alike the lioness or tigress or any other wild cat, she should by law be scratching and clawing and snarling, she should revolt, reject, uproar at the feel of a collar around her throat. But here she was, big wide glossy opium-soaked eyes staring up at her Master and his compelling lilac orbs, feeling her stomach curl at the feel of his big fist tugging her leash as he hovered above her, purring like a little kitten, like the little kitten she was, at the feel of his swollen cock filling her up so snuggly, drooling at the collar put, not just on her throat, but on her mind, drooling over the thought of having his commands lick every nerve of her body, making her twist and bend and bow all to his wishes.
Fluffy tail wrapped around his leg, holding onto him in the softest form of embrace as her hands were occupied with being tied to the bed-post. She whimpered, aching fingers wanting to touch, to run smooth soft fingertips over his skin, his scars, tangle in his wild lavish purple locks. “Could- could Master… untie me?” She needed to ask, voice timid and hopeful, again feeling him slowly inch into her core, messaging her insides, her walls kissing alongside his girth, sucking on him gratefully. He quirked an eyebrow, as if to ask why, or to tell her why he couldn’t do that. “I want to touch you…” She pleaded then, a confession so sweet and voice anything but brazen or wanton, blinking shamefully, guilty of her lust, even though in the light of what he’d done to her and made her do to him, it sounded like mere child’s play, something she shouldn’t have been embarrassed about.
His eyes scanned her, curious, doubting her, yet having felt how her legs wrapped around his torso, and the ever-playful cuddling tail that had slithered between his thighs and latched itself around his ankle, tugging on him. And then his lips curled up into a smile, looking down at his little bashful housebroken pet, thrilled to see her look up at him too, eyes full of awe on both sides, lustful, loving. He pushed himself fully into her, cockhead kissing her cervix, and she gave a mew, moaning while he bowed down to meet her lips with his. His hands danced up her arms, drumming alongside her limbs before they met with the knots around her wrists, tugging them loose.
Once she was free she hesitated, eyes still so wide, as though asking for permission, as though asking for guidance, or… as though she were waiting for him to tell her what to do, and then, as though a question was burning at her lips. “Master… ask me a question?” She requested, slowly bringing her hands down from their position, placing them around the back of his neck, fingers playing with his soft wild hair. He needed to take a second or two to really fathom what she’d just said, where his mind seemed to leap once he did. “Something you don’t want the answer to.”
“Do you know what you’re asking?” He needed to be sure, he needed to hear her say it, admit to it, where his doubts were answered as she blinked, biting her lips, looking away shyly, clearly knowing how wrong it was of her to request him entering and playing with her mind.
“Yes…” He couldn’t help but smile at her timidity, how she blushed under his gaze. Yet, he needed her to give him the entirety of her desire.
“Tell me…” He rested his forehead on her hers, happy with butterflies in his stomach at the feel of her affectionate hands running through his locks. “What do you want from me, Kitten?” Her breath shuddered, legs climbing higher up his back, pulling him closer, their eyes so adamant on looking, drowning in the other. His storm of lilac so dominant and dangerous, making her mouth water and toes curl and head flutter with knowing how she was completely trapped, completely where he wanted her, loving it all the same, finding refuge in the fact, finding safety and belonging and peace.
“I want…” Her eyes where only wide, wide with hope and searching for if he’d catch her when she now jumped, leaped into his arms. “I want you. I want your- your teeth in my mind, marking me, making me yours, making me… feel…” All of her was clinging to him now, her tail so neatly and snuggly slithered around his ankle, as though chaining him to her, her hands as well entangled with the unruly hair at the nape of his neck, her legs wrapped around him so tightly and desperately, pussy clenching around his cock like a vice, and her eyes hanging off of all and everything of what was given her.
“Making you feel what?” He pushed, giving another thrust where he barely pulled out only to push into her again.
“Safe.” That’s such an innocent word, such a sweet wish it made his heart hurt with something he couldn’t quite place, whether it was guilt or satisfaction he couldn’t tell. “Will you do that? For me?” He could get lost in those eyes of hers forever, those moon-big round eyes, opium-black and blown pupils so wide he thought he was falling in space with how much they reflected the limited light inside their room.
“Do you love me?” He asked then, fearing the answer.
“Yes.” A word can be so many things, a vow, a promise, an echo, a welcome.
Eyes went blank then, but not before she gave the softest hum as though to say thank you as she felt his presence seep into her mind, her limbs losing all types of stress, becoming numb and soft, all her worries blanketed, where all she dreamt of was velvet lilac-tinted oceans, getting drunk on grapes and the smell of lavender and all things purple like those great godlike eyes staring down at her, the ones keeping her spellbound and tethered in a deadlock, the ones she belonged to.
TAKAMI KEIGO - HAWKS
He heard the padding of her approach, soft footed and gentle, not at all like how she would usually stomp around in rage of being trapped. He didn’t look up at first, thinking she didn’t want anything to do with him, per usual, yet in his blurry unfocused vision he could spot she’d stopped in front of him, waiting for his acknowledgement, where he sat on the coach, undisturbed and undisturbing until now, scrolling through his phone. He tested to see if she’d speak up and announce her demands, yet was surprised to see she stood there patiently, no words, no screams. He looked up then, finding her standing there bare-footed, skin wet, towel wrapped around her, hair dripping, eyes leaking, though not from shower-water, but from brimming with tears.
His instincts kicked in then at the sight of her. “Are you okay?” He sprung from the coach, expecting her to push him away once he reached for her, yet was surprised to feel her attach to him, latch around him, welcome his warmth and his offered condolence instead of her usual rejection and snarling. “Hey, hey, don’t cry, why are you crying?” He realized then that her body was quaking, seemingly febrile, so much plead knotted between her brows he’d never seen anything like it. It made him concerned to say the least, eyes searching her body or any possible explanation in the form of bruises, thinking maybe she’d hurt herself, already scolding himself for having left her alone. “Baby?”
He didn’t smell it at first, what with the scent being washed off and all at the hands of her shower, but the aroma was soon layered thick in the room, growing alongside her desperation. A scent so heavenly, so lavish and sweet and ambrosial, already making water pool in his mouth. Her shaking made sense then, so did the tears, and the desperation and the potent adorable look of despair.
“Oh… I see.” He was going to take advantage of this. He was going to ring it for every drop it was worth. “Does my little angel need me?” His fingers hanged onto her chin, or rather, her chin hanged off his fingers. “If you ask nicely perhaps I’ll-”
“You’re being cruel.” She stated, voice so sweet, so vulnerable, breaking as she sniffled, bottom lip trembling so preciously, as he wasn’t sure the shower-water was instead not indeed sweat. Knees weak, arms heavy, head pounding, stomach hurting, eating her from the inside in desperate need to feed the bottomless hunger that was growing and weeping in her lower abdomen. Her hand held loosely over her stomach, visibly shaking.
He ignored her statement. “That was a long shower…” It was an insinuating observation, cocky in its nature. “Were you trying to help yourself on the showerhead?” An eyebrow quirked, a smirk playing in the corner of his mouth “Trying to get out of groveling for me, despite knowing how my cock is the only thing that can save you.” He was gleeful, sadistic bliss tickling the soles of his feet, sending pleasure up through every fiber of his body, because he knew, he knew he was right, he knew what was coming, he knew she would fold, surrender, succumb, and he knew how grateful she’d be afterwards, dripping with his cum, eyes opium-blown, euphoric and fluttering, and looking at him with such wholehearted, such won-over love.
Though, know all that filled her eyes were glistening tears and swirling suffering. “It hurts…” His heart clenched at that. She looked like a toddler, small and weak and helpless and innocent, as though if it weren’t for her predicament she wouldn’t be abusing every ounce of energy in her being to make him miserable. How ironic, she being the miserable one now, all dependent on him. “It hurts, please, please help me, help me, Keigo.” She was aching, needy hands coming to grab at him, pull him closer, and she was sobbing, sobbing so beautifully for him. “I need you, Keigo.”
He was getting wrapped up in it, hanging onto every perfect needy jerking she did to try and get closer, to try and help herself against him, licking it up as though he was parched, and he was, he truly was, she’d drained him dry, rejecting each and every proclamation of his love, she’d laughed at it, waged war against it, and here she was, finally, embracing it, begging for it. He realized, he needed this just as much as she did. He didn’t need an apology, he just needed to hear her say it.
“I need Hawks.” Her eyes grew dark, pupils blown wide with lust as her words were laced with such feral carnality, his hands having grabbed ahold of her ample hips, grinding her into himself, where she met his attack by effortlessly maneuvering her legs to wrap around his torso, hands cupping his face as she peered into his eyes, wanting to drown herself in the gold. “I need you deep inside me, filling me up, wreaking me…” Her lips hovered above his own as she clutched tightly onto him, begging with every inch of her body, clinging to him as though it were for her very life. “I need your cum, I need you to fuck me until I can’t walk or talk or think or feel, until I’m numb and all I can see is you, all I can think is you, all I am is you and yours.” He was left awestruck by the way she looked at him, as though he were the world, or her god, with so much love and so much desperate desire and fear, a fear he’d come to know all too much chasing her, a fear of rejection, a fear of having her heart broken, a feeling that’s all too much like dying. “I need your love, please, please love me, Keigo.”
He couldn’t refuse, despite wanting to have used this opportunity as a lesson, he couldn’t, he couldn’t leave her suffering and he most definitely couldn’t leave himself suffering now that his cock was hungry for the attention she was all too eager to give him.
MIDORIYA IZUKU - DEKU
“I hate you!”
It slipped before she was able to stop it, before she could reconsider, before she could save herself. She watched with terror-wide eyes locked on his, awaiting whatever awful murderous intent he chose fit for her punishment. She was at once trembling, knees growing weak, apologies falling broken on her tongue as her fear’s need to cry outweighed her wish for recovery, resulting in simply blubbering on her sobs, hands reached out in protection, in a timid means of making him give her a second to gather herself as she fell apart with the painful fear that clenched around her heart, making it hard to breath, making it hard to see, hard to stand, hard to think, hard to do anything except for gasp for air, air that seemed to not want to enter her lungs quick enough.
“Hey, hey… breathe.” She hadn’t even realized she’d collapsed, nor that Izuku had come to catch her fall, rocking her back and forth in his arms, head in his palm, eyes wide and frantic as she looked up at him for help, helpless in her crippling anxiety, anxiety he was the trigger of and seemingly the only source of comfort as well.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I take it back, I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry, please, forgive me, forgive me!” She gulped on shuddering breaths, sobbed, hysterical in her scrambling, so completely panicked, destroyed by her fear of him, knowing how those hands of his could hold the world just as easy as her head and her heart, and despite knowing this through and through she still felt comforted by how his fingers stroked through her locks, petting her calm. Her hands, retrieving more and more mobility, reached up to wrap around his neck. “I don’t hate you, I’m sorry, I’m just stupid, forgive me, I’m just ungrateful and spoiled and stupid.” Tears rolled down her face as she propped herself up in his lap, hands desperate as she intertwined them in his locks, fervently trying to make up for her mistake, trying to prove she was able to correct herself, that she didn’t need another lesson, another one of his mind-shattering bone-crushing lessons.
The fact that he’d forced her into a perverted set of lingerie had fallen to waste, the fact that he’d been lecturing about how she belonged to him, how she had no right to disobey him, how she was just a dumb little girl in a world too big for her to ever possibly understand, how she was good for nothing but being stress-relief for him. That didn’t matter anymore, what matter was to persuade him into taking enough pity on her to let her indiscretion slide. She just needed to beg enough, she just needed to grovel and plead and cry enough.
“Sweetie…” He hummed, no anger present in his voice, but then again, there never was, it was always laced or dripping with honey, giving no hint as to where his mindset was or what he was about to do, and all it managed to do was make her cry harder, hold onto him tighter, fear climbing higher. “It’s okay, Sweetie… I know you didn’t mean it.” His words were all but reassuring, as she was waiting for the other side of the coin to show its face, waiting to hear his but’s and if’s and punishments and corrections, waiting for those hands of his to show her, to prove to her what she already knew yet let herself forget, that she was a small helpless stupid girl and he was nothing short of god. “But…” And there it was, her worst fear, her worst nightmare, all sounded in one word. She couldn’t let him continue, and by god she couldn’t let him finish.
Wet soft bloated lips met, or rather pushed, forced themselves upon his stiff ones, suffocating all reprimanding comments, all and everything he was about to say. She shuffled into a cradling position on his lap, body and chest glued tightly in his embrace, hands running, tangling, gripping desperately onto the emerald locks at the nape of his neck, lips whimpering upon his one, as though begging them to kiss back. That desperation tasted delicious on his tongue. How she sat on his lap like some wounded animal, begging for the kind and nurturing hand of their master to help soothe the pain away. He wasn’t about to discourage this type of behavior, this form of apology.
She wasn’t ready to take his cock, but then again, she never was with how gifted he was and how cursed she were. His cock being so threateningly huge, just like the rest of him, but given the rest of him was just as threatening, she could manage, she could survive taking but one of his limbs rather than having all his brutal strength take care of her. So she buttoned up his pants, fingers working hurriedly, spiked by fear of both what was to come and what would come were she to stop, mouth still laying sloppy tearful kisses onto his lips, as he didn’t seem to mind just how much she was sobbing to please him.
She was at once stroking him when he was out, her other hand rushing to save her life as it messaged her clit, trying to warn her of what was to come, what needed to come. He still hadn’t said anything, still let her slave for him, his hands placed on the floor, simply supporting him as he leaned on them. When she broke off the kiss, he was about to correct her, yet as her lips wrapped around his cock, tongue swirling around the head as she pushed down as far as she could, glucking on him so eagerly or rather desperately, his hand made to pet her head instead, before she parted, shuffling back up to align him with her entrance, a string of spit dribbled from her lip as she looked at him to search his stoic features, simply hovering above his cock, trying to brace herself for the pain she was about to feel.
But then his patience wavered, strong hands gripping her hips and forcing her down to take his cock, impaling her as he sheathed himself fully, earning a high-pitched screaming whimper from her. She fell to his chest, hands tugging his shirt to steady herself as she winced at the feel of him tearing her apart. “Silly me…” He chuckled, the sound cold and gut-wrenching. “Rewarding you when I should be punishing you.”
She breathed sporadically, hitched and hiccupping. “I don’t deserve it, I don’t deserve it-” Agreeing was the only course of action, the only thing she could afford.
“That’s right, you don’t deserve it.” But the world is far from fair.
CHISAKI KAI - OVERHAUL
The slamming shut of the apartment door, followed by the digital clicking of the lock being closed is how she knew he was home. He hadn’t said anything, where usually he would at least greet her as she quickly sprung across the marble floors to welcome him home, take his jacket, kiss his cheek, all so perfectly like he’d taught her. He hadn’t said anything. No ‘I missed you’ or ‘thank you, princess’. He hadn’t said anything.
But most things with Kai weren’t verbal anyway. She’d learned to pick up cues, analyze a raised brow, or a slight shift in posture, or the almost imperceptible narrowing of his eyes. He hadn’t said anything, but the scowl that accompanied his aura spoke volumes to the girl, finding his state of mind, concerned with what she found, as it was not his usual nonchalance nor his occasional contempt, but bitter.
He groaned then, once she’d helped him out of his jacket, green and tacky, purple faux fluff, something so out-of-place on Kai, yet also serving as one of his key recognizable traits. He kicked off his shoes, also something so very out of character it brought her concern, followed by him shuffling, feet dragging on the floors in complete opposition to how he would usually walk, with his head held high, regarding the floor as though it should be grateful to be gifted by him walking on it. Now though, he slumped, still without a word, up the stairs, sauntering without haste, without enthusiasm, all in goal of reaching the bed, which he laid out flat on once he got to it.
“Are you okay?” She asked timidly, having followed him and standing unsurely on the threshold of the door, not knowing whether she was welcome or not. He simply pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing, giving her the answer she’d guessed already. “Can I do anything to help?” Again, she kept her voice soft and tender, hopeful; cheerful in hopes of cheering him up.
“I doubt it.” His answer was curt and bitter as he sat up on the bed, tugging loose his tie with an exhausted growl of irritation.
She padded around the bed then, not exactly having been given an invitation to stay but not exactly having been given any indication to leave either. Careful as she climbed up behind him, like a cat easing in on its prey, gracious and soft and focused on not alarming or disturbing the goal. “Surely there must be something I can do?” His ears picked up on the play in her voice, the thin hairs at the back of his neck rising, yet his curiosity was stifled as her hands, once so small and insignificant, became the hands of God.
Fingers kneading into his back, thorough and forceful yet welcomed by him through a breathy guttural groan, closing his eyes with much needed rest as he let himself fall completely to the feeling of her messaging all his tense stress right out of his shoulders, seemingly sucking all the bad out of him. He thought it was his hands that were cursed with the ability of recreation, but her hands were gifted with godsend property.
He gave yet another throaty groan as her fingers rubbed and dug into his back, her hand stopping his head from slugging forward, cupping him tenderly and guided him to rest against the softness of her chest instead.
“Do you feel better now?” She spoke like how a mother should, sweet like summer breeze, just above a whisper, eager to please, affectionate, without ill-will, without anything to gain, selfless and beautiful, and something he was in desperate need of.
He moaned, a long dragged out breathy moan, one filled with such potent gratitude it made her smile. “Getting there.” She hummed, her hands like absolution handling his back like dough, thumbs rubbing the stiffness into tender soft flesh once again, working through the knots, before climbing, mounting his shoulders and ensnaring his neck, gentle fingers running smoothly to unbutton his shirt, her face nuzzling in his neck as it was exposed to her, soft plump lips kissing the sensitive skin found there, knowing exactly where to focus, hearing him moan in relief as she zeroed in on his soft-spot. Her hands running, dancing down his chest, unbuttoning the last of his buttons, helping him slide out of it. Quick to take of her bra, still while kissing his neck, before pushing her warm soft mounds into his back, hugging herself against him.
“How about now?” Voice like honey as her words tickled on his neck.
“Almost…” She slithered around to seat herself in his lap, hands cupping his cheeks as she leaned in to kiss him, naked chest rubbing up against naked chest, warm and soft, homey and safe.
Her hand drummed playfully down his stomach, reaching his pants, moving skillfully on its own to undo the belt-buckle, then the button, then pulling down the zipper. He shuffled them down his thighs on his own, still keeping his chin lifted to receive her kisses. His clothed erection bumping up into the thin protection of her panties. Her hand, still so smoothly, reached under the band of his boxers to pull him out. Though his rough way of ripping her lacy underwear off managed to break through her calm demeanor as she yelped, however the sound was quickly followed by giggles as she continued to kiss him, feeling his smirk against her lips and soon his hand cupping her ass before running hungry pressured fingertips around her thigh to play with her slit, thumb roughly pushing into her clit as other reckless digits ran though her folds to test the waters, quite parallel to how carefully she handled his cock with her own elegant hand, rubbing him up and down ever so gently, with the tenderness he carved. He hissed once her thumb rubbed over his sensitive head, biting into her lip, and though his beastly impulses used to alarm her, now she was fully equipped with knowing how to respond to his actions. Holding his cock up to her entrance, giving him time to remove his fingers from her now soaking folds.
She sunk down on him slowly, moaning softly against his lips as he groaned upon hers. “Better now?” She asked, without giving way to the cockiness her question carried, yet he deciphered it nonetheless, giving her ass a playful squeeze before guiding her to lay down on her back, nibbling on her neck as he chuckled at how she disguised her devilish naughty humor as being innocent, wanting to make her choke on that haughtiness as he gave a quick sharp thrust up into her.
Her moan rung throughout the massive apartment where no doors were kept closed, as he licked the sin right off her expression with one needy hungry kiss and a promise as well as a threat. “I will be once I hear you scream my name, princess.”
He was coming, and nothing could stop him, nothing could change his mind, nothing could help and nothing could save her, except maybe the next worst thing. Bargaining unwanted pleasure with pain, the price being her pride, her dignity, her strength. It would happen anyway after he was done making pretty artwork of her flesh, after he’d tampered with her limits long enough. She had the chance to skip to the end. But the price remained her spirit, steep like her fear and heavy like her mind, heart and soul scaled together. And yet, she made the gamble.
It was either she let him bite, chew and swallow her heart and spirit and soul on repeat or she bit back. This was her biting back, this was survival of the fittest, this was her surviving.
She needed to take her aim now or never, before he did it first. So, she barreled the arrow, struck the bow, leveled her hawkeye and took the shot. “I love you, Shoto.” She proclaimed, arrow flying, hands smooth in receiving his chest before he could tug her towards him. Meeting his hungry approach with a focused desperation of her own, dedicated as she pushed him back so that he was the one sitting and she was the one on top for once. Hands gentle, without much pressure, drumming up the bruises and scars of his chiseled stomach, one side cold, the other hot. “Will you let me show you how much I love you?” She questioned, time to see if the arrow had hit, lips pressed firmly to his forehead a short second later, before pressing one against his temple, careful to not hurt him where the skin was scarred and sensitive around his eye, then one against his jaw, and neck, and shoulder, and chest, trailing down further and further. He stirred once she kissed on a particular cut, his hands coming to hold her back as he began sitting up, yet she was firm in her resolution, her own hands pushing his shoulders down. “No, no.” She tutted, tone still soft, not at all as though she was giving him a demand, not at all like how he thought a command should sound, what he’d learned his mistakes would grant him from those people he trusted, not at all like his father’s voice of tyranny and terror. “Let me take care of you.” She whispered it, and his heart clenched with memories of how his mother would patch him up after training, the arrow was well planted in his chest now. “You just lie back.” She kissed his cheek then, adamant she’d make him cry, make him become soft, help him, to save herself. “Relax.” She kissed his lips then and she swore she heard him whimper like a kicked pup, all fragile beneath her, broken and just a boy rather than the cruel man she knew him to be, and then he was crying, softly, quietly, but crying nonetheless, thin streams of saltwater running down the corners of his eyes.
He looked so vulnerable then, vulnerable like glass, no… like ice melting, and when the ice had finally melted she could either swim or drown in what ocean was left behind, all depended on how softly she handled him, where one wrong word would make him sharp like bladed icicles again, and the right words would keep him like this: small, weak, needy, tame. You can only kiss storms when you’re right in the eye of them, where one misstep will send you flying, falling, to your despair, to your death. She could make no mistakes.
She aligned her naked sex up with his, the steam in the room layered thick with dew on their naked bodies, alongside sweat. “You and I are the only ones that matter in this entire world, Shoto…” She sat down, hungrily ripping a groan from his chest at her almost brutal pace, and she moaned as she dipped down to lay herself on his chest, feeling him sink and twitch inside her, fill her up so perfectly, like two things falling into sync, like yin and yang, like balance. “It’s only you and me between heaven and hell.” She whispered the words like a chant, like witchcraft, the breath of them tickling his skin as she kissed down his pelvis, still firmly planted on top of him, hand trailing after, running over him smoothly and precisely, careful in their venture, before dropping down from the loft of his hips to entangle her small breakable finger in his destructive hands “And everything else is just falling snow…”
She rocked her hips, rolled like a wave on top of him, thighs cradling his torso, keeping him safe and trapped beneath her as she continued lolling forward on repeat, tentatively feeling after the pressure his hands gave hers, how tightly he squeezed, if it were a form of encouragement or discomfort, their wrists laid on the warmth of her thighs.
“I love you, Snow-Angel.” He cried, voice jagged and so far away from anything she’d ever heard, and though this was what she’d been aiming for, having it enroll before her was a frightening type of uncharted waters she hadn’t at all any knowledge of how to tackle, and that fear, the fear of drowning, increased so spectacularly when he sat up, fingers slipping from hers, leaving her control and wrapping around her torso instead, tightly, so tightly she feared he’d break her spine, and then the heat followed, the blistering heat, and then the cold, the promise of frostbite, but then… he was still crying, crying like a toddler into her shoulder, nuzzling in her neck and all those terrifying and painful promises seemed to mellow, leaving her unscathed yet panicked, as without the pain she had no way of knowing when or where to go, resulting to her simply sitting there, comforting her captor, speared on his cock, his tears running down her back, slowly and unsurely raising her freed fingers to wrap into his dual-colored locks, petting his head and hoping, praying she wasn’t falling prey to any false sense of safety.
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