#drone x pro

[genelvavirtualstudio-blog]

Choisissez le bon drone pour vos besoins de cartographie aérienne : 5 propositions

Les drones révolutionnent la cartographie aérienne. Ces nouveaux outils polyvalents pour des résultats de haute précision La cartographie aérienne a connu une véritable révolution grâce à l’introduction des drones. Ces appareils volants équipés de caméras de haute résolution et de capteurs spécifiques offrent une solution efficace et économique pour la collecte de données géospatiales. Que ce…

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#Cartographie aérienne #DJI Mavic 2 Pro #drone #SenseFly eBee X #WingtraOne

[shotoh]

all mine

SYNOPSIS: Bakugou decides to put his delusional secretary in their place.

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

word count: 9.6k+

genre: fluff, SMUT, maybe a smidgen of angst

tags/warnings: 18+! minors dni! reader is not the secretary, basically this other lady is trying to seduce your man but katsuki isn’t falling for it! marking, exhibitionism, oral (f!receiving), riding, soft!bakugou but also mean!bakugou, humiliation (not really at reader), a couple spanks, office sex, praise, degradation, pet names (baby, princess, angel), crude language

author’s notes: this is very overdue, like incredibly overdue LOL i started this wip last year but could only continue writing during random bouts of inspiration. so i apologize if the smut is a little half-assed and if the characterization is questionable. but enjoy my late kinktober 2022 present to y’all 

The sound of Dynamight’s heavy boots hitting the floor resonate throughout the wide hallways of his agency, drowning out the heels clicking behind him. A woman quickens her pace in an attempt to catch up to the impatient blond hero, rushing into his peripheral vision.

“Sir? Oh Bakugou sir~” The dulcet chime calling him is sickly sweet, enough to make him grimace. “I need you to look over these reports before I file them away.” She whips out one of the thick packets of papers clutch to her chest, bringing his steps to a halt which makes the hero point a glare at her.

“How many times do I have to fucking tell you that you’re suppose to call me by my hero name.” Malice coats his words, dripping off his tongue as he swipes the reports from her fingers. The woman, to the hero’s annoyance, indulges in his feisty attitude.

“Aw, but ‘Bakugou’ is more fitting given how closely we work together!” She waves off his displeasure, hoping her excessively cheerful personality can tone him down. “I am your secretary, after all.” She leans into his space, too damn close for his liking by how he could get a whiff of her pungent perfume. The overbearing scent has him side-stepping to create more distance between them.

The blond rolls his eyes before giving the papers in his hand a once-over, not even granting her the satisfaction of eye contact. “You work at a Pro-Hero agency, not some ordinary office job.”

Normally, he isn’t one to admonish any of his employees unless they’re his sidekicks. He’s always out and about on missions, never dawdling around the office long enough to find anything to scold them about. So long as they were competent at their job, he never had to give them any earfuls. But this woman here has been testing that resolve.

A month into her new position, his secretary has been greeting him every morning with far more energy than should be considered possible at such an hour. Her regular tasks shouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary. She was mostly tasked with filing villain reports and contacting other Pro-Hero agencies, but her enthusiasm warrants him to think otherwise.

She deliberately shares elevator rides with him, droning on and on about god knows what before getting off at her floor, ending their dull conversations with winks and wide-eyed smiles that make him want to gag. It’s one thing to be genuinely excited about your job, but it’s another thing to be attached to your boss at the hip. She’s at his beck and call when he doesn’t even ask for her.

One can chalk this up to her simply gunning for a promotion, buttering up her boss to garner his favor. However, Bakugou isn’t an idiot. He can read the air, deciphering the meaning behind her words and advances. Her deceptive guise of a hardworking secretary beneath those batting eyelashes is easily uncovered by him.

If she was really trying so hard for a promotion she’d approach him with more important topics in mind. Statistics, analysis, updates on villain activity and hero work. Y’know, discussions that would actually benefit his agency rather than waste his time.

Instead, Bakugou stands there listening to… this.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” her voice drifts off as she taps a finger against her bottom lip pensively, “we should consider holding a party to get to know all our co-workers better!” she proposes. The blond narrows his brows incredulously at her suggestion.

Oblivious to his lack of interest, she moves closer to him, caressing a hand along his hard bicep. She tip-toes her fingers up his arm before flattening her digits next to his ear to whisper, “Company members only, of course. But I’m sure we’d still have a fun time even if it was just the two of us, right?”

Recognizing the suggestive lilt in her tone, he shoves her off of him without even touching her, abruptly tossing his shoulder back. The secretary freezes and comes across the peeved expression on the explosion hero’s rough features.

“We’re here to beat villains and protect civilians, not throw dumb parties.”

“But–”

“Shut it,” he retorts harshly, not letting the bewildered look on the secretary’s face demur him. He shoves the reports back in her arms. “Just do your damn job.” With his brows taut behind his mask, the blond glares hard at her, watching her fumble with the papers before he resumes the rhythm of his combat boots stepping down the hallway. The hero gives her one last glance over his shoulder.

“And remember, it’s Dynamight to you.”

.

.

Man, what an annoying woman.

Is the thought that plagues Bakugou’s mind as he stands beneath the running water in his shower, washing away the sweat and grime accumulated from another busy day of heroics. Yet he still can’t get the irritating thoughts in his head to do the same.

His fingers weave the shampoo through his spikey locks, the pads of his digits massaging his scalp. Glancing at his reflection in the foggy, glass screen door, he meets his scowling mug.

“Tryna get in my pants and shit… Worry about keeping your damn job,” he grumbles to himself exasperatedly. What he finds especially annoying is knowing his secretary will start the day again tomorrow as if nothing happened. Even with Bakugou’s firm stance at wanting to keep things strictly professional, she’s going to continue getting up in his space, trying to caress her nails up his arm, and stink up the place with what he swore was five different kinds of perfume sprayed on her clothes.

But Bakugou’s not some oblivious fool. He can recognize from a mile away what her goal is and he absolutely wants no part in it.

Besides...

“Katsuki! Dinner will be ready when you’re done showering!”

His head swivels toward the door of the bathroom. “Yeah I heard ya!”

He’s already got someone deserving of his time and affection.

You.

“’Kay!” you reply, voice gradually growing louder. Bakugou hears your feet plodding toward the bathroom door just as the door creaks open slightly. “I’ll leave you a new towel to use after you’re done showering, too.” Even through the steam, he can recognize your silhouette peeking inside to drop the towel off. Unbeknownst to you, behind the cloudy glass door of the shower there’s a smile that finds his lips.

After washing the lather off his hair and body, he shuts the water. The last streams falling from the showerhead glide down his skin, joining the suds on the floor before they all disappear down the drain. As the thick steam surrounding him dissipates, he covers his toned body in the towel you left for him.

While patting down the excess droplets cascading his blond locks, Bakugou puts on some sweatpants, but forgoes his t-shirt for now, leaving it hanging over his shoulder. He continues rubbing the towel around his torso as he exits the bathroom.

The savory aroma of thick cheeses and tomato sauces hits Bakugou’s nose the moment he enters the kitchen. He stops in his tracks to take in the pleasant smells, along with the sight in front of his eyes that effortlessly forms a grin on his face.

Your soft hums accompany the harmonious atmosphere of the kitchen. Bakugou’s ruby eyes rove over you shimmying your way around an array of pans and plates like you own the place (which you essentially do), watching you finish piecing your dinner together with a generous sprinkle of garnish and spices.

Eyes never leaving you, an expression of admiration and fondness paints his usually hardened face. With arms crossed over his chest, he could just stand there, admire you, and be more than wholly content. You could do the most mundane things and still have him wrapped around your finger—not that he’d ever mention that to you out loud of course. Occasionally, Bakugou wonders how he ever got so lucky with you in the first place.

You’re so blissfully unaware of your hotheaded boyfriend lurking nearby. It’s all the more apparent by how you abruptly pause as soon as you discover him idling in the kitchen doorway in all of his half-naked glory.

The blond doesn’t let the fact that you’re practically ogling his hard muscle slip past him, and definitely doesn’t miss your moment of hesitation before you avert your gaze, your cheeks growing hot. It brings a smirk to his face and his ego through the roof.

Bakugou tosses his towel and t-shirt somewhere off the side before coming to you. “What? Getting flustered or something, babe?” he taunts. His deep tone hovers next to your ear as his chest touches your back. His hands are on either side of you, trapping you against the counter.

“That fuckin’ hot that I got you this speechless?” His breath is so close to you, he just knows you have goosebumps trailing down your spine. He can tell by the heat swirling in your cheeks just how much he has an effect on you and he absolutely loves how easily he can get you flustered.

Though he can’t say he’s all but immune to your charms, either. He trails a calloused hand up your bare thigh and hips, giving your ass a firm squeeze through your booty shorts which causes a yelp to flee your lips.

Fuckin’ hell.

The way you were dancing around in these things, tip-toeing to reach high cabinets that caused the shorts to ride up slightly and give him a glimpse of the plushness peeking past the fabric already had Bakugou half-hard simply standing behind you. But being able to touch what was essentially his started to make the material of his sweatpants absolutely suffocating.

In a single motion, he spins you around. Your back is pinned against the counter as you’re forced to face him. The cocky grin plastered on his lips greets you.

Finally grasping your composure, you raise an eyebrow at him. “For someone who wanted to take a shower as soon as their stinky-self got home, you sure are eager to get dirty again,” you retort, tracing your hands up his arms to place them on his broad shoulders. “Work didn’t get you sweaty enough?”

The blond chuckles lowly at your cheekiness. His face inches closer, mere centimeters away from your lips. “I could go for an extra workout,” he says huskily, voice dissipating with the shortening distance between you.

His eyes are lidded as he targets your lips, hands leaving the edge of the counter in favor of wrapping his arms around your waist. To his surprise, when he darts forward he meets nothing but air.

Hearing your giggles beside him breaks the tension between you. He opens his eyes and discovers that you’ve tilted your head out of the way. Before he can open his mouth to spit a retort, you rest your head against his shoulder, arms winding at his neck.

“Food’s gonna get cold, big boy,” you hum.

The noise that leaves his gritted teeth is practically a growl. “Dun care about the food–” His hands at your sides play with the waistband of your shorts. “Would rather eat you out on this counter.”

He watches you gulp down the lump in your throat, finding the idea tempting as a dull throb aches between your legs. But to his dismay, you don’t want to let him indulge in you just yet.

You lean forward to kiss his cheek to prepare him for your next words, “First and foremost, dinner. And then I'll let you do whatever you want with me. How’s that?” You tiptoe to peck his nose one more time for good measure before wriggling free from his clutches. You shuffle away to the steaming hot food you left on the other end of the counter.

Pink swathes his cheeks as Bakugou stands there dumbfounded. He rubs the back of his head, his brows furrowing in frustration.

“You’re killing me here, dammit.”

You let out another dulcet giggle. The urge to sneak up on you again to try to get you all hot and bothered lingers until it’s interrupted by a piece of fabric thrown in his face. “Also, shirt on we please.” You turn back at him with two plates of stuffed ravioli perched on each hand. “No shirt, no service.”

He yanks the white t-shirt off his face, grimacing as he begrudgingly pulls it over his head. “Yeah, yeah. You love it though.” Nonetheless, he follows behind you while the savory aroma of your food creates a path toward the dining table. The scent alone makes his stomach growl, the effects of a long day at work making themselves apparent.

Despite the antics he has to put up with, he can’t help but soften around you. It’s as if you possess an innate ability to effortlessly get him to shed his notoriously rough exterior.

He takes a seat on his side of the table, his stomach now growling loud enough for you to hear. You tease a wry grin before placing the ravioli dishes on the table, letting the delicious aromas waft around him, his mouth watering.

“I know it’s been a long day for you so you better eat up, hero.”

The blond’s eyes flicker for a second, chest enveloped with pride as he meets the look on your face that awaits for him in anticipation to dig in. “Yeah… Thanks for the meal,” he murmurs, mild gratitude woven in his words as he picks up the fork and finally chows down.

Again, what did he ever do to deserve you? He knows how hard you work each and every day. The fact that you’re still willing to love and take care of him is enough for him to want to cherish you for an eternity. Coming home to the person he loves and sharing meals with them is a blessing to him as it is and he absolutely wouldn’t trade this for anything else.

Which just makes the matter of his secretary all the more annoying to him.

The damn woman has walked in his office plenty of times to see the framed picture of you two on his desk, even occasionally interrupting his phone calls with you that would end with him mouthing low “love yous” before he’d have to turn around to acknowledge the petty expression resting on her face. He’d watch as her demeanor quickly shifted into a full 180—from a bitter frown to a forced grin to keep up her facade. She definitely knows he’s in a happy, committed relationship. The real question is whether or not she cares enough to acknowledge the fact.

He could just fire her for unprofessionalism. That seems like an obvious solution, but knowing her, she’d probably feed the media some false rumors about alleged abuse towards his employees. Of course, that wouldn’t at all be true. Far from it, but the news loved to twist the truth so long as it got them clicks. Given Bakugou’s naturally rugged demeanor, it wouldn’t be hard for the public to buy their shit and for his ranking on the hero chart to plummet. Which Bakugou could not afford right now considering how close he was to the top.

“’Tsuki, stop playing with your food.” He hears you chide, tugging him from his contemplation.

Bakugou huffs, jamming his fork onto the plate. “I’m not a damn kid.”

“Right, tell that to the ravioli you’re mangling with your fork.” You raise your brow and point at his stabbed and defeated pasta, the filling oozing out from the punctured holes. He keeps his gaze suspiciously fixed on the ravioli.

Does it taste bad? You wonder warily. “If you don’t like it then you don’t have to eat it, y’know.”

“What? No– The food’s fine.” He stuffs three pastas in his mouth one after the other. “Fucking delicious,” he mutters through ungracious chewing, cheeks puffed profusely, bringing a grin to your face.

“What’s wrong then? Bad day at work?”

He swallows his food. “Could say that,” he answers, resting his head against his propped arm. “Just some employee causing trouble.”

“Hopefully it’s not one of your sidekicks,” you pick at the raviolis while stuck in your musing, “I remember your first batch of recruits when you just started your own agency. You nearly scared half of them away by the end of the week.”

“How else was I supposed to whip those newbies into shape?” He lounges in his seat. “If they can’t take some yelling from a Pro, then they’re definitely not ready for the real hero world. Besides, they were the ones that came to my agency knowing that I’m the best,” he boasts with confidence, shoving more pasta in his mouth, and munching at his leisure.

“Also, it’s not a sidekick. Just some lady who can’t do her fuckin’ job.”

“Aw, cut her some slack, I’m sure she’s trying her best.”

Bakugou almost scoffs. If you knew the real reason for her lack of work ethic, you’d be on the same page as him.

Either way, he really needs to get this secretary off his back before shit blows out of proportion. If pictures, phone calls—hell—even lunch dates can’t get her to wake up, then what?

To his surprise, the idea actually comes to him quicker than he anticipated, red eyes perking up at a scheme forming in his head.

Of course. Heh, why didn’t I think of that sooner?

This is how he’s going to do it, he thinks. His lips barely resist the urge to quiver into a smirk that will no doubt have you questioning whatever was riling him up. Swallowing his final piece of pasta, Bakugou pushes his plate away but aims his fork in your direction.

“You free tomorrow?”

“I just have to drop off some papers at work in the morning. Why?”

“Good. Come by the agency for lunch.”

Your brows furrow at how sudden the request is, however, you go along with it. “Okay, should I make lunch for us?”

“Nah, don’t. I’ll order something,” he assures, but in his head he’s sure lunch would be the last thing on your mind tomorrow afternoon with what he has planned for you, him, and his secretary.

Bakugou scoots his seat back, leaning over on your side of the table. “Now, I remember a certain brat made a promise to me after dinner was done.”

“Hold it, I still have a piece–”

“Nuh-uh, c’mere–” He lightly pushes your hand away, and with effortless strength, pulls you out of your chair and over his shoulder. “Already waited too damn long.”

“Whoa..!” Your last piece of pasta falls back on the plate, forgotten. You watch as the distance between you and the dining table diminishes, the impatient blond leading you two into the hallway. At your fidgeting, he swats your thigh, warning you to stay fucking still unless you want to accidentally fall on your face.

With a squeal escaping your lips, you comply. As a reward, he presses his lips against the side of your ass as you’re still hanging over him, nipping at your curves. Your yelps are replaced by laughter. The ticklish sensation nearly makes you squirm again if not for Bakugou dropping you unceremoniously onto your bed.

“You better make it up to me for having to make me wait, Princess.” His emphasis on what is supposed to be your endearing little pet name comes out as a snarl as you’re cornered against the sheets. Expecting this kind of intense reaction from him after your meal, you grin slyly.

“I mean the ravioli was good, wasn’t it?”

Well that he can’t deny. Still, the blond smirks, showing his pearly canines. “Yeah, but,” he moves away from you, kneeling while grabbing at the hem of his shirt to pull it off,

“I’m still fuckin’ hungry.”

.

.

There is no doubt that the next day, you woke up incredibly sore. Sore yet also just as happy.

The tension in your muscles had dissipated as a result of being repeatedly fucked into your own mattress last night, allowing you to sleep soundly. So soundly that you don’t even notice your boyfriend leaving for work that morning. But it can’t be helped given how ungodly early his hero work starts every day.

Some hours after Bakugou has already left, your alarm goes off to remind you that it’s about time to begin your day. Even after a spent night, you can’t bear the thought of lying in bed anymore, especially with how cold the sheets had become, devoid of the blond’s natural warmth. Plus you had something to look forward to this afternoon—your lunch date.

Once you get washed and dressed, you grab your business files from your desk and dash out the door to drop off your papers at work.

Before you know it, it’s noon and you’re standing in front of the receptionist’s desk at Dynamight’s agency.

While you wait for the receptionist to finish their business call, you think back on the employee Bakugou mentioned yesterday. You note in the foreground how busy the entire place looks, which doesn't surprise you. The agency runs like a well-oiled machine. With all the hustle and bustle going on, it seems like everyone is doing their job with peak efficiency. Honestly, you can’t imagine anyone wanting to test the wrath of the explosive Number Two Hero, but you assume such people existed.

“Thank you for waiting! Here to see Mister Dynamight?” The receptionist greets you after hanging up their call, immediately recognizing you from your prior visits.

“Yeah, just coming by for lunch.”

“He’s in his office right now so I’ll let him know you’re here then.”

You mouth a thank you, followed by a farewell wave as you make your way to the elevator.

“’Suki’s office should be on… this floor…” you murmur, pressing the corresponding button on the panel. While you wait for the doors to close, you spot a figure approaching from a distance. You can see the person’s wrinkled professional attire, disheveled hair, and slightly smeared makeup as she approaches the elevator clumsily.

“H… Hold the door!” she pants.

Hearing her frantic request, your mind catches up with you. You jam your index finger on another button on the panel, keeping the doors open just long enough for the woman to slip inside and catch her breath.

You watch her ungraciously drop to the floor, lungs gasping for air. “That was a close one.” You bend down to extend a helping hand.

She sputters as she reaches out to you, “Yeah, thanks, I– Wait, you’re...” When she looks up, her eyes squint to get a better look at your face, brows knitting together as she recognizes your features. Dismissing your help, she abruptly retracts her hand before getting up on her own. You cock your head suspiciously when you notice her change in demeanor.

“Oh, I’m just stopping by to have lunch with my boyfriend. He’s your, uh,” you piece your words as eloquently as you can, “boss.”

It’s always difficult for you to tell any of Bakugou’s staff that you’re his girlfriend. You’d done it before in front of his group of sidekicks while waiting outside his office and as a result they all flipped, bombarding you with questions about your relationship before falling dead silent when his door suddenly swung open.

You’re expecting the same, if not, a similar reaction here, but you’re surprised to see a deadpan look in the woman’s eyes. She averts her gaze. You glance over at her, taking note of her fists shaking at her sides and how she bites the inside of her cheek which forms a pout on her lips.

You’re beginning to wonder if you shouldn’t have disclosed that information. “Are you okay?” you inquire, your voice filled with genuine concern. She eventually turns to look at you straight on, her expression teetering between a smile and a scowl. In any case, she tries to steer you away from the elephant in the room.

“Yep! Just peachy!” she assures through a strained grin that makes you all the more suspicious of her. Even if you want to question it, she has no intention of continuing the conversation. Her lips press together in an effort to maintain her smile, or else risk blurting something that should’ve stayed in her mouth. You keep to yourself in the elevator so as not to bother her, but the prolonged silence, combined with the elevator’s incessant dinging throughout each ascending floor, creates a suffocating atmosphere.

With every floor you pass you soon realize that despite keeping your distance, she’s still looking in your general direction. You notice her sneaking glances at you and your neck grows hot as you follow where her eyes wander. You press your palm against your jugular, the spot you recall Bakugou laying his teeth on last night.

I thought I covered that…

You want to chastise yourself for not spending enough time this  morning to conceal the blemishes on your neck. Your coworker had even commented on them before you left for Dynamight’s agency, to your embarrassment.

You settle for letting out an uneasy chuckle while adjusting the collar of your shirt. Though the majority of Bakugou’s staff are already aware of your relationship, you’d rather hide any detail of your sex life if possible. You’d prefer not being the hot talk amongst the whole faculty.

You expect to be the brunt of the woman’s teasing next, anticipating her wiggling her brows or whistling, but she keeps her mouth shut and her expression even appears offended.

Fortunately, the elevator saves both of you from any more uncomfortable silences. Right on cue, the doors slide open for the woman to exit on her floor. She doesn’t spare you a glance on her way out, but you overhear her mutter under her breath, “Enjoy your lunch or whatever.”

She stomps in the opposite direction until her figure disappears behind closing doors. Your face scrunches. “What’s her deal?”

You’ve gotten used to the bitter reactions some people would give over the fact you and Bakugou are in a relationship. You kind of have to, considering who Bakugou is and the hoards of fans he’s accumulated over the years as a Pro-Hero. But any of the backlash you receive is mostly posted online by petty netizens. No one has the guts to confront you in person. Mostly because if they do, Bakugou has no qualms about retaliating with equal venom and more. This lady, on the other hand, works for Bakugou. When it comes to greeting her boss’s girlfriend, she should be professional, right?

You brush those thoughts away, recalling that no one should ever have to suck up to you simply because you're a Pro’s significant other. “She’s probably on the PR team.” You laugh off, remembering how much trouble it is to manage Bakugou’s public image and how she must be tired from working overtime.

The elevator dings one last time to indicate that you’ve arrived at your destination. When the doors part, the entrance to Dynamight’s office is directly across from you, passing a short corridor. Normally, sidekicks and employees had to press the button on the side of the door, or page him ahead of time before entering. However, you have the luxury of just swinging those doors open whenever you like.

“Heya, Katsu–”

“For the last fuckin’ time, there’s no way I’m going on that mission as his fucking standby.” The voice booming at the other end of the room behind a wide, wooden desk drowns out your voice. “Tell Grand that if he can’t find another B-rate hero agency like his to do his damn dirty work, then he can just fuck himself,” he spits into the receiver. He slams the phone down and hangs up the call without a second thought.

You announce your presence once more with a low whistle. Another one for the PR team. “Vulgar as usual,” you joke.

He sighs loudly, “The only way to get the message across their thick skulls is to beat it into their heads at this point,” he says, leaning against the large glass windows behind him. “That Shindou needs to get off my back. I thought I told everyone I wasn’t taking anymore calls from that asswipe.”

“I’m sure Grand will finally get the idea after he receives your message from his manager.” Slipping in next to him, you wrap your arms around his neck. Your fingers delicately crawl up to his chin, tilting his head to face your smile. Bakugou reciprocates the gesture, his gloved hands gripping your waist and pulling you in as your lips briefly meet. When you part, you rest your forehead against his.

“How was patrol this morning, hero?” you whisper, playing with the tufts of hair above his neck.

“Same old shit,” he tells you quietly as you hum at his response, an amused grin tugging at the seam of your lips. Just as you’re about to separate, his hold at your sides tightens, locking your body against his.

“Bet you missed me, didn’t you, princess?” He leans in to nibble your jawline, causing laughter to tumble from your lips. “Bed got cold without me?”

Your answer is interrupted by a hand brushing up against the waistband of your pants, ruffling your tucked-in blouse. The man growls in the crook of your neck. “Didn’t have my cock to keep you nice and warm?”

Your nose scrunches at his unfiltered tongue. “Katsuki, I came here for lunch, remember?” You push at his chest, attempting to get him off you, but his teeth lock onto your clavicle.

“Food’s on the way,” he assures. Fingers play with the loops of your pants, dragging your shirt out slowly. “Might as well kill time–” His lips suddenly collide with yours, stealing your breath and drowning out any protests. He scuffs his teeth against your bottom lip, looking for a way in. You whimper in response at his persistence, stumbling backwards against the edge of his desk as he finally pries through your lips.

After an intense moment of kissing, his attention shifts to your jugular, nipping at the tender skin again. Every time his canines make contact with the broken skin, you wince. “Still got my marks all over ya,” he boasts, but the more skin he tries to unveil, the more he has to pull at your shirt’s collar which quickly annoys him. “Though I don’t understand what the hell you’re covering them up for.”

“D-Don’t want people to see…” you fumble with your excuses yet tilt your head to grant him better access. He scoffs at how your actions betray your words.

“Why does it matter when I want them to see? Let those fuckers look and know we’re together.” He licks one of the patches of broken skin. His harsh words make you shiver in his hold, but beneath his rough exterior, you sense a tender possessiveness in the amount of attention he pays to your body.

Your fingers brush through his hair, gently pulling him off of you so you can look him in the eyes, “You’re so damn insufferable, you know that?”

“Heh, you like it though,” Bakugou counters. You click your tongue, feigning ignorance. With his hand wrapped at the nape of your neck, he thumbs at your blemishes. His ruby eyes take their time to admire every inch of his claim on you. “You were clenching whenever I marked you. Screaming nice and loud too.”

“I bet the neighbors hate us now…” You sigh quietly.

“Took them that long?” He grins, almost proud of being a menace to those extras next door despite being a heroic figure. “Besides, not my fault you let me do whatever I wanted to you.” You pout, but accept it’s a fact you very well can’t deny.

As his deft hands unfasten each button of your blouse, he switches your positions. He yanks your shirt, dragging the fabric down your shoulders to reveal your skin and the bra hugging your chest. Licking his lips, he removes his thick gloves before hoisting you up to sit on the desk with him, making you straddle his thighs. Another pause of appreciation for the blossoms adorning your chest makes him blurt out, “Maybe I should let you mark me up just as much.”

You look at him precariously. He doesn’t take back the grin on his face. Seeing your wide-eyed expression, he cups your jaw, pulling you toward him. “What’s the look for? I know you’ve thought about it, princess.” Bakugou reads you like a book. He revels in your flustered face, telling him how right he is.

The image of his scarred, toned skin covered in hickeys has crossed your mind more times than you can count, but you’ve always been too engrossed in the intoxicating sensation of his teeth grazing every stretch of your skin to ever have an opportunity to bring the thought to light. Bakugou never gives you an inch when it comes to taking the reins in the bedroom. But now he’s practically granting you the opportunity on a silver platter.

You point a dubious look at him. “Are you serious, or did you bump your head somewhere earlier on patrol?” Anticipating your skeptical response, a chuckle rumbles low in his throat. He scoots back to remove his tank top, letting your hands lay over his chiseled physique. Your fingers immediately trace the scars and cuts lining his muscles, each one standing as a testament to every one of his battles. The idea of your own marks joining his adonis of a canvas has your eyes fluttering.

“’s no joke, babe,” he clarifies, a wicked grin plastered on his face. He then remembers why he made this whole arrangement in the first place. “Aren’t you tired of those fuckin’ extras always ogling me—looking at me up and down like they even have a damn chance to touch all of this?” He grabs your wrist and guides your hands above his chest, your fingertips brushing his collarbones.

You bite your lower lip. “Well…”

Hearing your voice linger, he snarls, “Are you seriously hesitating?”

It’s not like you hadn’t ever clenched your fists in front of the TV whenever your boyfriend was being interviewed by some mischievous news reporter or journalist. They never make it subtle when casting one too many glances at the Pro’s sweaty, skintight attire, staring into his red eyes for so long that they started looking dumb. Though as much as dark green jealousy occasionally takes root in your subconsciousness, you never act on your displeasure.

In the back of your mind, you always saw it as a sign of clinginess. But Bakugou sees it differently. To him, he’d want nothing more than his girl staking their claim on him. For you to get needy, jealous, possessive. Let the entire world know that you both belong to each other and no one else.

You fix your gaze at his cynical expression that eggs you on. Before you know it, you lunge forward. Your mouth latches onto his neck, arms curling around his shoulders. Bakugou draws you skin-to-skin, his low chuckle reverberating in the depths of his chest.

“Ooh, that’s it,” he encourages, rubbing your back. His other hand palms your ass, rocking you both back and forth, grinding his bulge against the crotch of your jeans. Your teeth cling to him, sinking into his skin. Your lips vibrate against his collarbones while you whimper at the delicious friction on your clit.

“Harder. I wanna see nice ol’ purple marks here,” he orders, relentlessly rolling his hips. You want to slap him on the wrist, your concentration waning as heat quickly pools in your abdomen. As if the grinding isn’t enough, Bakugou effortlessly undos the button of your jeans. He pulls down the zipper before reaching inside and touching you through your underwear.

“Fuck, already this wet from a little grinding? Nasty girl,” he hisses, running his index and middle finger across the ruined crotch of your panties. “Or maybe marking me is getting you all riled up?”

“Shut up–” you mutter half-heartedly. With a pop, your lips leave him. You lean back to evaluate your work. They’re not as noticeable as the marks Bakugou usually gives you, but they’re visible, and they’re purple as requested.

A small trail of violet hickeys adorns the crook of the blond’s neck and collarbones. Your finger traces the path, eyes capturing the sheen of your saliva over the marks. His skin gleams in the sunlight streaming in through the windows.

Reaching inside the pocket of his baggy pants, Bakugou pulls out his phone to turn on the front-facing camera. He gets a clear view of your work on the screen, and his smirk appears on the display. “My girl did that, huh?” He cranes his neck to examine the blemishes from different angles. Soon after, you hear his camera’s shutter release, capturing the image and adding it to his gallery. He should really consider making an album out of these.

Tossing his phone to the side, those piercing red eyes return to you, and your assertiveness fades. He grabs your wrists and leans in to kiss your temple.

“You did well, princess.”

His hushed voice makes your cunt clench and your ears warm. “I'll be sure to show these off later,” he promises, his tone dripping with smugness.

God, you realize how little his hero costume does to hide any of those hickeys. Given that he has to go on patrol again soon, you can expect his neck to be a hot topic in the media. Regardless, you can’t deny the satisfaction that wells up in your chest at the thought.

Katsuki was right. You really are possessive over him. And of course, it goes both ways.

While you’re distracted by your epiphany, he uses this opportunity to unhook your bra, happily discarding the garment. You exhale as he roughly cups the underside of your breast. His breath tickles your perky nipple, strong arm hooking you into him.

The pattern of his breaths are erratic, excitement coursing through his veins. His carmine eyes are lidded as he flattens a tongue against the hardened nub. As Bakugou fully wraps his lips around the stiffening bud, sucking and biting to his heart’s content, mewls part your mouth.

“Your tits still taste fucking amazing,” he mutters, mouth caught between sucking and spewing obscenities. “These tits gonna give me some milk too, princess?”

“Don’t push your luck, mister,” you quip before biting your bottom lip. You concentrate on moving your hips back and forth against his thigh, trying to find the right angle that provides you with the delicious jolt of pleasure you craved between your thighs. With a smack, his lips leave your nipple.

“Guess I didn’t give you enough attention down here since you keep rutting against me like a needy slut.” He swats your ass before gripping the plushness harshly. The mild sting has your pussy clenching. “My baby doesn’t feel satisfied unless she’s getting stretched open by my cock, huh?”

Just a little bit of dirty talk from him is enough to make you whimper pathetically, “Please, ‘suki…”

“Please, what? Gotta tell me more than that, princess.” He tugs the waistband of your pants, teasing you. Never breaking eye contact, Bakugou’s hand sneaks under the edge of his desk. “Use your words, I want to know what I’m doing to you. Don’t skimp on the details.”

A light click goes off, but if you hear it you don’t make it apparent, too focused on the hot blond in front of you that was making your head spin.

“Fuck… ‘Suki, I feel so hot… Need you right now…” You grab his hand showing him your ruined panties by letting the pads of his fingers trail your wet pussy. “See? Look what you did, I’m soaked.”

Bakugou mutters curses under his breath, applying more pressure to your panties to thoroughly inspect the slick saturating the fabric. He couldn’t have asked for a better reaction, finding your pleading to be incredibly sinful and all-too-tempting. He considers it a waste that he isn’t recording anything. Well, maybe it isn’t an entire waste.

“Damn, how are you this messy? This pussy’s fucking sobbing for me.” You nod, sloppily gyrating on top of his hand. For once, Bakugou is considerate to your needs and slides your panties to the side to slip his digits across your bare folds. You both moan in unison, you at the extra relief and him at the slippery honey dripping down his knuckles.

In his eyes he was being generous, granting you his thick fingers prodding your silky walls rather than reduce you to pitifully grinding against him. But, being greedy, you thought he wasn’t being generous enough.

Bakugou’s fingers leave your cunt to sample you, wet digits laying flat on his tongue. “Fuck, I need to lick you clean right now.”

“N-No, ‘suki, jus’ want your cock in me already,” you whine with a pout. However, Bakugou is insistent on stealing more than just a little taste from your sweet cunt.

“Not gonna even let me indulge a little? Must have spoiled you with too much dick last night.” He scoffs, but doesn’t move to discard his uniform to free his hard cock. Instead, he motions you to step down and stand in front of him while he remains perched atop his desk.

He eyes you up and down. “What are you waiting for, princess? I want it all off already.”

Your fingers start moving toward your disheveled blouse. As fabrics pile the floor, you catch the blond licking his lips, lewdly eyeing your panties that slip down your legs to reveal your juices coating your inner thighs.

“Turn around and kneel on top of my chair.”

At his blunt tone, you obey. Dynamight’s luxurious office chair cushions your knees as you carefully lift your body onto it.

“Bend over.”

Without question, you use the arms of the chair as leverage to safely lean forward, spreading your pussy in front of him. As half of your face presses into the cushion of the head rest, you steal a glimpse of his reaction from your peripheral vision.

With a guttural hiss between his teeth, he gets off the desk, pulling the chair closer for an even better look at your glistening center. He palms your ass, rolling the globes in his hands before spreading them, exposing your slick folds.

“You seriously trying to deny me this angel cunt?” His words are emphasized with a quick smack before his tongue dives between your folds. You whine at the contact, his lips fluttering around your clit as it works its way up your slobbering hole.

Knees shaking, you subconsciously muffle your sounds as you press your face into the headrest of the office chair. Not satisfied with your muted cries, Bakugou reaches one hand toward your head. He cups your jaw, turning you more to the side so you aren’t hiding in the cushion. When his tongue swivels around your sensitive bud, your moans resonate across his office with euphoria.

“‘suki! I’m gonna–!”

“Gonna cum? Do it then you slut.”

At your warning, he works his mouth vigorously against your pussy, even adding two fingers into your walls. Your toes curl behind you as your grip on the arms of the chair tighten.

“Fuck, you’re dripping all over my damn office chair.”

Maybe you would’ve issued a half-hearted apology, if not for his tongue and its unrelenting intensity across your sensitive bundle of nerves. You only offer a string of moans that Bakugou happily accepts, smiling into your pussy as he feels you tense up against him.

“Ka..tsuki!!” You practically scream, electricity coursing through your skin as your orgasm shakes your entire body.

“That’s it, princess. Want your taste all over my tongue… So fucking good,” he drones against your folds, not letting a drop go to waste as you slowly come down from your post-orgasmic bliss.

“Ah! ‘Suki, I’m already too sensitive…” You gasp, still feeling him drunkenly licking up and down your slit despite you just coming. Reaching behind you, you weave your fingers through his ash blond hair, nudging at his scalp to try to push him away, but Bakugou’s strength clearly outweighs yours. He grips your wrist, lifting his face off your sloppy pussy of his own volition.

“That sensitive just from my tongue? Oh, sweetheart, I plan on ruining you in my office chair alone.” Keeping his word, he replaces your pliant body with his own, planting himself right on the cushioned seat with his legs spread thoughtlessly. He dashes for the hem of his pants, unfastening the zipper, and pulling down enough articles of clothing for his cock to spring out, stiff and glistening with his arousal.

Lust blown eyes admire the thickness of Bakugou’s shaft, rightdown to the veins on the ridges of his cock. A smirk and chuckle follow in the wake of your heady gawking, swearing that you look like you were about to pounce and give him the best head of his life. Sadly, as he glances at the digital clock perched behind you, he realizes there’s no time.

“Sorry, babe, food’s gonna be here any minute and I need you on my cock right fucking now.” He rolls the office chair closer to get a firm grasp of your hips, motioning you on top of him with rousing urgency. Thighs on either side of his own, you reach over your body to level his cock over your dripping folds.

The blond’s lips curl into a sneer beneath you, hands fondling your breast and ass—the latter spreading your cheek to help you accommodate his size. “Besides, this what you wanted, right? To be–” As you begin sinking down his length, your mouth opens in a soundless mewl. “–split open on me, even after I fucked you into the mattress last night?”

Your teeth tug at your bottom lip while you do your best to bottom out. Katsuki isn’t amused by your muted reaction, pinching your nipple as punishment and spurring his desired noises from you. “What did I say? Answer me, slut, you wanted to get fucked dumb again, didn’tcha?” His words are harsher this time, demanding your attention.

“Yes, yes! Wan’ you to make me your little cockwhore, ‘Suki…” you confess, moaning when you feel his dick fully impale you. At the same time, Bakugou hisses at how your walls mercilessly hug his shaft.

“Yeah princess, I’m going to give you exactly what you need– Fuck! How are you so damn tight?!” It hasn’t even been ten hours since he had sex with you, stretching you into his shape last night until the sun shined, and yet you still had the innate ability to squeeze every ounce of pleasure out of him and then some. At this rate, he’s not going to last. “Need you to move, baby. Ride me already.”

Hearing the urgency in his tone, your hips begin moving on their own, dragging yourself on and off his cock. Hands on his shoulders, you leverage yourself to maintain a steady rhythm that had you both delirious and panting in pleasure. The blond’s thick fingers dig into your soft flesh, growls leaving his lips as fire flares in his veins, threatening to ignite his last ounce of willpower to allow you to keep this sustained tempo.

“F-Feeling good, ‘suki?” you question, looking down at him with a sinful expression painted on your gorgeous face—pretty eyes half-lidded and needy just for him.

“Yeah… God you make me act up all the damn time I–” His cock twitches between your tight folds, eyeing you from below and watching you clasp his hand that’s pawing your breast to gesture to him to play with you some more. The sensual yet genuine smile you give him ultimately breaks his resolve.

Oh, fuck it.

As if chains have snapped around him, Bakugou suddenly shoots up, carrying your body against him. He lays you across his desk quickly but carefully, with little regard for whatever else tumbles and falls off of it except for you.

You squeal in surprise, your arms and legs attempting to find purchase around him before you’re reduced to jelly by the new quickening pace of his cock pounding your insides.

“Oh my god… Katsuki!” The obscene slapping of skin on skin accompanies your desperate cries throughout his office. Arms that were wound around his neck lose their hold on him, pathetically dropping to your sides to clasp Katsuki’s wrists, where he’s pulling your thighs apart to spread you open for his unrelenting thrusts.

“Sorry, princess… you looked so damn hot I couldn’t hold back anymore. Needed to feel you deeper and make you cream already.” His tepid apologies don’t reach your ears as you’re overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of his movements, followed by a searing knot welling up in your abdomen.

By the looks of it, you have no objections to the turn of events, gazing dreamily at him as his hardened body hovers over you. From your point of view, you get glimpses of the sweat dotting his forehead, his nose scrunched in concentration, and narrowed ruby eyes glimmering with feral desire.

With stars in your eyes and features all flushed with warmth and lust, you sing a euphony of I love you’s between whimpers. Your voice catches in your throat when his cock repeatedly hits that sweet spot inside your gummy walls.

Bakugou can’t get enough of you, heart swelling with his affections that he can’t help but flick his wrist to intertwine his hand in yours. Despite his progressively carnal thrusts, he possesses contrasting tender devotions in his voice.

“I love you, princess. It’s been you and no one else. No other bitch can compare,” he repeats over and over like a mantra, a declaration of his loyalty to you and only you. You swear there’s an extra weight behind his words, but you’re too engrossed in the feeling of utter euphoria this man gives you in mind, body, and soul to give it a second thought. It’s as if you’re walking on Cloud 9 as your pussy clenches around him, back arching in the moment that’s pushing Bakugou to the breaking point

“So damn perfect, you were fucking made for me, baby. Give it to me, cum on my cock,” he pleads, “I know you’re almost there, princess.”

“Yea, ‘suki… Wanna cum for you, you make me feel so good,” you murmur brokenly, voice splintering into an incoherent babble that he finds so endearing, caressing your cheek while deepening his brutal pace. That knot in your tummy tightens and when the cord eventually snaps, you cry out, clutching onto his hand.

Katsuki insists he’s never seen a prettier sight than you finally losing yourself all because of him. It urges him to reach his own high and claim you in the only way he knows how—coming in your pretty cunt and dedicating himself wholly to you.

“Pretty angel, you’re making me crazy over here. Fuck! ‘Bout to blow my whole load inside you. That what you want?”

“Mhm! Please..!” You manage a few urgent pleas before Bakugou finally reaches his limit, groans resonating in the wake of his cock stuttering between your silky folds. His growls reverberate from the depths of his chest, thick with rapture as his body is bathed in the sweet sensation that is your entire being swallowing him whole. Ribbons of his cum paint your insides. You feel so full, both physically and spiritually, your heart bursting with love for the man that was spilling his adoration for you merely seconds ago.

Bodies spent and chests heaving, you lay on the desk with Katsuki on top of you. You don’t notice his hand sneaking under the desk, a click going off that goes equally overlooked, enveloped by your collective pants echoing in the stillness that is his hero office.

After a moment, the sensations catch up to you and the weight of his sweaty, heavy torso makes you squirm.

“Feel sticky…”

“There’s a shower and bath right there.” Bakugou grunts, but there’s playfulness behind his deceptively gruff mannerisms.

Your hands trail over his back at his response. “I know, but can you carry me?”

“Fine. Such a princess…”

“I’m your princess though.” You giggle, a teasing lilt in your carefree tone.

The blond can’t help the grin that finds his features. “Hell yeah you are.”

Bakugou pulls on his uniformed cargo pants to scrounge together some semblance of decency as he cradles you against him. Your body is like jelly in the Pro Hero’s strong arms, barely exercising the strength to hold onto him properly as he moves you to the unnecessarily luxurious bathroom built in his office. While setting you down on the counter next to the sink, the pager in his pocket rings.

“Food’s finally here.” He reaches for a hanger on the door, finding a bathrobe to blanket you in. “I’ll be back.”

You raise a brow. “Going out like that?”

“Relax, I’m putting a shirt on obviously.”

“A shirt, huh?” Not at all convinced, you cross your legs. You and him both know he absolutely reeks of sex. The marks you gave him are also an obvious giveaway. No doubt he’ll be an eye-turner to anyone he crosses paths with at the agency.

“Fine, I’ll have someone bring it up.” He meets you in the middle and you happily oblige, shoo-ing him to go about his business once again. The blond rolls his eyes, exiting the bathroom and out the large double doors of his office to wait at the elevator for his delivery.

And when those doors open with a ding, he’s greeted by the very last person he wishes to see. Swathed in the overbearing odor of her pungent perfume, his secretary stands heel-to-heel in the elevator, eyes crossed and a furious blush penetrating the matte layer of her foundation. Her steps traverse the threshold between the lift and hallway. With hands balled into small fists, she jabs the plastic bag of take-out food into the hero’s chest before wagging her finger at his disinterested demeanor.

“You..! You! How dare you?! Why, I should charge you for sexual harassment for what you did! So uncouth! Barbaric even!” She lectures vehemently, voice dripping with malice akin to the insults she practically spits at his face. The benevolent facade she dons everyday to garner his favor crumbles to pieces before his eyes and Bakugou can’t contain his laughter at the pathetic display.

“What’s so funny?!”

“Oh man, you’re a riot aren’t ya? You coulda very well just turn off your speaker if it bothered you so damn much,” he suggests, but the glint in his expression tells the woman he can see right through her. “But you didn’t, did you? You listened in on the whole thing like a fuckin’ pervert.”

At his deduction, the secretary blushes even harder. The fists at her sides shake with an anger that boils under her skin, melting her composure like the wicked witch of the west.

“Why you..! You’re the pervert here! Don’t think you can turn the situation on me when you’re the one who instigated this!” She points an accusing finger in his direction, an empty threat to the indifferent blond.

The hero barely offers her a scoff. “Me? The instigator? You got some fucking nerve saying that when all month you’ve been coming onto me practically on all fours despite knowing I’m a taken man.” Now it’s his turn to retort with equal venom and then some. His sudden switch in demeanor quickly overwhelms the woman as with every step he takes forward, she grows smaller and smaller.

“What’re you going to do? Tell the media? Report me to the authorities? Make a bunch of baseless rumors on your online blog? Well news flash—unlike you I’m irreplaceable. There won’t ever be another hero that has left as big of a mark on this country as I have, and you know it.” He holds his chest proudly after every word. In his presence, the secretary shrinks, gradually cowering back toward the elevator. Any semblance of nerve she held vanishes in front of her.

“Now start packing your things. If I don’t see your station left spotless by tomorrow morning I’ll make sure your days working for the hero industry are numbered.” It’s a threat she doesn’t dare challenge, wordlessly pressing a button on the panel to descend the floors and flee with her tail between her legs. The flabbergasted expression on her face is the last he sees of her.

And just like that, Katsuki feels a weight evaporate from his shoulders, releasing a deep sigh he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He bounds back to his office with your lunch in tow.

When he returns, he overhears the water running in the bathroom before it’s soon shut off.

“Ah, ‘Suki, you’re back! I just filled the tub with water for our bath.” Your sincere smile meets his eyes which soften at the mere glimpse of you kneeling next to the tub, patiently awaiting his arrival.

“Fuck, babe, you weren’t suppose to move. Should be too sore after what I did t’ya.” He hoists you off the floor and into welcoming arms.

You pout cutely. “C’mon now, I’m not helpless you know.”

“‘Course not. But you’re my princess, remember? All mine.” He settles you both into the depths of the soothing, warm tub, nestling your body against his chest as he presses kisses in every area of tender skin he laid his claim on.

“And I plan to treat you like one for the rest of our lives.”

.

.

The very next morning, he finds a letter of resignation on his desk—the very place the two of you had fucked.

copyright 2022 shotoh, all rights reserved. i do not allow my creations to be published or translated elsewhere so please do not repost this or share my content on tiktok.

#bnha x reader #bnha smut #bakugo smut #bakugou smut #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha fic #bakugou x y/n #bakugo x y/n #bakugou x you #bakugo x you #bakugou fic #mha smut #mha x reader #bakugou katsuki smut #bakugo katsuki smut

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[zanarkandskylines]

Okay I’m back I’m sorry your writing is like cocaine to me idk you’re awesome-

Bakugou x reader where they’re on a mission and it involves a teams of heroes to dress up like Dynamight to confuse the enemy??? Just like Bakugou’s reaction to seeing his girlfriend decked out in his gear like 😭😭😭

but like picture like reader trying to fit Bakugou into a version of her costume too-

Ohkay I’m going even further now- Bakugou and reader wearing formal wear modeled after each other at a Hero’s gala to debut their relationship to the world???? I can just imagine after the mission they just really like wearing each other’s stuff-

Anyways you’re amazing have an amazing day!!

I’m so so sorry this took me so long to get to! You’re the sweetest!! 🥰 thank you so much for rec and coming back! I’ve enjoyed the ideas you’ve suggested so much and hope you like this one. 💖✨

Substitute Gear

『 ♡』  k.bakugo x fem!reader ꒰ pro-hero au | age 24 | lovers (bf/gf) ꒱ ⇢ bakugo and reader are joking around in their apartment one night when they decide to try on each others costumes! this leads to a fun inspiration for the upcoming hero gala as their agencies recommend for them to reveal their relationship officially. Why not do it in style?

꒰ tags & warnings ꒱ no cw minus cursing | fun & fluffy ꒰ cross posted to ao3 | wc; ~1.1k ꒱ -`✧ katsuki bakugo masterlist

“Ugh, what an ugly shift,” you complain as you’re walking through the front door of your apartment. You’re kicking off your dirty boots in the entryway when Katsuki comes to greet you.

“Long day?” He asks, analyzing how filthy your hero suit is. It doesn’t stop him from giving you a light peck on the lips to welcome you home.

“More like what didn’t happen today. A kid threw up on me, and when I washed that off, some asshole bled all over me when I cuffed him! To top it all off, I tripped and fell into the mud while in pursuit of a robbery. Head first!”

As you’re rattling off the laundry list of shitty things that happened during the day, Katsuki’s silently instructing you to take the suit off. He spins you around, unzipping the neck piece and carefully removing all of your components and accessories.

“I broke my damn helmet in that fall,” you groan, wiping dried dirt from your cheek.

“Better than your head, dumbass,” Katsuki counters. “Ya got extras, no use cryin’ over one of ‘em.”

You shimmy the suit off of your shoulders and pull out of the material one limb at a time.

“You’d think as heroes, there’d be a professional laundry service or something,” you complain, letting your suit crumple on the floor. It comically puffs out a dried cloud of grime.

Katsuki stifles a laugh. “Weird way of sayin’ I do all your laundry. Get your ass in the shower, you reek.” He smacks your barely-covered ass to get you moving, continuing to snicker to himself as you waddle down the hallway.

───

After a long and hot shower, you emerge from the bathroom with a dramatic haze of steam following you.

“Ya done yet, peach? Dinners done,” Katsuki calls from the kitchen, dishes clattering as he’s prepping plates for the two of you. You scamper down the hall to meet him in the kitchen, a delicious aroma filling your senses when you approach the stove. He hands you one of the plates of beef and peppers stacked high on a bed of rice.

“Mmm, you even made me extra peppers!” You chirp, flashing him a cheesy smile. He grins in response and slips past you to sit on the couch.

The news channel is droning in the background during dinner, the news anchors excitedly discussing the upcoming annual Hero Gala - the glitz and glamour side of it, anyways. The Gala itself is an enormous event to celebrate Japan’s hero society and to announce the year’s hero ranking; however, everyone treats it as one extravagant event, red carpet and all.

“I’ve never been to the gala before,” you say before taking another mouthful of rice. “I never qualified to attend until this year. I’m kinda nervous to be…debuting us, if I’m being honest.”

Your agencies had caught wind of your relationship - rather, Katsuki’s assistant accidentally caught you two kissing in his office - and wanted to use you as an opportunity to introduce the “new hottest hero couple.” Agencies care about appearances and tabloid drama just as much as actual hero work. What's hotter than a top hero dating a lower - much lower - ranked hero?

The gala is in two weeks and the two of you haven't settled on what to do about it.

“Th’ agencies wanting to use us as an attention grab is fuckin’ stupid," Katsuki mumbles, brows scrunched in frustration. "Who gives a shit who we're dating? Doesn't affect my ability ta do my job."

He had a point, of course, but that didn't make you any less nervous about it. You were being pressured to have an extremely public date and let "fans" know that Dynamight was off the market. The thought of fans metaphorically bashing your head in wasn't ideal, but whatever gets "ratings," right?

"We might as well just show up in each others' costumes," you joke, rolling your eyes as the news anchor shifts topics to the latest update on another nonsense story.

"That's...not a bad idea!" He shouts, putting his plate on the coffee table and excitedly jogging down the hall to the bedroom. "Where's your backup suit?"

"In the closet, why? There's no way your muscular ass is getting in that tight suit."

"No, dumbass! C'mere!"

You place your plate next to his and get up from the couch, waltzing to the bedroom to see what he's on about. Both your hero suit and his are laying on the bed next to each other.

"What if we swapped colors?" He asked, pointing to the suit designs. "You wear mine and I wear yours. That'll give the media somethin' to yap about."

That's actually...a brilliant idea! The media would absolutely eat up the "bad boy" Dynamight strutting into the gala with his partner's color pallet, especially because your colors were pinks and purples.

You raise an eyebrow to him, smirking as you begin to imagine him in a sharp pink and purple suit. "You do look good in pink, the few times you've worn it."

Katsuki cackles and winks at you. "Course I do, I make anythin' look good."

He immediately calls his agency to request the garments - they agreed wholeheartedly and offered to fund both outfits.

───

The night of the gala has finally arrived! There are plenty of news crews from all channels present, huddled around the main red carpet entrance. The scene is bedazzled with flashing camera lights, the shutter sounds of multiple cameras capturing photos in tandem. Your complimentary custom outfits are pristine and Katsuki's hand is in yours as the limo pulls up to the gateway, giving you a soft squeeze to gather your attention.

"It'll be fine, sweets. Jus' follow my lead, 'kay?"

You nod while taking a deep breath to calm your nerves. "Thanks babe."

The limo attendant outside skips to the door, opening it for the two of you and ushering you to the entrance. You're both standing in line behind other heroes awaiting their turn to enter the building, attention already building in your direction. A few minutes go by before one of the hosts motions for the two of you to proceed to the entrance.

Your heart is racing, threatening to burst right through your ribcage as the hot spotlights are covering the two of you. Cameras are flashing rapidly, waves of unintelligible shouting invading your senses - "Dynamight! Over here, look this way!" "Just one this way, you two!" "To the left, please!"

Katsuki's jaw is tense as his eyes are roaming around to satisfy multiple camera men, the resting glare he normally sports on patrol adoring his features. Your attempting to keep a soft smile, posing and waving gently. Suddenly, you're tugged into Katsuki's side, his hand leaving yours and wrapping around your waist, pulling you into his personal space. He spins you to face him, cupping your chin and dipping you backwards as his lips grace your own, holding you in place.

The world around explodes with surprise, the peanut gallery clamoring with questions about the two of you - "Are you two an item?" "Oh! A higher ranked hero and a brand new one!" "What a scandalous amount of PDA!"

When you part, he pulls you back to his side and keeps his hand on your waist while the two of you continue into the gala together. The paparazzi outside are tailing the two of you as they're stopped at the door, shouting for answers as he flips them off over his head.

"Told ya it'd be fine. Now let's fuckin' eat and enjoy the damn night."

thanks again for the suggestion @queenpiranhadon ! ✨

#bakugo katsuki #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo fluff #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x you #bakugo x fem!reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #my hero academia #☆.from the stars #☆.rei writes

[sayruq]

So, how's Israel's ground invasion of Gaza going so far? First, some establishing facts

Now on to the actual war (Once again tweets posted in chronological order)

[Note: whenever you see IDF death count, know that the real number is much higher. The IDF has a problem of soldiers deserting and the leadership doesn't want morale to sink any lower than it already has]

If that's not enough proof that the ground invasion is going poorly (I mean how could it not? It's guerilla warfare and urban warfare against a group of inexperienced cops. They're using tanks y'all), here are a few more indicators.

It's no surprise that they hit Jabalia refugee camp after a day of taking heavy losses and being forced to retreat and they hit Jabalia again a few hours ago after yet another day of heavy losses and retreating. It's all impotent rage as they can't strike hard against Hamas.

Iran has been involved in this from the very beginning. They've been Hamas' main backers for years and Iran affliated groups have been attacking American bases in Iraq and Syria. So if the Iranian Foreign Minister says the ground invasion is going poorly for Israel, he's telling the truth

Israel would not be negotiating if it was winning or making meaningful progress. In fact, it's the pro Palestine side that is controlling the negotiations as you can see above. Israel has been backed into a corner and that's why the Iranian FM feels confident we will see an end to the boardbardment of Gaza

So Yemen declared war on Israel. A lot of people seem to think it's a symbolic act but no, they're very serious

And finally

#palestine #free palestine #gaza #free gaza #liberation #colonialism #yemen #lebanon

[ladythornofrivia]

Kingdom of Fire & Blood || (Part Six)

🐉 MASTERLIST 🐉

Next Chapter

summary: modern!reader reborn as lady greenstar. it was no secret as aemond’s admiration grew.

pair: aemond x reader

warnings & disclaimer: smut, violence, p in v sex, sexual content, aemond being arrogant, modern reader doesn’t know how the world of GOT works but is a Aemond stan, praise kink, breeding kink, spitting kink, voice kink, fluff, angst—family drama, oral sex, hate sex, stalking, jealousy, virginity loss, size kink, obsession, reader being sassy and aroused, sweet moments with reader and Aemond. Reader is a huge GOT & HOTD fan. Pro-Green, Reader is a green supporter. Aemond becomes king instead of Aegon. (P.S. Alys who? I only know Aemond x Reader)

a/n: this chapter is ONLY in Aemond’s pov. ooc aemond, but still is a cold-stone, charming prince we all love. Thank you for being patient with me; i took so long to write. I used a reference from Nanami’s line from JJK—he said “Being a child isn’t a sin.” And the trailer of HOTD S2 is 😍😭🔥❤️‍🔥👏

Chapter Six: The Rebirth of Lady Greenstar

~Aemond’s POV~

Aemond couldn’t stop gazing at you in your sleep, no matter how often he saw your chest rise and fall with soften breath drawing past through your lips—sinful lips, droning out soft noises, he recalls the day where he undressed you. Moles engraved on your lower lips and neck, and several others spotted on the collarbone. Some at the back. The shape on your smooth legs sprawled and tucked at turns you rotated whilst in dreamland—he recalled your skin marked in red outline of a dragon on your right thigh, and a green dragon on your whole backside.

Slender arms rested beneath your head despite the ivory pillows are there, all fluffed and cleansed with new ivory sheets, aglow under a yellow sun.

Quenched as he is, Alicent’s word stung; his hands and teeth clenched. “But the truest of your heart—your love must be hidden in secret,” she told him once.

He knew what she meant.

Studying the histories of the Targaryens—of those who had children out of wedlock for an escapism in horrid and loveless marriages assigned from previous kings are often ridiculed and reigned in contempt, in curse—bastards.

He hated bastards. Lucerys and Jacaerys are one—they claimed to be as Velaryons throughout—and on a night of Laena’s passing, Aemond, at the age of three-and-ten claimed Vhagar and lost his eye, that damned good-for-nothing bastard—a Targaryen pretender who was out of Rhaenyra’s womb, bathed and born with brown locks and pug-like nose and sneering features—Velaryons tend to have delicate and soft features, but still manly in their own way like Targaryens do, but not Strong. House Strong are rugged and filthy.

But—

With your case, as a newcomer, as an outsider, he knew you don’t belong in this world, considering how you tried to avert Aemond with diversion. You’re neither a royal nor a bastard. Though punishment can be given to anyone in the royal court or outside the Red Keep. Anywhere in the Seven Kingdoms. Though of course Dorne accepted bastards.

Aemond’s intrusive thoughts overcame. A battle of restrain lashed out, when the prince approached towards the lush your sleeping figure. Your breath steadied at the rise and fall on your hilled breasts; the torn and worn out nightwear severely took a toll on the guards yanking you as if you’re a fragile doll.

If one’s act of taste that considers as a sin, then it’s a sin I shall give.

His head leaned forward, face closing to yours, tip of his tongue tingled as his left hand clasped on your head, the other rested on your waist as his tall body brought down on the bedside atop of your sleeping form. He had memorized, and counted the moles—once, as he lay himself to sleep in his quarters on the night after he first saw you. There’s a theory that moles came from a past lovers planting a kiss on empty spots. Aemond could offer you more. His tongue slithered on the soft line of your neck, and brought back to pucker with balmy smack, leaving a small trace of string silava coated on your now bruised skin.

Squirming underneath him, Aemond satisfied, humming, his right hand snaked on your waist, then fondling your left breast, pinching the taut nipple as he devoured the scent on you as he hungrily kissed your jawline and slope on your neck.

Earning a moan from you, Aemond spurred, his fingertips roamed on your breast and lowered down to your thigh, kneading. Your face—your lips—directly aligned to his, drawing a quiet sigh.

Adrenaline rushed in his veins, his body grew hot, trousers compacted with his engorged cock. He couldn’t get enough of you. The taste of you, your beauty and your fiery heart. He envisioned of what your face would be like, your voice would sound like, if you’re awake during the pleasurable intercourse or under his tantalizing fingers and mouth.

Countless footsteps skittered across the hall nearby. And so, Prince Aemond sat on the chair with his legs crossed and his elbows resting on the armrest behind the wall, spying on the maidservants passing by the opened door without batting an eye, maids chatting as always.

A hushed sigh of relief drew from his lips. By then, he looked at you one last time, spotted a love bite on your neck, before ushering himself out to go at the hall and disappeared with his lips, licking—tasted and lingered upon more ravaging thoughts of you.

~~~

Into a wide-ranged room, roofs decorated like constellations and metal works of the orrery, and the broad balconies garbed in light and ruffled curtains swaying. The council planned to use this room to divert the newcomer and persuade her to join hands and swore oath.

They have hoped that a new change of environment will appease her. Aemond couldn’t blame her; the Council room is filled with discrimination and accusations, despite his interest on becoming a sovereign—unlike Aegon who he rather be a sovereign in between someone’s legs at the brothels upon the Streets of Silk.

Regardless of Alicent’s cautionary, both Green sons lurked and eavesdropped on the members, who are more frantic and belligerent in comparison to previous meeting.

“She’ll be here,” Aegon teased. “Ser Arryk is coming to fetch her. Poor girl lost her way in the Red Keep.”

Aemond folded his hands behind his back, abiding, cold and calculating, and twice as tall, passed from Aegon’s stature.

“How long will she last, I wonder? With all the skills, beauty and remarks she has gotten,” Aegon emphasized on the word “beauty” as sarcasm, “do you think she’ll survive, even after the council? This is no easy task, of course, residing in Red Keep. The Blacks are here again. And Daemon didn’t come here alone.” His head jerked, indicating towards Rhaenyra. “I don’t suppose you’re aware, but the poor girl might risk her life again. Shocking how the Blacks and Greens weren’t showing hostility despite our shared past.”

Aemond watched within the presence of the council—Blacks and Greens united—without bloodshed. A bizarre sight to behold.

The doors creaked, and entering (y/n), following Ser Arryk.

The Blacks and Greens gaze with watchful eyes, tension rose as (y/n) proceeded closer and sat down on a vacant chair nearby the entrance door but struggled; Ser Arryk assisted her and perched down as she thanked him, returning a similar unnerving gaze back, unyielding even when appearing fragile. Her posture eased; she glimpsed at the decorated ceilings and tables with constellations.

It appears she likes it, Aemond thought.

Until her eye landed on Aegon and Aemond himself with her elbows rested on the left armchair, back slouching, eye concentrated intensely.

Aemond’s heart skipped that she faced him, in devoid of sheepish demeanor. And there, she smiled.

“Shall we get started?” Rhaenyra insisted.

(Y/n) couldn’t stop gawking at Aemond and Aegon.

“My lady,” Rhaenyra called out firmly, and (y/n) snapped back to actuality. (Y/n) eyed on everyone, then looked down onto her hands on the armrests.

Silence ensued. Then (y/n) requested to their introduction since they came to know (y/n)’s. All have introduced themselves—Hightowers and Targaryens. When Green brothers are finally introduced, Aemond spotted (y/n)’s lips curled a little; her dimple dented. But overall, she seemed happy throughout the introduction.

“First, we must address regarding to House Blackwood,” Otto drew the scrolled parchment, and distributed to (y/n) through the sentinel. “This letter is sent from a raven at this morrow.”

Sleeking her wavy strands—long curtain bangs back, she read the lines in the parchment. “Is this supposed to be a joke or something?”

“House Blackwood demands for your head, since they accused you of murdering Remon Blackwood,” Otto said. “Anything to have say in your defense?”

Tongue in cheek, (y/n) chortled, aloud for everyone to hear.

“Does killing others amuse you?” Daemon challenged. “Or would you rather a quick execution by a dragon for your childish act?”

“I’m sorry did you say dragons?”

Daemon unanswered her question, but she knew he wasn’t lying.

(Y/n) recollected herself. “It’s three knights that chased me, remember? They killed Ser Remon Blackwood long before they chased me. I used the blade he gave me, not the large swords.”

“There are other reports that the three knights are imposters,” one claimed. “That their faces aren’t quite as recognizable. And their armor and breastplates are entirely soft—a forge through cheap metal. Their blades and blunt and uncared for.”

“Must’ve been the rapers from the North.”

“Ser Criston, what was the weapon she was holding when you first found her in the woods? Was it a sword?”

“A fine blade that belongs to Remon Blackwood,” Criston replied.

(Y/n) sat there and released several guttural coughs, which got their attention.

“Are you alright?” Alicent concerned.

“I’m fine,” (y/n)’s voice croaked. Alicent ordered the servant to fetch the hot tea, to which you drank after being served.

“Has she drank the Milk of the Poppy,” Otto asked the Maester.

“Apparently she hasn’t drank any since this morning; deeply fell asleep.”

Relaxing in the chair, (Y/n) tossed her hair over to the side before she took out two objects again from the pockets on her nightwear and placed it onto her lips, and blew out smoke, but away from their direction.

“What are those objects that you possessed?” Daemon asked.

Crossing her legs, (y/n) blew out another smoke, her eyes glazed darkly, her demeanor changed as if it was an illusion. “This is the cigarette, and this is a lighter.” She demonstrated the items again, but only she’s precisely shown the golden lighter, carved in detailed dragon, and fire lit from the metal.

“Where are you really from?”

(Y/n) clicked the lighter shut. “I already told you last time,” her voice crossed.

“Are you a slave?” Rhaenyra asked.

(Y/n) is taken aback, brows scrunched, bewildered.

“Everyone saw the markings on your body,” Rhaenyra pointed out.

“No, I got these since I was young. Let’s cut to a chase. What do you want?”

The members of the council baffled at your straightforwardness.

“Since we’re here, I don’t intend on wasting anyone’s time,” she resumed, her voice hardened. “What do you want?” Her voice darkened.

“Are you aware to why you’ve been summoned in the council?” Otto questioned.

“Oh please, do enlighten me,” (y/n) said in sarcasm.

“Lady Rhaenyra has planned on you becoming a knight—you both saved the children and experienced in combat during the battle outside the Red Keep.”

(Y/n) laughed again, though not as cruel. In anger, the knight trudged towards her, but she stopped the knight with her left foot stomped on his breastplate, revealing the red dragon tattoo, your hand ran through your luscious hair; Aemond stared for so long that he ignored his surroundings. He found himself yearning to taste you again.

“At ease, good sir,” Alicent ordered. The knight backed off and your leg lifted down, crossing over to the other.

“Why refuse?” Rhaenyra challenged. “Do you wish to be executed from false charges?”

“You misinterpret me, my lady. Do you want to know what happens when you put a woman as part of the Kingsguard? People will riot. No man would accept a lady knight because they don’t want to be ashamed of not holding much power.” With her elbows propped, the upper body slouched, leaning forward, intensely gawking at their familiar mortified faces. “If anything that you should be worry about,” her index finger pointed outside behind (y/n) at the open archway; behind her is the town of King’s Landing, “it’s the people. People hold you on the highest regard; anything you do, they’ll use it against you. You have dragons,” she reasoned, counting on her fingers, “legions of army and holds the utmost reputation—everyone knows your name and your appearances distinguished from others. If laying a single mistake, people will make an excuse to take the opportunity to tarnish—even bring hell to Westeros. If you put two and two together, it’ll be difficult for people to accept as much as I want to help,” (y/n) cautioned.

Unused cigarette wafted in the crisp air—and (y/n) stomped on it with her fingers.

“As a matter of fact, I couldn’t agree more,” Jason Lannister encouraged. “Ladies are not suitable to guard for the ascendance of a potential heir. Women take longer to dress than men, after all they’re made to be dulled for a tedious hobby.”

Aemond disagreed, otherwise.

“Why save them?” Rhaenyra asked.

(Y/n) blinked.

“Being a child isn’t a sin,” (y/n) said, solemn. “They don’t deserve to what they’ve gone through.”

“Never thought you find this miserable,” Daemon said.

“I have soft spot for children and those who are broken.” She darted her eyes to Aemond once more.

Rhaenyra sighed, her hands enveloped, glancing at neutral Daemon next to her, poised. “We shall find an alternate option for you to abide here in King’s Landing—tasking the vital aspects of being part as the Red Keep’s vessel—everyone has their own role to play, knowing their place, and you’re no exception.”

Refusing, (y/n) inclined back into a relaxing position. “Figures,” (y/n) muttered, posture sank into the chair.

“I know it’s difficult to accept, but should you stay, you’ll learn a thing or two of the culture and the history, everyone around you included,” Rhaenyra suggested. “And we shall do the same to yours. Though the customary traditions in Westeros must steady. But it won’t mean you’re limited from freedom at the assets of your personal values and desires and expression.”

“It would be the wisest,” Rhaenyra added. “People won’t know and comprehend this, but us, despite you’ve given simplistic explanation of your vast side of the story.”

(Y/n) pondered; fingers tucked on her chin.

“They’ll never accept me,” (y/n) lectured, locks undulated in steady motion. “No matter how you vouch or reason for me, they won’t adapt; I’m just an outsider. It wouldn’t be as upsetting once I get hurt. They won’t understand yours or my intention if I decide to stay here. Or worse.”

“But there’s still a chance for you to prove yourself, allow your presence to be seen and heard,” Alicent coaxed.

Rhaenyra contemplated. “Or perhaps you could join us at Dragonstone,” she proclaimed, rather blithe. “Of course you’re free to choose.”

Aemond disliked the idea of you residing in Dragonstone as much as Alicent, based on displeasure etched onto their delicate and finely features, green as envy—as Hightower’s colored banner that summons war, strong gazes projected towards Rhaenyra like a serpent in the shadows.

Gritting and grinding her teeth, (y/n) tongue clicking. “No, I’m not staying in Dragonstone, either. I don’t want to overstay my welcome, consider how I “arrived”.”

Aemond’s breath unwinded. Flush smothered your cheekbones. Stared long enough until Aegon elbowed him in a single tap, as a reminder to stay focused.

“I’m afraid it’s far from possibility, since you came along way from the other vast side of your world. In the meantime, you must reside here in Westeros, in King’s Landing. We may never know your intentions, but it’s best to keep it simple and quick. Do tells us what you want.”

Refusing, (y/n)’s face turned away, sheepish.

“You want gold? Reputation?” Rhaenyra insisted, to which you answered “no”.

“Do you wish to possess a dragon?”

“First of all, dragons are hard to take care of. Two, I’m not a Targaryen! That’s your thing, not mine. I can’t even take care of my dog.”

“Then I assume you want the Iron Throne,” Daemon insisted, but the Blacks and Greens shot a piercing glare at him in unison, warning him not to give anymore ideas, but he awaited for (y/n)’s reaction.

“That chair looks uncomfortable! I’d rather sit on a cold ground rather than having an iron swords jabbed up and bleeding in my ass.”

Aegon snorted, covering his mouth when Otto noticed his grandsons, scowling.

“What can we do to convince you,” Alicent resumed, hands rest on the armchair.

“I don’t think you can help me on this one,” (y/n) said, begging them to let you go.

Rhaenyra maintained her posture. “Then what is it that you truly desire at this moment, Lady (y/n)?”

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Never.”

Shaking, deep in pensive notion after hearing their relentless offer disguised as blatant curiosity.

Silence prevailed, at first. Fireplace flickered, soft howls bypassed the constellation room. Everything stood still, as does their anticipation, weighing and resting on their fate of the house.

Rising onto her feet, and she got close and flatly pressed down to a cold stone pillar with her hand. “I want to see the ocean, the sky—the smell of salt and cloudy air. I want to feel the wind as I walk by, or draw and paint surrounded by flowers as I looked out onto the ocean as the ships sails by.”

“A very simple, mundane request,” Daemon commented, folded his arms. “Anyone could percept the instability of waves and ships passing through and the fragrant smell of blooming flowers.”

“Sometimes taking the simplest pleasures in life must cherish with joy and savor with love,” you told him, remaining your eye locked onto the waves, wobbling and crashing. “You’re a dragonlord, Prince Daemon, I think you should be grateful. As for me, I rarely get to see the ocean, because I lived somewhere far where it has no ocean, no flowers—the weather is humid and sometimes shows a little rain. On most days, hot air suffocates you to a point you want to drown in cold water.”

“There’s a chance people might conclude you’re from Dorne or Yiti. Or perhaps as Ser Criston’s sister.”

Aemond watched (y/n) shooting Daemon with a deadpan expression on her dulled hues. Criston, on the other hand, didn’t appreciate Daemon’s unnecessary commentary, but made no urging trifle.

“I’m not, and if I do, you would recognize the Dornish accent at this moment. Clearly you can’t. Sorry to disappoint you,” (y/n) replied, nonchalant.

“Anything else,” Rhaenyra asked, anticipating.

Silence occurred.

“What of other things you acquire to be more convincing,” Alicent chimed in, coaxing, sensing an alarming and animated expression hidden from you.

“Nothing,” (y/n) squeaked, though her cheeks flushed says so otherwise.

Aegon snorted as Aemond lifted the corners of his mouth into a piffling smirk—as he found your sudden expression unexpectedly chaste with shyness and charm.

“The matters settled, then,” Rhaenyra got up. “I look forward to see you and more. I expect great and admirable accomplishments from you, Lady (y/n). I think it’s that for now you must stay in the capital. If you do intend to serve the realm, I’ll reward you, anything to your heart’s desire. As long as you make contributions, we’ll make your dream as certain. In the meantime, that is.”

(Y/n) ventured in a languid motion near towards the members in the council. In the end, the favor on her side—Rhaenyra and Alicent’s request—might go smoothly if done right. But Aemond’s heart grew heavy at a thought of you leaving King’s Landing, leaving Westeros, feared you might not recall your ventures and people you encountered alongside of the journey—feared your mind and sight of seeing Westeros and its people are nothing but a figment dream.

Alicent pushed herself up from her reclining. “I shall do my part as well. You’ll do great things, I’m certain,” she assured (y/n), enfolded atop (y/n)’s cold hand.

Happiness faded from (y/n)’s lips when a cold end of the blade—Dark Sister—tipped and traced a thin line on her centered neck. Daemon’s violet eyes gleamed at hers; her hands raised an indication of surrender.

Aemond’s eye snapped in fury. The guards Rhaenyra accompanied clutched their blades, viewing like vultures standby.

“I’ll never trust a cunt like you,” Daemon proclaimed. “You may wield a blade, you may save anyone who you wish, but you’ll never be part of the court. The look in your eye—arrogant and maliciously stricken with pretense. Common whores like you—pretending to be humble and virtuous when you really are neither.”

Yet you fuck whores in the Streets of Silk on your pastime, Aemond thought.

Sighing, (y/n) said, “Then kill me. If you really think I’m dangerous to the Red Keep and to the monarchy like Ser Marrow claimed, then end me.” Then she gripped Dark Sister and pointed it at her chest daringly. “Go ahead. I dare you.”

He scoffed, despite Rhaenyra’s attempt on pushing Daemon back.

“Don’t speak to me as if you’re my equal. We are nothing alike.”

“Thank god I don’t have a cock, then,” (y/n) shot back, rolling your eyes. “I don’t have to worry whether I’m going to get gelded or not.”

Like a child, Aegon stifled his giggling.

“Fucking simpleton,” Daemon hissed, pressured the Dark Sister. “You know nothing of Westeros and its people. Might as well have your tongue remove. What say you, warrior?” he mocked.

“Seven Hells, Daemon, you’ve said enough,” Rhaenyra warned.

Aemond strode onward, never minding Alicent, who was rushing to his side, begging to not worsen an escalating quarrel. But Aemond paid no mind; his mother’s words drowned and emptied in his fueled rage.

“I saved both lives—a boy and a girl,” (y/n) protested. “I saved two young people who are separately belong from two mothers—who were at their near deaths. I saved you too, by the way. Guess it doesn’t matter, right?”

Daemon tsked. “And that’ll be the last thing you’ll ever save, considering your reputation has been nothing but meddlesome. I’m afraid your reasons on saving your neck has come to expire.”

Aemond trudged in front of (y/n), holding his long dagger and situated his honed silver on Daemon’s neck. He felt her cold hand pressed against his chest and gave a little push, but no to avail; she’s still weak under the Milk of the Poppy.

“Hold down your blade, Uncle,” Aemond warned. “You gave her quite a fright. I thought the deal has been final.”

“I never thought I’d take you as a fool, Aemond—that’s twice you’ve committed a sudden act.” Daemon’s lips curled in disgust. “Being blinded by her, I see.”

“She saved my sister’s life,” Aemond justified. “And I’m eternally grateful.”

Without shifting his eye, he saw you wandered your glance up to him before facing back to Daemon.

Aemond shifted closer, Targaryen against Targaryen.

“Take one more move, and you’ll lose another pair of your eyesight,” Daemon sneered. “What happens then, if I do cut your other eye out? So, shall we test it?”

(Y/n) managed to block herself in between Aemond and Daemon.

“Then I’ll be his other eye,” (y/n) declared, defended, one arm spread, shielding Aemond, the other hand held high against Daemon, bandage slipped from her visage.

All noise ceased.

Aemond’s heart quickened at a roaring declaration in a vibration on your tone—soft yet firm and fiery—like a dragon reborn.

“I’ll be his other eye,” she repeated, shielding Aemond. “Stay back,” she hissed at Aemond, insisting on shoving him back to lessen the tension between two factions. Aemond glimpsed at her shaken hand, yearning to hold her.

Even (y/n) knew a large cost of encountering Targaryens through fate, aside learning the history. Dragons never cower in their palace of red and gold of Red Keep, in a palace of black stoned walls of Dragonstone, their banners—sigils of red or green. Dragons come and reign in a price of fire and blood and fearsome, colossal beasts taming Westeros.

Knowing the consequences of her shared words, who knows what might occur depending on her unfickle judgement.

“You heard the maiden,” Aemond said with a smug on his face. “Release your blade, Uncle,” he commanded.

Grimaced, Daemon drew his sword back in his sheath, parting the gap, and endowed (y/n) and Aemond with imprisoned through his hues. “She’s no maiden. Perhaps I shall call her “Green’s bitch”.”

Aemond’s eye narrowed. Little by little, he stood inches near (y/n), like a proud and mighty dragon stood by its owner.

Watching close by, Rhaenyra and Alicent shared knowing glances.

Overhearing the sound behind them, the king produced an agonizing sound of his breath, (y/n)’s able to catch him from falling in brisk reflex.

“Get the maester, quick!” Alicent cried, as you are clinging onto the ailing king, who was moaning and groaning due to his severe ail.

Everyone made haste as Alicent and Rhaenyra assisted (y/n) on putting back Viserys onto his chair.

Adjusting the king’s posture, Alicent dimissed (y/n) by saying, “We shall talk later. I must tend to my husband. You go on ahead.”

And with that, the council adjourned—(y/n) ushered out, giving Aemond one last look with a slight bent on her neck.

With a final word, Aegon said to Aemond, as they trudged back to the halls. “Daemon took great pleasure in stirring commotion, especially a certain lady, who you’re so keen on.”

Aemond hasn’t utter a single word.

“Obviously, he has missed his youth involved with treachery and rebelliousness. I supposed these days have kept peace quite busy despite our father’s poor lapse of judgment.”

Aemond sauntered farther, but Aegon caught on in a same pace.

“I never knew you had it on you, dear brother. But was it really an act of good will for Helaena’s life or was it a pure instinct to an act of affection?”

“It was all for Helaena’s sake,” Aemond said.

Aegon leered. “Is it?”

From there, Aegon fled.

For once, Aegon never said something stupid or drunk.

Aemond stalked his mother on meeting (y/n) in the chambers he trudged in upon darkest shadows, carefully listening in.

Alicent came over, agitated even concealed in unsuccessful, mortified demeanor. “The Council has been reached to a verdict,” Alicent told (y/n), as if it’s a death sentence—probably the men discussed and finalized to an upcoming conclusion.

He watched as (y/n) was plopping onto the bedside, the last cigarette held between finger has thawed into ashes.

“I see,” (y/n) soften tone echoed the room, rippling against his skin.

Alicent touched (y/n)’s upper arm. “I apologize on behalf of the circumstances. I know it can’t be easy,” she said, sincere.

(Y/n)’s eyes twinkled.

“Despite Rhaenyra vouching for you for saving her son, you have declared of being Aemond’s other eye, and thus, your declaration brought an uprising of questions to the Blacks.”

(Y/n) acknowledged.

“A word of advice; should you wish to keep your wits and tongue, play your part, and keep your head down for the Blacks not to detect or test your patience,” Alicent said. “Common folk, even nobles tend to have ill intentions far from a plain gossip. Kingdoms tend to hatch a birth of vipers and stabbers every corner of the castle walls.”

“I’ll do it,” (y/n) said, without looking back at her, picking on her fingertips.

Alicent clasped her hands over (y/n)’s, and heaved. “Rhaenyra and I are in a current matters of discussion regarding of your future duties in King’s Landing. She proposed the idea of you being as the cupbearer while I proposed the idea of you being as Helaena’s handmaiden. Nothing has set in stone. We did so to ensure of your livelihood be at safest, to cease the gossip that has been spread far and wide regarding to your arrival. But first, the king must anoint you at the throne room for a private ceremony—no audience shall be present.”

You stayed silent; your right hand stroke your left wrist; the feeling the absence without your possession.

“Is something the matter?”

(Y/n) shook your head, light-headed.

“In time of fear and change, that is where you must be brave,” Alicent advised, eyes glistened.

Aemond has never heard of Alicent—his mother—spoken ever so motherly to anyone, not even Aegon.

A sudden shift glided in you when you have decided what to do as (y/n)’s role in King’s Landing. “I’ll bend the knee.”

Alicent’s dulled eyes brightened at your answer. “Then I shall inform my husband regarding to your call.” She laid her hand on (y/n)’s shoulder blade.

Once she stood up, (y/n) bid Alicent goodnight.

And Aemond stayed in the dark, and the only words replaying in his mind are the words she declared opposing the Rogue Prince.

I’ll be his other eye.

The way you shielded his body and ordered him to shift back, Aemond knew that no noble woman or commoner in any Houses would defend him and his honor as a Targaryen and Hightower. Or more than his status as a one-eyed prince. As a swordsman, he can hold off his battles, even in close quarters, but something about you, a strong-headed girl, who knew of little consequences, protected him that he find as devilishly unique.

His mind stirred in a matter of battling between whether he want to fight your battles or claim you.

Perhaps both.

Aemond had certainly come to a closure, a predetermined arrangement of taking you, but obstacles must come forth before a dragon claims the maiden as his crown, glory and a hymn that he won’t mind spend the rest of his life hearing.

Upon a daylight hour, the decision came to a close when both Greens and Blacks debated to assigning on (y/n)’s fate for the realm, despite a given answer. In the end, King Viserys has a final say, which both factions surrendered for an hesitant agreement. In the Red Keep, guest of nobles and common folk alike flocked inside to a point where it’s nearly and impossible to fit, all awaiting, all mind shared one reason.

Hours before the occurrence in the throne room, in Aemond’s quarters, two servants awoke him to bathe, and one maid provided him information regarding to (y/n)—the Maester inspected and mended on her wounds once more before withdrawing. Her eye, however, is healed, just as it was yesterday when she ripped the bandage off.

In the throne, there she was, blocked by tall members of the Kingsguard.

He imagined that a maidservant tugged the strings harder for a cinched waist, despite this, (y/n) cooperated without a fight. Knowing resistance will bring disaster. Until a thought of disaster is long gone. From there, the guards veiled for (y/n) to cross passage towards the steps of the Iron Throne, seeing upon a pristined condition—clad to an outfit befitting for a youthful and appeased maiden to soften at the hardened image of a brute fighter. Her straight long (h/c) locks with thick stands braided as headband atop of her head; strands of baby hair left untouched, and soft paint dabbed it on your chapped lips and cheekbones, tainted in reddish shade to liven your surly visage.

King Viserys proclaimed and summoned (y/n); she knelt with a hand over her chest, head inclining down that her long (h/c) locks framed on sides, reciting her vows. King Viserys crowned her with a green brooch with a four-pointed star sigil pinned on her centered chest once she stood.

“As a last hope for a darkened age within House Targaryen, in hopes to reunite both factions,” King Viserys announced, hoarse. “Salvation rests in your hands. I wish you nothing but the very best to soothe the realm with your grace, Lady Greenstar.”

Two factions appalled at his last claim underneath their vacant neutrality in their hues. Spectators gathered and exchanged in gossip, all frantic and perplexed from their King’s announcement.

A girl from a modern century has been remade through rain of fire and light, befall and rose from sky. Arise onto her feet, who peered upon audience, before the eyes of the two factions, who solely darting her eyes to Aemond, as if she wanted him to sense her heart is surged with heaviness, rebirth as Lady Greenstar.

Aemond did—but couldn’t offer the arms of comfort. His fierce and benevolent maiden. But in the eyes of Gods, Westeros won’t lay rest, as he keeps his ardor hidden.

And chaos entered.

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[andypantsx3]

fingerprints | 7 | todoroki x reader

pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader

length: 4k of est. 35k words | 7th of 9 chapters

summary: When you’re outed as pro hero Shouto’s soulmate on national television, there are really only two sensible things for you to do: blame someone else and run.  

tags/warnings: romance, soulmate au, fluff, pining, not actually unrequited love, aged up characters, eventual smut

It was worse than you could have ever imagined.

Almost as soon as you’d gotten inside, your neighborhood had begun crawling with unfamiliar people. Your phone had started ringing incessantly, your texts and twitter notifications suddenly exploding.

From the brief flashes of the messages you could see, it all had to do with Shouto. Text whizzed past–hiii i saw your handle posted in a thread, are you really running girl? and Is it true?? Are you Shouto’s soulmate???? and worst of all, die in a ditch bitch you’re too ugly for him.

Your stomach churned.

You didn’t dare open your laptop or turn the television on, for fear of how far the speculation had spread, and what people were saying about you. You tried to ignore the murmur of the crowd amassing outside your apartment building, and opened a random book with shaky hands, trying to focus on something else.

You were not quite successful.

Your apartment building was old and thin-walled enough that you could never fully block out the drone of dozens of voices, the shutter click of cameras, and the loud, authoritative tones of someone ordering people back—likely Shinsou’s aforementioned partner, Real Steel. It all coalesced into an unsettling undertone that kept you on edge for hours.

It wasn’t until that evening, a hundred unread pages later, that conditions changed. The sounds of a muffled argument came through the wood of your front door, and you couldn’t help but peer out the peephole, to find Shinsou looming over your roommate Ami, clearly blocking the entry to your apartment.

“It’s my friggin’ house!” she was saying when you poked your head out.

At the sound of the door, Shinsou turned to eye you. “Stay right there. I need to put her under before she can come in, in case she’s using an appearance altering quirk.”

Your roommate did not look thrilled by this prospect. But Shinsou did not look like he was going anywhere.

Intrigued by whatever Shinsou’s quirk might be, you watched as your roommate gave up, letting him do what he wanted. He murmured a question, and your roommate’s eyes suddenly went vacant with her response.

“Drop your quirk,” Shinsou ordered her. You didn’t know what was supposed to happen–but when nothing did, he looked satisfied.

He gestured her inside, giving you a significant look over the top of her head. “Todoroki says don’t look at anything online.”

You nodded. “I–yeah, I uh–it doesn’t look kind out there. I guessed I shouldn’t…”

Shinsou watched you for a minute, violet eyes sliding over you in some kind of assessment. “Whatever shit they’re saying, disregard it. They just want a piece of Todoroki’s flat ass.”

You blinked, a shocked laugh spilling out of you. “I don’t–-it’s not flat!”

One of Shinsou’s eyebrows lifted, that smirk touching his mouth again, and you whirled around, yanking your roommate through the door with a strangled, “Anyway thanks!” You slammed it behind you before you could say anything else embarrassingly revealing of the stock you’d taken of Shouto’s…assets.

Your roommate gaped at you, immediately demanding the details of how you of all people had gotten caught up in the biggest romantic scandal in hero history. You summarized it as best you could, trying to ignore her slack-jawed look.

“But you’re so normal,” she said when you finished. “You’re just–-you.”

You hid a wince, but had to agree. The last couple of months had been a giddy blur, but you still were just some girl with an hourly wage, working in an animal shelter and living in a squashed little apartment with zero merit to your name.

“Yeah, it’s…It doesn’t feel real,” you said. “Maybe we’re dreaming this.” You thought back to the time you thought you’d hallucinated Shouto in the doorway of the shelter. “Maybe we’re all just experiencing some mass hallucination…”

Ami nodded seriously, like this was an option. She floated off to her room, where you heard her answer a call from another of her friends—“It’s true, you are never gonna believe what she told me!”—and you quickly retreated to your own room, trying not to think about the shock she’d exhibited, or any of the unsettling messages that had flashed past before you put down your own phone.

It made you rethink the events of earlier in the day, frowning as you went over lunch with Shouto’s mom, your wild shopping spree–events that felt light years away now. You could have even sworn that Shouto had been waiting for something as he left you outside your apartment–lingering, watching your face, standing so close like he’d been expecting you to lean up and—and—-

But no.

That was crazy. And Ami’s reaction, plus the reaction of thousands of other people online underlined that.

You’d let your mind run away with you just because Shouto had made you feel like someone. Someone special to him—but that was fucking unhinged. Delusional. Deranged.

As if drawn by your need to remind yourself who you were, you opened your phone again. Hundreds of texts from friends clogged your message app, and your twitter notifications numbered in the thousands.

Hey it’s Mari, one text from your coworker said. I’m covering your shifts for the next couple days, management is asking you not to come in or the crowds will agitate the animals.

Your heart sank. You loved the pets at the shelter, and they were possibly the only beings in your orbit who wouldn’t know or care about your newfound notoriety. You suddenly wanted nothing more than to snuggle into the patchy fur of shelter cat, run off your anxieties with the dogs on the track out back. You would settle for Princess giving you her smug little stink eye over Shouto’s shoulder, even.

And how were you ever supposed to achieve your dream of opening your own rescue if you were suddenly being denied shifts? You hoped they didn’t have to let you go over this—you didn’t want to dip into your tiny pile of hard-earned savings to cover your rent and food, didn’t want to backslide on months and months of progress all because people couldn’t be chill over a man who didn’t even like you like that.

As if to torture yourself further, you let yourself flick through your twitter notifications. Some bordered on kind, things like omg i’m soooo jealous of you and this girl’s first reaction to finding out she was shouto’s soulmate was to RUN AWAY?? queen of relatability but there were many more that were just as you had feared.

Guys relax, it's obviously not real, someone had tweeted. Look at Shouto and then look at her. Another had posted, it’s not even that he’s in a different league, they’re not even playing the same sport.

When a glance at the sidebar showed you that #shoulmatehoax was the highest trending topic in your area, your stomach twisted. You quickly clicked out of the app, retreating into your own room to hide under the covers.

Part of you blazed in rage that people were being so awful about you—you were just a normal fucking person! You never asked for any of this, you had tried your best to mind your own business, and you weren’t a supermodel by any means but that didn’t give people the right to be assholes!

But another part of you knew you’d gotten too big a head over Shouto and needed to be brought down. Spending his money, meeting his mother, thinking he was going to kiss you? You were playing a different sport altogether, and you needed to remember that.

You tossed and turned, rolling around under your blankets, feeling hot and cold and ashamed and embarrassed. No matter how much you tried to put it out of your mind, you couldn’t.

You lay awake for a long while, thoughts roiling, until eventually, when dawn had finally started to creep under the gaps in your curtains, you slipped into an uneasy sleep.

In the morning, you were awoken by your roommate pounding on your door, her voice high and strangled.

“Y/N!” she screeched. “Y/N you’re gonna wanna get out here right now!”

Her fist pounded with urgency, heavy staccato beats. She sounded panicked.

Your eyes shot open and you fell out of bed, clumsy with sleep. You tore the door open, heart in your throat, only to find Ami on the other side, flanked by a tall, handsome silhouette you knew only too well.

“Sh–Shouto!” you garbled out, fuzzy with shock and the clinging threads of slumber. “Why are you–? What are you–?”

He peered at you calmly over Ami’s head, eyes trailing slowly down your form. A white eyebrow went up. You realized with horror that you were still in your sleep clothes, an old tee shirt and the world’s tiniest pair of shorts that clung unflatteringly to the swell of your thigh. Your hair had to be a bird’s nest, your face puffy and pillow-creased.

And here Shouto was, perfect and put together, looking like he’d just stepped right out of the pages of like, a Ralph Lauren catalog. Damn him.

“You were not answering your phone,” he said. You watched, mortified, as his eyes dipped back down to your bare leg and pinned there, like he couldn’t help himself. Your face heated in shame.

He probably couldn’t believe the nerve of you to show yourself like this to him.

“Sorry, sorry,” you said, trying to angle yourself in front of Ami to hide, but he was tall enough that his eyes followed you right over the top of her head.

“Ami, please entertain Shouto for a minute while I, um, put clothes on,” you pleaded, then threw the door shut in both of their faces before either could respond.

You raced to your closet and frantically dug out the first sweater you saw, then tripped over to your dresser and unearthed your pants, bra, and panties. You yanked it all on at the speed of light, and then frantically did your hair, cursing as your fingers tangled in it. You ran into the bathroom and hurriedly washed your face, power washing your teeth with all the speed and force of a carwash.

You spilled out a few minutes later, to find Shouto looking out of place on your couch, shamelessly looking through the collection of things on your coffee table–Ami’s incense burner, a pile of your books, a well-watered succulent in a tiny pot, and a few sheets of what looked like one of Ami’s nursing assignments.

Ami pulled on her coat to head to work, looking almost relieved that she was about to be out of the same room as someone as hauntingly beautiful as Shouto.

“He’s real,” she hissed as you passed one another in the hall. “And he looks like that!”

And then she was out the door, Shinsou’s drawl greeting her as she stepped into the hall.

The door clicked shut, leaving you alone with Shouto. Your heartbeat spiked.

Shouto watched you for a long moment, those pretty, heterochromatic eyes sliding back down to your now-clothed legs as if to affirm you were properly attired now. You watched a tiny smile tease at the corner of his mouth as he eyed your slippers, before his eyes flicked back up to your face. Your skin went weirdly warm.

“Um, sorry I wasn’t dressed,” you said, cheeks heating. “I didn’t expect, um, company. Or to leave the house, really, for the next few days–-”

Shouto interrupted you by getting to his feet, and in two long strides he had reached you, pulling you close to him with an arm around your back. He was so tall and warm against you, and that faint cologne of his lingered at his pulsepoint. Your blood went molten in your veins, your brain suddenly blue screening.

“Shouto–?” you asked, muffled into his shoulder.

A large, calloused hand came up to cup the back of your head, pressing you more firmly into his shoulder. Almost automatically, your hands went around his back, fisting in the material of his coat. Every inch of him felt like relief against you, and you had to fight not to slump bonelessly into him, not to curl up and hide in him.

“You were not answering your phone,” Shouto said, finally, his voice a low murmur against the side of your head. “I had thought…” he trailed off, like he was unwilling to finish the thought.

The soft, concerned tone of his voice, and the way he was holding you too him made a weird, shivery sort of feeling well up inside of you. He had seen—he knew what some of the people had been saying about you online. You suddenly wanted to hide your face in his neck, something horrifyingly like tears prickling at your waterline.

Obviously he’d known, already, that you weren’t compatible in the way that soulmates usually were, as evidenced by the fact that he hadn’t made a move on you and was most probably seeing someone already. But hot shame twisted in your gut at the idea that he would have to be confronted with it all over again, for it to really be driven home that with the kind of soulmate he deserved, he’d been given you instead.

You blinked quickly, trying to fight the sudden wave of emotion back. How embarrassing.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, hoping you sounded normal. Really, you could handle a couple of assholes online. It’s not even like they were wrong, necessarily. “Really it’s fine.”

“It can be…overwhelming,” Shouto said, his mouth in your hair. He made no move to pull away from you, just stood there holding you, like it didn’t bother him at all. “You do not have to be fine.”

The care in his voice almost undid you. You clutched harder at his jacket, trying to breathe slowly.

“Shouto–”

“Y/N,” he said quietly. “You do not have to be fine. You did not ask for this.”

You quickly shoved your face into his shoulder as a pair of hot tears finally spilled over, embarrassment curling in your belly. It was just a couple of kind of rude tweets! Shouto was a pro hero and had been subjected to so much worse over the years–-especially given his relation to a notorious war criminal, and the still-widely-condemned former number one hero. It was horrifying that all it took was a couple of asshole tweets to drive you to this, especially when they weren’t even incorrect.

You struggled against the rest of your tears but they kept coming, slipping out and wetting the fabric at Shouto’s collar.

“The agency was able to get the book delayed, and Yoshizuki Ayumi’s next few interviews suspended. She has recanted her speculations in a tweet, but I do not anticipate that the news will be suppressed forever,” Shouto said.

His hand petted over your hair softly, and you wondered, half-crazed, if this is what Princess got to feel like all the time.

“It’s fine,” you said. “It’s fine.”

“There is…something else,” Shouto said. You were too embarrassed to turn and look at him inquisitively, so you made a questioning noise into his coat.

“I regret that…you will not be able to return to the shelter,” Shouto said. “It won’t be safe for you there.”

Your heartbeat stopped, hammering to a halt in your ribcage.

The shelter. Your job. Your dream—

If you couldn’t go back to the shelter, then you couldn’t go back to your job. Couldn’t make rent. Couldn’t put away funds for a rescue.

And if you couldn’t work at the shelter, where else could you go? Was it only that kind of job that was unsafe? Was any public-facing job unsafe? How were you supposed to work anywhere and not show your face—unless…you could get a job washing dishes in the back somewhere. Or maybe unloading trucks or something?

Your breath came fast and you strained in Shouto’s grip, trying to keep collected. You wouldn’t cry over this too–you could find something else. People lost jobs all the time…

“Oh, I—” you fumbled. “I. Yes, right. Um, I’ll look for—something else. You will have to advise me—”

You cut off, horrified when your voice began to creep up into something high and reedy with upset.

Shouto suddenly stepped back from you, and you had a wild moment of terror and disorientation, before he leaned back in, cupping your face in his hands. He tipped your chin up to him, looking grimly handsome and horribly, horribly regretful.

Your tears came harder and you stared at him wide-eyed, not knowing what to do or say.

“I am sorry, love,” he said. “I did not mean for this, when I came and found you.”

You swallowed, conscious of his fingers where the tips brushed your throat, then shook your head. “No, no. I’m so happy that you did. Of course I am—you’ve been so unbelievably kind. Shouto, don’t ever think that.”

Shouto’s mouth was a hard, serious line. “It’s where I met you properly, for the first time. I do not like to see you leave the shelter under these conditions.”

You wished you could stop crying, to be even a modicum of more reassuring. “It’s fine. People have to leave jobs all the time. I have a couple months of savings, and I’m sure like, washing dishes doesn’t need too many creds, or–you’ll have to tell me what else you think could be safe…”

Shouto’s brows knit, and his mouth twisted into a frown. “Washing dishes?” he echoed.

You watched his eyes trace down your face uncertainly. “That’s a bit dramatic. Obviously there’s other stuff. I just thought…out of the public eye…”

Like, unless you had developed a quirk in the last five minutes, there was no way that you could defend yourself against someone who came looking for Todoroki Shouto’s soulmate, regardless of the fact that you weren’t his romantic partner or anything.

“I had wanted to tell you some other way,” Shouto said, his thumbs brushing away stray tears. “But I suppose now would be best.”

You watched him curiously through watery eyes as he let go of your face, hand sliding into his pocket for his phone.

He pulled something up quickly, then turned his phone to face you. You blinked as a shop front came into view, a few lingering tears squeezing themselves out with the motion. It was a kind of charming, free-standing brick building, surrounded by a neat little parking lot. It looked to be a picture on some property portfolio–a map at the side of the page showed a red dot not far in location from Shouto’s apartment, sandwiched between his home and his agency.

It didn’t look like it was open, whatever it was, and you looked at Shouto doubtfully.

“Are they…hiring…?” you asked, mystified.

Shouto’s mouth twitched. “Unless you planned to rescue all the animals by yourself,” he said.

It took a minute to register what he’d said, but when you did, it felt like the floor had opened up underneath you. You took a dizzy step back.

“An animal rescue? My animal rescue?” You asked, thoughts reeling. There was no way. There was no way.

Shouto nodded seriously. “If you like the location. I’ve put an offer in, but if another location suits better, it is changeable. And you’ll need to tell me where you want things—it’s feasible to put a run in, where the parking lot is, they’ve said. And it will be taken apart to install the proper security measures, layer by layer, so it may take some time…”

He trailed off, peering at you somewhat anxiously, you thought, eyes widening when he noticed an embarrassingly fresh stream of tears spilling down your cheeks.

“Do you not like it?” he asked.

You grabbed his forearm, panicked. “No!” you shouted, wincing with your own volume. “No, I love it. Shouto—I—but you can’t—I don’t have the money to pay you back right now. I don’t even have the full funding plan yet, I haven’t—”

One of Shouto’s hands came up to take you by the chin again, thumb stroking just under your eye, smearing the tears there. You thought you’d never been touched so terribly gently.

“I should like to be your funding plan,” he said. “I do not want money from you. You can collect other donations, if you like. But I will fund you fully. And my mother has asked to be included—there is a significant family fortune that needs spending, she says.”

You didn’t know what to do with your face, or where to put your hands, or how to stop crying. You didn’t know anything, except that all you could do was throw your arms around Shouto again, and muffle a hoarse "Thank you," and a sudden sob into the collar of his jacket.

His arms came around you, clutching you to him tightly.

Wave after wave of emotion hit you–anxiety, confusion, happiness, anticipation. It was all a jumble, a wild tangle of things you could do nothing but stand there, holding Shouto like a lifeline.

He held you there for a long time—an embarrassingly long time, actually, while you cried out all your feelings from the last twenty-four hours. You liked that he didn’t prompt you, just stood there silently, tall and strong and warm against you, letting you figure yourself out.

When you were finally able to pull away, Shouto peered down at you, those heterochromatic eyes curious. He murmured something quiet, a query on your feelings.

You took slow stock of yourself, registering a slight caffeine headache and a bone-deep dryness, as though you were a sponge that had been wrung out. You thought you should probably feel other things, too, but those two sensations were the most overwhelming.

“I think…First I need water and also a coffee,” you told him. “I will have to figure out a repayment plan later, when I’m not a mess–”

Shouto opened his mouth but you put a hand over it, heart beating hard with how daring you were being, touching him this much.

“--We can talk about it later,” you said. “Right now, I’m thinking coffees for both of us. Does that…sound okay?”

Reluctantly, he nodded. “I am sorry to have woken you,” he said around your hand.

You glanced at the clock, eyebrows raising when you realized it had already passed lunch time. As if on cue, your stomach growled, and you felt Shouto’s mouth quirk against your hand. You quickly drew your palm away, your whole arm tingling with the feeling of his mouth. Your fingers had left little smudges of color at the side of his mouth, almost like you had kissed him, had left an imprint of your lipgloss on him…

“I had also thought we might cook together, if you like,” Shouto said, interrupting that embarrassing train of thought. You followed his gaze over to your door where a tote of what were clearly recently-purchased groceries lay to the side of your door. You spied leafy greens and a bag of rice crowning the top.

“There is a lunch recipe Fuyumi sent me that I would like to try,” he said.

Your heart warmed with the idea, and the knowledge that Shouto had definitely brought food as a means of distracting you from the things people were saying on twitter–to give you something else to do and to focus on. He was so unbearably good.

You could feel your heart ballooning with helpless affection for him as he watched you expectantly–as though there was ever any way you could say no to him.

“Lunch sounds amazing,” you told him. You padded over and scooped up the groceries, then led the way into your cramped little kitchen.

Shouto followed after, his face so carefully still, finally, that you could tell he was trying not to look too smug. You smiled, so full of emotion that you couldn’t even bring yourself to be self-conscious about the state of your kitchen or Shouto’s tear-soaked coat or the thousand other things you should probably be remembering.

And in that small moment, you thought things might actually, unexpectedly, turn out okay.

#todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki x you #shoto todoroki x you

[the-common-cowgirl]

Greater of Two Evils - Part 4

Summary: Reader makes a decision and goes home only to be met with a new type of monster.

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Dark! Modern Aemond x Reader

Warnings: DD;DNE, Manipulation, PTSD elements, talks of abortion, pro-life/pro-choice debate, cursing

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: This chapter is HEAVY. I apologize in advance. It’s uncomfortable, however, essential to this fic. Sorry in advance!

Masterlist

The apartment felt cold when you arose from your disturbed slumber. With an aching body, you had pulled yourself from the bed and searched the rooms for a sign of life; There was none. Aemond must have left, which meant this was your chance to slip out of his apartment and go back to your shared apartment with your brother without an immediate objection from Aemond. Or maybe, you’d just catch a flight or train and get out of Drone completely; go back home to your parents. The enticing idea danced around your mind for quite some time. You stared at the hardwood floors in contemplation.

Would he chase me all the way home?

Would he ruin my family?

Would he ruin my brother?

You found, rather unregretfully, each of your prior fears were becoming less prevalent in the wake of understanding that you were in true danger. Dorne wasn’t safe for you; not with your brother and not with Aemond. At least in the Riverlands, your father and mother could protect you. Save you from your brother’s wrath; and Aemond’s. 

Your eyes lit up with a newfound vigor and you set to work bagging up what little belongings you brought, calling an uber to your location and buying plane tickets for Riverrun. You were out of that apartment before Aemond could return and although it was lost on you, there was a vase of 8 red roses with a card that simply read “Stay” on the counter in the kitchen. You hadn’t noticed it…unfortunately.

Your plane landed late into the night and you were grateful your father was still waiting for you at the airport. His arms were spread wide, his smile genuine as he embraced you in a warm hug. You missed this, you missed genuine kindness from men; however, the last few years living with your brother and the last month or so knowing Aemond had left you a bit scarred, marred with trepidation, making you pull from the hug quicker than you’d like. Your father noticed, you could tell by the sideways smile that had appeared on his face.

“Hey dad,” you offered a tired smile while taking a step back and grasping the straps of your bookbag. 

Your father reached around you and took the bookbag from your trembling hands. “Traveling light, my little trout?” He put a hand on your back and the contact made a phantom wave of chills go through you, making you grimace as you began to walk out of the airport and toward the small parking lot of this two terminal airport. 

“Yeah, just wanted to see you guys while we were on break.” You forgot how cold it could get this far North and wrapped your arms around yourself.

“Weird time to have a break in University.” He commented but didn’t pursue. “How’s your brother, we never hear from him anymore.”

Your eyebrows furrowed and you continued to look at the ground as you walked, “What? I thought he was sending some money each month and-”

“Your mom told him to stop that a few years back, made her feel greedy. No, after he quit sending money, we hadn’t heard from him. I guess he’s real busy down there in Dorne?”

You nodded, trying to understand why your brother would lie about something so small as sending money each month to help your parents pay the bills.

“Don’t mention it to your mom. Makes her upset. I was just wondering-”

You nodded again as you two reached the car. You hopped in the passenger’s side as your father started the vehicle. “So he’s not even talking to you guys anymore?”

Your father shrugged, as he backed out of the parking space. “Nope. Your mother thinks he’s just busy is all.”

Your father had always been a terrible liar and you just caught a hint that he didn’t necessarily believe what your mom did. You wouldn’t push the issue yet.

“How are you guys doing on your bills if I might ask?”

Your father rolled his eyes, “That’s nothing that should concern you.”

“I’m an adult, I can handle it-”

“Hey, I was talking to Mrs. Tully the other day,” he changed the subject, “And she said that there will be an opening for an Early Education Teacher at the start of the next school year if that’s something you’re interested in?”

Your heart dropped, you hadn’t told him your brother forced you to change majors. Your dream of being a teacher for littles crushed. You swallow your self pity and lie to your father, “Thanks dad, I’ll talk to her.”

The drive home is filled with more small talk, mainly your father telling you the gossip of small town life. Who married who, who’s cheating who, and who died. You remind yourself that this is why you took a chance on Sunspear and moved in with your brother but then again, the gnawing feeling of ‘I brought this upon myself’ creeps back up into your throat and you have to remind yourself that you’re a victim and you are not the bad person or persons here.

The victim guilt doesn’t seem to leave you, even when you pull into your childhood driveway. 

Stepping through the threshold of the house, it smells like chocolate oatmeal cookies and home; you feel tension leave your body and finally smile.

Your mom comes around the corner with oven mitts on and you laugh, rushing to embrace her. “Oh my darling,” she says into your hair, “I’ve missed you so much.”

And that’s how the reunion goes, late into the night, catching up at the kitchen table, eating cookies when all three of you should be sleeping. It feels good to be home but you are awaiting the inevitable and it happens an hour in.

“I know you’re not on break,” your mom starts. She could never be fooled, even when you and your brother were kids, lying about who hit who first; it was always you…even when it wasn’t. Okay, maybe it was only you that couldn’t fool her. “Why are you here in the middle of the semester?”

You looked down to your cup of tea, it had gone cold with very little left in the mug. Could you really tell them, did you have a choice?

“Does it have something to do with that gash on your head? Or the wrapping around your wrist?”

You nodded, sighing a shaking breath. “That’s part of it.” Your voice was small, like when you were a kid taking your brother’s punishment.

“What’s the other part?” Her voice was stern and soft, coaxing the truth you could never hide from her, out.

“I-um- I-” How could you tell them? How could you explain to them that you’re pregnant? How would they react? Your body shook with anticipation and anxiety.

Your father put his hand on your back and you felt cold chills again. “It’s okay, it's okay to tell us.”

No it isn’t. You two will not understand. How could you understand? Is it not enough to have lived it but now I have to recount what fucking happened to me? I have to speak out loud the atrocities sinned against me by my own brother and a fucking demon of a human when I myself, havent even come to terms that I’ve been wronged? How can you understand when I don’t even understand?!

And so, the root of your pain fell out of your mouth without your brain deciphering your words, “I’m pregnant.”

Your father sighed deeply, your mother sat back in her chair, you continued staring at the little bit of tea left in the bottom of your mug; hoping the little bit of residue left from the tea bag would tell you something uplifting or helpful like the ancient art of tea leaves reading. Then the irony donned on you and you almost laughed.

Here I am, looking for comfort in my tea instead of my own parents. I had to leave Dorne for tea?

“Well,” your mother spoke up, “who’s the father?”

You nearly laughed again, “Someone you don’t know.”

“Is he willing to help you with-”

“I don’t want to keep it.”

Your mother scoffed, “You don’t have a choice in that now do you?”

Your eyes lifted from the cold cup to your mother’s eyes, warm and inviting; deceitful. “I do, actually.”

“Oh you do?” Maybe in Dorne but not in the Riverlands-”

“Then I’m not staying here, I’m going back to Dorne. I just wanted to let you guys know before I-”

“Before you murdered my grandchild?”

Your father scolds your mother for being so harsh with a hand lifted from the table, her name and shaking his head and there you are again, feeling like you brought this on yourself.

Why did I even come here?

“Does your brother know,” your father asks, breaking you from your trance of self-loathing.

You shook your head; unable to speak. Staring down at the tea again.

“What’s your plan? Drop out of school and move here? You could work at the elementary school as an aide until you finish your degree here?” Your father’s voice is kinder than your mother’s but not any less incessant.

“I don’t- I think I’m done. I can’t afford it.”

Your mother shifts into the table, closer to you and suddenly you feel put off by this proximity. “Well, that’s fine. You can get a job here, we will help pay for medical expenses and the baby’s care. If-” she starts, grabbing one of your hands with both of hers, they’re warm. “If you don’t want this baby after you give birth- that’s fine. I’ll accept full legal guardianship, no questions asked. But please, don’t rob us of a grandchild. Don’t be this person. You always loved kids, that’s why you went into early education.” She pauses, looking across the table to your father with tears in her eyes. “But give yourself the chance to look at your baby and make that decision.”

You chuckle, a tear falling from your eyes. “Yeah mom, but what if the eyes looking back at me are his?”

As always, comments, reblogs and likes are always appreciated but never necessary!

Taglist: @croatianprincess @toodlesxcuddles @drwstarkeyy @gemini-mama @iloveallmyboys @boofy1998 @ammo23 @zenka69 @lokiofasgard12 @moonlightfoxx

(Bold means I cannot tag you) Comment or message me to be added to the taglist! Sorry if I missed anyone!

#house of the dragon #a song of ice and fire #fanfic #aemond targaryen #smut #dark aemond targaryen #dark modern aemond #modern aemond #hotd modern au #modern Aemond Targaryen #aemond x you #house of the dragon aemond #aemond fic #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #dark fic #dead dove do not eat #ptsd #abortion #tw cursing

[magmythedevil]

IMPORTANT POINTS ABOUT THE DRAMA BEFORE PEOPLE SPREAD MESINFORMATION

Context:

I made a post answering an anon's ask giving comfort for them because they were scared that their favorite ship: dollzi, would end up being being canon cousins. Its seems like anomaly is REALLY uncomfortable by this ship and genuinely thinks that anyone who ships or defends Its needs to be blocked on sight. I made a post apologising If i made someone uncomfortable by that and then a lot of people started to send me asks about It.

The points:

- Never have i once denied the problematics on Dollzi I just dont think they are on the same level of actual proshipping, like N x Cyn.

- i think that accusing dollzi shippers and anyone who defends it of being weirdos is a similiar rethoric to what nuzi haters did months ago, and If people can hate on dollzi, they should hate on every ship on murder drones, since all of them are questionable. With some worse and some better than others. Nuzi vs Luzi for example

- im not mad at anomaly and i have never started all of this just for her to unblock me I genuinely see no problem with It. I Just wanted to talk about It. Anyone can do whathever they want with their plataforms and she has ALL the right to be uncomfortable by dollzi

- I Just think accusing people who like dollzi and blocking them on sight because she thinks Its similar to proshipping is something that goes too far, Shes making some people in the fandom feel genuinely scared to commit even a litte mistake

- theres nothing to be worried about me! So Please dont accuse anomaly of harming me or something. I am okay genuinely

- i have NEVER defended actual pro,shipping. I dont support ince-st, pe-do, not any of these types of ships

- even If Doll and Uzi really are cousins in the end. It doesn't change the fact that making people feel bad to ship It before It gets confirmed, when Its not comparable to gross ships like khan x uzi, something not so nice to do. I would feel bad for them because i know how they feel.

Edit 14 hours later:

- i don't even ship them i even defend the theory that their mothers are sisters. Everything i wanted to do was comfort the Dollzi shipper, Bc i dont like having double standards and every shipper of harmless ships deserves respect.

#murder drones #murder drones uzi #murder drones dolll

[keigospup]

                                Fan Behavior

                       Izuku Midoriya x Reader

Warnings: Pro Hero Deku, AFAB Reader, Degradation, Reader is an obsessed fan, Deku is just sexually frustrated, Public Sex, Public Masturbation (m), Oral (m receiving), Throatfucking, Hair Pulling

Note: All characters are 21+.

Word Count: 3K

It had really been a coincidence. A right time, right place kinda thing. It wasn’t that you had the number one Pro Hero Deku’s patrol schedule memorized. You just so happened to be going that way, taking a late-night walk to ‘clear your head’. Yeah, that was it. 

It also wasn’t like you had been spamming the number one Pro Hero Deku’s Twitter with nudes and thirty minutes ago the messages were marked as read. 

The cold night air fluttered through your hair as you walked, the streets were dark and empty. Crickets chirping were the only thing filling your ears. The thought of Deku possibly calling off for the day crossed your mind, but it only caused you to giggle. Deku? Calling off? He’s the number one hero, of course, he wouldn’t call off. He’s around there somewhere, you know it. Your heart thumped in your ears as you continued your search, your mind racing. 

All of your friends thought you were wild, sending nudes to a Pro Hero, Deku nonetheless. The most innocent-seeming of all the Pro Heroes. But, you couldn’t help it. You had been keeping tabs on him since he first went into the spotlight. Watching him grow and flourish as a hero. He had been in the forefront of your mind for so long. So you decided to shoot your shot. Never did you think he’d actually see it though. 

You had been sitting in your bedroom when you noticed it. You made checking the DMs between you and Deku a nightly routine, not only to see if he may have seen them, but to make sure he hadn’t blocked you for it. Though, you were sure plenty of other people threw themselves at him, so what made you any different than the other sea of thirsty fans? 

A rustle in the brush next to you broke you out of your train of thought. Your eyes immediately darted to where the sound came from when a silhouette caught your attention. 

Izuku thought this patrol would have been the same as any, and boy was he wrong. The night seemed to drone on, with absolutely no crime to be seen. He had tried his best to be diligent, keeping his eyes peeled for any suspicious activity but there was none. Not a single thing all night.

Eventually, he had had enough of walking around mindlessly, instead deciding to pull out his phone and check various social media. That’s when the idea of checking his Twitter messages. He normally paid them no mind. He loved interacting with his fans but keeping up with message after the message was absolutely too much for him. Especially when he had such little free time in the first place. 

The first few messages were all sweet, doting fans telling him how much his work means to him. He quickly typed a reply to each one, thanking them for their kind words before moving on. Though, when he opened the DM from you, his breath caught in his throat. There had to have been 20 pictures in total, and 5 videos. All photos were of you either totally naked, or half-naked wearing some form of his merchandise. The videos showcasing a green vibrator inside of your cunt, the rabbit ears on the vibrator being designed to look like the hood of his hero costume. He could hear how sloppy and wet your pussy was, your angelic moans blaring freely from the speaker of his phone. He jumped slightly at the noise, rushing to turn his phone down as low as it could go with him still being able to hear you. 

He could feel his palms growing clammy, his mouth going dry, and the pants of his hero suit tightening. Normally he’d never get so worked up over something like this. It wasn’t the first time one of his fans had sent him nudes. Typically he would block it and move on, but something about you. Your perfect tits, your beautiful face, the way his limited edition shirt hugged your curves just right. How sloppy and wet your pussy sounded. Your fucking voice. All of this mixed with the fact that it had been more months than he could count since he had last given himself any attention down there caused him to go absolutely wild. 

His eyes scanned the entirety of his location before jumping behind some bushes, slightly hidden in an alleyway between two shops long ago closed for the night. Never in his life had he taken off his utility belt so fast, dropping it to the concrete with a loud thud. Next came the zipper of his hero costume. He silently cursed himself for how annoying he had designed his costume to be to get out of, though when it was designed, the thought of needing to jerking it in the middle of patrol didn’t exactly cross his mind. 

Izuku’s hand went straight to his hardening cock, palming it through his boxers before reaching in and pulling it out. His heavy cock bobbed in the air, his fingers wrapping around its thick girth. All the while his eyes never left his phone. His breath came out shakily, softly moaning and cursing under his breath as he began to pump himself. 

Your eyes focused on the silhouette in front of you, only seeing the dim light of a phone illuminating the face of the culprit. You knew that forest-colored hair anywhere.

“Deku?” You called out, walking towards the shadow of a man. This seemed to have startled Izuku, his body jumping slightly. He quickly locked his phone, dropping it in the pocket of his half-zipped hero suit. It had been too late before he could even try to tuck his cock back into his boxers. You had already closed the small distance, standing in front of him, a smile plastered on your face. “What are you-“

“G-go home, it’s too late for someone like you to be out. I-it’s dangerous,” Izuku muttered out, his chest heaving, his hand frozen around his cock. Great. This is great. The tabloids are gonna love this one, he can already see the headlines now. 

“Dangerous?” You tilt your head to the side quizzically. “I don’t see anyone else out here. Just me,” Your hand reaches out, brushing against the throbbing head of his cock, a bit of precum smearing against your fingers. “And you.” Though you appeared confident on the outside, you hoped he could not tell how nervous you were on the inside. Your brain was screaming. This had always been a dream of yours, and now it’s finally coming true. You shifted slightly, feeling your slick coating your thighs under your skirt. Pro Hero Deku’s cock was right in front of you. And you touched it.

He shuttered, his hips bucking up against your hand on instinct. He really shouldn’t be doing this. Not with some stranger. And definitely not in public. But those pictures awoke something inside of him and he wanted nothing more at that moment than to cum. 

Though his eyes had adjusted a bit back to the darkness, he could only really make out shapes and not details. He couldn’t even really see you, and he couldn’t tell if that made what he was about to do worse or better. You thanked whatever higher being was out there that he couldn’t see how red your face was.

“Fuck it,” he whispered, more to himself than to you. The hand not resting on his cock reached out, grabbing the back of your head and pulling you in for a heated kiss. When his lips met yours, you felt sparks. Just his touch was enough for you to moan, filling his mouth with your sweet voice. Izuku’s body stiffened a bit at the sound, his brain setting off alarms he decided to ignore. Instead of listening to his subconscious, his lips slotted in between yours perfectly, his tongue quickly swiping at your bottom lip to ask for entrance. Your mouth parted open instantly, allowing his tongue access to explore your mouth. The hand on the back of your hand tangled itself in your hair while the hand on his cock released it, grabbing your wrist and tugging your hand to replace where his hand once was. 

Immediately taking the hint, you used your palm to gather up more precum from his leaky tip, spreading down his shaft. He broke the kiss with a breathy sigh, a string of saliva connecting your lips as you parted. He rested his forehead against yours, catching his breath as you continued to jerk him off. But this wasn’t nearly enough for him. He needed more. 

You felt the sting of your hair being pulled before you realized what he was doing, a low moan leaving your lips at the pain as you followed the tug, settling on your knees in front of the hero. Izuku’s brain set off an alarm again and that’s when he realized who was in front of him. That moan. That voice. 

“So it was you,” he spoke, looking down at you, your eyes already completely glazed over with lust. A slight smirk formed on his face. “You’re a little whore, aren’tcha? Sending me all those pictures ‘n videos.” He clicked his tongue in disapproval, his hand still laced tightly in your hair. “Got me acting up like this.” 

You couldn’t even speak. Your anonymity had been blown. But you’d be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t hoping that would’ve happened. That’s why you sent the videos, making sure to moan extra loud just for him. 

“Lucky me, you get to take care of what you started.” He grabbed the base of his cock, tapping it against your lips. God, you were practically drooling, and it only spurred him on more. “Want my cock that bad, huh? Wanna be fucked by a Pro Hero? You gotta work for it, baby. Suck my cock like the good slut you are, won’tcha?” 

Your tongue snaked out of your mouth, rubbing and wrapping against the head of his cock, the tip of your tongue teasing against the slit. Izuku’s head fell back, a soft moan leaving his lips, his hips bucking. He couldn’t take this anymore. He needed to feel you. With one quick thrust and a tug at your hair, his cock was filling your mouth. You let out a small yelp of surprise, the vibrations against him causing him to moan louder this time. 

You didn’t let this disrupt you though, dead set on pleasuring him in any way you could. Your cheeks hollowed out against his cock, the hand in your hair now guiding you as you bob back and forth. Each time his cock thrust into your mouth it went deeper, testing your limits until the tip of his cock was kissing the back of your throat. You gagged and stuttered against him, tears pricking in the corner of your eyes. 

“S-Such a good cocksleeve, fuck, your throat feels so good wrapped around my cock.” He stuttered out, unable to retain any composure as he continued to use your throat as his toy. Every gag sent tingles up his body, his balls threatening to empty out at any minute. The stale night air was filled with lewd noises of moans and the wet sound of your mouth. 

Suddenly, Izuku had an idea. If you wanted to act like such a whore, sending him all those lewd photos, maybe you wouldn’t mind if he took some of his own. Plus, the flash on his phone would be perfect to get a good look at your fucked out face with his cock buried deep in your mouth. Hurriedly he pulled his phone out of his pocket, thanking the gods it hadn’t fallen out. His thumb was quick to type in the passcode, opening the camera to take his first photo.

It wasn’t until he saw you looking up at him through the lens of his camera, tears streaming down your puffy eyes, streaks of makeup running down your flushed cheeks, that he lost it. He pulled your hair, sinking his cock down to the hilt in your throat, and released his load, all while making sure to capture the moment. He left his heavy cock in your mouth, feeling your throat tighten around his sensitive cock in a feeble attempt at swallowing his cum before finally pulling out. 

You coughed and wheezed, struggling to catch your breath in front of him. The back of your hand went up to wipe the drool that had accumulated there, your eyes peering up at Izuku. His cock was still hard, twitching in the air, a bit of your saliva dripping from the tip. 

“‘M not done yet, sweetheart. Be a good slut ‘n show me how wet that cunt is.” His voice was gravely, half-lidded eyes glancing down at you. You stood, turning around to bend halfway against the brick wall in the alleyway. Pushing your ass up was enough for him to see how your slick was already dripping down your thighs, but you knew that would be enough for him. You flipped the back of your skirt up, revealing to him that all the while you had no underwear on. This causes the male behind you to groan, the flash of his camera going off. His arm extended hand grabbing and massaging the mound of flesh of your ass before his fingers slipped downward, two fingers grazing in between your folds. 

“All this for me, huh?” His fingertips grazed your sensitive bud, causing you to gasp and jump. Your reaction made him smirk, causing him to repeat the motion. 

“D-Deku please-“ you begged, your entire body aflame. You wanted nothing more than for him to sink himself inside of you. 

“Izuku,” he whispered, leaning over your shoulder, his hot breath against your ear. “Call me Izuku, babe.” His fingers pinched your clit, a chuckle bubbling from his throat from your whine. 

“Izuku,” you tested the name, carrying out the ‘u’ sound at another pinch to your clit. “Please. Need you, ‘Zuku. Need you inside.” 

The nickname made his cock twitch. It sounded so beautiful coming from you. 

“Such a needy baby. One taste of my cock and you’re hooked, hmm?” He grabbed the shaft of his cock, rubbing the head up and down your wet slit. Your hips moved on their own, grinding down against him like your life depended on it. Every brush over your clit felt like heaven and you didn't want it to end. Izuku’s hand grabbed your hip at a bruising pressure, stopping your movements much to your disappointment. That disappointment didn’t last long though, because he was soon lining himself up at your entrance and pushing inside. 

The noise that came out of his throat was almost animalistic, your velvet walls squeezing and sucking him in as soon as he entered. 

“Oh fuck,” he let out a breathy groan, pushing himself deeper inside of you until his pelvis rested against the hills of your ass. Your legs shook, the curve of his cock already perfectly set against that sweet spot inside of you. Both of his hands gripped at your hips, pulling you against him harder, leaving the side of your face the only thing resting against the brick wall to help your balance. He took a deep breath, pulling himself out almost completely before slamming back inside. 

“Tell me how many times you’ve dreamed about this. How many times you’ve touched this perfect pussy at the thought of me filling you up like this.” He grunted, pulling himself out and slamming back in again. 

You couldn’t even think, drunk off the pleasure. All that was coming out of your mouth were filthy moans and gasps. 

“C’mon, use those big girl words.” His hands slid up your shirt and under your laced bra, grabbing and squeezing your tits before rolling your perk nipples in between his index and thumb. 

“I-I,” you stuttered out, your back arching further. “E-every day, ‘Zuku. ‘M always thinkin’ about your cock, p-please-“ Your speech came out broken, gasps and moans filling the empty spaces between each word. 

“Damn. Every d-day?” Izuku stuttered, his hips increasing speed. 

“Yes ‘Zuku!” Your drool was now smeared between your cheek and the brick wall, mixing with the dirt and leaving brown smudges against your skin. The position was a bit painful, though you paid no mind to it. The only thing you could think about was how filled you were. You could feel the knot tightening in your stomach. Your cunt was suffocating him, twitching, throbbing, and clenching around his cock. He could tell you were close before you even had the chance to say anything. 

“Cum f’me, pretty thing.” Those words were all it took to push you over the edge. With an echoed scream of his name, you came on his cock. 

“F-fuck!” Izuku was close behind you, feeling his balls tighten as he pounded into you with no restraint. His hips began to stutter, his pace growing sloppy. “‘M so close, sweetheart. Your pussy feels so fuckin’ good.” His nails dug into your hips, leaving crescent-shaped indents in their place. 

“Birth control! ‘M on birth control, ‘Zuku! P-please cum inside me!” Damn, how could he say no to that? Especially when you’re asking so nicely. Instead of answering, he gave one last rough thrust into you, painting your walls white with his seed. 

He pulled out of you slowly, grabbing his phone once more as you struggled to catch your breath. Before you could turn around, you heard him speak.

“Pose for the camera, baby.” His fingers dipped down spreading your used folds, the flash of his camera going off once again.

When you arrived home that night, your phone had a few new notifications. All photos Izuku had taken had been sent to you through his Twitter, along with a message with his phone number. 

#deku x reader #deku x fem!reader #deku smut #mha smut #izuku x y/n #deku x y/n #izuku x reader #izuku x reader smut #izuku midoria x reader #izuku midoryia x you #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku midoryia smut #my hero smut #my hero academia smut

[zero00kiryu00]

Hey bestie! Fic swap? 👀✨️ specifically a super soft x reader with kiri? - ur bestie ghost 👻🩷

Pairing: Pro-Hero! Kirishima X Quirkless! Fem! Reader Length: 4.5k words || ao3 link || Genre: Hurt & Comfort, Romance, Nsfw, Aged-Up Characters (Pro-Hero!Kirishima) Headliner created by me. Warning tags: Praise, edging, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, orgasm "denial", breeding kink, some nipple play, oral (f receiving), creampie, cockwarming. Synopsis: Y/N has had an awful week. To top off losing her job, Y/N's feeling of inadequacy as a quirkless individual bubble up to the surface. Fuelled by jealousy over her boyfriend's quirk, Y/N vents her insecurity to Kirishima. Kirishima comforts her as best as he can, making sure she knows she is more than enough.

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“In today’s news, we explore recent happenings within the City…”

The quiet voice of the newscaster from the television speakers held your attention. The drone of the air conditioning mimicked the quiet mean-spirited voice in the back of your mind, ever present, but not a focal point until you thought about it for too long. It had been a terrible week, and somehow an even more terrible day. You had lost your job at the start of the week and things just went downhill from there. So, in an attempt to make yourself feel better, you sat on the couch, cross-legged and clutching onto a pillow, a blanket draped over your shoulders, and a half-finished bowl of soup on the coffee table in front of you, hoping to cheer yourself up with a girl power movie. It hadn’t really worked so you were just flipping through channels mindlessly until the news popped up. 

“Another villain was successfully captured this afternoon. Pro-Heros Red Riot and Dynamight apprehended the tornado villain…”

The newscaster’s voice died away, blending in with the sounds of the air conditioning in the background. A film clip from that afternoon started playing on screen, the camera panning from building destruction to two burly young men high-fiving. You recognized them immediately, not just because they were famous heroes, but because you knew them personally. The young man with the spiky red hair and toothy grin, Eijirou Kirishima, better known as Red Riot, was your boyfriend. You stared as the camera zoomed in on his face, a couple fresh scratches on his right cheek from the battle, grinning ear to ear. It made you happy to see him doing so well as a pro-hero; to see his success. And yet, you couldn’t help the familiar, growing pit of jealousy that sank in your stomach. 

You didn’t want to resent him for his success. He was so kind and caring with you; really, he was the perfect boyfriend. It wasn’t him you hated. It was yourself. 

You continued watching the clip that played on the television. One of the reporters on scene asked the heroes to show off their quirks. Kirishima did it so effortlessly, smashing his fists together to emphasize his hardening quirk. You clutched the pillow you were holding just a bit tighter when the crowd on tv started to cheer for him, chanting over and over Red Riot. Your jaw tightened, your teeth gnashing against each other out of frustration. 

“Stupid quirks…,” you muttered to yourself. “I’d be way better than any of them if I had my own…”

You trailed off just as the latch of the front door clicked open. Instinctively, you turned off the TV and tossed the remote beside you, burrowing further into your blanket, pulling it over your head and leaning onto the pillow. 

“I’m home!” Kirishima shouted as he entered the house you shared, sounding more cheerful than he ever had before, or so it seemed to you, anyway. 

“Hey,” you mumbled just loudly enough for him to hear from the entryway. You heard him kick off his boots and shuffle quickly down the hallway. He slid into the room heroically, striking a pose with his hands on his hips and grinning down on you. 

“Guess who saved the city again?” he proclaimed loudly, following up with a boisterous laugh. You just rolled your eyes and sunk further into the pillow, letting out a long sigh. 

“You?” you guessed monotonically, just to amuse him. Kirishima’s smile started to disappear as he got a closer look at how you were sitting. He knew that hunched posture meant something had happened; usually it meant he had done something, but he couldn’t think of anything he had done wrong this time. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, voice soft and gentle as he scooted onto the couch beside you. He leaned forward, placing his elbow on his knees to peer into the blanket, clasping his hands together. You turned your gaze to meet his only briefly, darting it away after just a few seconds of contact. You couldn’t look at him for too long, didn’t dare stare into his comforting eyes for fear of breaking right there. Your insecurity wasn’t his fault. 

“Nothing, you wouldn’t get it,” you denied, turning your head away from him and staring at the wall instead. Kirishima frowned, scooting over a little bit closer to you and wrapping his arm across your shoulders, giving you a squeeze. The warmth radiating off of his body onto yours was comforting, as always, but his proximity at that moment was not helping as much as you had wanted it to. 

“Is this about losing your job on Monday?” he mused, noticing the way you tensed up under him as soon as he mentioned it. “I know that position meant a lot to you. Are you worried that you’re not contributing enough or something, angel?” 

You just sighed and shook your head, refusing to acknowledge him any further than that for now. Kirishima continued to ask a couple questions, trying to pry the information he was looking for out of you. He knew how stubborn you could get, how you’d refuse to admit anything was wrong until it was too late and your emotions boiled over. He didn’t want you to get to that point again, he had been so worried for you the last time it had happened. He was trying to get better at noticing when you were struggling, but he had been away so much this week with missions and patrols that he couldn’t gauge how close you were to falling apart.  

“I can take care of you, Y/N.”

Those were the words that made you snap. You gripped the pillow in your lap and shoved it into Kirishima’s stomach, throwing the blanket off of you when you stood up off of the couch, whipping around to face him. 

“I’m not some stupid civilian that needs saving, Eijirou!” you shouted angrily at him. Kirishima simply held the pillow against himself, staring up at you in surprise while you paced in front of him. “I don’t want you to take care of me like I’m some helpless housewife, okay? I want to take care of myself. I want to be like you!”

“Do you have any idea what it’s like to be like me in this world? To be without a quirk? You don’t know the unrelenting bullying I dealt with in school. You have no idea how many jobs I dreamt about wanting that I can’t have cause I don’t meet the quirk requirement. You don’t understand how I felt, waiting, praying that my quirk was going to show up one day; that I was just a late bloomer and eventually I’d get to be the hero I had always wanted to be. You will never understand the humiliation and ridicule I face in my life every single day. I’m not enough; how I am, how I exist is not enough to live peacefully in this world.

“You’re praised to high heaven because of your quirk while I’m just- just,” you paused, searching for the words to express precisely how you felt. “I’m worthless.”

You huffed, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks, finally having said everything you needed to in that moment. Before Kirishima could say anything, you turned quickly on your heel, rushing up the stairs and heading towards your shared bedroom. The slam of the door behind you made Kirishima jump a bit. He sat there in silence for a while, processing, ruminating, trying desperately to understand what had just happened. He had never seen you so angry, so... Hurt. He sighed, tilting his head back to rest on the back of the couch, staring up at the ceiling. He really didn’t understand how you felt. He tried to imagine how he would be without his quirk, how it would feel to be in your shoes, but it always came up blank. He couldn’t think of what he would do besides being a hero; it was just so natural for him. He had never wanted to be anything else. And maybe, he thought, that was the problem.

Kirishima sighed again, shaking his head and tossing the pillow to the side, pulling himself off the couch and shuffling around the living room. He mindlessly found himself at the bottom of the stairs, his gaze climbing to the top landing and staring at your bedroom door. Without second thought, he went upstairs. He waited a bit longer at the door, not entirely sure if it was right for him to knock and be with you right then. Did you need more space? Did you want space to begin with? He took a deep breath in and made a decision.

Kirishima knocked quietly on the bedroom door, his gaze focused on the silver door handle. 

“Go away…,” you muttered, just wanting to be left alone. And yet, you craved his presence, his comfort. You wanted his arms wrapped around you, whispering that everything would be okay, that you were his everything, that you were perfect to him. 

Kirishima sighed, ignoring your dismissal and turning the doorknob to let himself in. His heart sank when he saw you curled up on the bed, back turned away from him so you faced the wall in the soft light of the setting sun. He didn’t say anything, just shuffled over to the bed and crawled in beside you. He scooted in behind you, pulling you over from your side of the bed to meet him in the middle, wrapping his arm across your stomach to keep you from pulling away. You lay there together in silence for what felt like an eternity, with only the ticking alarm clock on Kirishima’s bedside stand filling the quiet air. 

“I’m sorry for being so insensitive earlier,” Kirishima began to say, speaking softly against your ear. It sent a small shiver up your spine, feeling his breath against your neck as he spoke. “I didn’t mean to make things worse. I promise to try and be more understanding of your situation, angel. But I promise, promise, you are more than enough. You are so intelligent, and so patient and compassionate. You’ve got no clue how many people you make smile when you walk into a room. I could go on and on and on about how amazing you are, angel.” 

He nuzzled his nose into your shoulder, taking in a deep breath, enjoying the sweet smell of vanilla on your skin. His grip tightened around you, his knees curling underneath yours in an attempt to get even closer to you than he had been before. 

“You are enough,” he repeated, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. “Repeat it to me, angel.”

You could feel your face growing flush, nervous knots tying together in your stomach. You didn’t want to repeat the words back. You felt you didn’t deserve to repeat them. But you would, for him. 

“I…,” you began, voice quivering with uncertainty. “I’m enough.”

“Again,” he asked of you gently, pressing a kiss to your neck. 

“I’m enough,” you repeated, this time with more determination in your voice. You could feel Kirishima smile against your skin. 

“One more time. Third time’s the charm, y’know,” he joked with a slight chuckle. You couldn’t help but let a small smile slip across your lips. 

“I’m enough,” you whispered, mostly to yourself, confirming to yourself the sincerity of your own words. Kirishima gave you a gentle squeeze. He shifted behind you, propping himself onto one arm and leaning around you to press a kiss to your cheek. 

“That’s my girl,” he praised with a smile. Kirishima’s hand traced small, slow, comforting circles along your stomach with his fingers. You took in a deep breath, enjoying his proximity, his warmth, the feeling of his breathing against your back. You turned yourself back to face him, warmth gleaming in your eyes when you looked up at him. Kirishima met your gaze immediately, looking down at you with a proud smile. His hand trailed further over your hip, resting on your thigh. “Can I show you how much you mean to me?” 

His hushed request made your cheeks burn and butterflies flutter in your stomach. You knew exactly what that question meant; and you were craving it. You were craving him. You didn’t say anything, just brought your hand up to pull him down into a sweet kiss. A quiet, satisfied hum left Kirishima’s lips while he kissed you. He never really was good with words; he found he somehow always messed something up when trying to say something sincere. He knew he’d be able to get his message across through his actions. 

Kirishima pulled away from the kiss only briefly, giving himself enough time to shift backwards and roll you onto your back. He climbed overtop of you, his arms resting on either side of your head. He took a minute just to survey you, to watch your lips as they parted with a slight hush of air, to meet your eyes, still a bit irritated from the tears you shed. He smiled softly.

“You’re so perfect, angel,” he complimented you with a sweet whisper before leaning forward to resume kissing you. You leaned upwards into him, wrapping your arms around his neck, greedily drinking in his careful attention to you. It made you feel wanted, needed. Kirishima’s kisses were filled with warmth and comfort, speaking words to you he could never say out loud. His tongue trailed against your bottom lip, silently begging for permission to deepen his kiss. 

You closed your eyes and allowed him the moment, leaning into him and pulling him closer. Your lips met in the most tender and passionate moment yet. Your hearts beat in sync, your breaths heavy with desire. He pulled you closer still, kissing deeply and softly, his tongue slowly exploring yours. Your hands found their way into his hair, fingers curling into the red spikes, refusing to let him pull away as you basked in the moment, holding close to the person you loved most; to the person you felt safest with.

Kirishima hummed into the kiss, signalling to you to pull away for a minute. He didn’t waste any time when you eased your grip in his hair, leaning forward and leaving a trail of soft kissing along your neck. You could feel your face getting warmer with each kiss, starting at the underside of your jaw, crawling down your neck, flitting against your collarbone. Kirishima pulled aside a strap from the tank top you wore, continuing his mission, kissing along the curve of your breast until his lips captured your nipple. A soft moan escaped your lips as he tongued and toyed with you. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, building in anticipation of what was to follow. Kirishima’s hand trailed down the side of your body, fingers following the curve of your waist, curling into the waistband of your shorts. He pulled them away, discarding them to the foot of the bed, leaving you partially exposed. He sat back a bit, mouth leaving your breast and his eyes met yours. He toyed with the edge of your tank top. 

“Take this off for me, angel,” he commanded gently. “Let me see how beautiful you are under this shirt.”

You flushed bright red at his request, but obliged, sitting up slightly to pull your top off, discarding it to the floor. Kirishima hummed pleasantly, taking in every inch of you. 

"My god..." Kirishima muttered, his eyes drinking you in. Your body was truly a work of art. His gaze trails up your frame, from your breasts to your shoulders and back down to your stomach. His hands swept against your sides, his whispering touch sending shivers down your spine. You leaned back to give him room to continue, your pussy dripping with anticipation at what was to come. 

Kirishima wiggled back towards the edge of the bed, stationing himself between your legs. Gently, he pushed them apart, crouching forward and pressing kisses to your inner thigh, teeth catching skin with every other kiss. You squirm slightly, a soft groan encouraging Kirishima to continue. Instead of giving you what you so desperately craved, however, he moved to your other thigh, repeating the same ritual he began, kissing and nipping at your sensitive skin. You whined in protest. 

“Eijirou, please,” you begged, making him chuckle. Finally, he relinquished your request, adjusting his position before pressing a kiss to your sensitive clit. You moaned when his tongue began to trace slow circles around it, heat pooling into your core and making you even wetter. Kirishima continued to tease, you running his tongue up your velvety slit, licking up any slick he could and relishing in the taste of you. You were perfect to him in every possible way. He leaned deeper into you, pushing his tongue into your pussy, running it along your walls, coaxing a louder moan from you, before turning his attention back to your swelling clit. Your hands gripped the sheets, toes curling as you got closer to your release. Your back arched, alerting Kirishima to the proximity of your orgasm, and he immediately pulled away. You groaned, whining and squirming with want, annoyed at him for denying you when you were so close. 

“I want to get you built up a bit more, angel,” Kirishima began, hands trailing up your legs. “You just look so gorgeous when you cum for me. I want to make sure I can see it. I want to see you writhing for me, begging for me. I need to see you enjoying my touch.”

Kirishima leaned forward, his right hand moving back down towards your leaking pussy, coating his fingers in your slick. He slowly ran it up and down your slit, briefly rubbing circles along your clit. 

“Look at me,” he whispered, watching to catch your gaze. As soon as your eyes met, Kirishima slowly pushed two fingers into your pussy. He watched as your lips parted, watched as your chest heaved with sweet gasp, and enjoyed the satisfied moan that followed. He gave you a minute to adjust to him before moving his fingers inside of you, curling them in just the right way so that they hit your g-spot with every stroke. 

“Eijirou,” you whimpered. Kirishima leaned forward, pressing kisses against your neck as he continued to fingerfuck you, increasing his pace. 

“I make you feel good, don’t I, angel?” he mused, trailing kisses along the column of your neck until he got to your ear. He nibbled gently at the lobe. “It feels good when I fuck you like this doesn’t it?” 

You nodded your head, agreeing wholeheartedly. It felt good, so good. You wished it would never stop. You wished to feel the heat of his touch, to feel the whisper of his breath as he spoke in your ear, to feel his comfort, for as long as you possibly could. 

“My pretty girl…” Kirishima continued, his thumb finding its way to your clit while his fingers continued to pump inside of you. He could feel you getting closer; he could feel how you tightened against his fingers, enjoyed the sounds of your breathing getting heavier, your moans getting louder. He leaned up, watching your brows furrow in pleasure. “Is my pretty girl ready to cum for me?” 

You huffed, an amused chuckle leaving your lips as you turned your gaze to meet his. 

“I’ve been ready,” you whined through a moan. “Please, please can I cum? Please, I want to cum for you, Eijirou.”

He smiled, pressing a kiss to your cheek, signalling his permission. In a matter of seconds, you were cumming against his fingers, legs shaking, tears pricking in your eyes with the intensity of the pleasure you felt. He slowed the pace of his fingers, letting you enjoy the feeling of him for just a while longer as you finished your release. 

“That’s my good girl,” he praised, kissing your temple as you rode out your orgasm. He pulled his fingers out of your sopping cunt, making you whine. You missed him already. “Don’t worry, angel, I’m not going far.”

Kirishima lifted his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean with a smirk as he pushed himself off the bed. He quickly discarded his shirt, pants following suit. You watched as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of his boxers, pulling them off of his hips. You followed his fingers, watching as his cock sprang free from its containment, precum already dripping from the tip. A dark stain flushed your cheeks bright red. Kirishima went to rummage for a condom in his bedside drawer, but you rolled over to take his hand, stopping him. He looked over at you, a bit surprised. 

“You don’t want one?” he asked, making sure. You shook your head.

“I need all of you, Eijirou, please…” you trailed off, hoping he got your hint. Kirishima’s gaze hazed over with lust. He slammed the drawer back shut and shooed you back further on the bed to give him some more space. 

“Lay back, angel,” he directed you and you obliged, resting your head on the pillows in the middle of the bed and spreading your legs for Kirishima. He took in a deep shaky breath, practically vibrating in anticipation. He had been waiting for this all week; in between your job loss and his job demands, there hadn’t been time to properly connect. He couldn't wait to ravish you. 

Kirishima ran his cock up and down your slit, lubricating it with your slick before he maneuvered your legs over onto his shoulders, crossing your ankles around his neck. He lined himself up at your entrance, holding your legs steady with his other hand. He looked down at you, pausing just briefly to meet your gaze. Finally, he slid his cock into your entrance, a shaky groan leaving his lips as he pushed deeper inside of you. The warmth of your pussy alone was almost enough to send him over the edge, but he greedily wanted to make you cum for him again. He could hold on, but he needed to make it so you couldn’t anymore. 

Kirishima began rocking his hips, keeping a slower pace, moaning at how tight your wet cunt was. You moaned along with him, eyes rolling back at the pleasant stretch of his thick cock in your pussy. He fit so perfectly inside you, fucked you so wonderfully. He kept an even pace, fucking into you so deeply the tip of his cock kissed your cervix with every other thrust, making you wraith beneath him and edge closer to release with every movement. His pace quickened, making you moan louder. 

“Come on, angel, I know you want to cum,” he teased you, giving your ass a quick slap. “I know how good I make you feel. I know how much you want me to cum inside your cute little pussy. You want that, don’t you?” 

You whined at that, nodding your head feverishly, getting closer and closer to release with each and every one of his words. You gazed up at him, watching as his lips curled into a pleased smirk. 

“Good girls cum, don’t they?” he continued to muse. “You're gonna be a good girl for me, right, angel? You’re gonna cum all over my cock? Go ahead, sweetheart, cum for me.”

With those words, you found your release, gripping at the sheets, legs tightening around Kirishima’s neck, the walls of your cunt clenching on his cock. Kirishima groaned, enjoying the intense rush he felt while you milked his cock. He listened to your continued moans, thrusting faster, until finally he reached his own release. He thrust into you twice more, punctuating each twitch of his cock as he came inside of you. Finally, he stilled, matching your laboured breathing as he brought himself out of the adrenaline high. He chuckled breathlessly, his hand gently tapping your leg, wordlessly asking for you to loosen your grip around his neck. You obliged, removing your legs from his shoulders and resting them back onto the bed. Kirishima leaned forward, crawling on top of you for a passionate kiss. You reached up as he pulled back, wrapping your arms across his neck and your legs around his hips to hold him close. You didn’t want to let him go just yet. Kirishima took the hint and snaked his arm around your back, holding you close while he turned the pair of you over so he could lay down for a minute and catch his breath. 

With you on top, and his cock still deep inside of you, Kirishima took in a deep breath, exhaling heavily as he got used to the new position. You squirmed around a bit in an attempt to get more comfortable, which only caused the both of you to shudder from the sensitivity the movement caused. You giggled a bit, finally settling down and resting your head on his shoulder, burying your nose into his neck and taking in a deep breath. You loved the way he smelled after sex, a sharp musk mixing together with his sweat. Kirishima’s hand trailed slow circles on your back, just enjoying your proximity as you both recovered. 

“Are you feeling a little bit better?” he asked. You hummed pleasantly. You did, in fact, feel a little bit better. Still not completely healed from the events of the week, but better than you had been.

“I’m sorry for blowing up at you earlier…” you mumbled into his neck, wanting to say more, but Kirishima just gently shushed you. 

“It’s okay, angel. I know I won’t ever totally understand your experience, but please be open with me about it when you’re struggling, okay?” he replied. You nodded a bit, feeling a bit ashamed at your reaction. The pair of you lay there in silence for a bit longer, just enjoying each other’s company. The sound of Kirishima’s heartbeat was incredibly comforting to you.  Kirishima was the one to finally break the silence.

“How about a movie and some takeout? You can choose what we watch,” he suggested, combing his fingers through your hair. You smiled. 

“I’d like that,” you agreed. Kirishima grinned and pressed a kiss to your forehead. You sounded more relaxed now, and happier too. He knew there would be times where your insecurity got the best of you in the future, too, but that was a bridge the two of you could cross when it arrived; hopefully, with more understanding the next time it happened.

“Good. And what did we learn today?” he asked, gazing down at you. You giggled a bit, feeling more sure about what you were about to say than you ever had before. 

“I am enough.”

#zero.fics #zero.fics.bnha #bnha #bnha x reader #mha #mha x reader #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima eijiro x y/n #bnha smut #mha smut #zero.asks #zero.mtls #ficswap #pro hero kirishima #pro hero kirishima x reader #pro hero au #tw.edging #tw.overstim #tw.breeding

[tangyangie]

HI!!!! Ur writings r literally the cutest it makes me cry omg, could u write karma with a very versatile social chameleon fem! s/o who is highly feminine and intellectually and emotionally mature yet exudes an energy and a sense of humor deemed as more “guy like” (get it because women can’t be funny or autistic so I just can’t possibly be a woman) and though all of e class really understood each other, there was still ofc a mild difference in the social habits of not only groups but between genders bc gender norms and generalization yeah? But instead of having a specific group that they exclusively talk to because of similar social behaviors, she prefers to weave into the situations and actually project the manner of others- so like she’s very feminine presenting and witty yet also is like a dumb high school boy. Like she could be decked out in a whole gyaru look and- think of a disney channel movie bully moment- be approached by someone and clap back with the most precise and hilariously dumbfounding response, like it’s perfectly catered to the energy the person gives off in order to deliver a blow that actually gets across and hurts ! Basically a very unexpected obscure mixture of a person that isn’t afraid of getting a joke across, even if that means wearing a mustache made from mascara and a fishing shirt to truly stand for what our country stands for🇺🇸🦅make the green m&m sexy again america

𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞 🌀

desc. karma x fem!unexpected!reader!!

notes. i'm not gonna lie that was really hard to summarize but tysm for the compliment and req!!! this was so fun to write and i could tell as soon as i saw this request

also i assume this is headcanons so please tell me if that's not what you had in mind!!!

you are karma's favorite person ever.

you're smart and you're funny. it's like he's found his twin flame. except she's 100x more intense.

it's almost as if you adapt to the person you're talking to as well. he just thinks you're so interesting.

one second, you're making dirty jokes with rio—and the next, you're talking with nagisa calmly about ways to kill korosensei.

you're decked out in a long, flowy dress and screeching like an eagle, flapping your arms.

and don't get him started on how much he loves your reaction to class A.

one of them begins berating a classmates for being in class E? you're over there coming up with the most creative insults ever. combinations you didn't think were possible.

karma lives to see the look on their faces after you've delivered their personally catered insult. they're actually dumbfounded.

you're constantly the center of attention together. you're going on about why birds are actually government drones and karma's starting to throw birds into the room to try and kill korosensei.

you adapt to your surroundings. god knows how many different jokes you have with different people because of this.

you play fighting games on the whiteboard with the rest of your classmates. your character is an umbrella and you have a rain buff??

it's impossible to count how many times you've used an american country accent and gone on about how much you love women and fishing.

— "LONG LIVE BASS PRO SHOPS"

it's been at least a few months since you've been dating karma. he's still figuring you out.

you both are rubbing off on each other. now karma's calling people ingrown toenails, and you tease him because he stole that from you.

the big 5 of class A still never leave you guys alone.

teppei's pushing his tests in your guys' faces with a smug look. you push your glasses (imaginary or not) up your face and sniff, mocking him.

"actually," you sniffle. "according to my calculations, you've got as less rizz than an easy-bake oven. go get some girls and then we'll see how envious we are." you say, with a wink.

the rest of the class is laughing their asses off while teppei's got the most flabbergasted look on his face that's possible. wide eyes and eyebrows to the sky, he drops the paper and runs way crying.

you make a remark about how you love making america great again by making boys cry.

the rest of the class doesn't know how to label you. you fit in with everyone.

yet, you've also got a very distinct personality. you also make references to the weirdest things, like a specific game that got really popular in 2020, especially among middle school boys...

but, they love you nonetheless. even though sometimes, you make jokes that would send you to class ZZZ.

notes: assuming i understood what you meant correctly, i have like 10 friends like this. perhaps some of these are based of of them... (you know who you are 🩷)

#screaming in the void #and the void screams back #assassination classroom #ass class #fluff #karma #hee hee #karma akabane #karma akabane x reader #akabane karma x reader #karma x reader #akabane karma #unexpected #fem reader #ass class x reader #assassination classroom x reader #for you #idk how to tag lmao #reader fic

[afreakingdork]

Tactical Entreat

RotTMNT Donatello x GN!Reader

Warnings/Tags: Aged-up Turtles, Guns, Cursing, Hate Make Out

Synopsis:  It seems to be a lousy day when at your first Airsofting game there just so happens to be an overzealous pro on the other team that has it out for you.

Also available on ao3

Goodness gracious, do to all the planets aligning, @donathan 's incredible genius tactical!Donnie, and @unknownfanartist 's wonderful base idea, this one-shot came to be. I cannot thank them enough for their creations and existence. Also being able to be apart of a brain chemistry alternating fandom phenomena event is just stellar. Without future ado, Please enjoy my take on tactical!Donnie!

Maybe it was the weather that kicked off your foul mood.

When the desolate two lane road gave away to gravel and then dirt, the shocks on your friend’s car weren’t the only thing that were worse for wear. Emerging into the muggy air, you bent backwards and pressed your hands into your lower back. There was nary a pop to be had. Giving up and grouching into a slump, your friend passed you a hat.

“You’re gonna need that.”

“Fine.” You ground out, donning the thing. When you brought your attention back up, you found them now holding out a pair of clear black rimmed goggles.

“These too.”

“I got it.” You griped and wondered why they’d offered you the hat first. You removed the headwear to put the safety precaution on and then placed the cap back on your head. “We good now?”

“Yeah, let's go. My sister’s explaining everything.”

You could indeed hear said woman already droning on about precautions to take in the woods. You both approached her, but your attention drifted skyward. Overhead an oppressive thin layer of grey clouds covered the entire expanse. There wasn’t even rain in the forecast. This was just a show of humid superiority. You glared at them.

While you had your mental battle with the atmosphere, your friend knocked your shoulder.

“Come on, we’re heading out.”

“Out? Aren’t we here?” You asked, giving the clouds one last stern look before brining your attention to your friend. Their sister and a third ancillary friend had begun to head down a thin trail.

You friend gave a dry chuckle. “This is just the entrance to the forest, we’re meeting the other team on the… course so to speak.” They took the first step and you fell in line with them.

“Why’d you say it like that?” You hopped what you considered an ominous fallen branch just at the tree line.

“There’s no really a course. We can use the whole woods, but there’s this area with different elevations deeper in.”

“Why’d I agree to this?” You glanced up to find the tree line mostly marring the bleak sky.

“Because you have unchecked aggression.”

You hummed in agreement and continued on what was increasingly becoming a hike. The trail began to dissipate and the brush thickened out. Your only directionality came from your friend’s sister’s determined leadership.

“Who’s the other team?”

“Badasses.” Your friend responded without hesitation.

“Please tell me your joking.” You watched as your friend took a few more steps and turned back to you with an amused brow you could see even through their goggles. “Why are we, first timers, playing against pros?”

“Because my sister hates us.” Your friend shrugged and you both continued to trudge through the thicket until said sister stopped.

She then slung a large bag from around her shoulders. “Let’s gear up before we meet the guys.”

You watched as she set the bag on a rotted log and unzipped it to reveal a plethora or pristine airsoft guns. There was a demonstration on refilling the pellets, but you were busy combing over the details of the rifle you were passed. Once everything was said and done, you noticed a lone handgun left in the bag just before your friend’s sister zipped it up.

“What about that one?”

“Huh?” She looked down. “That one’s kinda faulty. It sometimes doesn’t fire. You want it?”

That seemed like a joke. You could make one of your own. “Sure.”    

She grinned toothily and had the object soaring in the air right at your head as soon as the word left your lips. You juggled it and looked up to find she’d already stowed the bag back onto her person.

“Great.” You shared a glance with your friend who gave a knowing shrug.

Your group continued on deeper into the forest until you noticed that your current trajectory was starting to elevate above a lower level. From the back of the pack you swerved to the side as best you could and saw that twisting mounds of dried earth shifted even higher up ahead. You also caught a glimpse of a purple bandana.  Intrigued, you leaned to see more, but the tree line shifted and the path curved. Rounding the bend, your group stopped at a small clearing.

You friend’s sister had stopped on the other side of the clearing and was talking to a group of four men. You would have made fun of their color coordinated bandanas if it weren’t for the fact that they were wearing full tactical gear. You paled at them. You friend’s sister laughed heartily at something and smacked the red one on the shoulder. In doing so that you noticed the way her green tactical vest shifted. You dragged your attention from them to the ancillary friend who also had a vest on.

“Uh…” You reached out, not wanting to look away and swatted at where you hoped your friend was.

There was a resounding slap as you made contact with their face. They wouldn't like that. “What is wrong with you?!”

“We don’t have vests.”

“No, we do not.” Your friend responded and pinched the delicate skin on the top of your hand harshly.

You hissed and retracted the appendage before finally turning to glare at them. “Shouldn’t we?!” You gestured to in the general direction of everyone else.

“Nah, my sister said the regular pellets don’t hurt that much. Besides, we’re only doing chest shots.”

“What do you mean?” You seethed and your attention was dragged back at the four men. The one with the purple bandana was split off from the group and seemed particularly bored with a cigarette hanging lazily between his lips He caught sight of you watching him and reached up to remove the stick. Your head tilted incrementally as he looked straight at you and gave a sneer. Your head shrank back in disgust. “What’s with that guy?”

“Which?” Your friend followed your eye line. “Oof, that’s Donatello.”

“Oof?” You tore your gaze away from the chuckling man to your friend.

“He’s really intense about the game. You should steer clear of him.”

“Wait, you know who those guys are?” You jolted with realization.

“I’ve never met them, if that’s what you mean.”

You stared at them as they seemingly stopped dead in their conversational tracks. “And?”

“Huh? Oh, right. I mean my sister has plays with them, so I know what she’s told me.” You friend pointed lazily towards the group. “They’re brothers and the color thing sure helps, huh? The red one’s Raphael, he’s kind of a tank and never goes down right away because he doesn’t feel when he’s been shot. The blue one’s Leonardo, he’s tricky, but he knows the line which unfortunately, purple Donatello, does not. I don’t know about the orange one though. I thought there were just three bothers.”

“Great, sick the platoon on us.” You jeered and stomped over to the group with your friend in tow.

“Finally.” You friend’s sister rounded. “Ready to play?”

“No introductions?” Your friend sighed.

“I saw you pointing.” She chided. “I guess there is one newbie on their team though.”

“Hey, guys!” The orange brother waved and his rifle swayed from side to side at the motion.

“That’s Michelangelo. His big brothers finally decided the runt could play with them.”

“We didn’t want our widdle Mikey to lose an eye.” Leonardo chimed in, dropping an affectionate elbow onto his sibling’s head.

"I have literally been an adult for years and that happened one time!" Michelangelo squirmed, but couldn't get free.

“You don’t have to be so formal…” Raphael held up a hand to point. “Raph, Leo, Mikey, Don-”

“Donatello.” The purple brother interjected. “I’ll decide how I’m referred to, thank you very much.”

Could he be any haughtier?

“Right…” Raph trailed off and shook his head.

You chanced another glance at Donatello and found him already watching you. You soured and he tauntingly wagged his eyebrows in return. Officially ticked off, you turned to stare down your friend’s sister. “When do we start? I’m ready to shoot.”

Your friend’s sister put her hands on her hips and sized you up. “Alright, we’ll get to it. We’re gonna split the teams up to account for dead weight. Namely you.” She reached out and caught your friend’s arm. “You’ll be on a team with your friend since they’re a sheep in an unknown pasture. Leo, Raph, you two ok with these bums?”

“Hold up your gun like you’re going to fire.” Leo instructed, pushing off from where he was still perched against his sibling.

You and your friend obeyed the action.

“Eh, rough, but we’ll work with that.” The blue brother gave a thumbs up to Raph who returned it.

“That means you’ll be facing off the dream team.” Your friend’s sister stepped over to Donatello, the ancillary friend, and Mikey.

“I’ve knocked you out every single game we’ve played so far.” Leo flicked the tails of his banana like they were his hair.

“We’ll level the playing field and duke it out then.” You friend’s sister gave you and their sibling a wicked smile.

“How about we go strategize…?” Raph urged. The red brother then grabbed Leo and used him to steer you and your friend further down a path to the lower level. You glanced over multiple shoulders and caught a glimpse of Donatello saying something to Mikey.

Once sufficiently away, the two brothers on your team then proceeded to lay out a strategy that mostly involved you and your friend staying clear of what this area would become: a shootout gallery. You and your friend would follow along a specific outskirts line and attempt to pick off the other team from behind.

“Just watch out for Donald. He goes quackers sometimes; ditches his team if it means at least he can win, like a feral lone wolf.” Leo shrugged as if it couldn't be helped.

You shared a seething glance with your friend who seemed amused by your anger.

“What’s up?” Raph asked from where he was knelt down on one knee.

“I think…” You gave you friend one last heated look before turning to the red brother. “Donatello has it out for me.”

“Prey of the game.” Leo shook his head. “You're gonna need to be seriously careful.” Leo’s darkened look immediately disappeared into a carefree one. “Good luck!”

“Leo!” Raph scolded before turning back to you. “He is right though…”

“What did I do?” You gaped.

“Nothing!” Leo shrugged. “None of us know how he picks. He just decides someone’s going to be his first shot of the day. We’ve all be victims….” Leo trailed off and then reached for his sleeve. You watched as he rolled it up revealing a slicing scar across his green bicep. “I almost lost my arm when I was picked once…”

You and your friend paled.

“He did not!” Raph popped to his feet. “He got that from….!” Raph trailed off nervously.

“Occupational hazard!” Leo winked at you both before turning to frown at his sibling. “Let me have a little fun, big guy!”

“You’re scaring them!” Raph gestured to you and your friend. “They’re our team today!”

“Yeah, yeah, responsibility, blah, blah! We got this!” Leo took a sturdy step forward and a deep breath. “HEY SO ARE WE PLAYING OR ARE WE SITT-?” He stopped dead in his tracks and began to incrementally tip backwards.

“L-Leo!?” Raph moved so quickly in comoarison to his size that you almost weren’t sure he’d moved at all.

Leo dramatically crumpled into Raph’s waiting arms and in doing so you got a glimpse of him. There was nasty red welt already forming right between his eyes.

“What the…?”  You trailed off in horror and looked out to where it had come from.

“WHAT DID WE JUST SAY ABOUT HEADSHOTS!?” Raph roared across the forest.

You watched as Mikey and your friend’s sister appeared from behind a tree.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t- I mean- That wasn’t-!!!” Mikey babbled, clearly distraught.

“Avenge me…” Leo feigned a dying cough.

“NEWBIE HERE SNIPED A HEADSHOT ON HIS FIRST TRY, YOU LOSERS ARE GOING DOWN!” Your friend’s sister clapped the orange brother on the shoulder affectionately.

“I’m really sorry, Leo!” Though you couldn’t be sure from this distance, Mikey sounded as though he were near tears.

“No apologies!” Your friend’s sister scolded, pulling Mikey out of view. “THREE MINUTE HEADSTART FOR POSITIONS AND THE GAME COMMENCES!” Her voice was so loud it seemed to emanate from all the trees. “COUNT DOWN, T-MINUS 20 SECONDS!”

Leo reanimated and took a knee. “Stick to the plan, stay out of sight.”

You and your friend nodded dumbly.

“That means go, now!” He ushered with his hands.

“We’ll keep you safe!” Raph called out as you and your friend took off into the brush.

Your friend already had their phone out and you caught a glimpse of the 20 second timer running out. They set a three minute one in its place. At first, you both ran as fast as you could, but as time ticked away, you slowed. You became painfully away of how each step crunched on woodland debris. You pointed this out to your friend. They suggested careful steps, so you dropped down low and continued to follow an approximation of the plan. Woth your friend leading, you tried to keep the mental map in mind, but the forest was nothing more than a cluster of trees. You had little indication of how close or far you’d traveled away from the action. The timer ran out and the humidity compounded with the sudden gravity of the game you were partaking in.

Sweat gathered at your brow and there was the distinct sound of shots being fired in the distance. With each pellet burst, the two of you adjusted your trajectory and did your best to aim for rounding the action. With each change in your position, every leaf crushed underfoot felt like a scream giving away your position. Your heart raced as the rifle's firing drew close. You and your friend hunkered down and you covered your mouth as even your breathing seemed too loud.

“Two little rabbits, sitting in a bush.” Your friend’s sister’s voice sang out from your right.

“Run.” Your friend said simply and the syllable held so much more than that. You both took off in the opposite direction and heard the soft ticks of pellets pricking each tree your passed.

Your friend yelped.

You turned so quickly that the dry dirt underfoot gave away. It caused you to slide several feet until you were essentially laying down in some underbrush. Looking back, you realized your momentum had carried you quite a distance from your friend who had seemingly tripped. You covered your mouth and watched as their sister stalked up behind them.

“You were always so clumsy.” The woman sneered and aimed a handgun at her sibling. She fired a single shot into your friend's back and then snapped her gaze up to look for you.

Resisting the urge to move, you hoped your cover was enough. She scanned for several seconds longer until she heard a twig break to her right. Zoned in, she pivoted and raced off in that direction. Letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding in, you watched as your friend lazily sat up.

“Hurry up, get out of here, and be careful. I really don’t think you get what they’re capable of.”

“What about you?” You whispered, shimmying out from under the brush.

“I’m dead. I’m gonna walk with my hands raised, hope no one shoots me again, and head to the graveyard.” They stood and brought their arms up as described.

“There’s a graveyard?”

“You always were shit at paying attention.” Your friend shook their head. “It’s back near where we met up. Just look for this poor lost soul.” Your friend gave you parting smile before heading off in the same direction their sister had gone.

Now alone, you swallowed hard. You were the last line of the back-up defense. Steadying your nerves, you brought your rifle close and readied it. You then proceeded to continue along the path you and your friend had been charting. You slowed and tried to listen past your ever thudding heartbeat. The trees rustled, a lone bird sang, and there was some errant skittering somewhere a ways off. Waiting longer still, you finally heard the distant exchange of fire. It sounded so far away that you frowned. Either the battle had moved or you had headed in the complete wrong direction. Scowling, you dropped from your readied stance and followed along a raised edge of dirt hoping it would lead you back.

Your gun now lazily in hand, you scanned for those telltale bandanas. Against the natural forest colors they should have stuck out vibrantly. You made it a few more feet when you heard a distinct snap. You instantly crouched down and scanned wildly for the sound. It hadn’t seem to come from any particular direction and there appeared to be no follow-up. Confused, you studied the ground underfoot to see if maybe you had accidentally stepped on something. In doing so, you caught a glimpse of a pile of dried leaves surrounding the base of tree just off the edge of your minute cliff. You squinted at it and in return it seemed to quiver. Stiffening, you stared and wondered what kind of forest creature you had disturbed. The leaves slowly parted and you watched in ever horrifying slow motion as purple emerged from beneath them.

“Hey.” Donatello said simply, the tip of his gun rising in time with his voice.

You had been so sure it was an animal that you hadn’t even bothered to ready your gun. With a final downward push, your body shot up as you attempted to escape. You heard the firing of his gun before you felt the biting sting of its pellets. When the pain did settle in, it rippled from your knees straight up your body to your shoulder.

You shrieked. It wasn’t supposed to hurt this badly.

“I'll give you marks for finding me, but your still in the negative because one should never drop their guard when at war.” He said simply.

“What is wrong with you!?” You hissed, clutching your side.

“Wrong with me? You’re the one that’s dead.” His voice sounded amused and you watched him disappear back under the leaf bed he created.

With nothing left to do, you slung your rifle around to your back and brought your hands up. You continued along the raised path and it did indeed bring you back to the small clearing. Your friend, their sister, and Leo all sat in a pouty group around an extra large tree.

“Ah, dangit!” Leo grouched as soon as he saw you.

“What happened to your duel?” You asked, wincing as you sat down.

Your friend watched you with squinted curiosity, but was otherwise quiet. When no one else answered, they shook their head and stepped in. “They shot each other out almost immediately.”

“I shot first!”

“Did not!”

“They were here before me.” Your friend rolled their eyes. “They’ve been arguing like this the whole time.”

You started to laugh and stopped as pain radiating from your side.

“Are you ok?”

“Donatello was freaking buried underground and shot me point blank.” You nearly spit the explanation.

“Brutal.” Your friend’s sister shrugged.

“These games bring out the worst in him.” Leo sighed. “Raph and I were thinking of training Mike to sub him out.”

“Even point blank, it shouldn’t hurt that badly though…” Your friend reached out and grabbed the hem of your shirt.

You shifted your arm to give them better access.

They lifted the fabric and revealed the already purple peppering of bruises across your side.

“That asshole.” Your friend’s sister uncharacteristically frowned.

“What?” You wondered, unable to see.

Leo crawled on all fours to get a better look. “Damnit, Donnie." He then sucked in a sharp breath between his teeth. "I am so sorry.”

“What?!” You pressed, looking between them.

Your friend let go of your shirt.

“He’s using 0.4g BBs.” Leo' s voice was heavy with guilt.

“Are those…?” You looked to your friend.

“We’re supposed to be using 0.2 to 0.28.” Their sister clarified. “From the looks of that, his aren’t hollow like they should be either.”

“Are you serious?” You jolted in anger and immediately the pain protested.

Before the conversation could continue, Mikey and the ancillary friend emerged from the forest with their hands raised up.

“Only Raph and Donnie are left.” Leo breathed and stood up to look out across the trees.

The new corpses drew close and took their seats around the trunk. You were about to welcome them when noticed an angry red mark on your ancillary friend’s forehead.

“Come on, kid, don’t tell me?!” Your friend’s sister noticed it as well.

“I’m not doing it on purpose!” Mikey yelped. Now that he was close you could tell he was definitely crying.

“A dead person can’t shoot you out!” The sister hissed.

“I took the shot and I’ll take it again.” The ancillary friend noted.

“And I deserved retribution from the afterlife.” Mikey hiccupped.

“Uh huh, you’ll get them next time, Mikey.” Leo reached back and absently patted Mikey’s head with his attention still on the forest.

“I sure hope not!” The younger sibling whined.

Big thudding foot falls echoed and everyone went dead silent. There was a distinct sound of two different gun models firing before silence resumed. The group scanned the forest with bated breath. It seemed as if even the wind had quieted for the reveal. The red and purple bandanas appeared and within a moment, the raised hands of the loser became apparent.

“Come on, Raph! No!!!” Leo cried out, dropping to his knees. “You were supposed to avenge me!!” 

“Sorry, bro.” Raph shrugged, in a jovial mood regardless of his death.

“Leaving your largest target as your final player.” Donatello shook his head and approached the tree. “After all these years you'd think you'd at least try to give me a challenge.” He aimed a bored stare at Leo.

“Don’t give me that shit.” Leo growled, snapping to his feet. “Give me your gun.”

“No.” Donatello recoiled as if Leo’s statement were an assault to his person.

“Raph, hold him down. I’m serious.” Leo kept his gaze squarely on Donatello.

“What’s going on?” Mikey scrambled to his feet.

“Theatrics, I’m sure.” Donatello scoffed but froze when Raph’s hands took hold of his shoulders. “What are you doing!?”

Leo grabbed Donatello’s gun and after a short lived struggle, the blue brother pulled the rifle away and popped off the magazine. Slinging the strap through his arm, he then let Donatello’s gun dangle and followed the same procedure with his own rifle. He held up the noticeably different pellets up to Raph first. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“They’re non-lethal.” Donatello looked to the side with the pout of a child that had been caught.

Tightening his grip with one hand, Raph freed the other to poke at the BBs. “What are these things made of…?”

“They’re custom too!?” Leo seethed.

“Everything I use is custom! I made your weapons! You've never complained before.” Donnie spit back.

“You hurt someone…” Mikey breathed with realization. He then scanned the group and immediately noticed the resting wince in your eyes. “At least use it on us!” Mikey alit with fury. “They’re human! You can’t just shoot them like that!!”

Donatello bristled, though his posture gave away his wearing resolve. “It’s bruising at worse.”

“It fucking hurt!” You shouted, getting to your feet and in your anger you forgot the pain. “Not to mention your dick hiding spot!”

“Hiding spot?” Raph hovered over his brother menacingly.

“We’re taking five!” Leo shouted and began to storm off toward where you had earlier entered the clearing. The other brothers filled out after him like they were transporting a prisoner.

You didn’t feel a bit sorry for Donatello.

“Isn’t playing with them a hoot?” Your friend’s sister jabbed the ancillary friend in the ribs.

“Yeah, real blast.” You grumbled, resisting the urge to keep showing weakness by holding your wounds.

“Water?” You friend offered you a small bottle and you took it. You all sat in mostly silence and though the brothers had seemingly moved quite a ways away, their voices would sometimes raise up to where you could hear them yelling. As promised, they filed back in after what felt like five minutes with Leo once again leading.

You, having continued standing because bending the bruises hurt more, turned to face them.

Leo gave you a tight nod and stepped out of formation with Donatello as the next in line.

He strode right up to you. “After a boorish discussion I believe there's been a sort of err on my part.”

You searched his eyes and found their dull veneer unconvincing.

“I’ve switched to my backup rifle with the agreed upon rounds.”

You saw a flash of annoyance in his gaze.

“And, taking into account your lack of experience, I will be sticking to a more…” Donatello glanced back at his brothers who were all staunchly waiting with their arms folded. “…mediocre play style.”

You could tell he didn’t feel the tiniest bit bad. You wanted to throttle him. Alternatively, this was, however, the first time you’d been able up close to him. Your eyes flicked down and caught a glimpse of his rippled biceps from where his arms were crossed over his vest. Resisting the urge to linger, you swept you gaze around and tried to head back to his face, but got caught on several scars along the way. You had to remind yourself that you were mad. Blinking, you snapped your gaze to his to find him watching with a cocksure grin and an amusedly raised brow. No, you were undoubtedly mad.

“Are we playing again?” You maintained bitter eye contact, but directed the question out to the group.

“Are you ok to play?” Mikey’s voice wandered in from over Donatello’s broad shoulder.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You ground out. “I’m fine.”

You watched as the smugness in Donatello’s face receded to make room for a tide of impressed amusement.

It wasn’t quite how you’d hoped he would receive your declaration of war, but it was an acceptance nonetheless.

“Same teams.” That was an order.

“Hey…” Your friend’s sister brought a small protest that seemed to be quelled by someone near her.

“Do give me a challenge this time.” Donatello covered his mouth from a yawn and turned back to his brothers.

You weren’t just going to destroy him, you were going to slaughter him.

Eventually the proper teams reformed and everyone took note of your bloodthirsty aura. In a sportsmanlike trade, Donatello’s team departed down the small cliff and your team was left to plan in the small clearing.

There was a pregnant pause before you opened your mouth. “I know-”

“We’ll back you.” Leo interrupted, clapping a hand to both Raph’s and your friend’s shoulders.

“How did you know what I was going to say?” You frowned.

“I think we all saw the staring match.” You friend gave a thumbs up.

“Mikey’s in on it too and he’s going to try to convince the others on the DL. While Raph doesn’t usually approve of fixing games, I can make a special exception just this once. We all saw how his supposed apology went. That was bad even for a Donnie standard.” Raph chuckled.

“He needs to be taken down a notch.” Leo clicked his tongue. “We’ll take all the heat. You just need to get behind him. It’ll be tough, but if we can pull it off, Don’ll never know what hit him!”

“Shoot him.” You corrected, a wicked smile on your lips.

“Where were you first round?” Leo shook his head with amusement and broke apart from the huddle. "T-MINUS 20!?”

A yell of affirmation came back. You all gave each other a last determined nod before you broke off to the right. You left your rifle on your back and loaded your handgun as you wove through trees. Breaking it down, you were wholly unmatched. Not only were you playing a game for the first time against a seasoned pro, but, if his scars and muscles had anything to say about it, he was also quite adept in some kind of warfare. Your best bet was a single glaring weak spot you’d come to find in the short time you’d known Donatello: his smugness. With the trope of pride being a villain’s downfall, you were more than prepared to take advantage of it. Digging your right foot into the ground at an angle, you swiftly changed direction. The sheer adrenaline caused you to forget not only your pain, but any errant physical discomfort from the exertion. Dropping low, you skittered into some bushes and waited for the first signs of fire.

As the wind rustled an otherwise empty forest, you used the time to center yourself by focusing all your energy into the white hot rage in your chest. By the time the shots rang you, you had intensified the ball into radical fury. Popping up, you kept your handgun at the ready as you headed straight for the fire fight. Drawing near pellet pops, you dropped down and watched a heavy ammunition exchange. Between the different elevations, the battle had essentially become trench warfare. Your team had managed to pin down every other member of Donatello’s team, but the purple bastard himself. You relished the perfection. Breaking away, you kept to only unobscured forest floor having learning from your past mistakes. You slowed your movements to a snail’s pace and became hyper aware of even the slightest caress of the wind. It was in that trudging that you heard the whine of a bending branch.

Barely lifting your feet off the ground, you scooted closer to the noise until you spotted the telltale flicker of purple. Stilling, you watched as Donatello seemed to be manufacturing something with twigs. With no supplies other than the bits of wood themselves, you watched as he fashioned something and carefully laid it on the ground. Eye’s widening, you recognized the quarter sized kindling. They were little sound landmines that he could use to identify his opponent’s location even if he weren’t able to see them. Thinking back, it must have been the source if the sound that had triggered his leafy appearance. With its small size, you hadn’t even registered the pieces as something that could snap, but the way he constructed it allowed for a multi-level structure that amplified sound.

After sufficiently adjusting the object’s position. He took an extra moment to admire his work. There it was: pride’s downfall. You moved faster than you ever moved in your life. The force generated seemed to alter the wind’s gusts for a moment. When natural order resumed, you had your pistol pressed to the back of his head and he had his rifle half-turned to your position.

“Any last words?” You asked. It was cliché, but you were already pulling back on the trigger.

“Absolutely no-”

The dull click of the gun sounded and for a moment everything was still. Your eyes widened.

“After all that…” Donnie’s voice was dark.

You scrambled, clicking the trigger over and over. The warning about the handgun being faulty echoed in your mind.

“You brought a cheap piece of crap to kill me!?” He twisted around and fired his rifle just as your gun finally discharged. In near perfect sync, you shot him in the cheek and he shot you in the dead center of your chest.

You both stared at each other numbly.

“You could have shot my eye out!!” He suddenly roared, stalking forward.

You refused to take a single step back. “No, please! Should I be thanking you for shooting me in the chest finally!?”

“It’s minor bruising! You tattled on me like a child to my family!” His face was so close you were about to butt heads.

“You faked your apology like a toddler! Act like one, get treated like one!”

“You are INFRUIATING! You’ve had this INANE attitude since we first locked eyes!!”

“I’m sorry, heard of a first impression!? You mocked me in that EXACT MOMENT!!”

“HAVE YOU NEVER HEARD OF RIBBING?! WE'RE PARTAKING VIOLENT RECREATION!!! IT CALLS FOR RIVALRIES!!!”

What could you say to that? It was a perspective shifting sort of statement. You’d read the context wrong from the start. He may have been a cocky asshole, but he was there for the same kind of release as you. If you were in your right mind you would have remembered how lousy the weather was. Instead, that white hot ball of fury you’d nurtured had full control of your body.

“I FUCKING HATE YOU!”

As soon as the phrase left your lips, his crashed into yours. His gun swung wildly out of the way as the momentum crushed your bodies together. You had no idea where your pistol even went as you forcefully gripped the back of his head. Coming back from its pendulum swing, his rifle jabbed into both of your sides and Donatello hand dug harshly into the back of your neck. He tipped you back to a spine aching degree as your lips moved in tandem. Coy brushes were out of the question as his tongue forced its way into your mouth. For a moment you could only meekly receive him, but your anger was nowhere near dissipating. You threw your momentum forward against his brick wall of a body and in doing so your teeth clicked together. Neither of you noticed in a fierce jockey for dominance. His larger size meant he could exude more force than you and, before you knew it, bark was biting into your back through your flimsy shirt. A sultry groaned echoed from you in response and you could feel the upturnings of his cocky smile against your cheeks.

Shifting your grip, you dug your nails into his shoulders and it was enough to make his hiss. It meant a relinquish of contact that you fully meant to take advantage of until his hand wrapped itself around your throat. He squeezed hard enough to prevent you from speaking, but not hard enough to cut off your air supply. Dazed you put all your residual rage into a scathing glare. His finger tips curled up around your cheeks forcing you to pucker. He gave you once last wicked grin before kissing you again with enough fervor to knock your head back against the tree he’d pinned you against. The war of tongues, teeth, and lips resumed as you manhandled each other for dominance. His legs shifted and pinned yours flat and you realized you were losing real estate you hadn’t even considered investing in. Scratching down the exposed portions of his arm you hooked an armband and ripped it straight off of his appendage. He responded by breaking contact with your lips and instantly latching onto your neck. Your voice betrayed you once again as his teeth sank in against your jugular; his hand having shifted to keep your head in place.

His thumb had drifted a little out of its intended path under his new conquest and, in turning away under the guise of giving him more access to your neck, you neared the digit. He hummed in appreciation right until the moment you popped his thumb into your mouth and bit down.

“I can’t leave that mouth of yours unoccupied for a second can I?” His voice was so thick you felt wrapped in it. Drunkenly, you mustered your own cocky grin, which he masked with his. The violence hadn’t dissipated, but it was twisting into something more. Tongues probed each other in an unrestrained tango. Hands ventured further south. You dug your nails into his thigh and elicited the first guttural groan from him. The power struggle and righteous fury were an electrifying combined aphrodisiac.

“DONNIE!? I’M LOOKING FOR THE DEAD BODY OF MY DEAR BROTHER!!” Leo’s voice rang out clearly amongst the trees.  

You both snapped apart and watched, half-lidded, as a string of saliva connected the two of you in the wake of your make out session. He reached up and dispelled the cord with a swift chop. He gave you once last scathing once over before stepping away.

“OH, NARDO, COME HITHER. I HAVE NEWS FROM THE AFTERLIFE. I KNOW EXACTLY HOW YOU’LL DIE!!!” Donatello stormed away in search of the interloper. “BY MY HAND!!!”

Your body went slack against the tree and you slid down until you were sitting at its base. You blinked and for a moment felt an odd hollow before the sounds of the forest seemed to gently flood back into your ears. Picking up a scrap of black fabric, you turned it over curiously before letting it idly dangle in your fingers. Staring up, the canopy looked black against an overexposed white sky. For the first time all day, you thought maybe today hadn't been so bad after all.

A/N: A terrible game would be to guess how much of this is based on a real life Airsoft game I had 😂

#tactical donnie #rottmnt donnie x reader #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt x reader #donatello hamato #donnie x reader #rise donnie #rise donnie x reader #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt donnie #cartoons #me #fanfiction #my fanfiction

[todomemolesta18]

About me! 💅

Im doing this one last time. 😒

You can call me Nao ^-^

Prononuns: She/Her ♀️

Age: 19

Hobbies: Drawing, reading, shipping

Favourite shows/manga: Murder drones, HxH, Jibaku shounen Hanako-kun, Black Butler, Chainsaw man, Steven Universe, The amazing world of Gumball, Adventure time, Regular show, Tmnt, ATLA, The owl house

Favourite movies: Stand by me, White chicks, Lady and the Tramp, The Iron Giant, Puss in boots 2, A goofy movie, Hoodwinked, Home Alone, Drive

Favourite ships (if you dont like them, dont send hate, please): N x Uzi, Hanako-kun x Nene, Denji x Asa, Steven x Connie, Gumball x Penny, Finn x Princess Flame, Moxxie x Millie, Charlie x Alastor, Rigby x Eilleen, Puss in boots x Kitty Soft Paws, Luz x Amity, Katara x Aang

SHIPS I HATE: N x Cyn, N x J, Sebaciel, Stolitz, Catradora, Hardin x Tessa

Any LGBTQ people are welcome, im bisexual myself 💙💜❤️

DNI if you are a racist, homofobic, transphobic, misogynist, proshipper. You are not welcome here.

Any toxic person here is gonna be blocked.

ONE LAST IMPORTANT THING: IM PRO PALESTINE AND GAZA 🇵🇸 SO IF YOU SUPPORT ISRAEL, YOU ARE NOT WELCOME HERE. AGAIN, NOT IF YOU ARE A JEW, BUT IF YOU SUPPORT A FREAKIN GENOCIDE, GET OUT OF MY BLOG.

#about me post #multishipper #pro gaza #pro palestine

[sayruq]

There has been gradual coordinated escalation on all fronts

Reminder that a lot of their tanks are being tied up in the border to Lebanon right now.

Can't say I blame them. Israel can only claim victory over nameless Hamas commanders for so long before the settlers begin to question the lack of progress.

The Biden administration continues to prepare itself for a regional war.

Meanwhile, things continue to escalate in the West Bank

Meanwhile on the other fronts of the war

Yemen has taken credit for this attack. Israeli defense systems are failing - a missile reached Haifa for the first time, the Iron Dome misfiring at Tel Aviv, and now this

Just like how Hezbollah has forced Israel to keep 1/3 of its forces in Northern Israel (including 100 warplanes), Yemen is now taking away precious military resources that could be further to further destroy Gaza

Around the world and in America, the Biden administration continues to face pressure due to it's unabashed support for Israel. To save face, it announces useless gestures such as this. If nothing else, this proves that they've lost the propaganda war decisively in the Global South and at home because no one buys the 'Israel has a right to defend itself' mantra anymore. Even European nations, with the exception of Germany, are no longer gung-ho. They show their support quietly with only their citizens noticing, compared to October when they would make countless statements and openly suppress pro Palestine protests.

#palestine #free palestine #free gaza #gaza #west bank #long post