Men suck! So why not drain their bank accounts for wasting your time?! It would be foolish not to. Even more foolish to push the buttons of a very powerful man in the underground world of Tokyo.
But hey wait! He messaged you first! He wanted you to be his sugar baby so badly it makes him look stupid!
Although Bakugou Katsuki is anything but stupid.
It was supposed to be an easy mark. He followed all of the rules of the unspoken game between sugar baby and sugar daddy. He reached out to you first. He set the time and place for the first date and he asked about your pricing.
To which you told him was a steep two thousand consultation.
Immediately there was a notification with your fee plus a little extra for the expedited meeting in your bank account before he messaged you again.
Wear somethin nice.
His profile was vague as most marks were. Choosing to keep their identity a secret, embarrassed to have to buy a woman's time with their endless cash flow for one reason or another.
Some because of their looks, some their abhorrent attitude, some because they were too busy drowning in their work and some because they just couldn't be bothered for much of anything real only to fall in love after the third date thinking they could buy your heart like they did everything else.
Because at the end of the day all of these marks had something in common. Something to exploit.
They were all terribly lonely.
And despite how forward this mark is, like others have been before him, he was no exception to this rule.
You roll your eyes as you doll up for tonight's meeting. You always wore something nice and appropriate for the setting yet undeniably sexy. Something that made every eye rove over you with the heated gaze of envy. Something that made you everything those men wanted you to be.
A trophy, a status symbol, a yes I'm fucking that.
Scrolling his profile or lack thereof, a little bit more in an attempt to be his perfect baby girl. Knowing that to have a good long lasting con to afford you the luxuries you sat in now, you had to shed your true skin and stuff yourself into something two sizes too small.
Because all men expected that of all women. Of anything of their desire. One must cut away the truest, deepest parts of themselves in order to hold a man's attention span for longer than five minutes. The second you start to look anything relatively human and anything more than a walking sex kitten or cock sleeve is the second they lose interest.
A man often times doesn't want to actually fill the loneliness, not with anything long term, they just want to relieve the ache in their cock.
At least that's all you've ever known and so who was anyone to judge you to exploit them how they exploited others.
Smiling at your reflection as you apply dark eyeliner to your lid, dragging it across your lash line as you go for a more noire mysterious look since you cannot find out much about your potential benefactor. Not that that worried you, you'd worn many skins before.
A recently divorcee, a 'single mom', but most benefactors liked a heavy power imbalance. They lived for the broke college girl act. Showing up in threadbare dresses that were still cute in an old shit box car you'd borrow from a friend and some classical piece of literature those fucks could recognize but knew they'd never read.
Mostly you figured they enjoyed that broke college girl act because they felt they were "helping you build a solid future" all while neglecting their own real daughters at home that they constantly compared you to. Showed you pictures of, similar in age to you and you'd have to stamp down the disgust at these men who probably didn't even know their real baby girl's favorite color.
Absolving themselves of guilt you supposed.
However this new benefactor was something to be excited about, mostly because of the unknown that he seemed to shroud himself in. No interests filled in, no movies or hobbies or songs that he likes.
Not even a profile picture or his name. Just GZ for now and when you checked the banking information on your wire in, it didn't give you any real leads. Received from a business or estate account that google results had no address or number for.
Only his age, 32. Three years your senior.
Which wasn't too bad of a gap well to you anyway, he saw your age as 25 because anything older than that, even one fucking year, men's interest dropped by sixty percent.
Another message comes through the little app.
GZ: Give me your number.
Aggressively forward as you giggle to yourself reading the message, let the read receipts show your interest when you lock your phone and don't reply. Taking the time to apply a nice dark shade of lipstick that made your mouth absolutely sinful as you wore a skin much too close to the real you. Going to your closet for your dress, knowing he was taking you to a very expensive, very highly rated restaurant, most likely to both flaunt and prove he has money.
Zipping up the velvet body con dress with a halter top, the hem stopped just above the knee and you knew it would ride up when you sat down or walked in your black heels with the pearl strap. Pulling on bicep length lace gloves and putting on an onyx ring on your middle finger before adding your pearl necklace to make a suggestion of what he could do to you at the very steep price of seven thousand dollars.
Some men even paid it and even asked to do it in the parking causing them to pay an expedited fee of four thousand. It meant nothing to you and every bit of power they thought they held over you to them.
Opening a drawer to your vanity all with unused pairs of underwear. Choosing a black lacey pair where the ass would be half exposed by lace and strings digging around for the to go tide pen so you could lightly bleach the crotch to make it seem as if they'd been worn all damn day "just for him"
Fuckin gag me.
Your phone pings again, another notification from the SDSB app.
GZ: I don't like waiting, Sweetheart, give me your number.
This time you reply but only after looking over your outfit in the mirror, debating if he'd be into stockings and ripping them before you realize it might make you look a little too conservative for his tastes.
Bbgrl: tell me what GZ stands for and I'll give you those special digits
GZ: I don't barter
Bbgrl: Everything comes at a cost. You know this otherwise you wouldn't be messaging me.
You watch the bouncing bubbles pop up before his quick reply.
GZ: Ground Zero
GZ: Now give me your fuckin number Princess.
Bbgrl: maybe in person, Mr Zero.
Not giving away your actual number was your number one rule and because the last sugar daddy you cut off went full tilt you had to disconnect your other phone and just hadn't had a chance to get a burner yet.
Picking up a small clutch purse you shove inside your lipstick for the night, your phone, the doctored pair of underwear and you don't even bother to bring any sort of wallet.
Walking to a public place a block or so from your luxury condo before you flag down a cab giving them the address as the man smiles down at your cleavage. Enjoying the view in the rearview and it's a wonder he doesn't crash and kill you both. Leaning down to meet his gaze with a disarming smile, wearing a skin to protect both you and him from harm as you force a giggle.
"Eyes on the road silly." When really you wanted to take the knife strapped to your ribs and slit his throat for thinking he even deserved to stare at you like that.
You wore this dress for attention yes but there is a fine line between appreciation of a body and straight up eye fucking you.
And just because you wore this dress didn't give him the right to stare. Counting down from ten as you have pretty visions of gouging his eyes out only for him to pull up right to the restaurant, acting as if he was going to get out and help you.
"No need." You smile politely, "And the fare?"
You look at the triple zeros and his eyes flash to it in embarrassment, so busy eating you alive with his eyes he forgot to start it.
"On the house for a pretty lady."
Forcing a smile as you give him a thanks, leaving the cab as quickly as you can before you walk inside, twenty minutes late for the date.
Tardiness was a big part of the game, whether it agitated them or made them anxious, it would certainly place a little more power on your initial interaction. Gaging their reaction to your power play always determines how you'll respond. Clueless, lost, down right stupid.
The hostess gives you a warm smile as she welcomes you into the restaurant asking of your party size. You're quick to tell her you're here for GZ.
"Or maybe under the name Ground Zero if the initials are too vague." You smile and watch the hostess blanche a moment before she fixes her face.
"Right this way." Expect she doesn't lead you all the way over there, stops just before the darker corner of the restaurant making a gesture with her hands and you chalk it up to nerves. That maybe he owned the whole fucking restaurant.
Watching his large palm swirl a bourbon straight, watch his other heavily ringed hand card through his ash blonde locks.
"Mr Zero?" You ask with a cat like smile, coming to stand beside the table. He glares up at you either oblivious or acting it as you wait for him to pull out your chair.
"Yer fuckin late Princess." He doesn't wait you out though can tell from a glance you'll stand there with your sexy ass heels rooted to the hardwoods of the restaurant before you'd ever sit down. He doesn't give in, this just happened to give him a chance to show his stature. He slams his drink down, clattering the water glasses and your wine glass filled with a pinkish color. Most likely something sweet. For a moment it makes you wonder if he read your profile considering most men didn't bother and showed it often on their first dates that they hadn't when they ordered you red wine. Which you had as your top dislike.
When he rises he's much much bigger than you. Tall enough you have to crane your head up to look at him, broad shoulders and now that he's fully facing you you can see his scarred face. A deep fissure of discolored skin from just over his eyebrow cutting through his eye flaring over his cheek before tapering off at his throat before it meets another deep scar that's hidden under his shirt.
He didn't even bother with a dress jacket, only a dress shirt, black, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows exposing his tattoos and even more scars, his black vest if swirling velvet on the front only emphasizes his broad chest and tapered waist.
He stands there a moment watching you take him in and he cannot lie he is surprised. Most women cowarded at his size especially when they see his scar and his half clouded bromine eye but you just smile. Maybe even a bit of excitement flashed in your eyes but you stand unmoving still that fuckin cat smirk on your dark stained lips.
"My chair, Mr Zero." You remind him and he snarls, leaning in close to your face tipping your chin up to him. It's here you realize how large his hands are, especially when the other settles at your ribcage a moment. You just hope he doesn't feel the knife nestled there and take it as a threat to himself.
"I told you I didn't like waiting." He growls, "So what makes you think Imma continue this date?"
"You're still here aren't you? Besides," You half guide him by moving your face gently from his grip, stepping towards your chair and he follows, "You wouldn't want to cancel a date with such a pretty girl would you?"
"A pretty woman." He corrects with a growl, pulling back your chair and shoving it in roughly when you sit, leaning behind you to whisper in your diamond clad ear, "Yer no girl that's for sure."
As if to say a predator recognizes a predator but you feign ignorance.
"Year?" You ask, smelling your wine before taking a sip. It's fruity, peach you realize with hints of citrus and angel food cake.
"Didn't ask." He bites waiting for you to ask where the menus were, he makes eye contact with the waiter to signal to start their meals. Oblivious, you take another sip of this amazingly delicious wine.
"Bit of a dessert wine isn't it?" You comment, usually men would blunder by now realizing they aren't as prestigious or well versed as they pretended to be but this man proves to be different once again.
"Peach pairs well with spicy and smokey." Glaring right back at you before a mean smile curls his lips, "Unless ya lied twice on your profile."
You set the wine glass down thanking the waiter when they leave fresh bread. Zero is faster than you grabbing for the crusty pre dinner treat as he butters the rich white center before placing the slice on your plate before starting his own.
"Hmm, I haven't lied on my profile." You refuse to touch his offering for now.
"Sweetheart, you may look twenty five but I know that you're closer to thirty than what you want to admit." There's that cruel smile of his again.
"It's quite rude to make a woman seem older than what she is. Touchy subject ya know?" Going back to sipping your wine as you've decided you may need a buzz to endure this date, "Or maybe you don't have a lot of experience with women. Is that why I'm here?"
Smirking over the vein protruding from his throat but the satisfaction only lasts so long, thoughts rounding back to wondering how the fuck he knew your real age and so quickly.
Suddenly you feel his fingers wrapping around the back of you knee as he pulls you forward leaning over the table.
"Haaah? Ya think I don't have experience with women? Oh sweetheart I could have you begging to take my cock in this bathroom in under ten minutes. But I need you for somethin else." He lets his bruising grip go when he sees a flash of the real you, sees your pretty lip snarl in disgust before you fix your face so quickly it would have him wondering if he ever saw that snarl or not.
He thinks he likes this version more than what his right hand picked out from your profile.
Your profile was vague but your photo album was filled with a lot of photos that men could easily project on or imagine themselves with you. Looking demure, easy going, a submissive.
Really Bakugou can tell you're a fucking brat at best and far from demure.
"Is that true Mr Zero? Sex on the first date is quite expensive." You smile cutely, make it a giggle all while the steak knife whispers to you that it belonged shoved through his hand on the table.
"I bet it is sweetheart." He spits back.
"So…our contract?" You're ready to rush this along thinking that maybe this benefactor isn't going to work out and that you'll have to save your underwear for another time.
He leans back, finally looking a little more relaxed as you bring up business as if contracts and dealings were part of his expertise. Taking a sip of his bourbon as he looks you over in that fine velvet dress he imagines on the floor of his expensive bedroom.
"Dunno can ya behave long enough to talk about it?" Deadly smirk on his lips now, one that makes your stomach clench.
"I always behave, Mr. Zero." A purr, one that changes the tone of the entire dinner, at least for now.
A light scoff but he's smiling, genuinely and he looks so handsome like that. His eyes catch something you don't see before the waiter comes over with two starter salads.
You look down at the fresh bed of greens matching his and try not to grimace that he's most likely ordered dinner for you. Hating when benefactors took it upon themselves as they never paid enough attention to order even remotely right.
"Let's see how dinner goes first yea, princess? Gotta make sure I like it before I buy it." A clear taunt and stab at you to which you give a tight smile. Him placing himself above you but you were determined at the very least to secure the after dinner deposit fee from him that was clearly stated on your profile.
Any dinner lasting longer than two hours or is set after eight thirty pm is considered to be equal to two consultation fees.
He already violated the time since he messaged you at exactly six pm tonight and you were always sure to take your time getting ready.
But you had to finish the fucking date first.
"Okay." Agreeing without issue as you bite your tongue. Finishing your salad and your wine, asking him to order you another glass. Batting your eyelashes and for a second you see his face flash with something other than his gruff nature. Standing with the brief explanation of "freshening up."
Annoyed as you enter the ladies room, looking at your reflection as if to share a what the fuck glance with a friend before rooting around in your bag. Touching up your lipstick, spraying yourself with a bit of your perfume that made all the men insane for you before turning your attention to your hair.
Making sure it was still in perfect placement as you angle your pretty face this way and that. Clutch open on the vanity, the dummy pair of underwear threatening to fall out. Checking your account to see if the rest of this date was worth it when you see your stipulation fee is sitting in your account despite the date only being an hour long thus far.
Figuring you'll make this date worth it now, mostly curiosity getting the best of you over what is going to make this contact so fucking special he's more than willing to pay everything upfront.
To deal with your more cheeky side you used to scare off weaker men.
Clawed fingers curling around the soft pair of underwear, rubbing them between your hands vigorously to make them warm to the touch. To have him thinking that this sexy lingerie style underwear was nestled right to your cunt.
Balling them up as you make your way out of the bathroom while the waitresses gossip over the fact that some violent ringleader was dining there tonight and that he was "dangerously hot." Hushing when they see you pass the refreshment nook before you make your way back to the table.
Thankfully his left hand with all his rings is resting on its side on the table giving you more than enough space to press the warm fabric into his palm and curling his fist around it before sitting back across from him. Giving a flirtatious smile to the large blonde who turns his hand to see what you placed into his palm. Smirking and shaking his head as he looks down at the fabric.
Unfurling it with his large hand and seeing the pair of underwear with a little spot on the crotch that makes him chuckle.
You look over your meal that's been set out, can tell he was polite enough to wait for you as the aroma of spicy smoked meat sits before you. Breathing deeply and hating to admit that you'd actually like this dish. Picking up your fork as you let him become dumbfounded over the thought that you were bare under your dress when that was far from the truth.
Bakugou leans over the very expensive meal on the small table. Grabbing at your jaw a bit tightly so he can turn your face to husk in your ear.
"Now gimme the ones you're actually wearing, Princess." He growls, pulling back to hold out his hand expectantly.
Feigning innocence you look up at him and bat your eyelashes since that worked earlier, even letting your eyes get a little glassy.
"Wh-what are you talking about Mr. Zero?" Voice soft and going softer still when you add, "Those are my underwear. I wore them just for you."
He laughs loudly in your face and his grip tightens, mouth back at your ear with a deadly tone. A mix of playful flirtation and restrained anger.
"Now Princess, 'fore I get mad."
It sends a chill down your spine and a jolt to your cunt. Breaking your facade entirely when you let sharp nails bite into his thick wrist as you yank away your face. Looking around trying to come up with an excuse that this was too much of a public place before he adds.
"We're secluded enough." Letting his fingers wave impatiently with his palm up. Your eyes widen as you see how serious he is. Unable to hide the snarl on your lips or the flash of deep seeded anger in your eyes as you obey a benefactor's command instead of tricking them into thinking they had control.
Shimmying up your little bodycon dress, hooking sharp clawed thumbs into the band of the underwear to bring it down past your thick thighs that part for just a moment exposing your pretty mound to Bakugou by accident. It makes saliva coat his tongue and his cock twitch in his expensive pants.
Quickly fixing the hem of your dress that still tries to ride up thanks to your hips and thighs, balling up the black underwear and slapping it into Bakugou's waiting palm harshly. The corner of his lip curls up as he realizes it's a thong, much better than the dummy pair you gave him moments ago.
"You're such a fuckin pervert." You cross your arms over your chest, pushing up your tits giving the ash blonde a snarling pout. Wholly forgetting about your dinner now as you look away from him, can't believe he's won this round.
"Yea? Who's fault is that? Yer the one who gave me a clean pair of underwear to make me love sick for ya so I'd cough up all my cash." He makes no move to pocket the thin pair of underwear you've just given him, making your eyes dart to look for the approaching waiter, "This work on most men Sweetheart?"
"Tsk, yes." You scoff, "Then they send me whatever I fuckin want."
Pushing away a bit, thinking of leaving from how condescending his tone is. Inspecting the first pair you've given him now that he has the actual pair you'd been wearing, looking closely at the crotch.
"Did ya use a bleach pen on these 'fore ya came in?" He laughs when he watches your face blanch, most men couldn't tell. Just thought it was real and went with it, asked for more.
The waiter starts to come back to the table with another glass of Bakugou's bourbon and your wine, trying not to crack. Shoving down the panic and letting your nails bite into your palm letting crescent moons form in your soft skin. To try not to shove his hands into his lap to save you the embarrassment because the last thing you want him to know is that he's actually getting under your skin. He looks over his shoulder to follow your gaze, feral smile on his mouth.
"Besides, who's the real pervert here, Me for enjoying a pretty woman's time," He rolls the dark fabric around in his hand, still warm from your cunt and when he gets to the crotch it's damp, sticky, "Or you, for getting off to playing some dumb ass men outta thousands."
"I'm not-"
"Not what? Wet?" He laughs, letting his thumb slide through the slick of your underwear, uncaring that the waiter is here now. Setting down the drinks and forgoing asking how the meal was quickly slipping away in hopes of not bothering Ground Zero.
"Sweetheart I bet I could run my fingers through that sticky cunt and everyone in this restaurant would hear it." Bringing his thumb up to his mouth licking at it as one would to get sauce off their fingers, his eyes flutter and suddenly your cheeks burn.
"You're insufferable." You hiss, crossing your legs now, still unable to look at him.
"Ya know, I hate liars." He tosses your fake pair of underwear, pocketing the thong you wore with one hand while the other swirls his drink, "Ya've lied three times now."
"I have not."
"Ya have. Yer age, yer whole personality, yer underwear." He lists them on his fingers and funny enough you chose to die on only one of those hills.
"I am twenty five." You hiss, grabbing at your wine and downing it in three swallows.
"But yer not." He chuckles, eyes flicker to your face, you don't have foundation on, going for a mostly natural look, and Bakugou has good eyes where most men didn't, "Ya've got crows feet sweetheart. Seems like ya've smiled a lot in your life."
Reflexivity you go to hide the corner of your eyes, they crease heavily when you really smile. Everyone who knew you, actually knew you, always made the comment of "you smile with your eyes."
"Ah come on they're barely noticeable and nothin to be ashamed about." He chuckles, pulling at your wrists so he could see your face again, "Gimme a smile."
"Fuck off." You hiss waving him away dismissively trying to regain control, "The contract Mr Zero."
He sighs, annoyed as he leans back, "We haven't finished dinner."
"I'd like to skip to dessert." A snarling hiss as you push away what was probably the best meal you could've ever had.
"Oh would you?" Deadly smirk, "I could skip to dessert iffin ya want. In my car or the bathroom, your pick Princess."
"Again you're fucking insufferable." You make motion to stand, to leave, only for his strong hand to catch your wrist and pull you into his lap making this somehow worse.
"What's wrong? Embarrassed now?" He tilts your chin to him and you squeeze your eyes shut in defiance he chuckles lowly, "Tell me yer real age and I'll stop teasing, for now."
You open your eyes to glare at him for a long, long time. No judgment in those bromine eyes as he patiently waits for your answer. You sigh, scratching roughly at his undercut with your long nails whether it was a strategic move or your fingers having a mind of their own, you weren't sure. The only thing you were sure of was that this man was trouble.
Big trouble.
Yet you answer honestly anyway.
"Twenty nine." It's soft, genuinely this time as if you might be a little embarrassed about it when you know you shouldn't. He smiles up at you, letting his thumb linger at one of the corners of your eyes before he lets his fingers trace your face down to your jaw.
"See, won't so bad to admit it was it?" Genuine gentle tone, his hand on your hip squeezing at the fat there.
Your heart races and that foreboding feeling creeps up your throat as you're slowly realizing that you are no longer the one who was hunting.
No, no, now you were being hunted.
Nails bite harshly into his nape as you stand, snarl to your lips and all he can do is chuckle at your flippant attitude.
"M leaving." Holding out your manicured hand, "Give me my underwear back."
"No, I paid for it." He growls really spurring on your temper now.
"All you men are the same. Pigs who want to keep their dicks wet." A scoff as you snarl your pretty lips.
"And I can say all women are the same. Bitches who want to keep their pockets full." He retorts forcing your sharp claws to grab onto the cheeks of what you don't realize is the most powerful man in the entire country.
Even making sure your nails bite into the skin of his cheeks, "I don't need your fucking money."
"Then why're ya here sweetheart?" He smirks up at you, grabbing onto your wrist tightly.
"Fuck you. You don't know me." Shoving his face and escaping his tight grip before you begin to stomp from the restaurant with your head held high.
"You'll be crawling back to me, princess." He calls out with a chuckle.
"I won't!" You send a snarling growl back, unable to get through the too quiet dining room to the exit of the five star place.
Hissing through your teeth with an echoing groan as the night air hits you doing little to cool your temper while you hail a cab.
Pulling up the sugar baby app on your phone going to his profile to block him but before you can a message pops up.
GZ: See ya in two months sweetheart.
You'd never blocked a mark faster in your entire life.
But the thing you don't know about him yet is that Bakugou Katsuki always kept his promises.
A/N: yay! You've gotten to the end! Thank you so much for reading! Now I have plans to make this a series however I'm not very good at long term things if I'm being honest. Lmfao but please! If you liked or loved this reblog it! I'd love to hear in my inbox or in the body of the reblog or even in your tags of your reblog what you thought of this!
On a diplomatic trip far from home, Prince Bakugou must contend with his hatred for you. A woman who lives to take orders. The last thing the warrior prince needs is a babysitter but it’s a feat, not a coincidence, that you are the only apprentice to the captain of his royal guard.
Feasts, balls, and festivities await you and your new friends at Takoba, and in the seaside kingdom you must reconcile with the idea that your prince is not so noble as the queen who raised him. All while something half dead and long forgotten festers on high tide.
𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕 [𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔] prince!bakugou x royal guard!(fem) reader, slow burn to eventual smut. y/n has a personality and it is business formal, she grows. individual chapters will have specific tags-warnings-ratings— in general please expect violence/descriptions of injuries, strong language, two aloof fools, the classic motley bnha crew, seaside shenanigans. bakugou is an absolute piece of work, y/n is professional to a fault and it drives him insane. travel companions ー civil teammates ー genuine enemies ー confused friends ー lovers. plenty of ridiculous tension accompanied by angst and 𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒄
❂ ー 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 this story has been my baby over the past few months (was this a direct response to mha ch 362? yes) — so I hope you cherish it as much as I do. I am not immune to roy/riza (fmab) and many of the dynamics in this au are heavily inspired by their relationship! just gotta build up that trust first (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ be prepared to absolutely hurtle this man out of harm's way TAGLIST | AO3
𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈
𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒖𝒆. ✦
You terrify him and it breaks his heart.
𝒐𝒏𝒆. 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐚 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐩
In the warm forests of Aldera Castle you and the prince grew up in periphery. A soldier without magic and the boy who never spoke to her. Suddenly, he is your only responsibility.
𝒕𝒘𝒐. 𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞, 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠
With the first day of travel under your belt and introductions well collected, your Alderan company finds time to unwind together. Thankfully, nothing bad ever happens around a campfire.
𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆. 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝
Are all carriages of the east made for prisoners of war? Prince Bakugou despises the close quarters and their snagging silver fixtures, but it is a special kind of fate that would deliver you to the safety of the sea and to the feet of the fire that bars your entrance. And deliver you together at that.
𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒓. 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐞
Hats off to dying!
𝒇𝒊𝒗𝒆. 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭
What a vivid dream you’ve made, of the prince and his heavy hands wrapped around your body.
𝒔𝒊𝒙. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐨𝐛𝐚
It is at exactly the wrong moment that you realize where all the guards have gone, and just how desperate you must appear for the prince to take such pleasure in destruction.
𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏. 𝐡𝐞𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐭
Would he treat you this way in the presence of others? Is it only when you're alone that hell raises?
𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈
𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕. 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐚 (𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 & 𝐭𝐰𝐨.)
In the immortal words of your prince, this was a dogshit idea for a dinner party. You are haunted by blue flames and scarred ghosts no matter how hard you focus on work, and a punishment for your distraction is in order.
𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒆. 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐭
He has no right– your prince is a hypocrite and alone in a haunted seaside garden confrontation is, finally, inevitable.
𝒕𝒆𝒏. 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐟𝐨𝐚𝐦 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐟 (𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 & 𝐭𝐰𝐨.)
You will eat the flame mage alive before he lays a finger on your prince, but why gods has Bakugou chosen now to fear for you? To treat you so gently?
𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏. 𝐰𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝
Thirty-one hours awake and every second spent thinking of you.
𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒗𝒆. 𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫
Gods help anyone that might try to hurt you, even if that person is the ocean, or a god– even if that person is you. You finally find your prince's bedchambers after a fight at sea.
𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏. 𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐳𝐤𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐠
The end of your fever comes with realizations. What happens when two people unable to speak stand too close for too long?
𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈𝐈
𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏. 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠
You always think you're well enough to train and if Bakugou has to tie you to a hospital bed himself he will, but he doesn't mean to watch you win for so long and he certainly doesn't mean to join you.
𝒇𝒊𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏. 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧
Can devotion come before forgiveness? can you control it? the last two sober Alderans carry their friends to bed.
𝒔𝒊𝒙𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏. 𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬
You don’t mean to bite him, he startled you. You don’t mean to laugh together or beam about magic that is not yours. You do not mean to kiss him.
people will completely unironically “break up” with a character theyve liked for years because they’ve turned 18 irl and the character has not and do not consider that to be completely unhinged and deranged behavior HEHGNSBGBFB. he is fake PLEASEEEE free yourself from self imposed shackles i BEG
it was wrong on so many levels, it was depraved and dirty. yet as you make eye contact with your boyfriend’s deep red eyes; you can’t help but let your own roll to the back of your skull.
his wrist moves lazily, languish strokes that stutter when his fingers brush against his sensitive head. pupils blown out wide as he watches you from the corner of the room. teeth chewing down upon chapped lips as he sucks in a sharp breath, eyes closing for a moment as he watches you moan and writhe beneath another man
you want to reach out for him, desperately plea that you’re not enjoying this at all and that nobody can make you feel good but him — but that would be a blatant lie
the man above you has a bruising grip on your hips, his lower half practically slamming into you as he uses you as stress relief.
your hands grip at his wrist and forearms, trying to ground yourself from the overwhelming sensation of being so full; you’d never been fucked like this before.
the one fucking you is unfamiliar, brows furrowed as he concentrates on letting some steam off after a rough day, it was clear he was viewing you as nothing more than an object at this point, but with how every thrust he made was sending your head dizzy, you couldn’t find it in you to complain
your gaze flickers away from the guy atop of you and instead towards the familiar sight of your partner, whose eyes were half-lidded with lust as he listens to you whine for him “tori, tell him t’ slow down please, please! can’t take it”
tendou’s lips pull into a condescending grin as you whimper, helpless against the large guy who was ignorant to the futile attempts at pushing him away you made; your heart not really in it as you let your tongue loll out slightly as his hips angled upwards.
“y’hear that wakatoshi? m’ angel says it’s too much for her” your pussy instinctively throbs at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice, brows furrowing as you hear ushijima groan from the sensation
wakatoshi ushijima was actually no stranger to you at all, but when you had been thrown into this new scenario with him and your partner, it was hard for him not to seem unfamiliar; especially when he was treating you so rough. a huge 180 from the usual gentle giant you had supposed satori’s best friend to be.
a large hand strokes the side of your face, eyes fluttering open to meet ushijima’s own dark pair, his gaze was softer now, more familiar than the deep scowl he had been wearing moments prior
his thrusts seem to follow suit in his gentleness, the headboard no longer slamming against the wall like before, instead he apologises pressing a softer kiss just to the side of your mouth.
“sorry, i just got carried away” he confesses, and your eyes flicker towards your chuckling boyfriend in the corner, his eyes watching hungrily as his bestfriend continues to slowly grind into you, your mind turning to mush slightly as the slick sounds of your bodies coming together continue to fill the room.
you nod feebly, suddenly feeling shy under the gaze of both men “s’ okay, just not so hard, you’re too big.”
satori snorts from the corner of the room, a lazy grin on his features as he continues fucking up into his own fist “gotta be gentle with her, she’s not used to being treated like a slut” ushijima hums, gaze trained on where he and you were connected, smirking at the white ring that was left around the base of his cock.
what tendou had said was true too, when he and you were together it was never as dirty as this, he would never say anything degrading. instead only endless praise tumbling from his lips as he practically worshipped your body
but this? this was entirely different, you felt like you were being ruined by wakatoshi, his cock so big that it ached slightly as he pressed against your cervix. it didn’t help that the way he was treating you before made you feel as though you were unable to think, looking at you as nothing more than an object he could use to make himself feel better.
you felt slightly guilty for liking how he made you feel too.
the sensation of ushijima pressing down on your stomach makes you whine, pulled from your thoughts as he continues to move in and out of you
“holy shit don’t tell me..”
tendou is almost giddy as he watches now, him and ushijima looking to one another as wakatoshi sucks in a breath “can see where i’m fucking her tendou” you gasp as he sends a harsher thrust up into you, his voice practically pathetic as he pushes down on your stomach in awe
tendou has to stop the movement of his wrist for a moment, the sentence alone making him feel all the more sensitive.
you can’t help the moans that leave you as ushijima picks up his pace once again, a simple “sorry i can’t help it” leaving his lips as he groans, eyes trained on where your stomach bulges from the imprint of his dick
hands push and claw at his forearms as tears collect on your lashline, the sensation almost too much as you whine about how he was “too deep.” yet your needy moans don’t stop as tendou encourages you from his seat to the side “you can take him my love, just gotta touch that pretty pussy n you can cum yeah?”
the sound of skin slapping against skin is so lewd, wet shlick echoes filling the room as you whimper out loudly, head nodding as you eagerly listen to your boyfriend’s words. fingers fumbling as you push them into your own mouth, eyes trained on satori’s own red pair as you let your tongue push against them, saliva pooling and dripping around them before bringing them down to your core.
your broken moans stutter into a gasp at the first contact of your fingertips to your clit, ushijima hissing a breath through his teeth as he feels you clench down around him “feels good when she gets all tight like that doesn’t it?” satori groans out, hips moving upwards to meet the eager strokes of his hand
“yeah, god how is she this tight?” your toes curl from the praise, a desperate whine for more leaving your lips as you let your fingers rub messy circles against yourself. the way they were speaking as if you weren’t even there made your stomach tighten slightly, a coil winding up from the overwhelming pleasure of being absolutely wrecked by your boyfriend’s best friend.
tendou catches on the way your hips begin to stuttering up to meet ushijima’s hard thrust’s, free hand clawing at the large man’s muscular forearm, nails indenting into the skin as he winces from the sting, he knew you were close to coming around his friend’s cock now, and it made his cock twitch desperately at the idea
“toshi, need more” you gasp out, practically panting as your hips grind against him “you’re so big!”
ushijima nearly whimpers at the sound of your desperate cry, fingers pressing into the skin of your hips as he tries not to cum first. “you gotta see how pretty she is when she cums” tendou speaks up again, ushijima almost forgetting about his presence as he focuses on the way your cunt tries to keep him close
“tori” you cry out once more, lip wobbling as you turn your head towards him, wanting him to come over and kiss you, touch you, whatever. you just needed him close
he seems to understand this too, standing from his seat, hand still wrapped around his cock as he stands in front of you now “what is it baby, don’t you wanna cum?” his free hand strokes the soft skin of your cheek, thumb pulling your lower lip down as you desperately nod
“just love you s’much” his grin widens at this, a condescending glint in his eye as he watches your eyes roll back from a particularly rough thrust from wakatoshi. “i know baby. know you love wakatoshi’s cock too, don’t you?” he teases, and you have to restrain yourself from cumming as you feel wakatoshi angle his hips upwards once again
“isn’t she a good girl wakatoshi? even while you’re fucking her, she’s tryna show me how much she loves me” ushijima chuckles at the idea of it, when he worded it like that it made you look stupid “sure you’re not just a cockhungry slut beautiful?” tendou coo’s and you immediately shake your head no, a broken sob leaving you as you desperately fight off your orgasm.
“no, m’ not tori! m’ your girl, i love you s’ much!” ushijima takes your denial as a challenge, thrusts growing harsher as he continues to angle towards the spot that was making your brain fog over.
tendou scoffs once again, cutting off your attempt at rambling out more confessions of love by pushing his cock past your open lips “i know baby, you’re my girl” he agrees, eyes practically in hearts as your teary gaze meets his own, tongue dragging along his length as you bring him further into your mouth
ushijima moans at the sight, feeling his orgasm approaching as you start to twitch around him, eyes rolling back as you suckle on your boyfriends tip, a needy repetitive mutter of “m gonna cum!” leaving your lips as you instead start stroking him, back arching off of the bed as you finally feel that coil snap
you can’t help the loud moans that escape you as your other hand digs into ushijima’s arm, his own desperate pants growing louder as he feels you clench around him; watching as your body writhes slightly as he continues pushing deeper.
“good girl, doing so well” tendou praises as he thrusts into your fist, ushijima shutting his eyes tight as he focuses on the way you feel cumming beneath him, it was a sensation he wanted to imprint into his memory forever.
his thrusts slow down however as you desperately cry out about it being “too much” your skin shining with a sheen layer of sweat as your chest rapidly rises and falls. panting, you try catch your breath
and when ushijima pulls out, you can’t help but mourn the loss slightly.
tendou leans down to press a kiss against your lips, hand returning to his own cock as he watches your gaze begin to lazily blink open and closed
grinning as he watches ushijima peel off the condom, groaning lowly at the feeling, tendou walks towards him, offering his hand “want me to help?”
ushijima chews on his lip as he thinks for a moment, nodding as he catches your tired yet eager gaze
tendou is slow as he moves forwards, a hand gently reaching up to the taller males face as he pulls him in for a kiss, you press your aching thighs together at the sight of the two attractive men sighing into one another’s mouths, tongues skilfully pushing and pulling against the others
ushijima shudders as tendou presses their abdomens together now, large slender hands wrapping around not only his own but also wakatoshi’s large cock as they both sigh in relief
you can’t help but watch as the two men stroke their cocks together, tips rubbing against one another as their hips stutter up.
ushijima’s lip is pulled between his teeth as his brows furrow, shuddering slightly as he mutters out a curse “shit” tendou is smiling as he watches his friend groan, his head tilting back slightly as he closes his eyes to savour the feeling.
“who knew this would feel so good huh?” you chuckle at tendou’s words, sleepy eyes trained on the way their cocks rubbed together, ushijima’s twitching slightly as he likely neared his finish. “you can cum if you wanna toshi’” his dark gaze flits over to your own as he nods, sucking in a breath as he lets tendou continue jacking the two of them off
his brows furrow, chest panting as he finally allows himself to give in, a quick warning leaving him before cum splatters against his own and tendou’s chest, your boyfriend following shortly after with a quick “fuck” the pair of them leaning against one another as satori pulls his hand away so as to not overstimulate them both.
you smile tiredly up at the pair as they both pant, tendou falling gracelessly onto the bed as he smirks up at wakatoshi “i told you it would be a good stress relief” both you and ushijima chuckle at this, your eyes rolling as you shuffle over to scratch your fingers against your boyfriends bright red buzzcut, you’d seen pictures of what he’d looked like before he buzzed it all and felt upset that you wouldn’t get to feel that too.
“thank you” ushijima begins, ears red as he finally takes a breather “both of you” you grin up at the flustered man, tendou patting the space on the bed beside him in gesture for him to sit. “it’s all good wakatoshi, hey if you win this next big game maybe she’ll let you do her raw next time”
your skin buzzed with the promise of this happening again, wakatoshi seemingly thinking a similar thing as he grinned; uncharacteristically excitable from the newfound motive
and when he and his team won their next match, well you and tendou were sure to keep your side of the deal.
Synopsis: You need to get your teeth cleaned and Mahito wants to watch.
Word count: 1740
notes: yandere, mentions of death and violence, mentions of past injury on reader, reader is getting their teeth cleaned, Mahito
“You really don’t need to come,” you hissed lowly. “It’s fine. Really. It’s just a quick cleaning.”
Mahito puffed out his cheeks and peered through the glass door into the waiting room. “But I want to come. I’ve never been to a dentist. I want to see what they do to you.”
The receptionist was, at this point, staring at you and made a come-in gesture with her hands. You were standing out there too long for it to be normal. So you sighed and put your hand on the knob.
“Fine.” You bit out the words and regretted them as soon as they left your lips, but there was no taking it back. It didn’t matter, anyway. He was going to come in with or without your agreement.
“You can watch, just… just try to stay out of the way, okay? Please? I really need this cleaning.”
“Yay!” His cheer was too loud and too close, but he never cared about that, did he? Mahito wrapped his arm around yours and flung the door open with his other, only to pull you into the office with a giddy delight. To everyone else, it must have looked like you accidentally almost-tripped over the threshold after entering too quickly.
“S-Sorry,” you said, breathless, smiling, to the receptionist. “I’m a bit clumsy today.”
She smiled back, all prim and professional. But you wondered what she must be thinking. You were standing up far too straight, sweat on your forehead, and you’d just been standing there at the door muttering to yourself before you stumbled inside like a drunkard.
“You know,” Mahito said, as you signed your name on the sign-in sheet, “you’ve gotten really good at making up lies on the spot!”
You fought the urge to roll your eyes, and gritted your teeth instead.
Why did Mahito make even the most everyday things in your life so complicated?
—
He pouted. Honest-to-goodness pouted.
“You never open your mouth so nicely like that for me.” He rested his chin in his hand and furrowed his eyebrows. “I always gotta fight you for it." He pointed an accusatory finger at your chin. And you’re not even trying to bite her! No fair!”
You choked a little on your spit. Couldn’t he just shut up–
“Are you doing all right?” She asked, pulling the tools out of your mouth for the moment.
You closed your mouth and smiled tightly. “Mm-hmm. Sorry, I just have um, some dental anxiety, so…”
She wiped the scaler on your bib and moved the light up a little. Mahito followed the movement and began poking the bulbs.
“Do you think she’d mind if I broke this?” You almost said something, but he shrugged. “Ah, but the pieces would get into your mouth, and we’d be stuck here longer.”
The hygienist continued, not knowing that a curse which could end her life in a moment was hovering over her shoulder, pouting like a damn child.
“Oh gosh, I’m sorry. Just raise your hand if you need me to take a break, okay?”
“Thank you,” you said, and opened your mouth wide to encourage her to continue. She did, returning to examine your teeth with the little mirror, poke here and there, get a good idea of what she needed to tackle first.
Good. The faster she worked, the sooner you could get out of here. The sooner you got out of here, the less likely it was that Mahito would act up.
Act up. Hah. As if his acts of violence were a toddler throwing a tantrum in the grocery store, chubby fists hitting the hard floor as he wailed because he was tired, bored, hungry, didn’t get the toy he wanted, did get the toy he wanted but now it wasn’t fun, the sky was blue and he wanted it green…
No, no, the comparison wasn’t entirely off, was it? Sure, he wasn’t throwing a fit because the store was out of strawberry milk (but he might, you thought, if he took a liking to it) but he might kill someone waiting in the congested line at the grocery store because he was tired of you running errands and wanted you back in your apartment.
And he might kill this hygienist, to have you fleeing home, away from the blood, the carnage, the screams. And because it would be amusing to him, even if you weren’t around.
But the notion went beyond his tendency to pout, to be impulsive, to want what he wants when he wants it, didn’t it? He was always learning, always eager to learn. What he did know often felt instinctive and unfulfilled, and he was using you to stuff the gaps. Watching what you did and said.
Testing you, teasing you, seeing what he could take away from your ordinary personhood. Like someone who’d never lived among people finally making it to the big city, taking in the sights and sounds and world with eagerness.
He was just so damn new. Sometimes you felt like he should be covered in a thin, slimy caul. Only you didn’t know if he would be better or worse if he lost it.
Mahito waved one of his hands.
“You look like you’re thinking really hard. What are you thinking about?”
“Nuffing,” you said, with a mouthful of dental tools.
The hygienist pulled them out again.
“Sorry, you needed a break?”
Oops.
“Sorry,” you said. “I forgot to raise my hand. It’s okay now, I just got a little tense because my back tooth is a bit sore.”
“Oh, I’ll be more careful.” And the sharp tools went back inside your mouth.
Mahito was quiet for a while, which was both wonderful and terrifying. He was simply watching the hygienist work now. His eyes were intent on the repetitive movements of the scaler, the way she scraped your gum. You saw him look down at your hands–clenching the straps of your purse, as you always did at the dentist but especially so today–and back at your face.
He weaved around to the other side of the chair so that he could get in close to your face without risking knocking into the hygienist or the light fixture above your head.
“You’re bleeding a lot,” he said. “Is that normal? Is that why she keeps squirting water in your mouth? Why don't you just swallow it?”
He ran a finger along your cheek, and you made a soft, high sound in your throat. The hygienist paused, but when you didn’t raise your hand or try to talk, she kept going. A small mercy.
“How much does it hurt? A lot? A little? Less or more than the time I broke your finger?” His pinky traced the beginning of a tear in the corner of your eye. You didn’t know if it was from the sharp pain in your gums or from the terror coursing through your veins. At his words, sure, but the very nature of this awful scenario was simply too much for you.
In a moment, the woman who was simply doing her job to clean your teeth might be dead. The receptionist who probably gossiped with you to a coworker the second you were out of earshot might be dead. The people in the waiting room, the old man with an audiobook on tape and the little girl playing with the germ-ridden toys tucked in the corner–dead, dead, dead. Piles of pus and blood and bloated flesh.
You could be that, too. If he decided he wanted it.
Mahito let his pinky slide delicately from your eye to your mouth. He touched the edge of your stretched lip, and when he brought it up to the light, you could see a smear of gum-blood.
A small tear finally made its way out of your eye. From the pain, that’s what the hygienist would tell herself. Maybe she would stop again, or maybe she’d be glad you were toughing it out, so she could move on to her next appointment quicker.
Mahito saw the tear and frowned.
“Hey. Are you upset because I brought up the finger? You can’t be mad at me about that anymore, remember? It wasn’t on purpose–well, I didn’t mean to break it, anyway. And I fixed it, so...” He gazed down at your hands, clenched so hard around the strap of your purse that you had to reflexively relax them to keep them from aching.
He looked so serious, so suddenly. It made your stomach do awful flips.
“You’re the first person I’ve fixed, did you know that?”
You didn’t.
“Normally I just play with humans. Take them apart. Turn them into something new. Experiment, experiment, experiment.” He sighed, almost dreamily. “It’s fun. Really! I’ve learned a lot. But with you–”
He didn’t finish whatever thought he had. Instead, he sat down on the unused stool next to the dental chair, then, and took hold of your hands. It was nothing for him to pry your fingers away from your purse.
You hoped the hygienist wouldn’t look down–how strange would it look for your hands to be hovering in midair, like they were being held by nothing at all?
If only he was nothing.
He squeezed your fingers.
“You don’t need to hold a bag, see?”
You raised your eyebrows.. You couldn’t ask the questions tumbling in your mind, and you’re not sure that you wanted to know the answers, anyway.
Then the hygienist poked a particularly sensitive area behind your front teeth, and you flinched in the chair. You squeezed his hands tight. Reflexively, you told yourself. Reflexively.
Mahito glanced down at your intertwined hands. He looked serious again. Somber. Even soft, maybe? Or was that your imagination, pathetic, frightened as it was? You half-expected him to pat your hands and tell you that he was here, not to worry. Like your mom did when you were a kid and needed a root canal.
Then his gaze lifted suddenly and he grinned side enough to show you his gum line. He stuck his tongue out and poked one of his teeth, then spoke–you realized, with a bubble of sickness in your chest, that he’d given himself a second tongue.
“I was thinking… if she has to pull out one of your teeth, do you get to keep it? Can I have it?”
You groaned out a whimper, but the hygienist continued working.
AN: more thoughts on the gradual awakening of Mahito's sexual urges...
TW: slight NSFW, degradation, dehumanization, Stockholm Syndrome, Mahito in and of himself, platonic to romantic yandere
Mahito makes it a point to treat you like an animal – his human pet.
Ever since he first took you. The cage, the collar, the petting, and the treats.
Most of the time, when he talks to you, he acts as though you’re incapable of understanding complex conversation, using only a few words and simple commands – a smile stretching his face, stroking your head when you do good. Other times, he acts as though he’s forgotten you can even speak at all. The worst part is – you don’t really know whether he’s faking or not.
He takes you for walks and plays with you – letting you off the leash for a game of hide´n´seek in the forest where he chases you down barefoot – he doesn’t really care about the rules or that he’s breaking the basic premise of the game. He just laughs, liking the way you pant and wince against the mossy floor after he’s hunted and tackled you down for the umpteenth time, sweaty while you beg him to take you home with teary eyes and puffy cheeks. Home – being where he keeps you.
You used to refuse, you used to run away and fight him when he caught you – with scratching and clawing and biting and barking, but you soon learned to behave. He told you he had no use for rabid pets and threatened you with transfiguration, warning you not to bore him, and ultimately – after having seen him twist enough people into mockeries – you stopped doing much more than obey.
You’re constantly blue with bruises and stinging from scratches – but you wash in the hot springs when Mahito brings you along – soaking your aching muscles in the warmth while he cheats in playing Marco Polo, sneaking a peak and tagging you with a laugh – awfully resembling that of a child. You swear you often have to shake the feeling of mothering him out of your head before doing something regrettable.
Other times, he’ll take you to the beach. You asked him once how it was possible, but he’d just booped your nose with a smile and told you it was something you wouldn’t be able to wrap your little head around – and, looking towards the horizon of the never-ending sea, inside what you could have sworn was a concrete building, you couldn’t help but agree with him.
Sometimes you see his friends and hide behind him. He thinks it funny and excuses you, laughing out that you’re shy. And you suppose he’s right.
You used to be shy around him, too. You don’t know when you accepted it – being his pet.
Lately, he’s been inviting you to sleep with him in his hammock instead of your cage. And everything except your left brain betrays you as you lie snug against his side, with his arm softly holding you around your midriff. He’s so warm, and your whole body feels cottony at the pleasantness of another’s embrace after having gone so long without it. Actually, you almost cry, resting your head atop the rise and fall of his chest, closing your eyes to the steady beat of his heart thumping just beneath your ear. In the moment, you even forget he isn’t human. It just feels nice.
You don’t even mind when he dances his fingers up your arm in ticklish touches. Instead, you nuzzle into him with something so vulnerable as a moan leaving your lips.
His eyes travel from reading the pages of his book to the blissful look on your face and the way your smaller hand grips his tunic – but he doesn’t make much of it aside from raising a brow.
He’s seen scenes like this at the theatre – sappy love stories Junpei used to cry his out over – awkward teenagers in dark silent bedrooms and clothes on the floor, then kisses and hugs and naked flesh and sweat and heavy breaths and moaning. He can’t deny it makes him curious despite never having felt any personal need to truly understand any of it. It's a human thing after all.
Your warmth makes him wonder, though. He’s always enjoyed the soft feel of your skin on his fingertips, whether you’re trembling or not – it has an interesting texture – warm and doughy. He could imagine it would feel good pressed against his body, too.
Without a word, he tugs your shirt up your torso, pulling on it until you raise your arms and allow him to remove it entirely. You became a little tense then, hiding your naked chest from him by folding your arms.
He takes off his tunic just as casually, and you don’t understand it, but suddenly you feel a little blushy. But you don’t say anything – almost as though you’ve forgotten you can speak just the way he pretends.
His skin’s ashen and pale – but his torso is just like a normal guy’s – toned with muscles, two nipples, and a belly button. Oh, and stitches. Like a patchwork. Like Frankenstein’s monster.
He lifts his arm, and you take the cue, laying down again – now skin to skin. He’s even warmer now, you note – and something about the feel of bare skin makes your head hot. And you can't help how that heat spreads between your thighs – but you keep it to yourself.
He lifts his book and begins reading it again, turning the pages with the same hand he holds it up with. But his free hand travels from resting on your hip to your chest.
You suppress a shudder by biting your lip, and he cups your tit with absentminded curiosity – paying you not a glance while his eyes lazily skim the words in front of him, giving your breast a firm squeeze.
He keeps track of your small shufflings despite you trying to keep them to yourself – charting what touches elicit your reactions. Soon, he finds your nipple, feeling it stiffen with yearning beneath his thumb, pushing it like a button only for it to bud out again. You stifle a sound he hasn’t heard from you before.
He reads his book finished, then lets it drop flat on the floor beneath you. His statement is like a resolution. “Let’s play a new game.”
You peek up at him from the nook of his arm. “Game?” You ask, but he's already maneuvering your body despite it causing an unsteady swing in the hammock.
He ignores both it and your question. Giving you those very curt commands one would say to a trained pet. “Up on my lap.”
You follow. “Okay-”
You’re straddling him next. Bare-chested while he lifts both hands to cup each tit.
You’re fully flushed now, face steadily getting dewy from the heat as you look away – bowing your head off to the side with your teeth sunk into your lip.
He’s playing. Groping the pillows with fingers now swallowed in the fat before releasing again, twisting the perky nips with eyes feeling a little foggy at the sight. His mouth suddenly waters, thinking about how it looks as though they were made to be eaten – no, not eaten exactly, but something else, something similar...
Indulging the thought, he leans in and envelopes the sensitive things between his lips, sucking on them with his warm wet tongue circling and flicking the point.
Old instincts resurface at the pleasant feeling and you grind your hips down on his lap without thinking.
He falls victim to it, too – taking your hips in both hands while grinding whatever it is that’s gaining weight between his thighs up into that place between yours. The feeling is more than nice, forcing his entire body to be both mellow and tense with a hunger for more all at the same time.
He presses his face entirely against your chest, nuzzling between the soft mounds there with his cheek. Hands slipping from your hips to pull you closer and grind you harder down on his lap, slithering his arms around the small of your back and hugging you hard.
And you don’t want to think about how fucked up it is when you need it so badly – rolling your hips down, riding that bump you feel nudged against your crotch – like it's the only source of comfort you've had for months. You think about its size – it feels big – you can’t help but picture it – long and pale, probably with a curve and a sharp spine – fuck, you need it – want it pounding your guts, want his pelvis slapping against your clit as his fat cock shoves against your womb – filling you up with thick and filthy warmth-
You still with a shudder when you climax, breaths heavy and shaky. In the blind chase, you’d caressed his head and held it to your chest like a lover would, hugging him close with your body pressed flat against him.
He’s also panting, hot and damp huffs dewy against your skin.
There's something sticky in his pants… and he could have sworn your souls had merged there for a moment...
Okay so this tends to bug me sometimes when I’m reading your Deku fics (btw i love them so much it HURTS) but what do you imagine his appearance as? i think i remember u once saying he was in his early/late 30s and darling is in early 20s, but i feel like you also mentioned him having facial hair? i find his hair the hardest thing to imagine because i try googling him older and googling him with a beard but can’t see anything that looks like him. also, at this age does he have the same hairstyle as his younger version? and i’m guessing his facial hair is a beard rather than stubble, but still close-shaven, right?
goodiebag WARNINGS: yandere, some nsfw, dubcon/noncon, manga SPOILERS in the form of pictures of new character designs
yandere ! MIDORIYA IZUKU - DEKU
I write him in different ages based on the concept while still trying to make sure every reader can somewhat choose which age they prefer him in.
Personally, I feel his younger self is more volatile whereas his older self is sturdier. So, if I want a more insane and vengeful Deku I write him in his twenties and thirties, and if i want him condescending and overbearing I write him in his late thirties and forties, even early fifties.
I like to think Deku struggles with a lot of different personalities though.
Not exactly having a split-personality disorder, but having really strong phases, even in his twenties and thirties, before finally settling and calming down in his forties and fifties.
And as we all know, phases really fuck with a persons appearance.
COCKY FLIRTY DEKU
I like to think he has this one side to him that's extremely cocky and full of himself. He'll walk on the scene with means to be a show-off, stealing the spotlight from everyone.
And worst of it all is that it's justified because he's literally the strongest hero in the world, a pillar of justice and the symbol of peace.
And he'll gloat knowing he's clout.
THIS - vid
And he'll care about his appearance a bit too much. Being extremely hipster with all fine-tailored clothing. Gelling his hair into tame curls. No facial hair, but smooth skinned. Obsessed with the media and with looking good for the camera. Taking on every interview and photoshoot and paparazzi-event he has the time for where he'll boast about what an honour being revered as the symbol of peace is.
MID-TWENTIES, THIRTIES - pics
And he'll be so flamboyant. Superhero-landings with his cape flapping dramatically in the wind. Making sure everybody recognises who's come to save the day.
Using his float-quirk to walk on water, blessing babies, blowing kisses that have all the fans blushing and squealing. Whilst every other hero roll their eyes at him. Some giving him a dead glare whilst others chuckle at his antiques.
He'll be a real flirty with everyone too. Especially Bakugou. Whispering small teasing comments to him and smirking when he gets a rise out of the blonde.
Having all the traits of a grade A fuckboy, but with class.
YOUNG ADULT - pic
You'll be stuck at home watching his act on TV. Sick to your stomach to see the world adore him the way they do. Hating his smile and his laugh and the way he poses after winning a fight. Hating how he doesn't even seem to mind the blood-gushing wounds ripped in his flesh with how he pounds that fist in the air in the grand statement that he's there and the day's saved.
Hating how he's completely fine when he comes home. Not even a scratch on him after being treated by whatever row of healing quirks he has at his disposal.
Hating how he'll still make you kiss the strip of scars marring his knuckles while thanking him for keeping you safe.
RUDE CYNICAL DEKU
And then other times he'll embrace the fanatic in him a bit more. Forgetting to look his best and act his best. Rough around the edges, though always getting the job done.
YOUNG ADULT - pic
He'll be cold and cynical and calculating, straight to the point, never fucking around, not giving a single flying fuck about appearances and reputations.
Letting his hair grow wild. Never catching a good night's sleep, having bags for days beneath dead eyes. No smile on his face unless it's cruelly condescending or just plain cruel.
Sometimes unhinged.
TWENTIES, TWENTIES - pics
He'll no longer hold back the comments about those not-so-cute observations he makes. Not exactly going out of his way to be vicious, but doesn't hesitate to bite mercilessly when you first test him.
YOUNG ADULT, YOUNG ADULT, YOUNG ADULT - pics
He'll plainly state that Iida's a one-track moron and Ochako's a naive air-head and Kachan's a little bitch still throwing tantrums right to their faces, and won't be any kinder when he comes home to you.
Quirkless little pussy on legs completely hopeless without him. Lost every single second of every single day without him coming to the rescue.
He'll keep his shit straight when in the public eye though, because he knows that's in his best interest. But when cameras aren't on him, he'll be a sadistic little shit. Hurting villains just a bit more than what he actually needs to.
Laughing while at it.
WORKAHOLIC DEKU
Then other times he's the most righteous person ever. Selfless eyes set on justice and peace. Serious and dedicated.
TWENTIES, TWENTIES - pics
A bit too dedicated. So dedicated that nothing else matters.
Spending time with family doesn't matter, nor does friends, not even you. All that matters is keeping you all safe. No matter what it takes, no matter the self-sacrifice.
If he hasn't kidnapped you yet, he'll devote a few moments in the day to check on you. Crouching on some rooftop while watching you waltz about obliviously in you apartment. It's all the motivation he needs to take down a couple dozen petty-thieves in your neighbourhood.
But if he's already kidnapped you he'll feel the ache of guilt when needing to leave you alone. He'll stock the house up with food enough to last and try to come home for at least an hour every day.
YOUNG ADULT - pic
Sometimes he'll be out for weeks though. Blood, mud and sweat caked over the green of his costume. Green curls so dirty they've turned to dreads. Looking like a walking wraith.
YOUNG ADULT, YOUNG ADULT, TWENTIES - pics, manga spoilers
You feel bad for him when he finally comes home stumbling in through the doorway, landing in a heap just shy of the threshold.
His alabaster skin nowhere in sight, completely smeared with smut and grime and blood. Cuts drawn over older cuts, none of them taken care of properly.
Other times he'll be holed up in his office. Not eating, not drinking, not sleeping. Crouched over whatever documents of the bright lit computer screen, deep-diving to solve some mystery case.
YOUNG ADULT - pic
He won't touch you a lot when he's in this phase. On the contrary, you'll be the one to come to him most of the time.
He makes you feel so sorry for him. You'll be begging him to take a break and to stay with you for a little while longer.
GROWN-UP DEKU
When he's older he settles down. All his personalities blend into this perfect symbiosis.
He's calm and cheerful. Still cracking the occasional cheeky condescend jokes to piss Kachan off, but in spirits of making everyone else feel at ease. Stating those cheesy catchphrases in a and confident and charismatic manner, in effort of reassuring the people that Deku the symbol of peace has everything under control.
THIRTIES - pic
Nearing that age where he's not considered among the requirements of being an eligible bachelor, despite his fanbase never being bigger, his producers calm down on making him look as perfectly presentable for the camera anymore.
And even if they did try, Deku's become so comfortable and acclimated to being a pro-hero that he no longer cares all too much about looking perfect.
FORTIES - pic
Everything is more about practicality now.
He shaves his sides for easy upkeep so curls don't annoyingly hang about his ears and deafen noises, trimming his bangs so they not block his line of sight. Grey hairs left as is as he doesn't feel the need to fool anyone to think he's any younger than what he is.
Light stubble on his face as shaving every morning is a pain and a waste of time. Where, he might even grow some length in colder seasons.
FORTIES, LATE-FORTIES - pics
He looks gruff and worn, though still trustworthy and very much a pillar of strength and peace. Such presence in his massive hefty size. The ground rumbling each time he makes an entrance. Each time he takes a step.
FIFTIES, FIFTIES - pics
You'll feel hopelessly insignificant when fighting him at this age.
If he was younger you'd at the very least be able to get a rise out of him and make him lose his temper, which could be seen as some form of victory if it didn't leave you feeling so awfully crushed at the hands of the following punishment.
But now, he just chuckles at you.
Stroking a thick and knuckled finger across your cheek while looking down at you. Knowing he must be careful with handling you, because one ounce of strength too much and petting your head becomes cracking your skull.
Just saw your requests were open, yay! What do you think of hybrid!bakugou (what kinda hybrid is up to you, what u think fits him best). Love ur content btw <3
i’m so sorry i’m responding to this late </3 but omg !! ily tsym for the food
while i think just about any variation of hybrid bakugou is perfect, there’s something in particular about bunny hybrid!bakugou that drives me absolutely nuts.
poor thing goes berserk whenever your hand brushes against his sensitive tail or when you play with his ears <3 loves to assist you while you do chores just to hear you praise him and have you rub his head (not that he’d ever admit that). has the cutest little nose that wrinkles when someone else comes over because how dare someone else think they’re worthy of being in the presence of his owner? could and would piss all over the ground, walls, furniture, whatever it takes to chase the “intruder” away. cutely ignores you when you scold him for it after. :/
hates (read: loves) when you baby him or call him your “cute little bunny baby.” cant stand your cheesy ass! always scoffs and kicks you right in the tit, even when he struggles to mask the blush forming on his cheeks.
bunny!bakugou who you often wake up to at odd hours of the night, twitching nose pressing against your sex shamelessly. mumbles to himself about how fuckin’ good you smell, and how his cock is aching to be inside you <3 flashes you those big red eyes when he notices the subtle shift in your breathing. pokes his tongue out to lick the damp fabric of your panties. poor thing moans at the taste of you, because no matter how many times he has you he’ll still never get sick of your taste :( bruises you up nice and pretty afterwards because he can’t stop clutching onto your body for dear life.
wakes up the next morning feeling sore himself and grumbling about his greedy owner, as if he’d completely forgotten it was all his fault. but who are you to correct him? especially when you can tell by the twitch of his ears and the depth of his not so friendly stare that he was already planning on doing it all over again !!
thirsts and requests for haikyuu and bnha are open.
dynamic // (dirtbag) stepbro!bakugou x fem!reader (ft. his nasty frat bros)
aged up characters (21+) - nsfw + dc heavy, minors do not interact
word count // 19.2k
warnings // dark content. blackmail, coercion + manipulation, noncon (breeding, creampie, fantasies, recording), power imbalance, stepcest. ass play, breath play, cum eating, cum play, degradation, (very) dubcon, edging, fingering, humiliation, impact play, masturbation (m + f), multiple orgasms, oral (f receiving), objectification, overstimulation, panty theft/sniffing, size kink, somno (referenced), spit kink, squirting, teasing/fantasizing, voyeurism, no aftercare
notes
this takes place in the same au as initiation :>
a/n // a huge thank u to @eikatslut for inspiring my stepbro fantasies and to @katonshoko + my other besties in the bubble pop server for giving me so many ideas for this and thirsting for him w me every day!!
preview
You’re staring up at him indignantly. Furiously. He’s so nonchalant — as if he didn’t just imply that you wanted to fuck him. Him! Of all people. Your own stepbrother. You’re speechless, just glaring at him, without the faintest idea of how to respond.
He laughs, reaches across the counter to squish up your cheeks with his massive, rough hand.
“Relax, kiddo,” he chides — condescending. Sarcastic. “This isn’t a cheap porno. I’m your big brother. Nothing weird’s gonna happen just because we’re all alone.”
ৎ୭ synopsis. your best friend’s girlfriend doesn’t like you, but can you really blame her? i mean, you’re perfect ! pretty, smart, likeable and you have her boyfriend wrapped around your perfectly manicured finger.
ৎ୭ wc. 12222.
ৎ୭ genre. mdni, 18+, smut, dark content, college!au.
ৎ୭ cw. please read ! heavy smut, characters aged up to twenties, fem!reader, best friend!bakugou, spit!kink, slight!manipulation, dub-con, cheating, thigh-riding, handjobs, cherry chasing, recording, cumplay, tummy bulges, possesive sex, unprotected sex. not proof read, beware of errors.
ৎ୭ author’s note. happy friday everyone!! ah!! my final day of kinktober! i’d like to thank everyone who read and were excited for my fics, it’s honestly been really fun taking part in kinktober this year and hopefully i’ll join the next! i guess you could call this the grand finale, until the mikey fic comes along, but for now thank you and please enjoy <3 ( also i finished writing this at 6am today so i apologise if it’s riddled with typos !! )
ৎ୭ now playing. tonight - doja cat ft eve.
katsuki bakugou’s been your best friend since as long as you can remember.
your mothers had always been close, kept in contact after they graduated and reunited when word spread they’d be having babies around the same time. katsuki, of course, came first— nothing could ever beat him and you always followed, popping out just months later.
just like your parents, you went through everything together. took your first bubble bath side by side, learned to crawl in unison— stood tall and walked in tune with one another. you’d punched out bakugou’s first wobbly tooth in first grade and he’d comforted you after you cried on your first day of school.
you were completely and utterly inseparable.
joined at the hip, you picked each other for every team in middle school and studied together for every honours class test in high school and when crushes came into play, bakugou never once looked away from you. ‘why the fuck would i need other girls when i have you?’ he’d say, lips pulled into a toothy smirk, vermillion eyes bright and mischievous as he’d try to shove whatever spicy hellish concoction he’d made for his bento that day, down your throat.
and gradually, whenever katsuki looked at you, a warm feeling would blossom in your chest— he made you feel like the only girl in the world, like you were his favourite girl.
people always told you how cute you were together, katsuki bakugou and his sweet little girlfriend yn…and you’d believe them. doodled his name in every one of your notebooks, hearts over the ‘i’ and your future children’s names scrawled in loopy font underneath. there was no one more perfect for your best friend than well…you.
⇢ tags: wolf hybrid bakugo, aged up characters, slow burn, bed sharing
⇢ notes: please note the new warnings and tags before reading
⇢ summary:
After the attack, the relationship between you and your hybrid Bakugo continues to grow closer and stronger. As it does, you can’t help but feel like the two of you are heading down an inevitable, slippery path towards something you can’t take back, until finally, you can’t bring yourself to fight it any longer.
⇢ chapter: part II of III, chapters posted every week on Tuesday
⇢ rating: e, 18+
⇢ word count: 11,001 [ao3]
⇢ warnings: graphic depictions of violence, blood and injury
⇢ tags: wolf hybrid bakugo, aged up characters, hurt/comfort, slow burn
⇢ notes: please note the new tags before reading - add yourself to the taglist here
⇢ summary:
Your relationship with your high-risk hybrid Bakugo continues to grow stronger - a bond forged in the quiet intimacy of sharing a home and sharing a life. You’re unsure, still, what it is you mean to him but when a situation on the trail turns deadly, you realize all at once just how much of him you have to lose.
⇢ tags: wolf hybrid bakugo, mild dub con, aged up characters, high functioning hybrid - basically a nonverbal human with ears
⇢ notes: part I of III, chapters posted every week on Tuesday - add yourself to the taglist here
⇢ summary:
You don’t have the time to foster hybrids like you used to, but going to the shelter is a habit you’ve been unable to break. You’re stunned, this time, to see a wolf hybrid there that defies all expectation - he’s gorgeous, fair haired and sharp faced, and he’s intelligent. Human enough to fully understand human speech, but animal enough to fight anyone that tries to tame him with pointed canines and a ripping snarl.
He has a bite history that would warn off any sensible adopter but when you see that he’s approaching the deadline for euthanasia, you have no choice. One sharp look from garnet eyes and you know you have to bring him home. You have to give him a chance, even if you’re risking life and limb to do it.
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