#villainous grin and squint

[thasallweare]

Hi Gilbert! That smile is lovely!

This is Gilbert. He’s been around a while. Attributes his long life to many, many years of always getting what he wants

[kryptonitejelly]

art donaldson x childhood friend reader who he hasn’t seen in a long time (whose had a crazy glow up) visits him at stanford at the same time as patrick and patrick starts hitting on her (him and tashi are in an open relationship) and art gets jealous.

(maybe she tells patrick she knows he’s in a relationship and he tells her tashi wouldn’t mind and she would probably be down to join idk)

art donaldson x reader // challengers // fluff; happy ending

a/n: i did not hit the prompt on the head 100%, but i’m not mad at it. this ended up turning into a monster i had no control off and ended up being alot longer than i expected (i haven’t done a word count, and did not mean for it to spiral into this but i enjoyed writing this very much). i am an art donaldson defender and this is my way of giving him everything he deserves (i hope you guys can see what i subtly tried to do in places - please leave comments/reblog if you see them, it would mean the world). also i typed this entirely on my phone without proofreading - you’ve been warned.

edit - as a disclaimer, i do not purport to comment on the victim/villain/any dynamic in the challengers universe. this space is purely for delusional thoughts and fiction only (see also)

-

Good luck.

Art shoots the text off to you before taking a swig out of cup of diet coke he has in hand. He leans forward, his forearms on his knees, teeth crunching on ice cubes as lets his gaze sweep across the court in front of him. It is devoid of players but already has the umpire and linesmen ready and waiting.

You’ll buy dinner if I win?

Art doesn’t expect to get a text back, so he checks his phone absently, but his face breaks into a tiny grin as he sees your reply. Most other players would have been hyper focused in the moments before a match but you, in the breezy light hearted way you always were, still had it in you to joke around.

Yes, but if you lose…

Art sends his response, the tiny grin still on his face.

I’ll feed you.

Your reply is fast and it makes art shake his head lightly a quiet chuckle dropping from his lips. He is just about to type another reply but is interrupted by the loud cheers that erupt from around him. Art looks up from his phone to see Anna Davies walk out on court in the same colour red as he had on. He claps politely with the rest of the men’s team who he was sitting amongst in the stands, in a show of support.

Art catches sight of Tashi and Patrick, both perched a few rows down from him with the rest of the women’s team both clapping and hollering in support. He notices the turn of Patrick’s head, no doubt to check in on Art but he doesn’t tilt his head or smile back in acknowledgement as he usually would - he is far too distracted by you.

Art can feel his jaw slacken slightly as you walk on court. He knows what you look like, but you in the flesh - Art thinks you are breathtaking. Your top is in a shade of your college’s colour, paired with a white tennis skirt that shows off a pair of toned, long legs. He catches a glint of metal just above your ankle, and he finds himself squinting in a feeble attempt to make out the look of the ankle bracelet that you have on. Art moves his gaze your face, taking in what he can see from his perch on the stands as you walk out towards your designated bench on the court, bright neon green bottle in hand, your tennis bag slung on a shoulder.

You had been close back home for most of your childhood and more formative teen years, and the both had kept in touch since he left for Stanford and you to your own school of choice, but too infrequently - the occasional text, more frequent reaction or comment on each other’s social media and the small conversations that spiralled from those interactions - like two planets orbiting in the same solar system, but not close enough. Life had overtaken, the excitement of moving your separate ways to a new environment, of college - tennis, academics, people, parties, it had overwhelmed you both, individually and together - made you just about forget that you had each other.

Art is transfixed. You are, lithe, glowing and with a hop in your step - Art finds himself questioning why he had never made more effort to keep you closer since you had both gone on your separate paths. He watches as you settle your bag on the bench, turning your gaze to the stands, eyes narrowing from the glare of the sun as you search the stands, only for your gaze to fix on his. Art sees you smile, lips turning up as you wink directly at him. It makes a series of heads turn to look back at him - your fellow team mates, the small group of supporters from your college who had come along, and the Stanford women’s team plus Patrick, half curious, half puzzled. Art can only raise a hand beside his chest in greeting as he remembers to breathe, letting the air he had been holding in his chest out.

He sees turn away while reaching for your phone which you had wedged in between the band of your tennis skirt and skin. Your fingers flying over the keypad briefly before you toss the phone into your tennis bag, hand fishing out your racket. Art feels his phone buzz in his hand and he looks down at the text that had come through.

Stanford still hasn’t taught you the right way to wear a cap huh.

Your text, a reference to his penchant for securing his cap on backwards, makes Art laugh, out loud, the sudden sound causing his team mates to crane their necks in attempt to look at his phone. Art swats them away as he refocuses his attention back on you, watching as you do a few hops, shifting your body weight from side to side before walking to your position on court, racket in hand. You lose the coin toss, and Anna choose to serve and yet your demeanour is one of ease, something Art can’t help but think is so stark in contrast to Tashi before a match. You aren’t smiling anymore, and yet in an unexplainable fashion, Art can feel you smiling as you bend to ready position, your hands flipping the handle of the racket around, poised to receive. He sees Anna toss the ball, her back arching, hand shooting up, before she connects her serve, and he watches you receive it with ease, your body moving in a smooth motion as you hit it back. Your strokes have their own weight and intention behind them, they are careful, thought out - but what surprises Art is he sees little calculation behind each. Instead, he watches as you let yourself feel each shot, as you let your instinct take control with each step. Art sees himself moving pieces of chess across the court when he watches replays of his game, but with your game, - Art manages to see colour, life, ease. He sees something he hasn’t seen in his tennis since he had last played with you, Art sees fun.

-

The match isn’t long drawn out, you win - effortlessly, just as each of your strokes and movement are. It frustrates Anna, as is evident from the increasing number of unforced errors she makes on her art which leads to her swearing loudly as you easily hit the last heavy, driving it quick and to the opposite corner of the court from where she is positioned. Art finds himself clapping enthusiastically along with the crowd as the umpire calls the game.

-

“You never told me you had such good looking friends,” Art feels an arm sling itself around his neck, pulling him close as he stands outside the court, waiting for you to finish your match debrief with the rest of the team.

“Shouldn’t you be with Tashi?” Art questions as he tugs himself out and under, away from Patrick’s hold. His eyes remain focused on the door of the tennis court, waiting for you to emerge.

“Some strategy meeting,” Patrick offers as explanation, “refocusing or something like that.”

Art starts to say something in response only to be stopped by the view of you walking out from the courts. You both lock eyes, not too similar from how you had with you on the court and him on the stand. Art thinks that your smile is more brilliant up close.

Neither of you say a word, as you walk up to him, hands reaching up to tug his cap off his head only for you to pop it promptly on your own head, the right way around.

“The right way,” you say in greeting, pointing towards his cap which is now sitting on your head, the Stanford red a confusing contrast to your your top, now a loose fitting tshirt in your college colours, as Art chuckles while running a hand through his hair, attempting to shake out any flatness.

“The red looks good on you.”

“Perhaps I should transfer.”

“Didn’t peg you for a traitor,” Art teases which makes you laugh.

“Do I get a hug,” you ask, both of you oblivious to Patrick who is just watching.

“C’mere,” Art says, his words inviting, but just almost slightly shy as he opens his arms to you. You step into his embrace, arms slipping around his body as Art brings his arms around your shoulders, hands bumping into the tennis bag you have on your shoulders. His embrace is familiar, and you let yourself relax into his hold.

“Could I get a hug?” you hear a different male voice chime in and you pull away to look curiously at the brunette who is standing just beside you both.

“Fuck off Patrick,” you hear Art say with no bite, but notice as he steps just that one inch in front of you in an attempt to place himself as some sort of barrier between you and the brunette.

“Patrick Zweig,” the boy says, ignoring Art as he proffers a hand to you which you shake to be polite while introducing yourself.

“Do you go to Stanford as well?” You take in his attire of jeans and a white tee, the lack of red - you would guess not but it didn’t hurt to ask.

“I’m just visiting,” he says, “I’m actually playing on tour.”

“Losing on tour,” Art corrects.

“Your tennis is insane,” Patrick comments, ignoring Art, “when will I see you on tour?”

“I don’t intend on turning pro,” you respond with the flash of a smile.

“Why?” Patrick continues the conversation, now slightly befuddled, “you’re a natural.”

You shrug with a laugh, not answering and simply brushing off his question.

“Why don’t I take you to dinner and you can tell me why.” Patrick’s statement makes Art roll his eyes.

“Aren’t you taking your girlfriend our for dinner?” Art chips to which Patrick simply shrugs not phased in the slightest and answers with a no.

“Thanks, but I already have a dinner to cash in on,” you offer Patrick a smile, before glancing at Art.

“I’m sure Art wo-”

“Nope, fuck off Patrick,” is what Art says again, not even giving the other man a chance to finish his sentence. It makes you laugh, but you follow as Art grabs your hand, tugging you off in a direction away from Patrick.

“It was nice meeting you Patrick,” you call out, turning your head towards him giving him a wave with your free hand, “good luck on the tour!”

You walk for a minute or two more until the tennis courts are out of range before Art stops. He lets go off your hand, but reaches instead to grasp the top of the tennis bag on your shoulder. You raise a brow questioningly only to have him tug again with a slight tilt of his head. You relinquish the bag to him and he hoists it on his shoulder instead.

“What a gentleman,” you joke, but with a smile on your face.

Art does a mock bow with a flourish of his hand which makes you laugh with a shake of your head.

“Your chariot awaits my lady,” he extends a hand to you, waist still tilted in a bow, but his head up and looking at you.

“Lead the way,” you place your hand on top of his again.

“My car is that way,” he says jerking a thumb towards his right as he intertwines his fingers with yours. Its the second time in the day where he’s holding onto your hand but you don’t think too much of it and neither does Art. It feels right, comforting, familiar and like it’s supposed to be - and you go with it.

-

“Sorry about Patrick,” Art says as he fiddles with the paper casing of the straw. You are both sitting in a booth, plates cleared, your drinks left in front of you. Art is leaning back but being across him you can feel his knees knocking into yours. Dinner had gone by way too fast for Art’s liking. There had been both plenty to catch up on, as well as new information to learn and yet - it had felt like no time had passed between you both.

“He’s a bit of an ass isn’t he,” you say as you lean back, a mirror of Art. Your comment elicits a bark of laughter from him.

“Girls don’t usually say that about him.”

“What do they say?”

“Well not say, but they usually fall at his feet or into his bed,”

“No,” it makes you crinkle your nose while you shake your head.

“His girlfriend Tashi,” Art says, fingers still fiddling with the wrapper, “we played tennis for her number, she chose him.” Art said referencing the tennis match between him and Patrick. His sentence is blunt, to the point, and yet manages to be vulnerable at the same time. Art surprises himself as the words slip out from his lips so easily but it feels easy to tell you, safe to let himself be vulnerable, fine to let you view him for who he truly is.

You both sit in silence for a beat or two, the only sound between you both being the rustle of paper in Art’s fingers.

“Well,” you begin, “if she made you play for her number, maybe its for the better you didn’t win.”

Art’s fingers give pause and he looks up at you. His expression is unreadable, but you don’t feel like you’ve said anything wrong - just the obvious.

“I guess you are right,” he says after a few seconds of silence, before raising his head to look at you. There is a small smile on his face that you can’t quite place.

“When have I been wrong Donaldson?” You challenge in jest as you lift a leg under the table to jostle one of his lightly. Art leans forward, managing to capture one of your legs, your calf in the warmth of his palm.

“You really want me to start?” Art questions as you wriggle your leg in attempt to get away but no no avail.

“No.”

“Let’s see, the time we were six and you thought that the way to get strawberry milk was to dump pink food colouring in normal milk.”

“Stop,” you protest, but with a laugh on your lips.

“Or the time we were ten and you were convinced that the park we passed by on the way home from school was haunted and we had to sprint past that stretch of sidewalk for 3 whole months.”

“It was creepy!”

“How could we forget the one time we were thirteen and you thought that the way babies were made wa-”

“Arthur Donaldson,” you protest, managing to wrestle your leg out of his grasp which has grown looser with each anecdote. It allows you to set your foot on the ground, body shooting up to lean across the table, your palm coming to cover Art’s mouth to prevent him from announcing any further recollections from your youth.

You can feel his breath hot against the palm of your hand as his muffled laugher fills the space of your booth.

“Art,” you huff, relinquishing his full name for his nickname again. You move to drop your hand from his face, but Art catches a hold of your wrist. You sit back down, butt hitting the seat again, but with your hand still stretched across the table, wrist still loosely wrapped in one Art Donaldson’s hand. His shoulders are still shaking, now with a silent laughter.

“Art,” you try again.

“I’m sorry, it’s just so funny,” Art exhales, trying to collect himself as best as he can. He doesn’t remember the last time he laughed like this, freely and with such reckless abandon over something so innocent.

“Your dedicated court jester, always here to serve,” you mock with a roll of your eyes.

“You’ve been derelict in your duties,” Art says, now calm, but his eyes still twinkling under a mop of strawberry blonde hair. He keeps his tone light but what he really means to say is that it has been too long. You chuckle, not really having an answer for him.

“It’s been a while,” you finally admit, both your hands now resting on the table between you, you wrist now lying upturned in Art’s open palm. You had always been close

“It has, hasn’t it,” it isn’t really a question. Art has missed you - something he hasn’t realised until today. He had let himself be distracted by the complex, focused toxicity that was tennis, Patrick and Tashi, letting himself get sucked into the whirlpool, that he had forgotten to hold on to the things that grounded him.

“Maybe we should change that.”

“We should change that,” Art corrects you and you can feel the tips of your ears burning, and the skin across your cheek bones tingling for some reason.

-

You aren’t quite sure how ended up here, but one thing had lead to another as you both made your way out of the restaurant and back to Art’s car, and the next thing you knew you were heading back to his dorm to watch reruns of Buffy the Vampire Slayer for some reason.

“How do you not find her hot?” You ask again for the tenth time as you both focus on the screen of Art’s laptop which is perched half on his thigh and half on yours. You are both sitting on his bed, shoulder to shoulder, both of your heads damp from (separate) showers in Art’s ensuite, and you smelling quite like him from having used his toiletries and borrowing a short and shirt set, both of which which were a baggy fit for you.

“I don’t know, I just don’t.”

“You’re rubbish Donaldson,” you snort, nudging your elbow lightly into his ribs with a simultaneous yawn.

“Tired?” Art asks, as you stifle another yawn.

“Yeah,” you accept, seeing little point in trying to hide it. You had after all, played a match today.

“I should really get back to the hotel,” you mumble, the back of your head leaning against the wall beside Art’s bed, eyes closing.

“You could just stay here,” there is a hint of hesitation in his voice because he isn’t sure if you’ll stay.

“Here?”

“My bed’s a double,” Art shrugs, “it would also be quicker for you to get to the matches tomorrow.” You aren’t playing but Art knows you would be expected to show up as a supporter for the series of matches between your two schools that continued tomorrow.

“Are you sure?” You don’t mind, after all - it’s Art, the boy you had known growing up, shared milkshakes and apple slices with after school, but you wanted to be sure he was truly fine with it.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Art moves to shit his laptop, lifting himself to bend over the edge of the bed to place the laptop on the floor, “you can take the inside.”

He flops down on the outside of the bed that is further from the wall too easily, his right hand going behind his head. Him moving forces you to move in tandem as you flop down on Art’s left, legs scrambling under the covers which Art has somehow managed to worm his way under in the flurry of movement.

Art reaches a hand over, his arm extending over you in the process to hit the light switch that he has beside his bed. It plunges you both into darkness, the only light the faint glow from the street lamps creeping in from below his curtains, and the glow of his digital clock.

You flip onto your right side, eyes closed, missing the turn of Art’s head as he observes yours features, closed eyes, lashes, nose, lips, finding his gaze lingering a moment too long on your lips.

“Stop staring Art.”

“Am not.”

“I can feel it,” you respond, lips curving into a smirk. It was a habit he had developed from the sleepovers you both had either in his living room or yours when you were both younger. You would close your eyes, just about to doze off, only to hear the faint shifting of a head against a pillow while Art turned to stare at you, his blue-brown eyes boring into you.

“Am not.”

“Go to sleep Art.”

-

“So I guess I’ll see you around,” You are standing just a distance off the side of the bus which is supposed to take you back to campus. The matches for the day had ended, with your school having won by one match.

“Yeah,” Art replies, drawing out his words as he takes you in, he finds himself think that he had very much preferred you in his clothes despite them being oversized and not as well fitted as your own. You had managed to change into a fresh set of school colours before the matches started earlier that morning, having pleaded with your angel of a roommate to help you lug your overnight bag, which you hadn’t even had the chance to unpack the night before, over to the courts before the matches had begun. She had taken one look at you in Art’s tshirt, shorts with his hoodie thrown over, and had given you the widest smirk known to man despite your insistence that nothing had happened.

“I think you are scheduled to come play next month,” you refer to the Stanford men’s team, “I’ll see you then?”

“Or I could see you next week?” Art says almost shyly as he raises a hand to rub the back of his head. Art was a walking oxymoron, easily grabbing your hand, asking you to sleep in his bed, and yet somewhat bashful in the moments in between, “the drive over is an hour, max.”

“I would like that,” your response earns you a mega watt smile, his eyes twinkling at you. You both hear voices calling Art away from the bus, one male, one female - but Art ignores them both.

-

“Yeah and I told her-” your sentence is cut off by a nudge to your shoulder.

“Stanford” you friend explains with slightly too much glee in her voice. She had seen the smile on your face after returning from your away game last weekend, and the way you had been constantly glued to your phone, grin on your face, laughter peppering your days, the name Art Donaldson a constant fixture in your notifications.

Your head swivels up and to your left to spot Art leaning against his black jeep, hands crossed loosely across his chest. He smiles when he sees you, and your face mimics his expression.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t,” you friend calls out as she pushes you in Art’s direction. You pull a face at her while rolling your eyes, but letting your legs carry you towards Art.

“Are you stalking me Donaldson?” You ask in jest. Art had texted you half an hour earlier, asking which part of campus your last class of the Friday was in and where he should pick you up from.

“Hundred percent,” he says as he opens his arms; you step into his embrace for a brief hug, before he turns to open the car door for you. You unload your bag from your arm, dropping it onto the floor of the passenger’s seat before climbing in. You move to close the door, but Art is in between you and the door, reaching over to click your seatbelt into place.

“Ready?” He asks, and you nod, gazing into bright blue-brown eyes.

-

“Positivism,” Art says simply at your question of what theory of jurisprudence he found himself most inclined towards. You think for a moment, the side of your face propped up with a hand, elbow on the counter of the bar you both are seated at, your body turned towards Art who is likewise, facing you.

“Positivism,” you roll the words around your tongue, “I guess it tracks,” you shrug, before raising a brow slightly, “but how does an engineering undergraduate so much about jurisprudence?”

“I read.”

“On jurisprudence?” You frown nose wrinkling as you reach your hand out to place the back of it against Art’s forehead as if to check if he had a fever, “are you alright?”

“You mean you don’t read engineering daily in between sets?” Art questions you with mock horror as he reaches up to tug your hand down from his forehead. Your hand ends up, yet again, in Art’s, which is resting on his knee.

“Why engineering, and not something with a lighter course load?” The underlying question is clear - Art had every intent of going the pro track post-Stanford, and it wasn’t that he would be making full use of his degree anyway.

“I don’t want the only skill I have to be hitting a ball with a racket,” he shrugs, “it feels good to know I can do something else.”

You hum in bother understanding and agreement as you feel Art’s thumb begin to stroke the back of your hand. It distracts you, his calloused thumb sliding across your skin.

“In another life I’m sure you would have made a darn good engineer Art Donaldson.”

Your words make Art laugh, something he found himself doing a lot with you.

-

“So, this is me,” you point towards the dormitory buildings up in front and Art slows his car to a stop, pulling the gear into park. He kills the engine before hopping out of his seat. Your hand is on the handle of the door, ready to open it for yourself but Art is faster, his hand on the outside lever, pulling the door open for you.

Art offers you a hand as you hop out of the jeep before he shuts the door behind you.

“I had fun tonight,” you find yourself saying, suddenly feeling slightly shy for reasons you cannot fathom.

“Me too,” is what Art says in response, his hands stuck on the pockets of his jeans, heels rocking in a back and forth motion. You see his gaze on you, locking with yours before flickering to your lips. It makes you bite down one on side of your lip, an action which causes Art to gulp, making the Adam’s apple on his throat bob.

“We should do-”

“Can I kiss you?” Art blurts out his question in a burst and you can see his face flush slightly as he asks, a surprising and yet apt contrast to the Art who had no qualms about holding your hand in his. You feel your heart quickening, and with the silence between you both - you almost feel as if you can hear each beat.

“Yes,” you breathe out, a small nod accompanying your response. You see Art’s gaze flicker to your lips again, but you would be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about this.

Art takes a step forward, pulling his hands out of his pockets. You feel him cupping your face gently, and you tilt your head towards him. Your eyes flutter close and your lips meet.

Art’s lips are softer than you imagined. You feel his hands move, slipping down the sides of your body, circling your waist and pulling you closer. You drop your bag off your shoulder onto the floor as your hands move up, one to cradle the side of his face, and the other reaching behind, fingers weaving into soft curls as you tug him closer towards you. First kisses with someone new had always been awkward for you - teeth, lips, noses, as you each try to figure out the grooves and crannies of each other, but with Art - there was no such thing. It felt as if you both had learnt each other long ago, each in and out, the curve of his neck, and the the planes of your body.

You break the kiss first, pulling away, eyes still closed, feeling as if the breath had been knocked out of you in the best way. Your forehead pressed against Art’s, body held firmly against his.

“I hope you aren’t going to send me packing after that.” Your eyes flutter open at his words.

“You packed an overnight bag didn’t you?”

“I might have,” Art pulls you even closer, his arms wound tight around you.

“Presumptuous much?” You run a hand through the front of his hair, pushing his fringe back.

“Just good at reading the room.”

-

12 years later

The skin across your knuckles are visibly tight, your hands clenched into fists, the only sign of the nerves that have taken over and riddled your body. Your eyes are shielded by dark oversized glasses, but your pupils are darting left and right as the final point of the match plays before you. The stadium is silent, save for the pop of the ball and the grunts from the two players on court. You hear an exceptionally loud grunt, the whizzing of a racket whipping through the air, and then you hear it before it hits you - the roar of the crowd, the thundering claps, and you feel your body freeze as even the announcer goes wild.

“Art Donaldson, ladies and gentleman, our new US Open champion.”

You remain glued to your seat despite the commotion around you - family, Art’s team, cheering, jumping, excited hugs being passed around. Your eyes watch as Art runs towards the center of the net, hand raised as he waves to the crowd around. He shakes his opponents hand, before waving to each section of the stadium in thanks of their support and there he is, jogging towards you. His hair is dripping with sweat, plastered to his head, shirt clinging to his body. He extends a hand to you even before he reaches the sideline and your body reacts from habit, standing, your hand extending back towards him. A warm hand, the back of it still slick from sweat grasps yours, tugging you forward lightly.

“Hi,” is all he says as Art’s lips meet yours. Art enjoys the tennis, but he doesn’t need it - doesn’t need the tennis, the fame, the money, or the trophies - all he needs is you.

You hear the crowd go wild at the display of affection, the announcer’s voice booming over the sound system with something about Art Donaldson and his wife, but it all fades - the commotion, the sound, the people, the tennis, because all you see is Art.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

[irisintheafterglow]

hi!!! could i request pro hero!bakugo & pro hero!reader where bkgs doing an interview and they ask about relationships and his answer is “I thought you people already knew that im married”

i have no idea how to word things but i hope that was readable🙏🙏

keeping it in the family

wc: 1.6k

cw/tags: swearing, mentions of drinking and alcohol, established relationship, dialogue-driven

note: RAHHH I LOVE HUSBAND BAKUGO. anyways !!! i hope you like this, i did get a little carried away when writing it so hopefully it makes sense. thank you for your ask!!!

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <3

“And we’re on in five, four, three, two…give ‘em hell.” The roar of excited applause jumbles together with the late-night show’s opening theme and the screams of excited fans can still be heard even as Kirishima flashes a blinding smile to the camera. 

“Good evening, everyone, and welcome to Heroes on Heroes! We’re so glad you’re joining us tonight, seeing as this is the finale of season one!” The audience cheers with fiery passion and it makes the three heroes onstage chuckle nervously. This was going to be a long night, especially if the superfans were crying after every word they spoke. “I’m Red Riot,” he pauses while the cheering erupts once again, “and I’m joined by my fellow pros, Chargebolt and Dynamight.” You wince from your place at sidestage from the sheer wave of noise that slams into your eardrums when the latter is introduced. 

“Thanks for having us tonight, man,” Denki grins. He eagerly drums the armrests of his chair, to the left of Kirishima. “I’ve been looking forward to doing one of these since I saw Deku’s a few weeks back.” 

“It’s a great concept, really. I love being able to just chat with you guys and shoot the shit about hero stuff. It’s so manly.” Kirishima turns expectantly to the other hero sitting to his right, whose hot-headed nature was blatantly obvious by how he was slumped in his chair, squinting slightly at the burning spotlights and clicking cameras. You admire Kirishima’s confidence in forcing Katsuki to say something. “What about you, Bakugo? How’re you feeling tonight?” 

“I’m alright,” he shrugs indifferently. Your breath catches in your throat and you can hear the Dynamight agency’s publicist put his head in his hands. “It’s been a while, so it’s good to see you guys,” he adds with unexpected fondness and you exhale in relief. His eyes meet yours for half a second and he shoots you a wink that makes your knees wobbly. “I saw that save at the bridge collapse last week, Shitty Hair. Pretty decent work.” Kirishima blinks once, twice, and then glances at Denki. Katuski’s blank look narrows into a scowl. “The hell are you looking like that for? I got shit in my teeth or something?”

“No, no. Sorry, man,” Kirishima laughs. “I just wasn’t expecting a compliment from you so early in the show.”

“Yeah, we thought we’d have to booze you up a little more to get you to be nicer,” Denki jokes and he recoils a bit when he’s struck with a molten hot glare from the hero across from him. 

“Whatever you’re about to say, bro, don’t say it,” Kirishima warns and the crackles in Katsuki’s palms gradually dissipate. “But, I’m wondering too. What’s with the good mood?” 

“I guess I feel like playing nice tonight,” he answers cryptically, his gaze flicking over to you again with amusement. You can almost sense the fainting girls falling over each other in the front row. Kirishima’s attention subtly darts over to you and a knowing smirk grows over his face. It was the first time you and Katsuki were at the same press event, since you both thought it was too dangerous to sneak around until now. “But, talk about that bridge save. I don’t think a lot of people know that the guy was wanted by several agencies.”

“Ooh, yeah,” Denki agrees with a quick sip of his drink. He swallows and sets the glass down with a light thud. “He’d been giving us hell for weeks. It's not really the best matchup for a sand villain to be going up against an electric hero.”

“It was the sand villain and his wife, wasn’t it? That chick with the melting Quirk?”

“Yep, they were a nasty couple to deal with,” Kirishima confirms. “I had to keep track of this guy’s damn sand spikes and his wife turning the floor to goop at the same time.”

“Goop is a weird-ass way to put it,” Katsuki points out with obvious distaste. 

“Yeah, but he was a pretty goopy guy.” Chuckles ripple through the audience and you can’t help breaking a smile too at Kirishima’s joke. 

“I think for me, at least,” Denki adds, “the biggest pain was the fact that they were married, and they had, like, marriage telepathy or something.”

“Bro, I thought that was just me! Here I was, thinking that I’d incapacitated one and split them from the other, when bam! Both of them appear in front of me like a damn genie.” 

“You ever have to deal with villain couples, Bakubro?”

“Nah, not recently. We’ve been doing a lot of big raids on all the crime families downtown.” He flexes his right bicep and pulls back the sleeve of his shirt to show a gnarly purple spot growing on his skin. “Got this little beauty three days ago from a neo-Hassaikai asshole.” You're not fazed by the ugly shade of the wound because you were the one who stitched up the...less visible results of the raid.

“Jeez, man,” Denki says in disbelieving awe at his friend’s injury. “If you ever need backup, we’d love to do a team up with you.” 

“I think I’d rather die–”

“My agency would also love to team-up with you,” Kirishima interjects before Katsuki can finish his thought. The heart rate monitor of his publicist begins to rapidly beep behind you. “We can have a threeway team-up! That’d be pretty cool, don’t you guys think?” 

“What if we all just merged into one big super agency? Like a big family?”

“That sounds like the stupidest shit–” Again, Kirishima cuts off Katsuki’s brash protests and saves them from being taken off the air.

"That would be so awesome."

“Would that mean we’d have to get pro-hero partners, too? Keep hero work in the family?”

“I think Salonpas would have heart palpitations if we said we were trying to keep hero work within the family,” Katsuki points out and his friends nod in agreement. “On another fuckin’ note, that Half-and-Half idiot keeps hogging the number two spot and it pisses me off.” Though you didn’t often encounter Todoroki while you were on patrol, you knew that he was adamant about keeping work life and family life separate. It made him even more of a dedicated hero and a recent bust of a notorious crime ring bumped him into the number two spot over Dynamight for that month. You didn’t hear the end of it from Katsuki. 

“He and Deku just work really efficiently, Bakubro.”

“I can efficiently slam both their skulls into a–”

“You know what would solve that problem?” Denki butts in unceremoniously, covering up his harsh words for a third time. Katsuki grunts in response and the lightning-decorated hero gives him enthusiastic finger-guns. “Combining and making a family agency.”

“What are the chances that Sero would want to join too?”

“Probably pretty high,” Kirishima guesses. “He’s at my place every other week, anyway, so he’s basically my brother.”

“Alright, maybe this could actually work, then. I just need to find a smoking hot hero wife.”

“That’ll probably be the hardest part, buddy–”

“What about Bakugo?” You stiffen and the three guys turn their attention to a voice calling out from the audience. Speaking during the interviews was strictly prohibited until the question and answer section, but getting Katsuki’s attention was a surefire way to derail the entire episode.

“The fuck do you mean, what about Bakugo? Who the fuck said that?”

"Dude, just ignore them."

“Can’t be a family agency if Bakugo never gets into relationships,” the same nasally, irritating voice argues and your face feels like it’s been set on fire. Kirishima’s attention jumps to you for a moment and then back to his friend, whose palms are starting to spark like fireworks. “Do you just get no bitches, or something?” The audience gasps and security finally arrives to escort the disturbance out of the building. The director is ready to stop the cameras and jump to a commercial break, but Katsuki speaks before he can order the sound crew to cut the mics. To everyone’s surprise, his voice is nothing but amusement, like the insinuation didn’t bother him in the slightest. 

“You think I don’t get into relationships?”

“Bakugo…”

“It’s alright, Pikachu. I really don’t give a shit about whatever that guy said,” Katsuki reassures his friend with a sly glint in his eye. His friends watch him warily, like a grenade on the verge of exploding. Once again, burning red eyes meet yours with a single question that you answer with a resolute nod. “I’m not gonna blow up, so stop looking like that. Really, I don’t care.”

“Why not?” A tense beat of silence passes, then–

“I thought you people knew that I’m married.” A shit-eating grin spreads across your husband’s face as gasps of shock burst from the audience. Kirishima and Denki both shake their heads in exasperation. They knew already, of course, but they didn’t expect him to reveal his relationship status as a result of a heckler. “Yep, going on a year and a half, now. Around five years together total coming this winter.” More collective cries of jealousy, surprise, and betrayal shake the building’s foundation. "If you don't believe me, ask these guys."

"Yeah, we were at the wedding, too. It's hard to keep it a secret when all of your friends are also high-profile heroes."

“Can you guys believe that he fell in love during the winter?” Denki’s thumb juts out toward his friend, who frowns at the mere mention of cold weather.

“I fucking hate the winter,” he grumbles. 

“We know, man,” Kirishima says sympathetically, unsuccessfully hiding a chuckle. “You’ve been saying that since high school.”

“Yeah, and shit hasn’t changed,” Katsuki bites back with lighthearted indignance. “Look, they saved my ass when it was cold; how was I not supposed to fall in love with them?” To your delight, his complexion has turned a slightly darker shade of pink. “Yeah, I love them. What about it, asshats?”

“Is this a bad time to bring up the family agency again?”

“Let’s go to commercial before I blow this fucking chair to pieces.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[kingkatsuki]

One day Bakugou will tell you how he feels about you, but today is not that day.

No but really, why do girls always type the most filth with the straightest faces while the guy on the other end is probably losing his shit😭😂

“Why do you even bother with this shit?”

You don’t even attempt to shield your phone, it’s nothing that your boss hasn’t seen a million times before. Your face is bored as you swipe through the options, leaning against your desk with your coat and bag on ready to leave the agency for the day as you wait for Bakugou.

To most it was probably peculiar for you to be leaving at the same time as the number two hero, but it had become almost a tradition for you to both grab gyoza at the small ramen bar down the street each Thursday after work. It was a place that Bakugou had found by chance one evening when he stopped a petty villain stealing the cash register off-duty. An act that wasn’t forgotten by the kind owner who offered him free gyoza for life— but he’d always leave his money on the table. The food was good, and the atmosphere quiet, just how he liked it. And you had too the first time he’d invited you after your train home was cancelled.

It almost felt like an unlabelled date night, the two of you laughing over gyoza and asahi away from the stress of the outside world for an hour before he’d walk you to the station and wait for your train before making his way to his platform. A slew of food photos and selfies saved in your phone that could indicate a blossoming relationship if they were posted on your socials, and not saved in your camera roll. And perhaps it could be a date— if Bakugou would ever admit his feelings for you.

“Look at what he said to me the other day,” Your fingers scroll up on your phone screen and Bakugou takes the opportunity to look at the way the light shines off your cheeks, feeling that familiar warmth begin to burn like it always does when he thinks of you, “It was so embarrassing.”

Bakugou squints at the screen, trying to read the text without his glasses as his face swiftly contorts to disgust. He doesn’t need to read the whole message to know the guy is an absolute fucking douchebag—

“He wants to what?!” Bakugou’s blush tickles the tips of his ears as he pulls back to make eye contact with you, “How would you even get in that position?”

“You’d be surprised—” You laugh, light and airy, and it has Bakugou leaning against the side of your desk to stop himself from tumbling forward.

“I refuse to believe that works on anyone.” He snorts as he shrugs his own coat on, switching the light off as you both walk towards the elevator.

“Call it the best of a bad bunch,” You laugh, stepping into the lift as you show him the screen again. This time it’s a conversation that has his throat dry as he immediately focuses on your messages. Just the right amount of innocence piled high with implication as he thought about you texting him like that.

“Guy sounds like a fuckin’ loser,” Bakugou plays it off, jabbing the ground floor button with a little more aggression than necessary as the doors close behind you.

“He seems okay,” You mumble, “He works at Deku’s agency.”

“Definitely a loser then.” He sneers.

“Stop.” You grin at him, and Bakugou has to stop his heart from leaping from his chest from how hard and fast it beats.

“What rank is he?” Bakugou scrunches his nose. He better be at least top twenty before he even thinks about having a chance with someone as perfect as you, and even then that wouldn’t be enough.

“He’s still a sidekick, actually.” You laugh, “I got enough Pro-Hero stress dealing with you.”

“Ya better not be thinking about jumping ship.”

“You know I’d never.” You reply truthfully, “I’m a Dynamight girl til I die.”

Bakugou’s cheeks flushed pink at your admission, heart swelled with pride as he let your words stroke his ego.

“Yeah, ya better be.” Bakugou watched in amusement as you kept a straight face as you texted him back, wondering whether you were keeping the conversation sweet or suggestive. Would you look the same if you were texting him like this? Bored and uninterested as you spewed word after word of crass dialogue. He hoped you’d enjoy it like he would, sending flirty messages that would have him grinning at the screen.

“You’re replying to him wantin’ to eat you out with a straight face.”

“Yeah,” You scoffed, “The best of a bad bunch, I guess. At least he hasn’t asked for any nudes yet.”

Bakugou scrunched his nose in irritation at the thought of anyone getting to see that. The selfish part of him wishing that he could be the one that you’d send those photographs to. Posing in the prettiest mesh and lace as you posed for the camera, or maybe sending him a video of you strewn back against tousled sheets. Fingers buried inside your wet, warm heat as you cried out his name.

“You’re textin’ the wrong people,” He shakes his head, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets, “You deserve better.”

“Where am I gonna find better?” You smile over your phone screen towards him, “Especially in this city.”

“I think you’re looking in the wrong places.”

“Wherever I look I just find the same stupid guys.” You sigh, shoving your phone away as you walk towards the exit, giving a smile and wave to the evening security guard as Bakugou nods his head.

Holding the glass door open for you to walk through first, “Yeah, we suck.”

[ilygetou]

heyy love ! can I request a villain izuku ! x female reader ! I would like to see reader being a spoiled “ daddy’s gurl “ n’ izuku is sent on a mission to kidnapp her n’ make her dad pay off the debt to him 👙 the drabble is nsfw of course ! also kinks can be : degrading, dumfriction, pet play n’ a bit of body worship ! ( you can write this request only if you’re comfortable with it / have motivation for it ! )

DEBT COLLECTOR, IZUKU MIDORIYA.

Oh no! your father forgot to pay back some debt! :( & that resulted in having an infamous villain; izuku midoriya more known as “deku” to come and kidnap you and force you to stay at his hideout until your father pays back his debt. But! your father seems to be hiding somewhere to avoid paying back his debt, oh well! izuku has no choice but to send your father a little video tape that may convince him to come out and pay back his missing debt! <3

CW. dubcon, kidnapping, pet play, usage of pet names, orgasm denial, edging, kinda bimbo! reader, degrading (he’s v mean), overstimulation, face fucking (sorta?), non con recording, blackmailing, size kink, finger sucking, cum swallowing, facial, doggystyle, choking, hair pulling, pussy slapping (1), dacryphilia, dumbification, spitting, & creampie.

note. this took way too long i’m so sorry😭 i put my whole pussy into this, it’s like 4,500 words</3

Getting sent into a mission to kidnap an innocent girl because of her father forgetting to pay back some debt? the villain could almost feel bad, poor you getting dragged into this huge mess just because of your careless father.

but izuku isn’t the type of person who would turn down a huge sum of money. At first, he didn’t want to do this mission but the person who assigned him the mission promised him a huge amount of money if he did the job correctly. And now that money was involved, he couldn’t say no, he could never say no to money.

izuku is pretty confident about his strength & skills so kidnapping you should be a piece of cake. His plan went on like this; 1. kidnap you 2. threaten your father by using you as a hostage 3. your father paying up the money he forgot to pay back 4. releasing you. 5. getting his paycheck.

pretty nice, easy plan if you ask izuku.

you were currently out, on your way back home. Izuku was hiding inside his van behind a huge sign covering his vehicle, you had a grin plastered on your face, lips plum n’ glossy as you were chewing a bubble gum, your shirt too tight and small — your breasts particularly spilling out the skimpy top, your skirt was short if you just try to bend over izuku is pretty sure anyone behind you would get a perfect view of your ass.

well this should be interesting for izuku. He thought he’d be dealing with a decent looking girl, not too pretty and not ugly either but probably wouldn’t pique the villains interest. but by the looks of it he will be dealing with a slutty one, a very gorgeous one if he may add.

izuku hopped off his van, watching from a distance how you made your way into a quieter area that was not so full with people, this would make the job easier for izuku.

izuku approached you, hands in his pockets with a fake-smile on his face. “hello, y/n if i may assume?” the green haired villain uttered in a sweet, soft voice. you immediately looked up at him with a small smile, “yes? do i know you?” izuku chuckled as he removed a hair strand from your face, “i’m one of your fathers good friends, been friends with your old man for a long time” izuku came with a half assed lie that you immediately believed.

you snorted out a laugh, “my father? you know him? but you look young to be friends with my father” izuku patted your head before bending down and whispering something in your ear, “let’s go talk in a more private area, yeah?” you squint your eyes in suspicion before nodding your head, the freckles covering the guy's face and his sweet smile along with his soft voice made you trust him so easily.

izuku smirked as you continued following behind him, the dumb smile you had on your face as you hummed a song not knowing what was about to happen to you as you kept following izuku to where he had his vehicle parked.

izuku stopped in his tracks, you raised a brow in confusion before eyeing the big white van in front of you — “is this your..what should I call it? erm.. car?” you snorted, a small laugh escaping you. You were obviously making fun of him, mocking him even. Izuku clicked his tongue, do you really think an infamous villain like him would be driving an old vehicle like this? Izuku let out a sigh before his fake smile returned back, “yes, it’s kinda in a bad shape though, got into so many accidents.”

you didn’t respond to midoriya and gave him your back as you started inspecting the vehicle, it was white & dirty, it also looked old. It’s definitely not something you’d never step your foot in. While you were taking your sweet time, midoriya took out a piece of cloth and without making any noises — he slowly creeped up from behind and placed it on your mouth.

Your eyes widened in shock, you tried to struggle but izuku was much bigger and stronger than you. You kept trying to get out of his grasp before you slowly began losing consciousness. “well, that wasn’t so hard,” midoriya chuckled to himself.

You started regaining consciousness, your vision was a bit blurry, you saw a muscular figure approaching you and your eyes immediately widened. You immediately got reminded of everything that happened a few hours ago, you tried moving but found yourself unable to, your hands were chained against the wall but your legs were free, you tried speaking up only for your voice to be muffled from the duct tape covering your mouth.

“oh? you’re already up? took you long enough” the figure in front of you spoke and you immediately recognized it as the sweet man from earlier. Who also claimed to be one of “your father’s good friends.” You had a semi-confused look on your face, making midoriya look you up and down before slowly bending down to reach your face, “listen here sweetheart, your father forgot to pay back some debit that he was supposed to pay a long time ago but because of someone (you) your father had some hard timing paying it all back” izuku paused for a moment, scanning the look on your face.

“And, until your father pays all the money back, you’ll be held back here, don’t worry nothing will happen to you at least i haven’t been assigned to do anything to you, yet” your eyes were filled with terror, you had so much stuff to say but that stupid tape wasn’t giving you a chance to do so.

For the past two hours, you’ve been trying to break free from the chains — izuku was watching you from a distance do so, your breasts bouncing everytime you moved which made this worthwhile of midoriya’s time.

“careful there, if you move again you may accidentally flash me your tits” you felt your face heat up in embarrassment, your eyes slightly twitching in annoyance. Izuku’s attention went from you to his buzzing phone, he took out his phone and answered the call without looking at the caller id.

“yeah she’s here” “no, she won’t be going anywhere i chained her up” “mhm, i’ll see what i can do” “yeah, i’ll give you updates” “oh? anything? alright then.” you seemed to be confused by the villain’s nonchalantly responses, he then soon ended the call and his attention was all fixed on you.

“that was my ‘boss’, he called for updates on the situation... nevermind that though, he said i can do anything i want with you since your father seems to be hiding somewhere to escape paying back his debt, too bad for you.” your eyes widened in shock, your father was not in debt. you were sure of that.

your father was a nice, sweet, gentleman that everyone liked and trusted. He never loaned money from anyone, at least that’s what you thought. Your father spoiled you with expensive stuff all the time, bags, make-up, clothes, and a new car every year.

It was so obvious that your father loved you so, so much. So, why is he not telling the cops about this? Is he not concerned about you or your safety? You’ve been gone for almost half of the day.

Izuku has snapped you out of your thoughts when he suddenly removed the duct tape from your mouth, you started panting heavily, trying to catch your breath.

Once you did, you looked at izuku with narrowed eyes, “my father is not in debt! you’re lying!” izuku simply let out a scoff and rolled his eyes, “you don’t have to believe me, but we have to make a small video for your father, could you help me with that?” the villain took out a camera and shaked it around, you cocked your head in confusion.

“what kind of video?” and the villain smirked, “oh, you’ll see soon enough, just have to take those chains off, and don’t try running away, boss said i could hurt you if you misbehaved and you don’t want that, right?”

your brows furrowed before you hesitantly nodded your head, once midoriya took off your chains – you let out a sigh of relief, your arms were sore from being in the same position for so long. “What are we going – oh yeah! sir, you haven’t told me your name?” The green haired villain found it unusual that you’re talking to him with such a calm tone, as if you aren’t being held captive right now.

“My name isn’t that important” he replied, you frowned at his nonchalant reply, “but what am i supposed to call you? mr.green hair?” you whined, izuku bit his lips hard, trying to hold himself not to cuss at you right now. “It’s izuku” he finally said, “izuku? Oh! Are you that bad guy who goes by the name deku?” midoriya has no time to answer your questions, he ignores you – he has more important things to do, for example recording that stupid video for your father.

As izuku was setting up the camera and the stuff he needed to record the video you were bombarding him with questions, he couldn't believe that despite the situation you’re in you still remained calm — not only that but you also knew who he was. Usually once someone hears his name they would tremble in fear, some might even fall on their knees as they shake in fear.

You probably didn’t know about his heinous crimes, he wasn’t surprised – you don’t look like someone who would be interested in what’s happening around the world.

Once midoriya got everything done, he clicked his tongue, he turned to you only to find you already inspecting the stuff on the table he let out an annoyed sigh “i need you to sit on that chair” he pointed towards a metal chair that looked uncomfortable to sit on. The villain’s gaze was serious & you were pretty sure he was getting tired of you & your questions. Which was true, izuku wanted this to end quickly.

Once you were seated on the chair, izuku came up from behind you & held both of your wrists together & then tied them behind the chair. You slowly started to panic when he brought out a blindfold & placed it on your eyes — “what’re you doing..?” izuku could hear a hint of fear in your voice which made him smirk.

“don’t worry, i won’t hurt you,” he raised your chin to make you look at him even though you can’t actually see him because of the blindfold but you can sense him standing in front of you.

You heard the sound of the camera turning on, “it’s recording” the guy standing in front of you muttered, your breath hitched – nervous about what type of video you two were about to record.

“open up” you hesitantly opened your mouth, your figure shaking a bit for what’s awaiting you. Izuku places two of his long, slender fingers on your tongue. “Now suck on ’em” & you obey by wrapping your lips around his fingers, sucking on them like you’re sucking on lollipops.

This goes on for a quite a while—until the villain finally decides to take out his fingers which were now drenched with your saliva. He smeared your saliva on his clothes, in an attempt to remove the essence from his fingers. Without any further warning or instructions from the green-haired man, you were suddenly pulled into a kiss, a messy one.

You were taken aback from his sudden actions, his tongue was in your mouth, he was exploring every part of your mouth with his tongue until salvia started dripping down from both of your chins. That’s when he decided to pull out of the kiss. You were trying to catch your breath when you suddenly heard the sound of a belt being undone and getting thrown onto the floor—creating a loud thud that startled you.

Izuku had his cock out, it was slightly curving upwards with veins running along the underside, his slit dripping with pre-cum from you sucking on his fingers earlier, he held it with one hand��his other hand going to grab a pair of...cat ears? “here, ’m gonna have you wear those,” he places the cat ears on top of your head, positioning it to fit your head perfectly.

Izuku starts slowly stroking his dick, rubbing the tip with his big thumbs before going to grab another thing from on top of the table. A collar and a leash.

He tied the leash to the collar before he wrapped the collar around your neck, you were confused. You couldn’t see anything because of the blindfold blocking your vision so you didn’t know what izuku was up to.

Once the villain saw you with the leash & cat ears on, he immediately smirked & turned towards the camera “Now Mr. L/n, how do you like your daughter being treated like a damn animal?” you were even more confused, animal? huh? You were suddenly snapped out of your thoughts when you felt yourself being pulled—izuku pulled you by the leash & forced your face down to get closer to his throbbing cock.

Izuku has a massive grin on his face as he places the tip of his dick on your lips and starts smearing his pre-cum all over your lips before telling you to open up again. At first you were scared to listen until izuku repeated himself once more but this time, his voice came out raspy and aggressive making you obey him immediately.

Izuku shoved his cock into your mouth as soon as you gave him access to it, you felt the air getting knocked out of you. He was big & thick, your mouth was so full with his dick, midoriya suddenly thrust his hips, “suck” he orders & you start by sucking on his mushroom tip, giving his tip the attention it deserves.

You weren’t aware that the camera was now zoomed on you capturing how the infamous villain’s cock was fully stuffed in your mouth, izuku held the camera with both hands, zooming on your face—the blindfold covering your beautiful eyes, but your tears stains were visible on the black blindfold—he zoomed on your mouth, leaving some space to show how his cock was all the way in your little mouth, your lip gloss smudged all over your face as you struggled to take izuku’s cock fully.

You stretched your tongue to caress the underside of izuku’s dick, another futile attempt to try and take him full, you began hollowing your cheeks & bobbing your head up & down his cock. Salvia kept dripping from the side of your chin as you tried to satisfy the villain. Izuku groaned, a heavy sigh leaving him from his sensitive tip being engulfed by your warm throat.

Izuku holds the camera with one hand, his other hand now resting on his hair as he bites his lips so hard to hold back any sound from slipping—he only lets out a curse before cumming down your throat.

“Ah, what a slut, now why don’t you swallow & show the camera?” he focuses the camera on your face, waiting for you to swallow his warm fluids. You nervously gulped down his semen. “Open wide,” and you obliged, your mouth was wide open with your tongue slightly out to show deku that you listened & swallowed all his cum.

Izuku placed the camera back on the table, he went back behind you and untied the ropes that held your wrists together—the blindfold still on though. “get on all fours” he orders, you really didn’t comprehend what deku said, you were still trying to catch your breath. Izuku kissed his teeth, showing hints of annoyance. “I don’t like repeating myself,” izuku rolled his eyes before pulling you by the leash again, making you let out a yelp—he was pulling so hard you were basically choking.

You coughed a few times before doing as you were told, you got on all fours, slightly arching your back in a way that had your ass all out, your skirt rose up to your back—flashing the villain your white panties that hugged your pussy lips so well. Izuku smirked, bringing the camera and moving it closer to your ass, he brought two fingers, the same ones you sucked on—and started massaging your cunt from above your panties, moving his fingers at a slow, teasing pace.

As izuku continued doing so, he noticed a wet patch forming on your underwear. He pulled down the fabric, your glistening pussy all exposed for him now. You shivered once you felt his fingers running through your folds, “d-don’t” izuku scoffed, why were you giving izuku orders? Do you know who you’re speaking to right now? Without any reply or further movements from izuku you thought he listened & decided to stop. Only for you to suddenly gasp and wince in pain once you felt a harsh slap land on your pussy, causing your body to wobble and for you to let out a sob.

“don’t ever try telling me what to & what not to do, nor try defying my orders, do you even understand who’s standing in front of you right now?” you quickly nodded your head, low sobs leaving as you continually nodded your head—izuku let out a frustrated sigh, if only you weren’t this arrogant & just stayed quietly and did as izuku told you. That would’ve made the job way easier for the villain.

Izuku slowly started stroking his dick, his other free hands roaming and touching your ass, his fingers getting in between your folds n’ spreading them, revealing your tight hole to him. He fastened his movements, he quickly gripped your hair—forcing you to face him, your face so close to his twitching cock before ropes of his thick cum completely covered your face. You tensed up at the new feeling, his cum so hot it slightly burns your face, the blindfold also getting stained.

Izuku made sure to capture that on video, a wide grin spread across his face. “you look better like this” izuku pushed you down, pressing your upper body to the floor while your ass was high up in the air, two of his fingers were teasing your little cunt—you whined in frustration.

Having the blindfold blocking your view, a collar around your neck that was kinda small you felt like it was slowly choking you, and having izuku tease you in any way he wanted was all too frustrating, you couldn’t take it.

Izuku pushed two fingers, your walls immediately clamping and fluttering around his fingers, izuku chuckled—were you enjoying this? “c’mon kitten, are you serious?” he said in a teasing tone that had you filled up with embarrassment, “i’m not! What are y-you sa—!” izuku started thrusting his fingers in n’ out of your gooey cunt, cutting you off.

He moved the camera to the view of his skilled fingers going in n’ out of your pussy, capturing how slick kept dripping and coating his fingers and the way his fingers kept thrusting at a rapid speed that had your body start to slightly shake.

You tried your hardest to hold in your moans, to prove that you’re not enjoying this, that you didn’t like it at all. But your body failed you, coherent moans falling from your mouth with every thrust of his fingers, making izuku snicker.

Your moans turned into whimpers when izuku withdrew his fingers from your pussy, you were so close to your release—you let out a sob and a whimper of the villain’s name.

Not giving you any mind, izuku rubbed the tip against your clit, he kept repeating the same motion until your clit became all swollen n’ puffy—izuku slowly aligned his cock with your entrance, with a rough thrust of his hips, he was already fully inside you.

“n-no..can’t take it! please pull out!” you plead, izuku was stretching you wide open with his sheer size, tears started forming on the corner of your eyes, your mouth hang ajar, “big…i can’t” you kept babbling and all could izuku do was smirk, your pleadings and babbling only boosted his ego—giving you an experimental thrust just for you to let out a sob.

After a while of slow, sloppy thrusts you slightly got used to his size. Low, muffled whimpers leaving you with every thrust.

His dick was massaging your insides, with every slam of izuku’s hips, lewd sounds fell from your mouth, izuku picked up his pace, placing one of his hands on your hips to pull you closer—his other hand busy holding the camera.

He pounded into you from behind low grunts & moans leaving him, his dick hitting your sweet spot with every rough thrust of his hips—your walls clamping & fluttering around his cock. “Ah—shit, knew you liked that—fucking slut” he grunts, his pace remaining steady and rough.

“what’d you think your father will do once he watches this video?” his hands traveling to play with your clit, your breath hitched, your tongue lolled out—unable to answer the villain’s question. “Well, it’s not like i care about what he’ll do—it’s not my problem.”

Your blindfold got loose completely falling off, you were met with the wall in front of you. Your vision getting blurry from the tears that were about to form. You couldn’t see what kind of face or expression izuku has as he was fucking you from behind. You could only hear his low groans and moans.

Izuku pulled your hair, you threw your head backwards as you met izuku’s gaze, he placed his hands on your chin and forced open your mouth. Staring from above you was a mischievous looking izuku, you were lost in thought, your eyes glued to the green haired man’s eyes while your mind was all fuzzy from the feeling of izuku’s cock messing your insides.

Suddenly, you felt a glob of warm spit surfing on your tongue. And that’s when it hit you, izuku spat on your tongue, your eyes widened—as if you were just brought back to reality. “Come on, swallow” he grunts, impatient. And the way he stared at you with daunting eyes sent a shiver down your spine, his grip on you was strong, his eyes settled on your face and you hesitantly swallowed down his spit, your face scrunched up in disgust. Izuku grinned before resuming to his brutal pace, knocking the air out of you.

His tip kept hitting your cervix, earning filthy, lewd sounds from you. Your face was all messed up, your makeup melted, your cheeks were stained with tears from earlier, and your mouth hung open—drool dripping with every thrust of his hips. You couldn’t take it—you really couldn’t, his cock kept hitting your deepest spots which made you lose your mind, your body went limp, as you felt your orgasm getting closer and closer.

Izuku was getting closer too, the way his cock twitched inside you every time your walls hugged his dick was getting him closer and closer. Izuku pulled your lesh, a choked moan left you—whining as he kept pulling it until you could barely breathe. His cock pulsates by the warmth of your little cunt. “Ah fuck, i know i said i wanted this to end quickly but holy shit kitten, didn’t know you would feel this good.”

Your cat ears that were placed on your head slightly falling off with every jolt of the villain’s hips. He threw his head back, his dick spasmed before filling up your pussy with white globs of cum. Izuku paused for a moment to catch his breath, Afterwards izuku turned off the camera and placed it anywhere besides him. He then pulled your head backwards to inspect your expression.

You had the same fucked out expression as earlier, the only difference was that you were trying to catch your breath as well—small puffs leaving you, your face was hot but, you still didn’t reach orgasm. Which left you unsatisfied.

Your body was already overstimulated and you knew that you couldn’t take any more but the aching feeling between your legs and the knot in your stomach made you crave for more. “i-izuku…i need more, please! still didn’t cum yet..” you whisper, hoping the villain heard you.

Izuku laughed, instead of getting a “alright” you received a laugh fit from the villain. “Did i fuck you too dumb that you forgot who you’re talking to?” izuku pulled you off his cock, his cum leaking from your small hole and staining the floor beneath you, “did you forget that you’re kidnapped? And is used as a hostage? I’m doing this for the money, I have no obligations to fulfill your needs.” he threw at you, and you felt your eyes swell up with tears.

You were not used to this kind of treatment. No, you were used to getting everything you want and need, no one has ever said the word “no” to you, so hearing it—no, hearing it in a rather aggressive manner made you cry, your cheeks already stained with tears.

Izuku clicked his tongue, he tried to ignore your cries and tug his cock into his pants but your crying and whining made his cock twitch back into life. A loud annoyed sigh left him, “if you want to cum this badly, then you could suck me off while also playing with your little pussy, how does that sound?”

You went quiet for a moment, it still doesn’t sound so fulfilling, since you’re still going to work for your orgasm yourself. But maybe having the villain’s cock in your mouth would make you finish faster?

While you took your sweet time thinking, izuku was going through your sex tape with him. And suddenly, his phone buzzed, a text message notification from his ‘boss’—the guy who assigned him this mission. Izuku read it and his eyes twitched, his expression falling into a not so pleasant one.

Before you could give izuku your answer he spoke up; “seems like your father has already paid up, so this thing–” he waved the camera that had a view of your back getting blowed by him before speaking up again; “this things is useless now, really wanted to sent it to your dad though” he grumbles, in disappointment.

“At least my mission is now done, you could go back to being ‘daddy’s spoiled brat’” you pouted, eyebrows knitted together, “But what about—” izuku caught you off, “Yeah I know, you think i’m about to get blue balled as well?” he shrugs before pulling down his pants.

[sugurouge]

— a fire in a flask : lucilfer chrollo x f!reader

content warnings! rope play, possessive themes, jealousy, bratty reader, hair pulling, pet names (sweetheart, kitten, dear), dubcon, asphyxiation & marking @ chrollo, deep throating, rough sex, condescending chrollo, mentions of murder, spit, impact play

summary: after some heavy convincing, chrollo agreed to let you have full control over your play date tonight. unfortunately, the scenario you had imagined takes a different turn once you start dancing too close to the flame

wordcount: 2.2k | my kinktober masterlist

a/n: if you have stumbled across this fic on ao3 it is due to a tag issue i had on tumblr a little while ago

Not much can cause Chrollo to breathe unsteadily; barely anything could take him by surprise. Yet here he is, without power, without control—at your complete mercy. The rope cuts into his taut muscles, the contrast of red against his pale skin is strikingly beautiful. And the groan that escapes his lips something so utterly satisfying as your heel digs into his chest, accompanied by the warning words of, "No, no, you promised me full reign tonight. So behave, Chrollo." You grant him a glimpse of your bare pussy hidden beneath your skimpy dress while pushing him further back into the chair, reminding him to hold still.

"If I had known what you had in mind when you asked for control, I would have never agreed. Why can't you just ride me like all the other girls did?" A sharp hiss cuts off his complaints, teeth digging into the inside of his cheek as eyes filled with anger meet your delighted ones. "Don't tell me about your other flings... I don't like feeling jealous."

With a click of your heel against the ground, you return to standing on both feet and take a step back, allowing yourself a moment to rake your eyes over the exposed figure of your partner. You've made sure to bind him tightly to the chair, rope laced around his upper body and tied securely behind his back. But it's the nearly murderous intent in his dark eyes that really excites you. Being a brat is already so much fun, but being an insufferable demon in full control over the leader of a villainous group? Yeah, it's hard to imagine going back to being submissive.

"Are you done staring? Sweetheart, you're drooling." His smooth-talking voice returns, cockiness and arrogance painting a rather smug expression on his face—one you wish to wipe off. Yet as you remain unnervingly calm, you tick something off in Chrollo's brain, prompting him to nearly ramble. "Hm? Don’t tell me you've already run out of ideas? Tying me up can’t possibly be the beginning and end of your little fantasies. I thought you were smarter than that..."

One step, two steps, three steps, and you're closer than ever before. You bend down, eye to eye with someone who could kill you in an instant, to give him a show of your cleavage nearly spilling from its confines. Your fingers dig into Chrollo's cheeks, forcing his chin to tilt up as you search his eyes for something he can't quite decipher. You're not supposed to be an enigma to him; he’s used to reading you like an open book. That victorious chuckle of yours causes his eyes to squint in suspicion—he's getting nervous.

"Can I not stare at what belongs to me?" your soft voice whispers, almost too lovingly, a cat-like grin spreading across your face before you giggle. "You're mine, and I'm yours," you continue as you straddle his lap, your arms snaking around his neck while you arch your back to press your hips against his. The frilly dress you chose to wear for him rides up your hips, and Chrollo's fingers ache to dig into the soft flesh of your ass. Nose to nose, you turn soft, sickly sweet, as your lips capture his in a fiery kiss, tongues brushing against each other while your nails tease his scalp and neck. Your fingers curl into his dark strands, tugging until he grunts into the kiss—a fitting punishment for not reciprocating your affectionate words.

How could he focus on your words when his mind is occupied with finding a way out of these restraints? He tries to keep some blood in his brain, tries not to show just how much your little display turns him on. But it’s nearly impossible with the roll of your hips against him, with your plush breasts bouncing and pressing against his chest. "You're going to torture me because of my little act during the mission, aren’t you?" he finally deciphers, the possessive themes of the night at last forming a cohesive puzzle as Chrollo allows himself a moment to think. You need to hide your expression from him, need to avoid eye contact before he reads the answer from your face and makes you crumble in the palm of his hand.

"Think what you will," you sigh against the shell of his ear, praying that your lips on his neck and nails on his chest inflict enough sensations, painting his skin pink, purple, and red to distract him from thinking about your motives. You feel the moan vibrating through his body.

"If you tell me what you want, I might give it to you," you whisper against his skin, confident that he hears every word of yours. Your eyes flicker sideways to meet his hard stare. Chrollo is not much of a talker in these circumstances—his expression is usually enough to get people to behave. But in your case, it only spurs you on further. "Maybe you'll have to beg a little, but that wouldn't hurt, right?" His jaw tightens in response, lips pressing into a thin line, his eyes narrowing as his lids drop. Chrollo humours you by leaning in, the tip of his nose brushing along your jaw before he speaks into your ear: "Once I'm free, you'd better run for your life." The sparks that go off in your mind trickle all over your skin in the form of shivers and goosebumps.

"Baby..." you try to respond, but fuck, is that really your voice? You sound so aroused, it even catches Chrollo off guard. Maybe he's been too nice to you during your playtimes all along. Your eyes fall shut as your lips meet again, and you practically devour him, sucking the air from his lungs with a feverish kiss. One of your knees finds rest between his spread thighs while you cradle his neck in your hands, forcing him into submission as you lean above him.

You finally understand why he enjoys to torture you once you see the desperate mess you've turned him into: chest heaving and flushed, cheeks heated brightly as the red colour clashes with his messy black strands falling over his features. Your lips move on their own, forming words he would usually bring your way if the roles were reversed. "Such a pretty mess for me," you sigh in adoration before the creaking of the chair startles you slightly and turns you silent. You never expected Chrollo to be a man of sheer force to break free, but fortunately, the chair and rope are too sturdy to break that easily.

"You really wish to keep messing with me?" He warns lowly, his patience is starting to wear thin. Lucky for you, Chrollo's restraints only tighten further around his frame as he struggles, the friction burning his skin and making him moan—in pain or pleasure? "Do I look like someone who will surrender? You know better than that, kitten..."

The hands around his neck catch him off guard. You never expected yourself to hold him the way you love to be held, never thought your fingertips would push into his skin and constrict his breathing. But his shocked expression tells the tale, conveying his own surprise upon how brave you have grown to become.

"I told you to beg, Chrollo," you mouth against his lips, your thigh pushing against his cock. No matter how much he pretends to struggle and despise this, the hardness of his cock is evidence enough for you to continue.

"You won't make me do anything of the sort, sweetheart," Chrollo bites back, his pet names turning sour, you notice. Maybe playing with fire will get you burned. But he's tied up well—you made sure of that.

Actions speak louder than words—that’s the motto that guides you as you harshly release his face, pushing him back into his chair to do with his body as you please. Your fingers loop around the tight rope as you explore his body, tugging and tightening his prison, forcing reactions from his lips. Sharp hisses and low warnings to "Stop messing around" have long replaced his little act of keeping it all together. But how could you stop now? Not when you much prefer scratching over his abdomen and rubbing your palm over his clothed erection before unbuttoning his trousers to finally free his aching length. Chrollo would never deny himself pleasure—you know that much about him.

Hence why you push his thighs to spread further as you go down on your knees before him, your lips blowing cooling puffs of air over his cock. "Sure you don’t want to beg me to give you more?" your eyes flicker up to meet his lust-filled ones. Chrollo looks unnervingly calm given the circumstances, yet the alarm bells inside your mind take too long to go off.

"You will give me more, whether you want to or not." Chrollo watches with delight as your expression sours. All these emotions and thoughts running laps behind your pretty eyes—he can see them clearly. Good, be scared of him.

You take too long. Unfortunately, you are always two steps behind him.

"Too slow," his final warning, just before the ropes come undone in an instant. His large palm lands on the back of your neck, holding your face right in front of his crotch. "How!?" you whine pathetically, much to Chrollo's amusement. But he has no time for this farce anymore. Better to make you shut up, make you regret acting out like this. His free hand wraps around his cock, pushing the tip against your lips, tapping against your closed mouth once, twice, before the hand on your neck moves to grasp your jaw and force it open.

"C’mon, dear, don’t act like you didn’t want this to happen," he huffs while shoving his length into your mouth. There’s no mercy in his moves—not with the way Chrollo holds down your head, pressing your lips against the base of his cock until you choke on pre-cum, saliva, and his girth. "You’re in trouble now," he pants the warning over your back as he leans forward, blunt fingertips dragging over your spine while the fingers of his free hand fist strands of your hair. With little care for your scalp, he pulls you off, only to bring you forward to choke on his cock, again and again.

Chrollo bathes you in his moans, not bothering to hide the devious chuckles that mix with his sounds of pleasure as you cry for breath, your knees enduring the bruising pain of the rough carpet beneath you. "Can’t—can’t hear you, repeat that for me," he mocks as you try to protest his relentless assault. Your throat burns, your vision is blurred by tears spilling over your lash line. You smell only Chrollo, taste only Chrollo, feel only Chrollo. It’s too much to handle.

"Beg for me, huh? Beg for me to be nice and I might just be," yet the grip in your hair only tightens before he pulls you off. He wears a poker face, an expression devoid of emotion as he stares into your frightened one, basking in your pitiful state—puffy lips, tear-stained cheeks, and messy hair.

"Beg," he repeats, just as harshly as you did once before. One, two, Chrollo’s patience is already running thin thanks to your earlier games. Why even bother being nice?

"Chro��" you begin, only for him to shove you onto him again. "Scratch that, sweetheart—you brought this upon yourself."

You fully did. What were you even thinking when you tried to control a man like Chrollo? Did you really expect him to let you do whatever you wanted with him when he could, instead, face-fuck you until your filthy mouth is stuffed with his cum? All your mockery will now become a painful memory, a reminder of your place. A brat like you doesn’t deserve more than to be used without receiving any pleasure in return—your aching pussy will serve as a memento until your next encounter with Chrollo. You’d better not touch yourself until then.

divider by @/cafekitsune

[moonchild701]

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Finders Keepers

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[NSFW] ‼ 18+ >MDNI<

Summary: Dabi finds you knocked out in an alley at the end of your patrol. You're pretty, so he decides to keep you.

Pairing: Dabi/Hero Fem Reader

Content Warning: Noncon/Dubcon, Kidnapping, Nonconsensual Bondage. Spanking, Cunnilingus, Choking, Self Deprecation, Victim Blaming, Degradation, Mind Break, No use of Y/N

Word Count: 4.8k

Disclaimer: Character belongs to Kohei Horikoshi

A/N: We're switching it now! :D

My Masterlist

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You groan when you come to, head pounding as a dull ache pulses across your body. You attempt to move your arm to your head, to at least try to ease the pain there.

Except, you can't move your arm.

What the fuck?

Tugging harder, your eyes snap open to find that your arms are restrained above your head in tight ropes. They dig into the soft skin of your arms, creating harsh red lines as you thrash in your restraints.

Your eyes quickly scan around the room, finding it unfamiliar. Though the room is dark, you can vaguely make out a bed in the corner of the room, with plain sheets covering it, and a small wooden dresser next to it. Other than that, the room is bare.

You try to stand properly, to plant your feet firmly, but the position of your arms doesn't allow for more than the tips of your toes to touch the floor. You shiver as the cool air causes goosebumps to rise across your skin. At some point, your clothes had been removed, leaving you in only your underwear.

You try to remember what the hell happened and how you ended up here... you remember being on patrol, and stopping a mugging, the victim running for safety. Then a thud and pain as your vision blurred while the mugger lifted your head, makimg you look into piercing, golden eyes and everything goes foggy after that. You believe he made his escape after that, and you think you vaguely remember another pair of piercing eyes on you; a pretty blue.

But then you let out a soft curse as you remember that it was at the end of your patrol, and no one would really know something is wrong until the next day, because you already signed out on your comms; the mugging just happened to occur right after that, on your way home, and it's not like you could just let it happen.

Fuck.

You grunt in annoyance, panic beginning to bubble up in your chest. Who the hell kidnapped you and what did they want? The numerous senarios flashes through your mind, none of them pleasant as you're both a Hero and woman.

Neither of those things were a good thing to be when kidnapped, but together is worse, especially when you can't use your quirk for whatever reason.

They probably injected you with supressants......

Just as you were about to try to pull on the rope again, the door to the room slammed open, smacking harshly against the wall. You flinch at the sudden sound, and the fluorescent light that floods the room after a sharp click, sensitive eyes shutting at the brightness.

And as much as you tried not to, you felt a trickle of fear go down your spine as you shook.

Get it together!, you mentaly reprimand yourself.

You try to activate your quirk again, in vain, you know, and as expected, nothing happened. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Finally awake, I see. You tryna use your quirk, Sweetheart? Cute~." a husky voice coos mockingly; menacingly. You squint your eyes open, narrowing them at the figure as they shut the door behind them, before strolling further into the room.

"Don't bother tryin', Dolly. I injected you with enough quirk cancellin' serum to last....a while." His grin is sharp and dangerous, and you supress a whimper at now knowing just who has you captive.

Tall, healthy skin contrasting against the dark burn scars, secured by silver staples, and tousled midnight hair falling over pretty cerulean eyes...

The villain Dabi.

You've been captured by the League of Villains, and no one has any way of knowing, especially not for a while.

Fuck.

As much as you fear your situation and fate, you refuse to show it, glaring at the villain, waiting for his next move, which just makes him smile wider staples tugging at the edges. You need to be ready for anything... there's obviously a reason they brought you here, right? But you had not an inkling of what it could be, because you've never actually interacted with any of them, only knowing who Dabi is because of his prolific rapsheet and defining looks.

It's hard to miss the scars, obviously.

You silently debate with yourself on whether or not to just ask, before deciding why not. It's not like it would actually change your situation.

"Why did the League take me? I've never had anything to do with you..." you ask warily, eyes trained on the villain as he stalks closer.

Now standing directly in front of your bound figure, his smirk softens. He grabs your face, fingers pressed into your cheeks teasingly, turning your head side to side, inspecting, making you freeze, your eyes wide on him.

"I did."

You almost didn't catch his murmured words, but when they process, it just confuses you even more.

"What?"

Piercing, azure eyes meet yours, hot and calculating.

You stare back helplessly into the villains eyes, as he says, "I took you. The League has nothin' to do with this." His voice low, thumb rubbing at your cheek, as he tilts his head. "They don't even know you're here."

Your heart rate quickens, because you don't know if that's better or worse.

"T-Then why—" You silently curse yourself for letting the nervous stutter slip, but you're quickly distracted.

You get your answer.

He releases his hold on your face to slide the hand down to tilt your chin up gently, his middle finger stroking over a pulse point, thumb rubbing at your botton lip, as the other hand brushes up your side, ghosting over the skin there, and he breathes, gaze locked on yours, "You're fuckin' gorgeous, Sweetheart. I just had to have you." Your lips part in shock as your breath hitches.

Ah. He's crazy.

You don't want to be here, you want to be home, curled up warm and happy in the softness of your bed.

Fear washes over you, cold and consuming, and you have to blink away the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes

Because Dabi's lips curl into a smirk as he his eyes drag over your shivering frame, squirming in the ropes that still hold you suspended from the ceiling.

The hand on your chin releases to slide down, over your throat to your chest as he cups your breast through your bra, the other hand sliding down your side, toying with the waistband of your panties.

You gasp at the touch, desperately trying to move away from the hot hands violating your skin.

"N-no, no, get a-away from me." you say shakily. You're confused, frightened, and worried about what's going to happen to you.

This can't be happening.

Dabi laughs, soot tinted and condescending, quirking an eyebrow at you. His lips curl into a playful smirk as he gropes at your breast before grabbing your hips in both hands, pulling your suspended body flush against his, burying his face in your neck, rough scars and staples grazinging your skin.

And oh, you could feel the thick, hard bulge on your leg as he presses his thigh up against your core. You immediately start struggling against your restraints.

"No, no no no—"

Dabi sighs against your pulse, mismatched lips grazing the skin there

"Shut the fuck up, little hero." he murmurs, his hips moving against you as he slides you to do the same, grinding you on his thigh. You whimper at the friction, squeezing your eyes shut.

"Hah" his hot breath on your skin raises goosebumps where it hits,

Why, why, why—

Without warning, you drop; the scent of something burning wafts through the air and you realize it's the rope.

Before you have a chance to recover, Dabi drags you over to the bed by the short piece of rope like a leash, forcing you to stumble your way after him. He throws you roughly down onto the hard mattress, securing your hands to the head board with thick handcuffs after burning away the rest of the rope.

You choke on a sob as you struggle to get away from him. Looming over you, he burns away the straps of your bra, sliding it off and throwing it to the side, before heated hands are roaming and groping your flesh reverantly, familiarizing himself with your skin as he leans in to capture your lips in a bruising kiss.

You clamp your lips shut, but he just squeezes your cheeks to pry it open, tongue slipping in, licking into your mouth.

In a last ditch show of defiance, you bite down on the muscle, hard, the coppery taste of blood painting your tongue.

He pulls away with a curse, glaring up at you with a sharp coldness as he chuckles darkly, and with the blood trickling down the side of his mouth, he looks like the deranged villain you know him to be.

Wiping up the trail of blood with his thumb, he looks at the crimson staining his skin with amusement, before popping it into his mouth, sucking it off, and pulling it out with a wet pop. "Looks like you need some discipline, hm?" He hums, pulling away.

Before you can fully process what he means, he flips you onto your stomach, forcing your arms to cross awkwardly and uncomfortably, before gripping the waistband of your panties on both sides and tugging; his blunt nails dragging lightly over your skin as he pulls it over the swell of your ass, and down and off your legs.

And you shake, as your last piece of flimsy modesty is stripped from you and thrown carelessly to the side somewhere.

Where is everyone? Why hadn't they come to save you yet? How long had you even actually been missing for?

The thought is immediately cut off as Dabi lands a sharp smack to the exposed flesh of your ass cheeks.

Shocked, you gasp at the sting, pleading, "No, please, d-don't—!" Helpless against the villain, you whimper as he kneads and squeezes your ass, soothing the sting, decietfully gentle and placating, before your vision blurs as he lands another harsh smack against the soft flesh, followed quickly by another. Then another. Then another.

You sob pitifully, body convulsing in an attempt to escape Dabi's stinging touch; the sensitive skin turning such a lovely red.

Your breath hitches as you're suddenly flipped back over onto your back, and then Dabi is on you; looming over and surrounding you, face close enough to yours to feel his breath fanning against your lips, and you're not sure when he got rid of his shirt, but the heat wafting off of him is almost suffocating.

"Learned your lesson?" He smiles expectantly, sarcastically, and you just continue you sob.

"If you don't shut up, I'll have to fuckin' gag you." Dabi's voice is a harsh whisper, and you're viciously reminded that this man could turn the whole room into an inferno within seconds, turn you to ash in less. Though, he doesn't need to because his eyes are the same color as his flames and you already feel like you're being burned alive with them trained on you.

He grabs your face and growls, commanding, "Behave.", and swipes his tongue over your bottom lip before slipping in, and this time you let him, but you don't kiss back, though he doesn't seem to care.

You whimper when his hands wrap around your thighs, hot and firm as he forces them open, slotting himself between your legs, and he licks the sound out of your mouth.

He explores you warm mouth like he's trying to memorize it, kissing you stupid, and you're breathless by the time he's done. He eases down your chest, mouthing and licking and sucking at your bare tits, hot tongue playing with your nipples; the metal of his piercing was an overwhelming surprise to the sensitive buds, before moving back up the column of your throat. And you can't help but whine as scarred hands roam your thighs and up your sides, salty tears rolling pitifully down your cheeks, as you try and fail to calm your sniffling.

Though, when he speaks again, you shiver in more than just fear.

"Mm, you'd like that, wouldn't you?" He whispers against the shell of your ear, voice velvet, breath hot. "You'd love to be gagged and choked, like the sweet little whore I know you are, hm?"

Something between a mix of shock and shame wracks through you, as arousal pools in your stomach at his words.

No.

No, you can not be turned on right now. Fucking hell, Dabi is a man, a villain, who kidnapped you, for fucks sake, and now he's using your body as he sees fit. Nothing about this is okay.

And yet.

And yet, warmth creeps up your neck and cheeks as your pussy weeps, clenching around nothing.

In your dazed, shocked arousal, you don't notice what was coming until it's too late, as Dabi grabs a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back, before crashing your lips together in a searing kiss, forcing his tongue into your mouth yet again. He sucks on your bottom lip, biting into the plush flesh as a sharp smack against your inner thigh makes you jolt in surprise.

"I asked you a fuckin' question, slut. You'd love that, wouldn't you?" Dabi's eyes are sadistic, wolfish smirk on his lips.

You tremble, your body warm all over as shame washes over you. You could still feel the sting of his slap to your thigh, could see the skin reddening and the bruises already forming along your chest.

A sharp squeeze to your thigh, much too close to your heat makes you squeak.

"N-no, no, I—"

His thumb brushes through the folds of your pussy, to your clit, as he bites down on the junction of your neck, forcing a moaning squeal out of you.

"No? Why're you so fuckin' wet then, hm slut?" He growls into your throat as he licks and sucks and bites at the sensitive skin there, rubbing his thumb against your nub, making you leak.

Your breathing picks up as you tug on your bindings in an attempt to distract yourself as you try oh so desperately to contain your noises, to not react.

And then you feel his thumb petting over your entrance, making you gasp and shake your head pleadingly as the thick digit slips in. You thrash and pull at the cuffs locking you in place, as the reality of your situation truly sets in.

"No, no. please, don't- I don't want—mmf!" You plead, getting cut off by a large hand cupping over your mouth. You try to scream and thrash against it, but he's too strong. As you feel the thick thumb pumping in and out of you, easily because of your slick, you sob, beginning to accept what's going to happen.

Your body would react to his touches, to the stimulation, it's only natural...but this is wrong.

So, so wrong.

But it feels so, so good.

You wail at the thought, feeling dirty and ashamed of yourself; too distracted to notice when Dabi pulls the thumb out, popping it into his mouth, groaning at your taste, before reaching to the side, and the dresser. You don't notice anything, until Dabi squeezes your cheeks, holding you still and forcing your mouth open. You make a pitiful, confused sound and he makes a show of making sure you see your panties in his hand, before he stuffs it into your mouth. You scream into the cloth, thrashing, trying to wiggle your way out of his grasp. Dabi just presses his fingers tighter into your cheeks, slamming your head back against the bed roughly. It of course doesn't hurt, but it does distract you long enough for him to cover your stuffed mouth with a thick strip of tape.

You scream against the gag, shaking your head, eyes wide; begging.

"I fuckin' warned you to shut up. No use in your pathetic beggin', baby, you belong to me, now." Dabi cooed, mocking; tapping your cheek condescendingly, before scarred hands are fondling and groping, pinching and squeezing, wherever they wander on your writhing body.

You sob as he roughly palms your tits, sucking bruises into your flesh, your tears flowing freely, eyes glassy and clear. Gorgeous. Licking up the salty tear track on your cheek, he breathes, "So fuckin' pretty when you cry, Sweetheart. Be a good girl, and let me make you feel good, yeah?", pressing a kiss to the corner of your eye.

And he will. He knows you want this, you just don't know it yet. Don't worry, he'll make sure to show you.

Swiping his pointer and middle finger across your other wet cheek, gathering your tears, he strokes your wet cunt with them, before slipping the two long fingers into you in one slow push. You scream, and you don't know whether it's out of despair or desire, but you couldn't deny that as fucked up as it is, Dabi fucking your literal tears into you was one of the hottest things ever, your cunt pulsing at just the thought of it.

Dabi groans as you cry on his fingers, barely giving you a second to breathe as they're dragging along your walls and crooking deep, before he's sliding it back out, and pumping into the tight warmth again and again.

Leaning forward, he places a kiss against your gag, before trailing kisses and nips down your throat, chest and stomach as he bullies a third finger in. You reflexively clench around him when he kisses your mound, the stretch making you breathe sharply, before he throws your leg over his shoulder; pressing the tip of his scalding tongue against your clit, rubbing in circles, then slipping in, beside his fingers.

And your brain blanks.

You give in. It's not like anything is gonna change anytime soon, so, well. Why not enjoy it.

Besides, if you say you've never at least thought the villain was hot, no pun intended, you're lying to yourself.

So, you let go.

Even with the acceptance, you feel embarrassment and self loathing flood through you, as you keen, high and needy, as you grind down on him, shoving your pussy further into his face, fucking yourself on his fingers and tongue, which....was a very pleasant surprise for Dabi. After all, he's the oh so, big, bad, scary villain that kidnapped you; that's violating you.

Yet here you are, grinding and moaning against him, like a needy little slut.

Pumping his fingers roughly, his other hand digging harshly into the flesh of your thigh, he groans against you,"Fuck, not complainin' so much now, hm?", dragging blunt nails along your sensitive skin and his hot tongue up your clit. "Don't worry, sweetheart, I'll fuck the thoughts right outta that pretty little head."

You moan lowly as your pussy pulses around his fingers, helplessly leaking at his words.

"Shit, Sweetheart. You're swallowin' my fingers so fuckin' good. Can't wait to feel you 'round my cock.", he breathes, hot breath hitting your swollen clit, pressing one last kiss to it before pulling away; your hips involuntarily jumping to chase his hot mouth, the cuffs rattling against the headboard.

Dabi smirks, his eyes wide, huffing out a laugh of disbelief, as you whine at the loss of contact, before pressing hot kisses along your hip bone, muttering into the skin there. "You're really just a little whore, aren't you? Actin' all innocent earlier like you didn't want it," he says mockingly, but you can hear the underlying awe in his voice, before he curls his fingers, twisting them, as he makes his way up your abdomen and chest; and he continues, "but really, you're just a little cockslut, huh?"

You moan loudly into the gag at that, but shake your head rapidly, denying it even as you know deep down that it's true; as you both know it to be true.

It becomes even more clear when he drills you with his fingers, thumb rubbing your clit, and you're a mess beneath him; writhing and moaning, and crying and grinding as he brutally nudges against that sweet spot inside of you; all while he peppers open mouthed kisses along your chest, taking his time, tasting your skin, sucking and nipping at your pearled nipples, his tongue hot and slick on you.

You moan and whimper into your gag, head lolling back to hide behind your raised arm at the continued the abuse to your sensitive buds and cunt.

And then they're suddenly taken away, as he releases your tit with a wet pop and withdraws his fingers with a squelch.

Your hips twitch and lift from the bed, chasing him in a silent, desperate plea for more. Dabi could see your stretched hole, clenching on nothing as it just wants to be filled.

He's more than happy to oblige.

"Aww you want me to fuck you, baby? Shit, look at you. Fuckin' needy, mm? Done pretendin' you weren't desperate for me to stuff you?", he teases, hungry eyes betraying his calm demeanor. You tremble, feeling so empty, as tears streamed down your cheeks.

"Fuck, you're already so cute, I don't know if I'll be able to control myself when I have you cryin' on my cock, Dolly." He groans, palming himself through his pants, as you wiggle your hips enticingly, legs spread and your puffy pussy on show for him.

And Dabi laughs, breathy and fond, "Slut. Fuck, c'mere." He says, the sound of his belt unbuckling and hitting the floor with a clang just makes you somehow gush more.

You look down in anticipation as scarred hands grip your thighs, holding them spread. Your cunt throbs at the sight of his cock, thick and veiny, long and so fucking hard; precum beading at the tip.

He grips his length, tapping his sticky cock head against your clit, dragging through your folds, coating it in your juices.

"Relax for me, sweetheart, don't wanna break you, hm?" He purrs, before pushing the thick mushroom head inside lightly, making you whimper.

Dabi's grin is predatory as he slides in all at once, in one slow drag, impaling you on his fat cock. He groans at the feeling of your tight heat wrapping around him so obediently, "Fuck, you feel so fucking good. Like you were made for me, sweetheart."

Your eyes wide and glossy, you couldn't help but moan at his words, at the delicious stretch, at the hunger in his eyes.

His thickness stretches you so good, almost painfully, but you could take it.

You were his good girl now, he would make you take it.

But you don't really have much of a choice now, do you?

You choke on a sob, body shaking and hands clenched into tight fists where they rest in the cuffs. Because the thought should bring nothing but disgust and fear, yet all you feel now is shameful want, as your pussy tightens around him, gushing.

"Haah, you take me so good. Mm, such a good girl, c'mon..." He mumbles, grinding deeper and deeper into you, his hips flush against you.

Your whimper is sweet even muffled by the gag, and Dabi's composure slips.

He pulls back before shoving back into you roughly, making you sharply breathe. Not giving you any time to catch your breath, he thrusts deep into your tight hole, snapping his hips mercilessly. A scarred hand grips at your tit, the other bouncing and swaying lewdly with every brutal thrust. The gag muffles your cries and whimpers, but the scream you let out when he hits your sweet spot is still loud.

You grind down to meet his thrusts, pleasure completely taking over as all rational thoughts are fucked out of you; unable to think of anything but the way his cock feels, stirring up your insides, reaching so deep you swear you could feel it in your stomach, and the single-minded need for more.

Dabi moans, slowing his thrusts, admiring the way your hips roll sinfully, bouncing yourself on the villain's cock. "Fuck, pretty little slut...", he breathes, "So fuckin' pretty when you're bein' honest, hm?" His hand gropes and pinches your breast, as he licks his lips, eyes trained on you.

When he took you, he certainly hadn't expected that you'd be such an eager slut, but he's definitely not complaining.

You whine, the shallow, uneven thrusts, making you needy for more, faster, deeper, as you rhythymically clench around him.

Releasing your breast, he wraps the heated hand around the expanse of your throat, squeezing lightly, feeling your quick pulse beneath his fingers as he rolls his hips to meet yours, slow and deep.

You moan and choke behind your gag, eyes rolling back in pure ecstasy. Dabi smirks cruelly, finally speeding up his delicious thrusts; your body forced to move further up the bed with the speed and strength, and he just drags you back down to take it, your little display of hedonistic pleasure inciting him.

A whimper escapes you as you feel the warm coil of pleasure spread through you, you're so close. Your thighs shake, your moans spilling in a sweet mixture of pleasure and pleading.

"Fuck, look at you. Gettin' fucked by a big, bad villain and you fuckin' like it. Your little Hero friends know you're such a goddamn whore?" Dabi grunts out, cock hitting your sweet spot so, so good, fucking you so, so deep, as he pummels your insides, giving your throat another squeeze.

You let out a choked, sobbing moan, back arching from the bed as you feel yourself just on the edge of your release. You look up at Dabi pleadingly, eyes pretty and glossy, wide and blown out, almost completely black with lust; your chest heaving as your cunt pulses around him.

"You wanna cum, little hero? Squeezing me like you wanna milk me." Dabi groans, hips beginning to stutter.

You nod frantically, eyes wide and begging, tears streaming down your cheeks, moaning desperately against your gag; the panties soaked with your spit and drool.

"Yeah? Fuck, you want my cum, baby? Shit, do it. Cum for me, slut." Dabi moans, pistoning into you, muttering, "Wanna see it, wanna see you fall apart on my cock"

The pleasure burns.

Back arching off the bed, toes curling, you cum with a scream; clamping down on his cock as you gush and squirt around him, your eyes rolling back; vision going white.

Dabi fucks you through your orgasm as he chases his own, growling, "That's it baby, fuck. I'll fill you up real good, and if it spills, I'll just fuck it back in. Doesn't that sound nice?"

Your pussy squelches loudly, his thighs smacking wetly against yours as Dabi continues fucking you, frantic in his desperation to paint your insides with his cum.

The feeling of your tight cunt squeezing him so good and the sight of you cumming from just his cock was enough to push him completely over the edge with a moaning curse. Buried as deeply as he could be inside of you, hips flushed and grinding against yours, his thick, hot cum pumps into you, marking you from the inside as his; branding you and filling you up.

He collapses on top of you, holding himself up on his elbows, not pulling out just yet; keeping you full and plugged. Chests rising and falling in heavy pants, you bask in the afterglow of what was probably the best orgasm you've ever had.

He gently removes your gag and unlocks the cuffs, freeing your hands, rubbing soothingly at the irritated skin of your wrists, pressing light kisses to the sensitive skin, before trailing his lips up your arm, over your shoulder and throat, to your own.

The kiss is slow, languid and savouring, and you moan softly into his mouth as he licks into yours.

He groans softly, before kissing down your throat, breathing out a short, hot laugh against the myriad of bruises littering your neck and mumbling against your skin, "Fuck, I can't let you go after that. I'm keepin' you, gonna take care of you, and if you don't love me now, I'll just have to teach you, I promise, Sweetheart. You'll be my perfect little cock sleeve.", nuzzling into you.

The words don't match his saccharine tone as they send a trickle of fear down your spine at the dark promise, but the fog of arousal clouds your mind, and you slump back against the sheets as he looms over you, eyes piercing through you.

You feel his hips begin to roll against you again as he grinds into your abused cunt, making you gasp.

He grins. He'll fuck you until you're gaping and dripping with his cum, cock branding his name into your sweet spot and he'll make sure you never forget who you belong to.

⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑

[sunnie-angel]

A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out

Part 2: Pretty Woman

fem!jason todd x fem!reader summary: reader convinces her girlfriend jay to dress up tags: teasing, sexual tension, groping, cunnilingus, thigh riding rated explicit (mdni) | wc: 2.2k a/n: honestly just an excuse to put jay in cheetah print

Your girlfriend in her steel toed boots, rotating closet of identical tank tops, worn in jeans, and leather jacket is hot. Capital H O T hot. You are absolutely not complaining about the way she dresses, especially when she’s looking at you like you’re something particularly tasty. No, it’s just – she makes you feel so pretty, that’s all. She makes you feel dainty, delicate in her hands, the belle of the ball on the arm of the most handsome woman there. You love the way she makes you feel, you love the way she lets you do her hair sometimes, and you just want to make her feel happy.

So it’s with that in mind that you start planning. Slowly start adding images to your pinterest board, start looking up hair and makeup tutorials. Flag certain items in your online shopping cart for when they go on sale, just so there’s no fuss when the items do turn up in your closet. Primp and practice, collect and wait until just the right moment. For the right mood to strike. And when it does, you’re ready.

You’re curled up on the couch, head resting on Jay’s stomach as you watch old reruns of Dynasty on the tv. She’s got a hand resting on the side of your face, fingers stroking softly as the lights from the screen flicker across your face.

“D’you think they’re pretty?” You ask her, not looking up from your comfy position.

“Who, the actresses?” Her fingers still on your face as you move your head to nod. “I guess, though their fashion’s pretty dated.”

“Yeah but don’t they look so gorgeous and confident though?” You continue to prod. “Big hair, bigger attitude.”

“O-kay,” she drawls, clearly just humouring you but it’s an opening.

“Doesn’t that remind you of anyone?” You tease, starting to push yourself into a seated position.

“What, you don’t mean me?” She squints at you like if she looks hard enough she can see the exact shape of the head damage that put you in this mood.

“Uhuh,” you nod, eyes bright and enthusiastic. “ A little bit of primping, a dab of red lipstick.”

“And then what?” Jay asks. “You turn me into some tv villain sleeping with her ex-husband’s mortal enemy?”

“Um,” you stutter, suddenly shy. “More like the morally grey lesbian that seduces her daughter?”

Jay grins because now she’s got the gist of your plan unfurling into the palm of her hand.

“Yeah?” She teases. “You want me to seduce you?”

You nod, vigorously.

“Okay fine, turn me into your soap opera lesbian then.”

You squeal and grab her hand, drag her off the couch and ignore her rolling eyes at your excitement. Push her down into the vanity seat as gently as you can while dashing around to grab things from their hiding places. Jay looks at you in the mirror as you start to backcomb her hair.

“Is this you preparing for the outcome you wanted again?” She asks suspiciously like she already knows the answer.

“Might have been,” you say, already nearly done with shaping her hair.

A fog of hairspray brings it all together, Jay coughing and swatting at your ass to leave off. Grinning, you spin her around in the chair and start on the makeup. End up sitting on her lap, legs splayed, as you swipe bold oranges and gold across her eyelids, too engrossed in your work to notice the way she’s palming at your ass. A careful hand applies a crisp line of red lipstick to her pout. Grabbing a tissue, you hold it up to her mouth and tell her to “Bite gently.”

She does, eyes never leaving yours with a hunger in them that’s not quite appropriate for prime time television. With a careful finger under her chin, you turn Jay’s head side to side to make sure you haven’t left any spidery mascara marks or fallen glitter. Satisfied with your handiwork, you push off her lap, only suddenly just realizing how far up your skirt had ridden.

“There’s an outfit laid out in the closet,” you tell her, hands fidgeting with your skirt hem. “You don’t– you don’t have to wear all of it if you don’t want to, but um, I’d really like it if you did. I’ll just um, just wait here for the grand reveal then?”

Sighing the heavy burden of the long suffering, Jay walks to the closet, trailing a lone finger down your shoulder as she brushes past. Inside just as you said is an outfit, or, what should be an outfit only there is barely enough fabric to qualify as such. Grumbling she throws her clothes in the laundry basket and starts inspecting what you’ve gifted her.

“Hey these underwear are missing half the fabric,” she calls out to you, holding out the glorified strings of cheetah print, trying to figure out which bit is supposed to actually cover her.

“Thongs just always look like that!” You call back.

“Well I hope you didn’t pay very much for them,” she continues to grumble, finally figuring out how to slide them over her hips without turning them into a garotte.

Pulls the high cut of the waistband up over her hip bones and admires the way they make her look curvy. The bra – the bra almost makes her laugh out loud. That same loud cheetah print only stuffed to the gills with padding. It’s probably 80% padding and the balconette cut means there’s basically no cup for her actual boobs. A very far, far cry from her usual sports bras, but she’ll bite. Has to adjust and play around with it to stop her nipples from wanting to spill out but she’ll admit her tits look good. She will be asking you later about why you had a lingerie set in her size just lying around though. A tight, tight pencil skirt that has her jumping and shimmying to get on goes on next, the stretch of the fabric smoothing out the harsh lines of her. A thin, see through button down is all that’s left. With a snort she simply knots it, already knowing that the hassle of the tiny buttons won’t be worth it. Not with how she plans the rest of the night to go.

Taking a breath, she allows herself a moment to just look at herself in the long mirror. Twists to admire what the skirt does for her ass, the line of her legs. She looks... powerful. The kind of beauty that crushes lesser beings underfoot with casual cruelty, sharp edges tempered by the fullness of curves Jay was never sure she’d really have. Wild. Her muscles make her look dangerous and wickedly feminine, red lips curling up at the corners at her thick thighs test the limits of the skirt seams. The way the shirt clings for dear life across her shoulders, make her an hourglass figure to kill for. Oh you knew what you were doing, dropping hints about seduction, but Jay’s gonna make you regret not being honest about it.

With a swish to her hips that is enchantingly new, Jay walks back into the bedroom. She savours the instantly glassy look in your eyes. The sweet little parting between your lips and the harsh bob of your throat as you swallow. Walks right up to where you sit on the bed and uses her height to loom over you. Your legs part automatically and she slots herself between them like she belongs there. She ghosts the back of her hand down the side of your face and you close your eyes and shudder.

“Like what you see, sweet thing?” She teases. You nod blindly and press your face into her hand. “Such a good girl, getting everything ready for me like this.” You sigh as her fingers card into your hair, cups the back of your head. “There’s just one teeny, tiny, little problem.” Your eyes fly open, brows creasing with confusion. With one hand Jay pulls on the knot keeping her shirt closed, exposes her breasts to the cold air of your bedroom. “My tits are sore from this teeny, tiny, little bra. You’re going to put that conniving little mouth to work and make them feel better.”

The hand cradling your head turns to iron, guides your face to her chest and plants it right in her cleavage. It takes a few slow seconds to realize what’s expected and Jay’s fingers tightening in your hair before you start to move. Quickly you begin to mouth at the warm flesh of her tits, laving your tongue over their heavy weight, kissing and sucking little red marks into them. Use your empty hands to massage them, squeeze at them the way you’ve been to ever since she walked out and tied your tongue into knots. Carefully free one breast from its confines and latch onto her dark nipple. Tease at it with your teeth until you can feel her panting. Your hips start undulating, desperate for friction at your throbbing core. The wet core of your panties brushes against her leg and the iron grip on your head pulls your off of her breast with a wet sounding pop. 

“I generously let you play with my tits but you just had to get greedy, huh?” She taunts. Steps back and has you moaning at the loss of her. “Thought your gluttonous little cunt deserved more.” With a broad hand she smacks between your legs, has you writhing and whimpering only held up by the hand still in your hair. With disgust she throws you back onto the bed and crawls up your body. Shimmies the tight skirt up around her hips, just the thin string of her thong keeping her covered. “I’m going to ride your lying little tongue,” she tells you with a cold kind of disdain. “Your hands are going to stay on my ass the entire time and if you’re good and make me come, maybe I’ll let you grind on my abs after.” 

Your keen gets cut off by Jay seating herself over your face, hands scrabbling to grab onto her plush ass. You tongue aside the wet fabric of her thong and start sucking. Seal your lips around her hole and grind your nose into her clit. Use your hands to encourage her to use you. Tongue at her entrance until she starts swearing, knuckles white around the head board. Slick coats your mouth and chin. Stiffening your tongue, you start to thrust inside of her and she grinds down on you. Throws her head back and arches her back in a way that pushes her breasts out. Entranced, you lap at her cunt reflexively as she starts riding your face in earnest, tits bouncing rhythmically. You throb between your legs, hips meeting nothing but air as you squirm beneath her.

Urging her on, you start to tongue fuck her in earnest, desperate to make her come in your mouth. Jay takes one look at your wide glassy eyes and grins wickedly, instantly understanding what part of the show has all your attention. Reaching behind her, she unclasps the bra and shrugs it off, lets her tits fall heavy. Arches her back artificially and starts to feel herself up. Moans as she tweaks and pinches at her own nipples, hips grinding faster against your tongue. She comes just as you start to give up hope of being good for her, thighs clenching around your ears and slick dripping into your throat, slow fire lighting up her veins.

With a heavy sigh she rolls off of you, sits next to your head as she fixes her skirt. Carefully you keep your hands to yourself as your roll onto your elbows to look up at her. Very intentionally you don’t grind your aching core into the mattress. Jay strokes her thumb over your cheekbone, then uses her hand to tilt your chin up, admiring the way your face glistens in the light.

“My, my baby girl’s a messy eater,” she chides, your face flushing warm. “M’gonna have to teach you better manners.” She tuts.

“Was I–” you clear your throat “Was I good though?”

“Yeah baby, you can have your reward,” she says affectionately. Scrabbling on the bed you straddle her, almost crying out in relief at finally having something to rub up against. “You’re gonna have to do all the work though,” she tells you, warm hands coming up to steady your hips.

You groan and start grinding, her hands guiding you. Strung tight already and achingly turned on, you know its not gonna take much. Your panties are disgustingly wet, soaked through and practically dripping. Frantic, grind as fast as you can, plant your hands on her chest and bear down on her taut stomach. Your thighs already burn and you whine in frustration, pleasure not building fast enough in your gut to satisfy you. Jay reaches up a hand and cups your breast through your t-shirt. Brushes a thumb over a sensitive nipple and you’re crying out as you come on her stomach, legs shaking and cunt quivering.

Exhausted, you slump over on her chest, face buried in her neck. She pets a hand over your hair and coos as you shake against her warm skin.

“There she is, there’s my good baby girl.” You sigh and try to wriggle closer at the praise. “See what being patient gets you? Now come on baby,” she says, rolling you onto your back on the middle of the bed. “Let’s get these sticky panties off. I want to see whose lips this lipstick looks better on.”

series masterlist | part 1 | part 3

[anna-the-undertaker]

Roof-Top Shenanigans

It was a peaceful afternoon at the House of Lamentation, well, as peaceful as it could get with demons and one eccentric human roaming around. But for MC, peace was always an opportunity for a little chaos. Today’s grand scheme? A classic meme reenactment. With Solomon as the perfect target.

MC stood on the roof, squinting at Solomon, who was walking in the garden below with Asmo. Mammon, ever the accomplice, stood beside them, arms crossed, muttering about how they better not get him in trouble this time.

“Are you sure about this?” Mammon asked, looking nervously around, “If Lucifer catches us—"

“Shh! This is important, Mammon!” MC replied, giving a mischievous grin as they spotted their target.

Taking a deep breath, MC cupped their hands around their mouth and yelled across the yard, "WHAT'S YOUR NAME?!"

Solomon paused mid-step, his head tilting slightly as if confused, but when he saw MC perched on the roof, he quickly realized what was happening. A smirk tugged at his lips, and without hesitation, he yelled back, “WHAT?!”

Mammon looked at MC with wide eyes, stifling a laugh. “Oh, Diavolo’s gonna love this.”

MC, rubbing their hands together like a true villain, called out louder, "WHAT IS YOUR NAME?!"

Solomon, now fully in on the joke, burst out laughing as he shouted back, "SOLOMON!"

Without missing a beat, MC gave him the finger, “FUCK YOU, SOLOMON!”

Asmo, standing next to Solomon, gasped dramatically, his hand flying to his chest in mock shock. “Oh my stars! MC, such vulgarity!” But Solomon was laughing too hard to care, playing right along.

Still laughing, Solomon shouted back, "WHAT'S YOUR NAME?!"

“MC!” they yelled back, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

With perfect comedic timing, Solomon yelled, “FUCK YOU, MC!”

MC cackled, “FUCK YOU!”

“FUCK YOU!” Solomon echoed, pointing right back at them.

MC’s grin grew even wider as they prepared the next line. “HEY, YOU KNOW WHAT I DID LAST NIGHT?!”

Asmo blinked, looking between MC and Solomon, utterly lost, but still entertained. “What on earth is happening?”

Solomon, knowing where this was going, shook his head with mock seriousness. “YOU BETTER NOT BRING MY MOTHER INTO THIS!”

“I’M GONNA!” MC shouted back gleefully. “YOU KNOW WHAT I DID?!”

“YOU BETTER NOT!” Solomon warned, laughter bubbling up in his voice.

MC dramatically pointed to their left where Belphie, Satan, Beel, and Levi were lazily lounging around a bonfire. “I BUILT THAT FIRE OVER THERE!”

Solomon squinted toward the group and, catching on, smirked. “OH?”

MC didn’t miss a beat. “THEN I FUCKED YOUR MOTHER NEXT TO IT!”

Solomon immediately roared with laughter, clutching his sides as he yelled back, “FUCK YOU, MC!”

MC fell into a fit of hysterical laughter, collapsing to their knees on the roof, tears streaming down their face. “FUCK YOU!”

From the corner of the yard, Levi, who had been half-paying attention to the bonfire, glanced up. “Wait, what did I miss?”

Belphie, unbothered as usual, muttered, “Something about fires and mothers. Don’t worry about it.”

Satan chuckled. “Just another day with MC.”

Beel, munching on a snack, simply nodded. “Sounds about right.”

As the laughter between MC and Solomon continued to echo across the yard, the door to the House of Lamentation creaked open. Lucifer stepped out, his expression already dark with irritation. He took one look at the scene—MC still howling with laughter on the roof, Solomon doubled over by the bonfire, and the rest of the brothers being their usual selves—and immediately sighed.

Without a word, Lucifer turned on his heel and walked back inside, muttering something under his breath about "needing a vacation."

“Worth it,” MC whispered, wiping away a tear, still grinning.

[goth-mami-writer]

POV: You're the quiet intern just trying to make it down these steps⬇️

@short-honey-badger who helped me cough this up a few months ago, and we had a lotttt of fun.

⚠️(absolutely not my art. The artist is @yunonoai on TWT. Thx!)⚠️

《 Your director told you to use the back stairwell after the day was finished with final takes in filming. You were the new intern on set and still learning everyone's roles and names, but you knew the cast well. After grabbing your coffee and bag, then being told by the director to use the back stairwell due to some work being done on the front entrance, your stomach churned.

That's where the cast took their smoke breaks between sets and most of them....didn't know you. You were the newbie, and you saw how some of them looked at you in-between filming takes. All of them towered above even the director sometimes, and intimidating just wasn't the word. Some were very cordial. Or at least friendly. But for others... that just wasn't the case. They were almost entirely like their fictional character. Smug and coarse in interaction.

You took a deep breath and opened the door to the back stairwell. The first thing to hit you was the smell of deep, musky cigarette. It almost gagged you because half of them were avid smokers, often being late to set times from hurrying back from their smoke breaks. The heat from the outside lot met you then, and you squinted your eyes from the bright light that illuminated your descent. But you realized now that it wasn't just a few of them here.

It was all of them.

The villains, the noble protagonists. The anti heroes.

Oh, God. Everyone was here.

"Heyy.." The half of them called out in unison while the others only gave a you side glance from their unenthused expressions.

All of their legs were folded across the concrete steps, making it difficult for you to navigate your way down safely. You swallowed hard and decided to speak up for those who might have not realized you were needing through.

"Uhm, excuse me. Sorry." You said with your hands clutched on the strap of your bag.

Nanami, the upstanding gentleman of the group, was the first to stand. He was sitting right at the front, that being your only sigh of relief. He was one of the oldest, and his presence on set always made everyone feel safe. He was especially kind to women.

"Here, dear, I'll help you through." Nanami said with a charming smile as he dubbed out his cigarette into the concrete. He told everyone to mind their legs, and only half of them listened.

"Oh, come the fuck on, she'll be fine." Remarked Toji, the boisterous asshole who spoke his mind with a sneer no matter who was listening. He rolled his eyes and moved his knees from your path. Nanami held his hands on your shoulders as you began down and you tried not to look at each of them but it was so hard. All of them were so endearingly attractive in their own specific ways.

Sure Toji was snide and downright rude as hell but his cocky grin made all of the girls' knees shake. It leveled everything about his asshole personality.

To your immediate left, was Geto, the quiet protagonist in the show who nudged the man to his side Gojo, who moved his blindfold up, moving out of your way accordingly with a smile.

Gojo turned his head down the stairs and everyone seemed to pay attention when his very telling blue eyes came from beneath his dark blindfold,

"Guys, let the intern through."

"Eat a dick, Satoru." Toji remarked from across the steps.

Everything was going fine. You were about halfway down now with Nanami's hands holding your shoulders protectively until you finally passed Toji by who began to loudly exclaim from behind you once his eyes fell low as you passed him by,

"Goddamn! She can walk past me anyday!"

You felt a very intentional smack to the back of your ass only to be returned by Nanami who you could hear reprimanding the eager man with a vicious grip to his collar before apologizing to you in your ear,

"I am so sorry."

"It's okay." You said with your face painted a blinding shade of red, and you looked down, just hoping to make it down the rest of these steps without being humiliated further.

Gojo and Geto had a little more class, only sharing a menacing look to each other at the sight of your ass so close as you passed and now you were finally closer to the bottom flight of stairs, still being led by Nanami.

Here at the bottom held two of the more unsavory characters that included Sukuna and Choso, two villains, however powerful and / or likable they were. Choso, the quieter one of the pair, only moved his outstretched legs, not giving a word in your direction before looking back down to his phone. His eyes were so catching and dark that you wished he would've kept your gaze. But that stare was only broken as you passed by the last loiterer there on the stairs, Sukuna.

He grew a cunning, mischievous smile and asked you with his voice that purred so seductively like a flirt no matter what he was saying,

"Hm, I've never caught your name on set?"

You told him your name and he hummed with a sultry, entertained rumble in his throat as he reached out to touch your blouse in a clear pass until he was stopped by Nanami, who was determined to not let you get touched twice.

"Hands to yourself, old man." Nanami grumbled before rubbing your shoulder as you reached the lower flight now. He asked if you'd like to be walked to your car as well, but you assured him it was fine, thanking him for being so kind.

"We'll see ya tomorrow!" Toji called down with his eyes narrowed in a haughty expression from his seat above, and you shivered hearing that.

"I promise we'll be more behaved if you take this way tomorrow! Have a good night!" Nanami promised as he made his way back up to the very first step, and you hurried now to your car. Your face was red, your arms were trembling, and your blood raced.

You weren't embarrassed or humiliated at all. Instead, it was closer to exhilaration to be so close to them in a cramped space like that. And it certainly didn't help that no one minded their manners. It only made you want it more. You fanned yourself and hoped that the front entrance that you usually took to get to the parking lot never got fixed.

[okkotsuus]

PAPARAZZI (keigo t.) !

features: keigo takami (hawks)

contents: paparazzi. fluff. angst if you squint like really hard. comfort. established relationship. reader is a normal civilian.

notes: for my lovely pookie @meristryker

keigo has never been a man that was shy to show his affections for you, nearly in any instance. but when he's out on a nice dinner date with you, all gussied up, and a paparazzi manages to slip past the staff and starts filming you two: his heart nearly stops.

it wasn't that he was ashamed of you, far from it, you were his greatest joy. if he could, he would gladly hold you up to the world like how they held simba in the lion king, proclaiming you as the only one that will ever be able to capture his heart. but he's a hero, and heroes make a lot of enemies.

golden eyes instantly flick in your direction as his brows crease in worry, but he doesn't find the fear he was expecting on your face. instead, you're smiling.

just the sight of it soothes his pulse racing in his chest and he's back to earth. "figured this'd happen eventually, eh, hun?" he asks, hand rubbing the back of his neck as that familiar smirk graces his lips, looking to you.

but his eyes are soft, fondness gleaming beneath his facade. his arm drapes over the back of your chair, toothy grin on his lips and he waves to the camera. in an instant, the paparazzi is dragged out by security and the two of you are once more left in peace.

his hand instantly finds yours, fingers entangling with yours as his thumb runs gently along your knuckles. for some reason, he expects you to be angry. maybe because he's angry.

if there was anything that keigo valued in this world it was you, which meant he valued you safety above nearly all.

this was a dangerous world, though. and his one weakness was just about to be broad-cast to the world. as the number two hero and an agent for the hpsc, there were many people that could and would take advantage of that: villain or not.

all his worries dissipate when your hand rests over his cheek, skin so soft and unmarred by the truth of the world. he wants to keep you delicate and fragile, the way he wished that he had gotten to be.

because keigo takami loves you, more than anything.

okkotsuus 24

[havensins]

Imagine Peter getting so turned on after seeing you in a fight. Your hair is messy, suit is torn up, and what makes him even more turned on is how mad you are over the dumb fight against the villain/whatever. He’ll even let you take out your anger with sex and let you degrade and choke him all you want <3

-🕸️ anon

no i’m lovin this (assume reader has similar abilities to spiderman)

imagine coming into peters dorm room after a fight had left you breathless and livid. youre huffing, chest moving up and down quickly as your heart rate attempts to slow. you’re grateful that peter opted to have a dorm all to himself, you had no problem dropping by whenever it was convenient.

peter looked up from his space at his desk, eyes widening as he took in your disheveled state. your suit was torn by your shoulder, and scratch marks littered your rib cage. huffing out a dry laugh, you grimace as you take a few steps towards him.

“pete, why you lookin’ at me like that,” you ask, voice raspy and you stared him down. your body aches, and you can feel the anger that once coursed through your veins die down into a strong irritation.

peter looked you up and down, chewing on his bottom lip. squinting, you analyze him and once you notice how his thighs are ever so subtly clenching together, you straighten up and grin.

“you’re just.. i’ve never seen you so mad before.” he finishes,cheeks tinting with pink. “got anything you wanna tell me?” you asked him while stepping a little closer. you’re mostly standing over him at this point, and he looks up at you almost nervously.

“it’s kinda hot.” he mumbles boldly. “oh?” you hum and he nods. he stands from his chair and the both of you are so close that you could see every individual color in his irises.

your hands find their way to the waistband of his joggers. you lean down and connect your lips to his. he has no qualms, kissing you back eagerly and pressing himself into your hands.

when you part, he gasps. “you can take it out on me, you know,” he smiles coyly against your lips as he steps clumsily out of his joggers. “i’m not glass. i won’t break.” he continues and you nod. “we’ll see about that, parker.”

[chaotic-iguana]

lovers’ spat, part i

miggy is an oblivious overworking idiot and fails to see you’ve had a bad day. he eventually makes up for it, though. (there will be a smut follow-up)

warnings: no smut (yet). just some nice angst (the girls are fightinggggg hehehe)

it starts with a missed alarm. then a sip of too-hot coffee burning your tongue. being late to work, getting yelled at by your boss, then by a client and finally by some randomon the fucking street when you’re walking home and he’s catcalling you and you refuse to look his way. 

so yeah. it’s been a shit day. 

but you’ve opened a portal to nueva york, you’re close to hq and you know migs will be inside and ready to take care of you. so all hope is not lost. yet. you burst through the double doors, half-sprinting to the elevator to reach his…lair? office is too mild for it, really. (eh, miguel’s a moody guy. it fits his vibe.)

you’re just about to walk in but you’re stopped by the call of your name paired with a babbling baby behind you. twisting to see the top of mayday’s head disappear behind him, you watch as peter b walks towards you with a grimace on his face and purple blooming under his eyes. 

“are you…alright? you look a bit rough.” it sounds funny as you say it - take one look in the fucking mirror and you’d be saying it to yourself - but you can’t stop yourself from asking. he does look tired. and upset. which is entirely unlike him, but they do say parenthood is an adjustment. plus, it can’t be easy balancing being a spider and a dad and a journalist all at the same time. an offer to babysit bubbles in your mouth but stops at him shaking his head with a wry grin. 

“today’s been rough. to be honest, i doubt miguel’s gonna be able to see you right now - we just caught an anomaly who stopped a canon event. he’s dealing with the fallout.” he’s speaking slowly, like he’s placating a child or dog. your frown must be obvious, because he starts chuckling nervously and follows up with a “but i’m sure he can work it out! goodnight!” before he’s swinging away - typical of a man who loves setting fires but never knows quite what to do with the ashes. 

so now you’re stomping into miguel’s office, tearing through the tranquility of silence as you scowl at the raised platform and squint through the frankly shitty lighting. the sound of his fingers on the keyboard halts, and you think you hear him take a deep breath before his voice rings out. 

“‘m busy, cariño. be home late tonight. don’t wait up.” 

and it’s the way he says it, the irritation and annoyance glinting in his monotone words that has you seeing red, until your fingers are clenched in fists and your teeth are bared in the direction of his stupid, stupid platform. (you’d rip it apart with your bare hands if you could. why can’t he just work on the floor like a normal person? fucking medieval villain much? why don’t you just menacingly twiddle your thumbs and mwahaha while coming down then. idiot.) 

you’re barely thinking straight, fury sparking in your veins and thrumming in your blood as you rip off a sandal and chuck it in the vague direction of the stupid thing. it’s not like you can tell, because your migraine and miguel’s shitty decor seem to have teamed up to fucking impair your vision and why in the fuck did he have to blow you off tonight of all nights- 

your heel clunks against the metal, clattering to the ground with a pathetic thud. a sharp intake of his breath through his nose - loud enough to let you know he’s pissed - and therecomes the creaking of the dumb thing being lowered, inch by inch. you wait as the top of his head appears, hair standing in all directions and you just know he’s been doing that thing he does absentmindedly where he runs his hands through it over and over when he’s focused. and normally it’s cute but right now you just want to scream at him or walk away and you’re not quite sure which one to lean towards. and then he comes into view, eyes narrowed and fists clenched, hands stiff by his sides while he…frowns at you? lunging off the platform, he crouches to pick up your shoe before stalking over in your direction, glaring down at you. 

“por qué joder harías eso?” he’s snarling now, jaw tensing with the effort it takes for him to spit the words at you. it makes you flinch, the forceful weight of his words and his tone and the way he’s towering over you like you’re one of those anomalies he hunts and something in your chest just cracks at the sight. straightening your spine, you curl your fingers around his to snatch back your shoe before slipping it on. 

“qué esperabas? what did you expect, miguel? that i come here after a long day to find out again, for the billionth fucking time that my husband is too busy fighting something new-because there is always something new-to so much as look at me when he basically tells me to fuck off.” 

eyes wild, your chest heaves as you meet his fierce look with one of your own. you can see him processing what you said, guilt flashing in his eyes for a split second before it’s replaced by concern. you can see him softening, reaching out - but you don’t want it right now. don’t quite know what to do with the sudden care in his eyes just moments after he was being so dismissive towards you. and if you’re honest - after the day you’ve had, it’s easier to cling to the venom coating your next words than it is to give into however the fuck he’s planning on fixing the situation. 

“vete a la mierda, miguel. don’t come home tonight.” 

and with that, you walk out. 

you make it three steps before lyla pops up, wincing at the tears already spilling down your cheeks. you’re scrambling for your watch, fumbling your way through portalling home to curl up in bed. you can distantly tell she’s cooing something at you, placating and warm, but you’re too far gone to hear it; the AI too much of a reminder of miguel for your comfort. a wave of your hand through her hologram and a stumble through the portal, and she’s gone too. 

well, fuck. that couldn’t have gone worse. 

v excited to continue this one. as always, thanks for reading, comment your thoughts or find me on ao3. stay hydrated and have a great day<3

taglist: @imherefordeanandbones, @theywhowriteandknowthings, @josephquinnswhore, @millerscoffee, @nostalxgic, @sscorpiiio, @its-nebuleuse, @sofiparallel, @mandoisapunk, @bastardmandennis (hey pal), @amanitacowboy, @party-hearses, @planet-marz1, @chiogarza, @jenispunk, @pertinentpostmortem i know most of y’all didn’t sign up for miggy content so let me know if u wanna be tagged only in pedro works. divider by the amazing @cafekitsune.

[yenqa]

night secrets

sypnosis — in which the two of you reveal your deepest secrets to the other in the middle of the night.

warnings — profanity, hurt/comfort, angst, crying, mentions of bruises/injuries, lmk if theres more!

pairing — spiderman!niki x gn!reader

wordcount — 1590

a/n — happy bday niki!! sunghoon work coming soon guys i swear

The shine of the moon peers through your window, lightly illuminating Riki’s soft expression looking at you. You two are tangled together on your bed, facing each other.

His hair is slightly ruffled, and you can tell he’s tired just by his eyes. The room is silent, the only noise being the infinite white noise of the fan tucked onto your bedside table.

You can feel a chunk of your hair lifted, being felt by Riki’s gentle hand, he softly combs through it—untangling each knot that you had made while laying down.

He treats each strand as if he’s strumming a guitar, replaying the same chord over and over again until moving to the next.

It almost feels surreal, you’ve been hopelessly in love with this man for years and now you’re lying next to him. You lift your hand to his cheek, brushing it slightly—making sure that he isn’t some illusion your mind made up.

You let out a breathy smile on your face, admiring his sharp features that make your boyfriend.

Fate had a play in your lives. If that attack hadn’t happened during your first year of highschool you wouldn’t have been next to Niki right now, three or four years later.

Though fate had also made you trip over yourself in the hallway yesterday, fate has also placed Niki beside you to catch you. Fate was a scary thing to think of, how is it that everything happens for a reason? As crazy as it is, you would have wished for your life to go any other way.

It’s quiet in your room, but not an awkward silence. In Fact you enjoy it—but something inside you compels you to voice your thoughts to him.

Staring at his face, you try to imagine how he’d react to your thoughts, a few hours ago—when you were both wide awake he would’ve laughed and made some corny joke about it. But it’s different now. The moon’s out and the darkened sky makes you more vulnerable than ever.

“Is there something on your mind?” He asks, pausing his hair combing.

You’re not even sure your voice works after keeping silent for what felt like a couple centuries, but you answer anyways, “It’s nothing, keep brushing my hair, please?”

He chuckles quietly and you can feel the slight vibration in his chest, “Nothing? You’ve been staring at me weird for the past minute.”

“Promise you won’t judge me?” You hold up your pinky finger, though you can barely see it, you feel his arm shuffle to interlock with yours.

“Okay um—this sounds really corny but I’ve liked you since forever. I know I told you I started liking you last year because of that one time that villain came to our school and you protected me then went to help others but—I’ve liked you since seventh grade, and It feels so—so crazy that I’m laying in bed next to you right now, y’know?”

Everything you say sounds so rushed out in your world, but in Riki’s it feels like time is slowed, seventh grade? Even when he was a total loser who wore neon shorts to school? Even though he comes to school—or even to your home with bruises and injuries everywhere that taint his reflection in the mirror?

“You’re being so quiet—Why are you being so quiet?” Your voice is barely above a whisper, and Niki can’t help but showcase a big grin.

“I didn’t know you were so in love with me” His hand moves to teasingly pinch your cheek, ignoring the scowl on your face.

Ah. This was the reaction you should’ve expected.

Annoyed, you turn your body around to face the wall, but he grabs your waist, turning you around to face him once again.

“I love you too, Y/n. Sometimes I feel as if I don’t deserve you with everything I’ve done.”

You squint at him, trying to make out whatever flaw he thinks he has, “What do you mean “everything I’ve done”? If being the perfect boyfriend is everything then I think that you’re perfectly up to standard?”

His mouth opens slightly, as if he has a secret that’s dying to come out, one that seems to fight his way to his thoughts.

“Y/n, I have a secret for you too.”

Shuffling in your position, you look up at him with curious eyes. “What is it? I won’t laugh or tease you I promise.”

He sits up, and you follow. He ruffles his hair slightly, as if trying to get rid of his nerves. You grab his hand softly, playing with it to calm whatever nerves he has.

A sigh leaves his mouth, “I am uh—I’m Spiderman.”

His voice is shaky, as if it was caught in his throat and he had just forced it out. But—you can’t tell if he’s being serious, I mean it’s not like you knew Spiderman personally so you couldn’t really compare and contrast.

Though Niki was always a jokester, you decided that not believing him was the safer option. “Ki—that’s not funny. I thought we were being serious.” You furrow your brows, unable to read his face.

“I’m not joking! Look—”

White webs emerge from Niki’s wrist, shooting straight into your wall. You let out a gasp, tightening your grip on his wrist to find any evidence of a prank. You look at him with your mouth still as he patiently lets you search his arm for any evidence of silly string or something.

“Niki, if you’re joking I swear I’m going to fucking kill you.”

His hands raised in surrender, “I just showed you my webs! I also have my suit in my bag, I carry it everywhere with me.” He points to his duffle bag in the corner of your room which conveniently has a glimpse of red sticking out of it, squinting, you swear you can see the black design.

“And that night when that super villain came!” He frantically adds, “I left not to go help other people—but change into my suit so I could get rid of him!”

Your body is frozen, internally clicking the pieces together. All of the sudden, you know why he randomly appears with bruises or injuries or if he leaves in the middle of something important and comes back out of breath.

“Are you serious?”

“I’ve never been more serious in my life.”

Your mind scrapes through everything you thought of him ever, unable to even comprehend that your friendly neighborhood spider man was just a teenage boy. Specifically the one standing right in front of you.

More importantly, you’ve seen the things people have done to spiderman. Publicly shaming him or even just getting tossed around by villains. And instead of getting a thanks from the city and some kind of prize, he’s judged for making a mess while saving your city.

Your mouth lays open slightly, unable to even think of the mistreatment he’s been getting, the amount of help he needs but can’t get without hurting anyone, the amount—

“Can you say something other than are you joking? Or are you serious, please?” His words are similar to yours just a minute ago, there are words you’d want to hear, and words you wouldn’t. There's an obvious decision you make.

Ignoring his plea, you envelope him in a hug, tucking his head in between your head and your shoulder. Letting him sit comfortably for a few seconds. The words barely come out of you, “I’m so proud of you.”

“What?” His words are muffled, he’s confused. But it comes out in a soft tone, almost fragile. You lean back, cupping his face in your hands.

“You’ve gone through so much with no help at all. I mean—you’re just a boy. And you’ve saved the city what—at least five times and you don’t get any credit for it at all. You come home with injuries every day because you’re busy saving everybody's asses—”

He leans back into you, dampness fills your shoulder as his body starts to tremble. You panic, lightly rubbing his back. “Fuck—I’m sorry, please don’t cry. I love you and I’m proud of you—please don’t cry.”

Your words only evoke more cries, until he’s full on sobbing on your shoulder. Every few seconds he sniffles.

Unsure of what to do, you whisper sweet words into his ears, letting him cry out all his worries as you continue to do your best to console him. Though your shirt will surely have a huge wet spot on your shoulder, you have hundreds of more to wear.

You couldn’t ever imagine what it would be like to be Spiderman. Having to be responsible for saving the city at least every week, having to come home limping and not being able to tell anyone why or even getting the appropriate help. Having to lie to your loved ones to protect them.

You couldn’t imagine ever having to go through the suffering he goes through, just to have to do it again the next week.

So, you continue to stay still. He cries until he runs out of tears, you softly lift his face to face yours, placing a soft kiss on his lips before tucking him into bed, whispering a soft “I love you, and I’m so proud of you, Niki.” you lay down next to him, intertwining your fingers and succumbing to your own drowsiness.

perm taglist : @jwnghyuns @ja4hyvn @trsrina @redm4ri @badmuni @yeokii @enhastolemyheart @softpia @s00buwu @ox1-lovesick @boyfhee @hanniluvi @teddywonss

yenqa © please do not copy, steal or translate.

[uravitypng]

𝐈 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊 𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐇: 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄

pairing: denki kaminari x reader, (hanta sero x reader)

word count: 6.6k

content warnings/things in part five: not a lot in this chapter! some inappropriate thoughts and daydreams, reader kind of has self esteem issues but it's mainly fuelled by the paparazzi, reader wears a bikini, petnames (babydoll, pretty girl, princess->used playfully), jealous denki, maybe jealous hanta (if you squint really really hard??), mineta (ewww), written with a chubby reader in mind/// minors do not interact (in later chapters there will be more smut and more explicit content!!)

a/n: chapter five is finally out!! sorry it took so long but it's finally out and boy is it longer than previous chapters. i really really really hope you enjoy this part, i've loved writing it! i was meant to finish it last week but i've been binging romance animes lmao.

summary: it's terrible when you're in love with your best friend. it's terrible that he's in love with someone else.

<< previous | next >> | masterlist / polls for this chapter: 1 & 2

"I can't believe our agencies are letting us go to the beach! Out of all the ways they could deal with the current situation they choose this!" You say excitedly and beam as you walk a little ahead of everyone but they can still all hear you.

"Yeah it's like that typical anime beach episode." Denki runs up over to you grinning. As denki runs up to you he trips over on the sand before catching himself, you bite you lip to stifle a laugh and process what Denki just said.

"Did you just compare what's happening to a beach episode right now Denks?"

"She's right Kaminari, this may seem like a relaxing day but we're here for a reason. If those League of Villain copycat group show up here like we suspect then we need to be ready." Todoroki 'reminds' you all and you have to resist the urge to roll your eyes. You weren't referring to the mission when you said that Denki, you were just stating that beach episodes are different to real life beach trips.

A couple of heroes with you seem so suspicious, shifting their eyes around the surrounding area. Plus you don't understand the choice of bringing along Todoroki and Bakugo, they're to recognisable and well known, even if the villains did show up they wouldn't stay for long after noticing who's here too.

You have a gut feeling this mission will come up with nothing. This whole time will be a wild goose chase leading you here with zero results. You've told them just as much, 'when have I ever been wrong about this kind of stuff guys? this whole mission to the beach will be useless we should focus on other things, find out where they really are.'

It's so frustrating that they don't believe you... Well most of them... All of them to be honest but they can't voice that out loud. Everyone whose hair is currently blowing in the wind and sand beneath their feet knows you very well and trust your instincts but they can't just ignore this lead they've been given. Katsuki expects you have a second quirk that allows you foresight, he especially trusts your intuition.

Denki stretches, groaning in pleasure while you quickly turn your head away from him and try to drown out the noise.

"Well I for one think we can relax, I have it on good authority" he grins at you before continuing, "that nothing will happen today. We might as well relax. This reminds me of our extended three day weekend holiday our class went to on the last week before leaving school."

All of the UA, Class A, alumni heroes that are present reminiscence on your time together. Bittersweet feelings flood your emotions as you think about how much you miss seeing them so often, yet glad and blessed with the time you did get to share with them back when you were all teenagers.

"Or when we went to Nabu island in our first year," Ochako adds.

"I didn't like that at all. Not only did villains attack but on top of that every single hour of every day people on the island was calling into the hero centre wanting us to do something, no matter how trivial." Minata replies, his voice more apparent with age, mostly losing the lisp he had.

"That's not the reason why and you know it. Every other day you were being perverted to random girls on the island." Hanta doesn't try to hide his annoyed tone from everyone. He's never concealed his disapproval of Minata's actions and that was originally one of the first things that drew you to strike up a conversation and friendship with him.

"Can we just sit down and make snide comments in a minute?" You ask, holding onto a large cooler with both hands and a couple heavy bags slung over your shoulder.

Ochako hums in agreement and pulls the massive beach towel from under her arm and places it down.

You hear Mineta mumble, "how are you a hero?" as he sees you strain to hold the icebox and it becomes so quiet but even though it's mumbled it sounds like the loudest anyone has spoken since you got to the beach.

Your quirk isn't suited to strength, everyone knows that. Your quirk isn't like Midoriya's or Kiri's or Sato's. It doesn't mean you aren't strong though, your quirk is very strong. Struggling to hold a box full of ice cubes and cold drinks plus two bulky bags for over an hour doesn't make you weak.

He's so hypocritical... he wouldn't even be able to lift it up and get it off the ground.

You're a hero for a reason, you know how brilliant you are but hearing that bothered you and distressed you for a reason and coming from Mineta it's even stranger that it effected you, he's made plenty of jabs towards you before but the way he said it irked you, especially because he said it in front of so many other heroes.

Before you can even defend yourself and before anyone else can, Denki does. Mina was about to speak, Hanta was about to, Katsuki took a deep breath in to start yelling and making tiny explosions in the centre of his palms but Denki beat them all to it, he even beat you to it. "What the fuck does that mean?" You stand in shock and your eyes widen at how much rage is in his voice, almost hostile. You've never heard him speak like that before. It doesn't only shock you but everyone else is taken aback.

Denki was so distracted and enraged by what Mineta said he didn't even notice his own tone, all he could think about was 'how dare he say that about you.'

Mineta started stuttering a response about how it was a joke and he didn't mean it. That snapped you out of you stupor and you pull on Denki's sleeve. "Denki, what are you doing?"

His eyes snap up to look at you and his body relaxes, "I- I no one should speak to you like that 'doll," he murmurs gently but you still hear him, all of you do.

A small smile slips on your face and you grip his sleeve tighter. "Thank you Denki," you tell him sincerely. He turned bright pink and you miss it instead whipping your head round to face Minata and pointing a finger out in the air, "listen here small fry, don't speak to me like that again. Who beat you all the times in training? Oh yeah, it was me." You tell him sternly and firmly, not leaving room for any hollow argument.

Katsuki smirks when you call him 'small fry' and wonders how many other nicknames he's made that you use.

Mina claps her hands together after you said your peace and had shut Mineta up, "right, let's get this towel down so I can start sunbathing," she grins. She sees from the corner of her eye that Todoroki is about to say something again about how they need to stay completely focused so before he can say anything Mina adds on, "just kidding," mumbling "kinda" under her breath.

One second Mina's fully clothed and the next second she's only in her bikini laying face down with her face to the side pouting at you and Ochako, "can someone put sunscreen on me? I don't want to burn."

"I'll do it!" Mineta replies automatically, just when you thought he wouldn't say anything else perverted today.

"The fuck you will!" Katsuki yells and you can almost hear the threat of explosions coming from his palms. He stays silent after that and doesn't say anything else, he leers over all the girls but in silence this time.

Everyone relaxes and starts up idle chatter and it was worth it carrying all those heavy things when you finally get to open up a cold drink, refreshing you. Ochako lathers Mina's body in sunscreen claiming that she doesn't want her to burn. You pat next to you and set your eyes on Todoroki, "come sit down Todoroki, you look really shady just standing around."

His lip quirks up in a rare small smile and accepts your offer. "You're right, we're heroes, we're ready to fight and apprehend a villain at the drop of a hat."

You giggle, "that's the spirit."

Due to the sweltering heat everyone has shredded layers, apart from you and Hanta. Even Todoroki has taken off his shirt and is currently annoying Katsuki while most of the heroes are playing beach volleyball. You're boiling and you can feel a few drops of sweat running down your neck but you don't get changed- you can't.

Underneath your clothes you're wearing a bikini but you feel too self conscious to get rid of your clothes, even though your hair is sticking to your face and your skin feels tacky and kind of gross. In your head you curse out those paparazzi from the gala a couple months ago who made you feel insecure as the photos taken of everyone started circulating online.

You gaze up at Hanta, squinting as the sun hits you eyes. Noticing this, Hanta moves the parasol to the side so it covers your eyes from the light. Now in the shade, Hanta grins "better?"

You make a noise of confirmation and nod your head, "thanks Hanta."

Hanta tells you that you're welcome while he lifts up his top starting at the top of his body, near his neck, his voice muffled under the top making you giggle. Your brain catches up with the situation too late as you watch his midriff exposed and the rest of his top half soon after. You swallow your saliva and time seems to slow down as you check him out. His hero costume is skin tight so it's not hard to imagine how he looks under his clothes. It wouldn't be fair to actually compare the two of what you envisioned to reality because after seeing him topless, wow reality is that much better you'd thought.

You wish those thoughts didn't rush though your mind but alas they do, 'my subconscious didn't do Hanta enough justice in my dream.' His arms are particularly muscular, which makes sense with his quirk and you wonder how much he can lift up with all that upper arm strength. There's a large pink scar on his shoulder that you've never seen before and you speculate silently how he got it.

One minute you were admiring his physique and the next you were nearly jumping out of your own skin as Hanta takes off his shorts and you feel the need to bury your head in your hands. You see his thick thighs and you have no control as all you can hear in your head is him calling you 'pretty girl' over and over again.

You're incredibly embarrassed by thinking about your sex dream. You try to avert your gaze away from him but beforehand Hanta can feel your watching eyes on him and spins his body around making eye contact with you, grinning wide and winking. You fiddle the hem of you top, suddenly shy that you've been caught and Hanta flops down next to you, still grinning. "Like what you see princess?" He asks teasingly, emphasising 'princess.'

"O-oh, shut up," you roll your eyes at him. Hanta chuckles and reaches over to the cooler and gets himself a drink. You elbow him on the shoulder, "idiot," and burst out in a fit of laughing and Hanta joins in.

"What's with the shirt?" Hanta asks gesturing to what you're wearing.

You feign ignorance, pretending you don't know what he's talking about. "Huh?"

"You must be hot in that."

"I'm okay," you say and you hope he doesn't notice that you're lying.

"I can see sweat trickle down your forehead, don't get me wrong you're still hot, just now in every sense."

You feel a combination of scoffing at his playful flirting and wrapping your arms around yourself shy and embarrassed but Hanta doesn't let you get too in your head and grabs an unopened drink and places it on your cheek, making you yelp and interrupting your thoughts. "Any better?" He moves the can up onto your forehead. "Why don't you want to get changed pretty girl?"

You stay silent and Hanta waits for you to speak patiently. "What I'm wearing underneath exposes more than normal."

"You've worn swimming costumes and bikini sets in public before, has anything changed. Is it a bad day today?"

Your heart warms when he asks if you had a bad day. "Not a bad day as such but there's been photos of everyone circulating after the charity gala a little while ago and the dress doesn't look as good as I thought it did. Because we're in public I'm kind of wary if someone takes photos and like I said it's more revealing than other ones I have... I regret choosing this one to wear today, it's not very flattering."

"I'll be the judge of that pretty girl." he grins lazily and you huff at his behaviour. You were intending to condone his reaction after you've just been so sincere about how you're truly feeling, especially since Hanta is typically more considerate than that but you should know not to jump to conclusions because after a pause he starts speaking again.

"In all seriousness you looked beautiful that night and I saw photos of everyone all over my twitter feed the day after and it didn't change my mind about how you looked that night. If people take pictures then they take pictures, we're here on a mission," you wince at the reminder that this is a mission but he gives you a reassuring smile, "a pointless mission with your perfect intuition but a mission all the same. You shouldn't sacrifice the relief of cooling down and if your swimming costume is revealing then that's okay, Mina is practically naked," you giggle and he smiles wide. "All of us are hot so anyone who sees us should be lucky,"

There's a cross between a chuckle and a raised eyebrow as you ask him, "even Mineta?" The immediate hard reply of 'no' makes you laugh again. "Haven't you always preached body positivity and acceptance for all?" You tease.

"If he wasn't such a pervert than my answer would be different," Hanta's says simply and you don't know if he's unaware of the affect that had on you. Hanta never once treated anyone different if they didn't fit societal norms, even when other people would, he didn't. Both him and Kiri were like that, it's probably why you always respected them so much.

Hanta's words did convince you to pull off your clothes, you were boiling but you finally shed off your clothes, grimacing as the top sticks to you. Hanta's resting his face in the palm of his hand, looking at you with hooded eyes that makes you feel almost bashful. You can tell his gaze isn't one of leering so you don't mind it so much.

You're completely free of clothes now and feeling a lot better now but you're still sticky, planning to go for a swim in a bit.

"I knew it," Hanta smirks and you look at him confused. "You look beautiful in that pretty girl, pink and white suits you."

"Oh please Hanta, sweat is trickling down my back and clinging to my eyebrow and cupid's brow. I can practically taste it," you disagree with him.

Hanta chuckles deeply, "you're still beautiful."

You tut and grab the sun-lotion from one of the bags, wanting to hide your face for a second. "Who first?" You grin at each other.

"Whoever you want."

"Okay, turn around to face me." He does what he's told, beforehand downing the rest of his drink and sitting so close that your knees are nearly touching his back as you sit on your heels. Opening the cap and squirting some in your hand, you begin to place you hands on his back. Hanta jumps slightly and you ask if he's okay, he responds that he is but it was colder than he expected, you apologise but laugh louder than the apology you give at that answer.

You rub your hands over him, making sure you don't miss any spots not wanting him to burn and have to take a deep breath as you feel his defined shoulder muscles under your palms. You lift his hair up slightly that's covering his neck and make sure it's covering his neck too. Half of you is thinking about how you're very physically close to Hanta and you've never done anything like this before but a louder voice is disagreeing, you both are very touchy-feely, you fall asleep on him and spar together all the time and when watching films in groups you'll share blankets, so is this really different?

'He's kissed me too, so this isn't a big deal...'

You don't pay much mind when you start to press your hand over the places that he can reach. You don't think as you rub cream on his arms and get up and face him, sitting back down as you make eye contact and give him a small smile. He doesn't say anything and neither do you. You put sunscreen on his chest and marvel about how built he feels, you carefully pick up his arms and make certain you cover every inch of him. You squeeze more sunscreen on your hands and close the lid before gently swiping along his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. You see the genuine smile that adorns his face and that snaps you out of your stupor, you momentarily stop putting the lotion on him, freezing, before starting again, although this time a bit more bashfully and not being able to make eye contact with him, instead just looking at the rest of his face.

"Think I'm nearly covered. Next it's you, yeah?" He says softly and you hum confirmation.

At the same time Denki's breathing deeply, trying to catch his breath after overdoing it while playing volleyball and he lets everyone know he's going back to get a drink and he's missing the next match out. He runs up, not noticing until he got close how your hands are running along Sero's body and how you're too close for comfort, it's looks far too intimate, too sensual. Denki clenches his teeth so hard it's a wonder they don't shatter.

"What's this?" Denki asked you both, forcing a smile on his face. You're surprised by his sudden appearance and feel almost guilty, you're really not sure why though.

Kaminari chooses to ignore the exasperated sigh that comes from Sero and gazes at you. You take your hands off Hanta and place them in your lap, "helping each other with putting on sunscreen. Have you already put yours on?"

"Uh. Yeah?"

You scrunch up your face not believing that and give him a pointed look, crossing your arms and it gives both Denki and Hanta everything in them to not look down as you unknowingly push your breasts up higher as you cross your arms. "I don't believe you."

"I did! Just.. Probably not the most thoroughly." He admits sheepishly and you cross your arms.

"Hey Sero, come join our team! We're a player down," Mina hollers to him, not asking you, knowing that you wouldn't want to play. Hanta goes slightly rigid at the request, he doesn't want to leave, he's supposed to put sunscreen on you in a minute and being around you one on one was wonderful, your soft touch on his cheeks and how you delicately moved his hair out of the way.

Little does he know you're in the same situation, although Denki's here now you don't want Hanta to go, you want him to jokingly make more flirty comments and call you pretty girl again. Even though you know he isn't serious about it and even though you know he does it with everyone it still makes you feel good.

Denki sits down very close to you and has a drink before saying, "You should go Sero, a lot of them won't let it go about an unbalanced team. They'll either have won unfairly with an extra player or lost unfairly because they were a player down."

Hanta sighs again before sitting up, "yeah you're right, I don't think I can handle another repeat of similar situation with Bakugou beating Todoroki at the sports festival." You chuckle and he leaves.

You want to ask Denki if he likes your swimming costume but you can't get the words out so instead you ask him, "Hanta was going to put sun-lotion on me but he left, can you do it instead? Just my back and stuff," you ask him. "The places I can't reach," you clarify. You really don't want to get burnt and hopefully if Denki's only touching quickly from behind you won't get too flustered and if you slightly do he won't see. You're definitely not strangers to physical affection with Denki but you are strangers when it involves so little clothes.

"I... uh-"

You interrupt him, taking his pause and lack of answer as reluctance and you don't want to force him to do something he doesn't want to do. You try and ignore the voice in your head that's asking a million questions about why, what's so bad about it. "Don't worry about it Denks I'll just put my top back on," picking up your top and turning it the right way round. 'Ah it was really nice to cool down for awhile.'

Denki grabs onto your top before you can put it back on. "No!" He rushes out and lets go of your top. Levelling his voice back to normal he says, "no, don't do that, you'll get too hot. Let me just move behind you." You give a tiny nod and hum. "Can you pass me the bottle babydoll?"

"Oh yeah," you open your hand and lay the sunscreen bottle in it so he can take it, his fingertips brush against your palm as he takes the bottle from you and you feel him shuffle behind you. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah! All good!" He hopes you don't hear the strain in his voice as he tries to sound okay and squeezes some cream out. "Okay it's going to be cold now," he warns you, "although it might just be refreshing," he adds. He talks so close to you, you can feel his breath on your shoulder blade and for a second there you thought he was going to kiss it by the way he lingered after he spoke but he pulled away and you told yourself about how ridiculous that idea was.

Denki pulls back and repeats that he's going to start now. He's right when he's said it would be cold but also when he said it would be refreshing. However you underestimated thinking Denki touching you wouldn't impact you. What you didn't realise is Denki was doing worse of than you were and you don't hear his swallowing over your own thoughts. Your soft body melds in between his nervous fingers as he makes gentle large circular motions on your skin.

You fight back a shiver as he touches your sides and goes all the way up to your shoulders. "Do you want to lay down?"

"Huh?!" You say a little louder than necessary. Denki is taking so much care with you, more than you thought and it's making you try to force down all the butterflies that are trying to flutter in your stomach. With every minute that passes with his gentle touch, the more heat rises to your cheeks and the more bashful you become. You don't know if you'll be able to handle much more of this.

"You asked me to help you with the places you can't reach." He reminds you and you wince. You didn't ask Hanta to lay down but now the man you love is asking you to and that means he'll be touching you more. Half of you is almost happy about this but the other half is thinking back to how Denki was silent when first asked and why was he silent, it would of been so much easier if Hanta didn't have to leave but you do what he says and lie down on your front, your head turned to the side watching everyone play volleyball in the distance.

You jump as Denki touches you again, still with care. You start to ball up your fists and your cheeks get hotter and hotter, especially when he touches your thighs. You were about to break the silence between you both when he touches your plush thighs but he quickly moves on, quicker than when he's touching other parts of your body.

Simultaneously Denki sucks in teeth and squeezes his eyes shut when he touches your thighs, he almost regrets asking you to lie down. He doesn't stay on your thighs long and goes over to your hips, you feel like his hand itches a bit to close to the string of your bikini bottoms but you dismiss it as he quickly moves his hand away again.

"All done," he says quietly but deeply as he retracts his hands from you.

"What?" You ask. It's not your fault you're distracted it's his, if Denki's going to hover around certain parts of your body he's to blame for any daydreams. It's not your fault if you imagine Denki lowering your bikini bottoms and untying the strings of your bikini top while he actually does place kisses on your shoulder blade, all along down your spine reaching the place he normally keeps his hand when you get too panicky and overwhelmed at events. Holding onto your hips and leaving bites and marks all over your body, letting small sparks go from his fingertips in your inner thighs making you moan-

"I said I'm all done now," you nearly squeak as you're interrupted from your daydream again and swiftly move to get up, Denki holding out his hand for you to take to help you up and turn you back round so you're facing each other again. "Do you want me to do your front?"

You shake your head rapidly and reply, "it's okay I can do it." Your eyes narrow as you see how red his cheeks are, "I know you said you didn't put sunscreen on properly but come on Denks at least put it on your face," you condemn.

"I did!" Denki rebuttals but you don't believe him for one second as you see his face and you tell him just as much.

"I don't trust you, if you've put sunscreen on your face why are you so red?"

"I must not have put it on properly, I should have had someone do it for me. Even though it's the front of my body I should have been more careful with applying." He hopes you don't call him out on his lie and his wording, you don't. After you don't he pushes a bit more, "Sero won't have the same problem because you made sure he was completely covered... I don't want you to burn."

You weigh the pros and cons and in the end the pros outweigh the cons. On one hand you'd prefer not to have anymore dirty inappropriate imagery of Denki but you don't want to get burnt, you're going on a blind date in a few days from now and you don't want them to see you with peeling skin and burning, angry, crimson hot streaks from wherever the sunscreen didn't cover.

"I'll take you up on that, if you still don't mind."

"I offered didn't I?" He smiles at you kindly and gestures for to lie on your back.

"Do I have to lie down Denki?" You ask a bit wary about any more daydreams you might have.

"You don't have to if you don't want to, it's your decision. I think it would make the most sense though."

You're not entirely sure about his logic behind that answer but you trust him and if it makes the most sense then you're sure you'll be able to survive a couple more minutes.

"Great!" Denki says a bit to enthusiastically and he's not deaf to how strange it must sound with how quick his attitude towards this situation seems to have changed.

Lying on your back you suppress the urge to cover your face with a sun hat to hide from him and from this position. The sight you're seeing takes your breath away. You're often reminded about how attractive Denki is, and at random times of the day too, like right now. His pretty golden eyes are reflecting against the sun at this angle, making you get lost in them. Denki unintentionally flexes as he reaches over you to pick something up you don't see and it's only natural that your eyes drift to his well-earned muscles from hero work, his lean body shining with sweat and his blonde hair is falling down his face. You don't even think about it before reaching up and running your hands through his hair and away from his face so you can see his whole face more clearly. A tender smile that you return appears on his face and you swear his face looks redder than before.

What he was reaching before becomes into your view and you see it's his black headband to push back his hair, he didn't think it was necessary earlier but now he's more confident in his movements and in his mind getting his hair completely out of his face so he can see you properly is the best way to go to make sure you're completely covered from the sun and he tells you just as much, although leaving out the part of him being previously not confident and being nervous about it, because you would ask 'why?'

He pushes his hair back with his headband and continues to rub lotion in circles on your skin, this time on the front of your body.

Denki's hand stops and even though you can't see what he's looking at you just know. "Denki?" You say quietly.

He's jolted from his thoughts at your voice and rests his whole hand gently on your rib where a faded jagged scar decorates your skin. His hand is now no longer covered in any cream after rubbing the remaining sunscreen left over in his hand and was currently just gently stroking your scar after hearing your voice.

Subconsciously he's moved his other hand to your hip and normally you would be more flustered than you are by this gesture but the way he's holding you clues you in that all he's thinking about is how you got that scar and he's holding you for comfort- his own comfort.

The first year of hero work out of UA you encountered a villain that got the better of you. You were too slow or maybe she was too fast but either way you ended up with her arm slicing into you. Realising too late that her quirk allows her to form rough, sharp, knife-like shapes in her forearms, cutting deep into your skin as the quirk then secretes poison after making contact with your blood after the slash.

You don't remember much after that just everything fading to black and waking up, lying in a hospital bed, with Denki by your side, looking like he hasn't slept in days as he tells you that Sero found you and luckily he did find you because you lost a lot of blood but more urgently the poison had entered your blood stream and destroying your body from the inside, luckily you were treated when you did.

That wasn't the only time getting injured while working but it's the one that seemed to scare Denki the most, from your point of view that's what it looked like at least. You surmised a long time ago that that incident was more serious than everyone told you.

"Denki, I'm okay now." You assure him softly.

"Yeah," he says so quietly that it's almost silent.

Trying to cheer him up but also sharing your honest feelings about the matter you admit to him, "plus I think it's kind of cool y'know? It's almost like we're matching now. It reminds me of a lightning bolt."

Denki's eyes snap up to look at you, and squeezes your hip subtly for a second before letting go. His mouth opens and it looks like he's about to say something before closing it.

"You're right babydoll," he doesn't say anything for a second before adding, "I promise you won't get hurt like that again," he tapers off at the end and it becomes more of a mutter.

You giggle because how's he going to do that? You're a hero, just like him and his protectiveness of you makes you giggly and giddy because what is he going to do, wrap you up in bubble wrap?

Denki brightens up as he hears you laugh and smirks, uncapping the lid of bottle again and finishing the rest of his assigned role. He surprises even himself as he lifts up the strap of your bikini top a bit to put sunscreen under it, he's not sure what he'll say if you question it but you're too busy biting the inside of your cheek because 'that was intimate, he was basically undressing me'. You know that's not entirely accurate but he was still moving your clothes, and your bikini top no less!

Luckily for your own sanity the only other noteworthy thing that happened was when Denki applied the cream to your neck unlike how he's been doing the whole time beforehand. Instead of making circular motions he was wrapping his hand around your whole neck all at once and rubbing it in all in one go. You can only imagine how rapid your pulse was beating and it's astonishing that Denki didn't say anything. You think at that moment you exploded and couldn't help but wonder about how his hands seemed very confident and comfortable around someone's neck...

Lifting yourself up, Denki stands at the same time and holds out his hand for you to hold onto, "wanna go swimming?"

"I'd love to," while taking his hand you answer.

As soon as you stand up the voices from your friends get closer and you watch as they make their way over to you. You hear Mina exclaim, "Ahh, I love your bikini! It really suits you. Where did you get it from?" You heart warms when you hear the compliment, knowing that not just Hanta likes it but Mina does too.

Even though you haven't been playing volleyball like some of the others you're still equally hungry having been sweating all day and only having a light breakfast so your plans to go swimming gets delayed as everyone sits down and gets ready to eat lunch. Bakugou starts laying out food prepared by him, not trusting some random person at his agency to do it or anyone else going on the mission, people like Todoroki are notoriously bad when it comes to anything involving or similar to cooking. Denki grabs a couple of sandwiches for the both of you, and you can't help but scrunch up your nose at his choice, having a bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich is completely normal but the amount of mayonnaise he adds to it is not. He's kind enough to grab your favourite though so you don't verbalise your slight disgust (this time at least) and happily eat lunch with everyone else, listening as Katsuki brags about how he scored the most in the volleyball.

After finishing your sandwiches Denki picks up a watermelon slice from the platter and holds it near your mouth, "say ahhh" you automatically open your mouth humming 'ahhh' not even thinking about it. Denki feeds you the watermelon as you take a bite of it.

"Want to go swimming now?"

"Sure."

" 'Kay." Denki then speaks louder so everyone else can hear him, "we're gonna go swimming."

Then a swarm of replies of people saying 'okay' and Kiri saying, "see you in a bit, i'm going to go swimming after finishing up eating".

Taking the already inflated doughnut with you, you leave and get to the sea line, yelping as the cold water moves and touches your legs. Denki chuckles and you scowl at him. He sprints into the water and sighs as it cools him down, gingerly you walk into the water, reaching him and a cross between a sigh and a shiver escapes you.

Denki takes the doughnut ring from your grasp and places it over your head onto your waist, pulling the side, with you in it, further into the water while you float along with him, you halfheartedly complain but he grins at you while you pout.

"Cooler now than you were earlier in the day 'doll?"

"Yeah," you smile softly.

"I'm glad," Denki replies back.

As you get farther from the tide Denki stops and spins the float that's holding you around a couple times, before stopping and holding the inflatable with his two hands on either side and grins as you. "Remember when we were like fifteenth and we went to the beach together, you ended up burying me in sand, I still have nightmares about it," Denki says solemnly, jokingly.

You giggle uncontrollable at the memory remembering it like yesterday. "It's your fault, I mean who falls asleep while eating an ice cream at the beach. It was only natural for me to lay you down and bury you. Plus, it was payback!"

"Payback for what may I ask?" He knows what you'll say.

You gasp in fake horror of him forgetting, "you knocked down my sandcastle when we were little! We went to the beach together for the summer, both of our families, and I begged you to make a sandcastle with me but you didn't want to, you ran off and made a new friend for the day and while you were running back from the sea with him you ran into my sandcastle and knocked it over! It was traumatic!"

"I don't remember that, are you sure?" Denki smirks and you slash him. He starts spinning you around again, this time rapidly and continuously, you squeal and get dizzy. You try and splash him more as you both laugh. He halts spinning you and you make eye contact, "please forgive six year old me, it's not like he brought you a coke and an ice cream and let you decide what film to watch that night when you stayed at mine to make up for it or anything." He teases you with a grin and you think about how you'd like to stay in this moment forever, this perfect moment, his arms brushing against your body as he holds onto the float, the grinning and laughter you share, the memories and the now, just the two of you.

You're thankful you were right about the mission.

tag list: @st4r-girl-official @xnorthstar3x @cherribxio @stabbygabyy @boreaswrites @skylardarling (i don't remember if you wanted me to tag you, sorry but you sent me an ask about i talk too much so i thought i'd tag you) @kelly-fushiguro345 ♡♡

[hey-hamlet]

BNHA AU Idea - Let's Kill Sensei!

I just got reminded assassination classroom is a show that existed so im shamelessly cribbing the premise.

Midoriya Izuku didn't make it into the hero course. Without a quirk and only 10 rescue points - it just wasn't enough. Still, his score in the written exam saw him placed in gen ed - class 1C - with all of the other failed hero students. The classroom has an uncomfortable vibe - the recent and abrupt retirement of All Might after a villain attack on his home left him badly injured, coupled with their own failures, leave them all on edge.

To say they were expecting the man who walked into their classroom would be a mistake, but the gut wrenching fear that followed was almost expected.

All for One, the man they'd all seen nearly murder All Might 3 months ago, grinned - red eyes squinted in real mirth. "Hello, students. What on earth shall I teach you today?"

1C has 1 year to kill their homeroom teacher, or he takes over Japan. 1 year to kill a 200 year old villain with more quirks than UA has students. The student who kills AfO will be given 1 billion yen and moved to the course of their choosing.

What AfO hasn't told anyone is that he has a special gift for the student who manages to off him - if any of them do.

Featuring:

this is a deal with UA and the HPSC - UA wanted him with 3rd year heroics students while the HPSC insisted on gen ed - UA thinks the students have a chance, while the HPSC wants cannon fodder they can throw at AFO so they have extra time to plan.

the only person aware of this deal on UA staff other than Nezu is Present Mic - the man who was supposed to be gen ed's homeroom teacher. Nezu wanted to tell Eraserhead as well, but AfO argued that that was an unfair advantage to UA

gen!ed uraraka - without her rescue of Izuku, she didn't get enough points for the hero course

Dad for One - but Izuku doesn't recognize him (its been like 10 years, plus 'Hisashi Midoriya' had black hair). It's pretty clear Izuku is AfO's favourite student. but given that just means hes even tougher and like. Also a murderer. No one is particularly jealous.

Izuku, Shinso and Uraraka friendship - none of them really have anything to lose - either they are the ones to kill AfO or their lives are over.