Boss!Endeavor, who didn't know you had such a great quirk. He knew you were good at your job as a secretary, it didn't demand much after all. Keeping track of his schedule didn't require much talent, did it?
Boss!Endeavor, who thought you had a memory quirk or something like that, because of how well you worked, keeping him and his affairs in line, always with the names of his employees at the tip of your tongue. Now, that he had you, his little secretary who is more controlled than a general and who makes sure he's always on time, with information on his hands about the people he's meeting, he didn't need to worry about remembering shit like who's the grandmother of the number five hero.
Boss!Endeavor who saw you on the training ground during your lunch hour and was curious about what you could be doing, talking with his interns so closely.
Boss!Endeavor, who has his mind reduced to a single thought: your body turning into pure hot plasma, creating a crater in the middle of his training room, just standing there, just because his intern asked what your powers are.
Boss!Endeavor, who keeps frowning while looking at you, making you think he secretly hates you or thinks you're dumb, or just because, while the only thing he has wondered about the last few days is why you're not a heroine. Why do you keep doing paperwork of all things when you could rival him with such a quirk?
Boss!Endeavor, who starts paying more attention to you during the workday, while he is signing off reports, just because he is such a quirk nerd for thermal powers, and he wants — no, he needs to ask how your quirk works, how much heat you can produce. If you can form flames, and so on.
Boss!Endeavor that notices, for the first time, how you will maintain distance from him when his quirk is on, beard, hair, and body ablaze.
Boss!Endeavor who notices your afraid gaze on his uniform, and he can't help but think if it was he who put that look on your face at seeing fire. You're young enough, after all. It could have been during his rookie years.
Boss!Endeavor who call you for a meeting, wearing a grey suit that makes his blue eyes sparkle. He has gone through your documents and social media to discover why his quietly efficient secretary has become so interesting over the last few months.
Boss!Endeavor, who gets pale as a ghost when you tell him you hate your quirk, how your father would keep testing it when you got it, how he would make sure you would be a great heroine, how he wanted you to make money for him.
Boss!Endeavor who wants to throw up when you keep telling your story, and he can't resist but thinks about his eldest son, who almost had the same fate if it wasn't for his mother having a full breakdown in front of him.
Boss!Endeavor who is ashamed to have you working for him, such a competent, good girl. But he also can't let you go. Can't help but admire your spite, working for an agency, for the number one hero, doing whatever you want with your life when your father is in jail.
God's, it could be him.
Boss!Endeavor who got a little sweeter with you. Soft, careful. And it pisses you off to such a degree that you scream at him one day about it, how you're frustrated that he keeps accepting poor papers you write just because you told him about your sob story.
Boss!Endeavor who gets red all over his face, ears, and neck with you yelling at him, brain malfunctioning for a few minutes while he stares at your furious face and coiled body.
Boss!Endeavor who tries to calm you down, just to be told with a soft voice and hard words that if he keeps treating you like a baby, you'll go to Hawks agency. He already proposed, after all.
Boss!Endeavor, who makes sure not to let you leave, treats you like before it all. But it's just bulshit, now you know he gets all flustered when a woman is telling him what to do, and you can't help but scold him when he makes mistakes, just to see what his reaction will be.
Boss! Endeavor who keeps avoiding you after a few days, because you're teasing him, testing his patience and self-control, and he is not that good. He can't help but get a half-chub when you arch an eyebrow at him when he calls one of his employees the wrong name or when he slips a curse during an interview.
Content Warnings: religious themes & catholicism, explicit!sex, nvdity, sm*king, age difference (tho isn't explicitly said), size!kink, mvrder, assass!nation.
Original characters: Priest/You, Priest/Reader.
You feel like the pure definition of sin, sitting with your legs crossed in the first row of the church while hearing the priest talk. His voice is so rough, so good. And he keeps moving his hands during his speech, so sincerely, as if he could, he would pour his faith into everyone else's heart. It's lovely.
Unfortunately, you can't keep your mind from thinking what those thick, long fingers can do. Wrapped around your throat or holding your wrists down. Maybe sliding into you so slowly, like a damn torture—
You don't even notice closing your eyes. His voice is like honey, and while he sounds gruff, it plays exactly at every one of your likes. God, you think, please forgive me.
You're not a very religious girl. Of course, you believe in Something, but it's nothing like the other people here, or like your mother used to be, when she was alive.
You open up your eyes startled when the man says a snappy “Amen” that makes you almost let out a little gasp, noticing you've been with your eyes closed for almost half the mass. You feel even more guilty when you notice his hard, green eyes and slight frown directed at you, like he's disappointed.
You feel the need to pout at his expression because it's not your fault he has such a good voice that makes you imagine things.
Unfortunately, all you can say is “Amen” in reply.
just a small excerpt! If you like it, let me know :)
he's such a needy little thing. he always makes himself look all tough, chasing around skirts the whole kings landing, but just one look, and he's like a kicked puppy.
you won't let babyboy!aegon touch you when he's stinking of brothels and cheap wine, and it makes him seethe, because he is to be king! and you won't let him touch you! you're his!
you don't like babyboy!aegon making a fuss. you specifically don't like him saying you're his, when the only one who owns anyone is you.
babyboy!aegon has a praise kink, a mommy kink, and a degradation kink, all mixed in a ball of stress, anxiety, and attachment issues. you love him.
you love him sooo much, but babyboy!aegon has been a pretty nasty boy for long years, avoiding you just because he didn't want to agree that he's yours and only yours.
babyboy!aegon can't seem to scratch that itch with whores, wine or wagers. you're on his thoughts all the time, haunting him like a ghost, and one night, he finally has too much wine to go seek you out.
you're to marry cregan stark, the wolf of the north, and babyboy!aegon is lost, because he thought you would seek him out, beg for forgiveness — even if he was the one to keep you at distance. he can't help but run to your door, banging and calling your name like he has a dragon trying to eat him alive.
babyboy!aegon first tries to intimidate you, try to pull ranks and gold and everything he has at hand, but he was not prepared for your cold welcome. he thought you would be happy to see him asking you to stay.
babyboy!aegon begs so prettily, he's so beautiful sitting on his ankles and hands clasped at his back. naked and at your mercy, with pleading eyes.
you missed making babyboy!aegon cry. you missed his whines while he's so overwhelmed and overstimulated that he couldn't think straight.
"this pussy is all you need, isn't it baby?" you ask, feeling babyboy!aegon nod frantically, his face hidden on your shoulder while you finger him. his hips rutting between your cunt and your fingers. "my baby, my good boy. such a good whore for me."
you missed so much your little bitch, babyboy!aegon just rambling how good it is to be inside you, to have your fingers inside him.
"yours, just yours, mommy," babyboy!aegon would whine, lips wobbling and tears running down his face. "dont leave me, please, I will be good, I promise."
Summary: toji comes home from a mission to see Megumi’s little friend on his house, holding a knife to his private parts.
wc. 3.741
warnings on the tags!
You always liked older men better than the ones your age. Even when you were a little girl and had a crush on your mother's cousin, the closest thing you had to an uncle, — even if he wasn't really related to you by blood.
When you got to Jujutsu High you were basically in heaven, with all the old bastards roaming there. Nanami was the perfect daddy to ever dad, even if he never stayed long enough so you could try to strike up a conversation with him.
Sighing, you kick a rock in the middle of the pavement, walking right beside Nobara and Megumi while Yuuji is the only one actually holding the older man's attention.
You dressed as good as you could today, just because you heard Nanami was going to supervise your mission, and now he doesn't even look at you.
“Hey” you whisper to Nobara, dragging her attention from her phone to you “my skirt isn’t that short, is it?” Is Nanami not looking at you just because you wore your skirt too short? Nah, that can't be right.
Nobara pauses to check your backside and then chuckles.
“Girl, you're almost showing your panties.”
You frown, looking down. We'll, yeah, you wore a miniskirt, but you're also wearing a dark pantyhose, so you can't be really showing anything.
“Be serious!” You whine, shoving Nobara when you notice she's joking with you. “Nanami didn't even look at me!”
You can see from the side of your vision Megumi rolling her eyes, and Nobara just laughs loudly, putting an arm around your shoulders.
“Babe, he won't look at a middle schooler, he's not an old perv.”
Nobara is probably right, he won't look at you even if you strip down to your lingerie, not while you're still under his supervision and his alumni. Fuck.
“The good side is that I won't stay underage for much longer” you say, giving her a little smile “and when I get older, I will jump his bones so hard he won't even know what hit him.”
Nobara's laugh was so loud you couldn't hear Yuuji asking Nanami why he was so red in the face suddenly.
***
The curse you had to exorcise was a nasty thing. Nothing really dangerous, just too difficult to get rid of, more like a fungus than a real curse.
After all the hard work and tiredness, Nanami sent you all home to sleep and relax the day after, but you, being the older and wiser, suggested to your friends to have a drink.
Normally you guys would just buy some sake and drink it in your dorms, but as you proposed, Megumi has a mean smile on her face.
“Let's go to my house,” he said, turning around and making all of you follow him “Father is not home this weekend, and he has a stack of alcohol he would hate if someone tampered with it.”
“You're so mean with Toji-san” Yuuji defends “he's cool!”
You don't know the man, you hear the name often and Megumi for all he curses his father, apparently has a good relationship with him, but you never really met the man. Maybe I heard his voice when Megumi called him sometimes.
The only thing you know about Megumi's father is that he left him and his mother alone and disappeared on the face of the earth, returning just a few years back claiming he didn't know Mrs. Fushiguro was dead.
“He pissed me off yesterday.” It's all Megumi says, shrugging, and you can't really complain about free food and alcohol.
“Let's get wasted then!” You proclaim, taking Megumi’s arm and walking off. Nobara follows you two, while shaking her head and laughing at Yuuji's pout.
***
You scoff at yourself while you try to reach the fucking cabinets on your friends house. All of them were already sleeping, dropping dead after three or four shots.
“Damn lightweights.” You curse, searching for some painkillers to give to them when they wake up. Knowing Nobara she will complain the instant she opens her eyes, and you will actually murder her if she wakes you up.
You stop in your tracks when you hear the click of the door closing shut. You're pretty sure the person doing it didn't mean for you to hear anything, if the complete silence after that is something to go by.
Any other person wouldn't hear it, not with the stuffing and searching around, but you're too attentive to your surroundings to not hear it.
Cursing silently, you reach for the knife holder, picking up the biggest one there. Being pretty sure Megumi mentioned his father wouldn't be home for more four days and wondering who could have the keys to his house, or be bold enough to trespass, you walk slowly to the living room, wearing socks, your footsteps are muffled on the floor, but it doesn't mean you can't be cautious.
Pointing the knife opposite to your body and squinting your eyes on the muffled lights, you finally reach the corner, you hide against it, looking carefully to see who it is.
The shadow is too fast to evade, but you're fast enough to point the knife in a point sufficiently squishy to make the intruder pause.
In a matter of seconds, a big hand is holding you by the throat against the cold wall. The force used to shove you against the cold wall is enough to steal your breath away. How the fuck could this person be so fast, when so big? You struggle against the hold, and while you couldn’t point the knife to this mysterious person's throat, you at least achieve to have it against his femoral artery.
“Look at what we have here” the man murmurs, looking you up and down “I doubt a little thing like you would try to enter my house just to steal my clothes. Used ones, if I can see right in this light.”
You practically freeze at what the man says, because it starts to make too much sense in him being Mr. Fushiguro, even if he shouldn't be here until at least Thursday.
Frowning, you look at his face attentively. The man is tall, almost a head taller than you, and his big hand doesn't allow you too much movement, but you can see the black hair and green eyes so fucking close to Megumi's tone to this man not be his dad.
You lick your lips. Fuck, you hope he's an intruder, because this is too embarrassing.
“Mr. Fushiguro?” Your voice doesn't tremble, but you're praying to whatever god exists that this man isn't actually Megumi's father.
The behemoth tilts his head, hair waving out of the way sufficiently to his piercing green eyes to look you up and down slowly, analyzing you very carefully.
“That's me doll,” he hums, corners of his lips arching. “But who could you be?”
You let your head fall against the wall, big hand still holding your throat, but not pressing it more than necessary to make a threat, not damage. Closing your eyes in embarrassment, you muster courage to explain it to him.
“I am Megumi's friend,” you say, opening an eye just to see the older man's reaction. “We ended a mission a few hours ago and decided to relax a little here.”
Licking your lips, you notice his hand loosening a little, not sufficiently for you to try to get out of your hold, just not to bruise.
The man then flicks the lights, making your eyes sting with the clarity, while he looks you up and down again.
“Heh,” he scoffs, letting you go and taking a step back “I can see that.”
It's with his tone that you remember the clothes you're wearing. Just a big white shirt Megumi had given you and socks to maintain your feet warm. Your hair is free, probably not really well-kept, pupils dilated from the drinks and sweat clinging to your skin because of the scare you had just now.
You probably make a sight, just not for the reasons he assumes. You shake your head, eyes widening.
“No, no. We were just having some drinks” You say, pointing to Megumi's bedroom “but they're already sleeping. I was actually searching for some painkillers for tomorrow, or they will be pouting and making noises very early, and I'll have to murder them because of it.”
You babble, first because you're embarrassed, second because you don't want him thinking you're Megumi's girlfriend or something, and third because Mr. Fushiguro is a sight.
Big broad shoulders, arms bulging when he crosses them in front of his large chest while he waits for you to finish. He has a mean looking smirk displayed on his mouth, a little scar in the corner of his lips making your cheeks warm. You usually don't blush, you're the one who likes to make others blush.
You start to fiddle with the knife, eyes roaming through the sheer image the man makes using that compression shirt and fucking sweatpants.
No one should be this hot using just those pieces of cloth.
“Drinking?” He arches an eyebrow, amused. “Aren’t you too young to do that?”
You can't help but bark a laugh, rounding him to put the knife back in its place.
“If I am old enough to kill those things, a few shots won't be too bad” You say, shrugging.
***
Toji looks at your back while you kneel to look at the bottom half of the cabinet. He's pretty sure the shirt you're using as a dress is his, and it's so big on you, it keeps dropping off and showing that soft smooth skin of your shoulder.
He doesn't know what he did to piss Megumi again for him to try to drain his stack of whiskey again, but it probably is not bad enough if his son brings a little pretty thing like you to him, tempting him like that.
When you bend down to reach the back of the cabinet, he almost chokes on the water he was sipping, killing time to ‘monitor’ you while you roam his things. Toji is pretty sure the slip thing of cloth you're using to cover your pussy can't be called a pantie. Not with how those soft and succulent lips are spillin’ out of it like that.
“I think I may have put a bottle in the back” he grunts, voice starting to get rough. Toji couldn't help himself leaning his forearms on the counter, eyes glued to your pert butt and pretty pussy showing with the way his shirt is sliding up more and more while you stretch yourself to search.
Toji is so distracted, he almost doesn't see you looking above your shoulder to see his reaction. When he finally feels your eyes on his face he looks up fast, eyes snapping to yours. You’re sporting a little smirk, smug expression as if you scored something.
He sees you licking your lips, back arching a little more, disclosing more skin than necessary with the stretch you do.
“Here?” You ask, hands invisible inside the cabinet, but he is pretty sure you're not searching anything anymore, not with the way your eyes shine with mischief.
“It's a little packed up” Toji murmurs, mouth watering with the sight you make “I think you will have to search a little more.”
You nod, and shuffle more. Your head is already inside the cabinet while the rest of your body shakes with your movements.
You bend your body sufficiently to the shirt you're wearing to pour around your waist, exposing your smooth bubble butt to him, and Toji can't help but chuckle.
“Such a little bitch” he murmurs, rounding the counter to step behind you, eyes glued to the little thing you probably would call lingerie “showing yourself so shamelessly.”
You smirk to yourself, picking up the bottle just right when he grows tired of your teasing and bends down to touch you.
“Ah!” You exclaim, straightening your back and pulling the shirt you're wearing down. “Found it.” You hold on to his hand and use it to raise yourself to your feet, coming almost close to his chest. “Thank you for your help, Mr. Fushiguro.”
Toji smirk just widened at your attitude, the hand you were holding firmly securing yours, pulling your body to his until your chest pressed against his.
He occupies his other hand, picking up the bottle from you and putting it on the counter. Then it snakes slyly to your back, grabbing your butt with a firm hold, his hand practically molding to your flesh.
“What do you think you're doing?” he chuckles, making your body heat up with the way it rumbles on his chest. “Teasing me, little minx.”
You shiver a little with the way he lets go of your ass just to put his big calloused hand on your thigh and raise the hem off your shirt, his shirt. Making goosebumps rise with the firm touch.
You can't help how your body aches to be pressed against him, how your legs press against each other. Because this man is all your wet dreams pressed into a whole big and delicious package. A delicious, probably very tasty package who is actually the father of one of your best friends.
Your breath hitch at the thought, and you feel your eyes widening. God, what are you doing? This man is Megumi's father. Cursing under your breath, you hold his wrist, the one attached at the wandering hand.
“Mr. Fushiguro,” you murmur, looking up at the devilish grin he has, “You're Megumi's father.”
You say it more to remember it yourself than to reproach him, because while it can grate on your thoughts, is not something you're worrying about very much right now. Not with his big hands on your body and the smell of pure man on your nose.
You don't know the cologne he uses, but fuck if it is not taunting you to just stick your nose on his neck and lick his skin.
Mr. Fushiguro actually laughs at what you say, something deep and so sexy, his hand descending again to the curve of your leg, raising it up sufficiently to wrap it around his waist, and you almost melt at the attitude.
He's too domineering, his actions are so fucking demanding you want to bend and expose yourself to him. Again.
“Don't play coy with me right now, kitten.” he rumbles, hand patting your leg like he's saying ‘stay right here’. “Not when you were asking me to pound you just seconds ago.”
He grinds against you, hips buckling just a little, just sufficiently to show you what he felt with your teasing. You can't help but make a little noise on your throat, because he would feel so damn good inside you, you're sure. He feels so big, so damn large you have half a mind to drop on your knees and worship it right there.
“I didn't ask you anything other than to show me the painkillers.” You argue, because you can be half drunk on alcohol and half drunk with pure lust, but your brain-mouth filter is still not functioning as it should.
“No?” he asks, hands moving to both your arms, pulling them around his neck “and what exactly were you doing when you arched your spine like a whore, showing me your excuse of panties?”
You rest your forehead on his chest when his hands continue roaming until they reach your ass. He grabs it like he was craving, like he wanted to make you his personal ball of stress relief. His hard cock resting just against your belly, layers of clothes just preventing you from really feeling it against your skin.
“It's not my fault you were looking at something you shouldn't.”
You hear the harsh slap before you can even feel it, the burning sensation catching you up just when you feel him caressing it right after. Your body reaction is almost instant, breath hitching and pussy clenching around nothing.
“I now can understand why Megumi has been so mouthy recently” the man murmurs, nose caressing your cheek while you try to not rut your aching pussy against him. Every fucking action Fushiguro Toji takes goes directly to your pussy, making you react almost viscerally. “With a brat like you for a friend, how could he not?”
“I am just tellin’ the truth” you retort, your voice more breathy than anticipated “if I am a brat, then you're an old perv.”
The smack this time is hard enough to echo in the entire place, almost as loudly as your moan when he does that. Your muscles tighten around him, pulling him close, so you could hide your face on his chest when your hips start to rut against his.
He chuckles something mean, while he holds you by the nape and pulls you off his chest just to see your expression, your reddened cheeks and glossy eyes. Even with this treatment you can't stop moving your hips, pussy dragging against his thigh, covered only with the tiny lacy panties you were wearing.
The cloth drags against your very sensitive clit, and you always were a greedy girl, you need more and more, even when you can’t help but argue with him.
“This smart little mouth” he grunts, thumb caressing your bottom lip so softly it almost drags a moan from you, and you can see the way his eyes are shining with something dangerous. “I should put it to good use, so you would stop being such a fucking brat.”
That earns him a little giggle, lips spreading in a little crooked smile even if his hand is holding your face, pressing your cheeks and making you look a little too young.
You continue rolling your hips against him, because you can't stop yourself, but also he is still hardening, and you can't stop thinking how the fuck this is even possible. He's big, no, actually he is enormous.
Maybe it's the size difference, or it could be the rough treatment, maybe even the way his eyes look at you like you were his prey, but it has a jolt of pure lust cursing through your body to pool down between your legs, pussy so wet you can almost feel it dripping down your legs.
You smirk at him, hand trailing down to touch your drenched pussy. You're so, so wet right now, juices making your lacy panties cling to your lower lips, almost uncomfortable.
With one finger you trace your clit, desperately biting your bottom lip, so your traitorous mouth wouldn't let any sounds while you hold Mr. Fushiguro's gaze.
You feel him tensing against you, hips rolling against your belly and if you would look down, you would see the wet spot his wiping cock is leaving on his sweatpants.
“I think you like my mouth,” you say, humming when he sticks the thumb that was caressing your lip on your mouth, now caressing your tongue with the pad of his finger.
His skin tastes salty, and you can't help but suckle on it as if it were the head of his cock, closing your eyes just with the thought of licking it.
You're so wet your own fingers on your pussy are making the sluttiest noises, the little wet sounds resonating with your sweet whimpers and his fast breathing.
“Greedy little slut” he hisses, hands descending to grab your ass so hard it probably will leave marks. He spreads you open, and it just makes you even wetter, pussy clenching, crying with loneliness “I'll feed this hungry cunt with my seed until it can't take it anymore” he growls, and you can't help yourself, you stick two of your fingers on yourself, pussy clenching around your fingers, but it's not enough, it's not the giant cock pressed against your belly.
Toji eyes are focused on your face, on the way your mouth is open and letting out little whimpers just for him to hear, he can hear clearly your desperate fingers trying to reach on your sweet spot, wide eyes begging him to just bend you over the counter and fuck you like an animal.
And then you both hear a little sound coming from the second floor, and your eyes widen, blush deepening to your neck and running down, down, down, until it's covered by the shirt you're wearing.
Toji wants to see where it goes. Unfortunately, you let go of him faster than he is capable, hands still holding and massaging your ass, but when he hears Megumi's steps descending the stairs he can't help but huff in frustration, letting you go slowly, but not before he pinches the side of your hip, probably leaving a bruise there.
He smirks at your frown, if it weren't Megumi he wouldn't even care about someone watching, but the brat is already mad for some reason, if he sees Toji fucking one of his friends he will probably flip.
Still, he looks at your bitten lips, the way your hair is even more unkempt than when he got home, and then, he looks at your glistening fingers, drenched in your juices, and he chuckles, picking your hand up and shoving them in his mouth.
“Fuuuck” he groans around your little digits, “You're so fucking sweet, kitten.” he whispers, tongue rolling around between your fingers, licking every little drop.
He bets your thighs are just or even more drenched in juice and his cock throbs at the thought. Toji wants to be inside you so fucking bad.
Megumi calls your name, letters rolling out of his mouth awkwardly, and Toji notices he's probably still drunk. You seem to notice it too and faster than Toji could even stop, your fingers are out of his mouth, and you're on your knees, in front of him, face just inches of his cock right when Megumi rounds down the corner of the door.
You put your little index finger in front of your lips, the universal signal for him to keep quiet, and he can't help, he shakes his head in amusement at the same time his abdomen clenches with pure desire.
The cheek of this woman, he thinks to himself. How could Megumi bring to him someone just the way he likes?
even though you're a tall woman, simon is still taller than you, hovering above you while he peers inside your house, trying to see who you're receiving in your home, just to look down and meet your single functioning eye staring at him over the frame of your glasses - because it's not enough you already don't have an eye, you're also shortsighted and asthigmatic. - arms crossed, waiting for his explanation of why he's there while you're having a date.
when Price told stories about both of you, your frustration at him being injured, about you getting shot on the field and making a scene after he told you to stay home for some weeks, about you baking him a few cakes and even pies, half of his team thought you were a cute, soft girl, and the other half imagined you as someone next to price's age, overbearing and annoying, but rather soft. Like a grandma.
they couldn't be more wrong.
the task force finally meets you during a normal day in base, returning from a mission and catching a big woman, at least the same height as their captain, scolding him about being reckless and getting injured on field.
soap later would compare you to an amazon princess: big, body lean but toned, full of curves, thighs to die for, and an abysmal rack, covered by your old shirt with your last name on the back, dog tags dangling between them.
soap would also get a hard glare from price after being too descriptive.
your presence alone is sufficient to fill the room, even more so with your "hums" and "yeahs" in a smoky voice, pitch low and demanding. but what gets their attention is the eyepatch and the combat boots. sexy as hell.
price didn't mention you not having a bloody eye. yeah, soap can see the cake from where he's standing, you wearing jeans so tight it almost appears painted, but he can't see any sweetness in the way you arch an eyebrow at his captain, arms crossed and bulging biceps showing.
