“it’s So Unrealistic When X Readers Say-” I’m Not Reading X Readers For Realism. I’m Reading

Birds of Prey

WARNINGS: yandere, nsfw, noncon, abuse, blood, possessiveness, implied kidnapping, implied imprisonment

A/N: the fic i wanted to post is taking too long, so pls enjoy a not very short, not very sweet, slightly unhinged hawks drabble

read at your own discretion.

yandere ! HAWKS X READER

“You’re mine, you know?”

“You’re insufferable, you know?” 

A laugh, deep and raspy, filled the space between them as his head fell back in surprise. Though, the fingers digging like claws into the skin of her waist betrayed his irritation.

He brought his face to her own, smile turning razor sharp; that ever present glint in his eyes, while entertained, sparked with a dare she was too stubborn to ignore, no matter the ensuing consequences.

“Pretty pretty Bird,” His tongue poked out from his canines, swiping up to lick the tip of her nose, “I’m going to fucking ruin you.”

Rather than recoil in disgust, she leaned closer, fingers threading in his golden locks, “Selfish, mindless, animal,” Each word enunciated with a sharp tug, “Ruin all you like,” Her lips brushed against his ear, and she was met with a pleasured groan, “I’ll ruin you right back.”

“Fuck,” His hips bucked upwards, his clothed hardness grinding against her in a failed attempt to soothe the growing ache, “You promise?”

It was her turn to laugh; it was sharp and spiteful, and she leaned back on his lap to meet his eyes, hands falling to his face to trace the sharp curve of his jaw in resigned admiration, “What makes you think you’ll like it?”

His own hands trailed from her waist to squeeze at the fat of her thighs, fingers sinking like talons as they spread her further, pulling her into him.

“Oh, my pretty Bird,” A hand moved to brush under her shirt, ghosting against the skin, and bringing goosebumps to the surface, “If it’s you,” Dextrous, devious fingers worked their way underneath her bra, “I’ll love it.” 

Despite her resolve, a whimper escaped her lips, and the predator under her pounced, shoving her back onto the mattress below them.

Blood red wings spread behind him, and eyes glowing with the celebration of premature victory, he looked like some harbinger of death, beautiful in all his glory, but come to rip her to shreds, and feast on her insides with that golden smile.

She wasn’t far off, she realized bitterly. Though, her chance at revenge came sooner than anticipated when he dove forward, shoving his tongue past her parted lips, licking the taste of her mouth from inside while he tore at her clothes.

And, steeling her nerves, she bit down, teeth tearing into the intruder, replacing the taste of spit with syrupy copper. Her reward came in the form of a strangled groan as he ripped himself from her.

“Fuck—!” A curse, low and raspy with the interruption of dribbling blood.

The sight before her was enough to send her heart leaping to her throat, embers of satisfaction dying as quickly as they lit. If he had looked like a harbinger of death before, now, with the back of his hand swiping crimson to smear across his cheek, feathers puffed and poised to attack, and hair falling to shadow his eyes, the man above her was a type of demon king she tried to force herself not to regret awakening.

He spat to the side, blood dripping from his lips, and turned back to her with a smile more sinister and sharp than she thought him capable of showing. Slowly, he pulled at his own shirt to reveal a body too sculpted and too pretty to belong to him.

“Caged Bird has teeth, does she?” He breathed, “It’s a dangerous game you’re playing, baby.”

“The only game I’m interested in,” She growled, “Is one where you lose.”

She had already scanned the room when she’d woken up dizzy and groggy and surrounded by a space all too familiar but not her own. He hadn’t even bothered with chains. Cocky bastard. There was no place to go where he couldn’t follow, but she’d be damned if she just laid there and took it.

She held her breath, and the pause between them was interrupted by a low, building chuckle that raised in volume and pitch until he fell forward in a fit of giggles underlaid with a twisted and angry amusement.

Lifting his gaze to hers, she found his eyes burning through her with the giddy anticipation of a hawk playing with its food. The condescension was enough to stroke her own need to fight, and she forced a sardonic smile despite her growing unease.

“What? Too much?” Swollen lips pulling into a sneer, “I thought you said you’d love it if I ruined you.”

He snorted, eyes moving to sweep across her body: fabric hanging in threads from her skin, lacey undergarments serving as her only decoration, traces of his blood smearing her lips, and tears that pooled at the corners of her eyes. Too stubborn to give him the satisfaction of falling. God, did he love this woman.

“Between the two of us, little Bird,” He leaned forward, taking her jaw in a bruising grip, and forced her gaze to his own, “I’d say you’re plenty ruined yourself.”

There was a twitch in her brow that sated his ego, and he pushed forward to give her a peck, retreating with the quickness of a man who had learned his lesson. For now, he reminded himself.

“Though,” Still, he couldn’t help but push, “Not nearly ruined enough.”

And he surged forward, taking her throat in one hand, and forced her backwards into the pillow; her legs flailed while her hands shot up to claw at his own. It was time to give her a little lesson of his own.

He settled himself between her thighs, ripping the last of her coverings to leave her bare and thrashing. Her heels kicked at his back, lips parting in short, sharp gasps.

“Fuck–fucking–” A strangled whine, “Bast–bastard–”

“Come on now, Birdie,” He leaned forward, fingers flexing, “If you don’t have anything nice to say,” Nose to nose, his canines gleaming, “You don’t say anything at all.”

With the twitch of her jaw, she pursed her lips, refusing to consider the consequences, and sent a glob of spit flying right at his face, watching with glee as it splattered under his eye. 

He jerked back in surprise, releasing her neck to swipe at the offended cheek. Through a fit of raspy coughs, her chest sparked with a sort of vindicated satisfaction.

Her victory was short lived, however, and a burning smack echoed in the empty space, whipping her face sideways, a ringing in her ears growing to match her blurring vision. The strength of a hero, she thought sarcastically.

It was her turn to spit out blood, before her eyes rolled back to him, angry, but cautious. His fingers worked at his belt buckle, and he shirked off his pants in her momentary incapacitation, entirely unbothered by his own sudden show of violence. 

She did her best to avoid looking at the monster between his legs, and, like any sign of weakness, he seized the opportunity to mock her.

“Fight all you like, pretty Bird,” A hand was back on her throat, tight, but not squeezing, “But you and I both know this only ends one way.”

She knew she was only delaying the inevitable, but the ache of bruised pride burning in her chest insisted on hurting him back. Hurting him more than he would ever hurt her. Because he would hurt her.

Her hands moved back to his chest, pushing as he wrenched her thighs apart, “Fucking villain,” She’d lost her appetite for this game of theirs, opting instead to let her acidic resentment pour outwards, “Get off.” After all, words were her only true defense.

In a flash his free hand took hold of one frantic wrist, “Villain? I can be a villain,” His face twitched in irritation, and her bones screamed under the force of his fingers, “Keep pushing, and I’ll break it.” 

The sudden flip had her hands falling limp, retreating in shock once he released her wrist, and balling into fists beside her head. And as fast as it came, the darkness left him, only that treacherous smugness remaining.

She cursed herself for her fear, put off by the unpredictability of his own emotional landmines. But still, she squared her face back to a disdained neutral, unwilling to show more weakness than he’d already sniffed out.

He pumped at his length, positioning it at her entrance. She was damp, but not nearly prepared enough for the size of him, and he hummed, fingers dipping down to toy at her clit, sending her hips jolting upwards in regretful anticipation.

“Say something nice, baby,” He breathed lazily, “Say something nice, and I’ll make you feel good, too.”

There was a beat as they stared at each other, “I…” She whispered, a growing conflict in her eyes. He leaned down, lips brushing against her own.

“Yeah?” His hot breath spread across her cheeks, “C’mon Birdie, I wanna hear something pretty come from that filthy mouth of yours.”

They were nose to nose, golden eyes piercing into her own, each pair glowing with emotions too loud to speak, “I,” Breathy and wanton, “Would,”

“Yeah? You’d what?”

“Rather fucking die.”

For the hundredth time that night he was taken aback, incredulous laughter his only response as he pulled away from her, eyes snapping back to her own with a promise he’d been eager to fulfill.

“Suit yourself,” And he shoved inside.

A yelp, surprised and pained, “Fuck–!”

He was only halfway in, and rather than let her adjust, he sunk his nails into her thighs as leverage, and forced himself further. She whined in pain, a coat of crimson serving as response around his pulsing length, and he moved to trap her hands in his own, fingers intertwined.

“Tight like a virgin, huh, little Bird?” Once fully sheathed, he set a brutal pace, the head of his cock bruising her cervix with each greedy thrust. His face dipped down to lick a stripe up her stomach, trailing marks up her chest and throat with gnashing tongue and teeth.

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” She bit out, trying and failing to pull her hands from his crushing grip, “Wouldn’t know wet pussy if it—mmgh!—if it smacked you in the face.”

He huffed another laugh, “Don’t tempt me, baby,” His hands released her own to dig into the fat of her ass as he pulled her hips upwards and into his own with a renewed violence, grunting as her knees dug spitefully into his sides. 

Her newly free fingers clawed at his back, and despite his earlier threat, he seemed to revel in the streaks of red she tore in the skin between his wings, responding in kind with a hiss of masochistic pleasure.

“Not my fault the only way to get your dick wet,” A sharp, pained gasp, “Is to make a girl bleed.”

There was a glint in his eye that brought back her unease, and one of his sinful hands flew to the space where they met, finger pressing with irritating accuracy into her bundle of nerves. His other readjusted to push one leg to her chest, pausing his movement.

“Pain not a good enough lesson for you?” A too bright smile, “Fine with me,” That gleam in his eye sparkled with a sadistic satisfaction, “How ‘bout we see how many times I can make you cum ‘til you pass out.”

And the thrusts returned, chasing his own pleasure while the hand at her clit swirled in circles and stars, faster and faster until a whine more pleasured than pained escaped her lips.

“Like you–fuck–” She groaned as his fingers sped their motions, cock rocking into her with a deliciously savage rhythm she dared not acknowledge, “Like you fucking could–” A moan, full and long, drowned out her words, and her nails dug crescents into his shoulders.

He only hummed in response, her clit twitching under his thumb, “What’s that, Birdie?” A pulsing ache formed in her gut, “Words, baby, use your words,” Her pussy squeezed against his member in a way that had him groaning.

“Fuck you.”

“With pleasure, little Bird.”

He drew his hips back, pulling out of her dripping entrance to tease the hole with his tip, before diving back inside with unfairly gratifying precision against that spongy, tingling spot inside of her. Faster and faster, her bundle of nerves pulsed greedily under his fingers, and her teeth tore into her lip, trying to will the pleasure away, or, more shamefully, will it to peak.

Suddenly, and without warning, there was a blooming inside her that had her eyes rolling backwards, open mouthed moans raising in volume in an attempt to settle the warm buzzing between her thighs.

Though, she couldn’t find it within herself to care about the knowing smirk that pulled at his lips, too focused on his continued thrusts, and the quick rebuild of overwhelming pleasure.

“What are you–Stop!” A groan as he released her clit in favor of throwing both of her legs over his shoulders, and pressed against her chest, fucking into her at an angle that had her seeing stars, “What are you doing?!”

“If I’m correct, baby Bird,” He smiled, turning to press a quick kiss to her thigh, “You’re still conscious,” She growled as he nipped at the skin, but a particularly harsh push inside her cut the murderous thoughts short, “Which means we’ve still got a ways to go.”

His words were smug, but the growing sloppiness of his movements betrayed his own pleasure. Her eyes widened in realization, and her fingers leapt to pull and push at his back, tearing at what feathers she could reach in an attempt to get him off of her. Get him out of her.

“Not inside,” She rasped, “Don’t do it inside–”

“Hmm?” A mocking tilt of his head, “No? You don’t want me to fill you up?” One hand shifted to deliver a harsh slap to her ass, “Breed you like a needy little bitch?”

“Fucking—get off—get off!” She shrieked, beating at his shoulders, “Fucking psycho!”

“Well, that’s not very nice, now is it?” His hips were stuttering, and before she could stop herself, the words shot out through her lips.

“Please,” A couple stray, humiliated tears as she whimpered his name, “Please, not inside. Please, don’t cum inside!”

“Oh, so you do know how to talk pretty,” He breathed, fingers massaging at her abused flesh, “I was beginning to worry.”

“Please,” She swallowed her spit and her pride, “Please–”

“That’s right,” He was panting now, lips meeting her neck, teeth sinking in to add to the ring of bruises, “Beg me some more.”

Throwing her dignity out the window, she obliged, pleas working in tandem with the savage strokes of his cock, trying and failing to ignore her own mounting pleasure until finally he stilled, pouring deep inside her with a raspy groan, and sending her once again over that dreaded and savored edge.

“What’d I tell you, Birdie?” He ignored the defeated, broken whines that left her while they both returned to reality, “You’re mine.”

As his eyes trailed down the collage of her forming bruises, he was sure he bore his own battle scars, heart strangely skipping at the thought. She was his, but he had long belonged to her. A fact he’d hoard to himself as long as he could.

He caught his breath, readjusting to brush sweaty strands of hair from her forehead to behind her ear, pressing a reverent kiss to her temple before pulling away. It was a gesture entirely too soft, and she could have forgotten it was the monster above her had it not been for his next words.

“Oh don’t cry, my broken little Bird,” That vicious golden grin was back, “I’m not even close to done with you yet.”

Looking down at the ruined little thing shaking underneath him, he felt a type of satisfaction one only gets from dethroning a queen, fight fucked out of her. Not for good, he reminded himself gleefully. His pretty Bird was too stubborn for that. His softening cock twitched to life at the thought.

The flare of her nostrils sent lightning in his veins as she growled, “I’ll ruin you,” The words were venomous, humor sucked out in favor of acidic hatred, but his chest only vibrated with a sadistic urge to play, “I’ll fucking ruin you.”

“Ruin all you like, baby,” Breath wet and hot, shaking with anticipation, “I’ll ruin you right back.”

sick day

katsuki woke up to the sound of his alarm.

huffing, he rolls over to turn it off.

“alright. come on baby, we needa get up.” he says, wrapping his arms around you and squeezing tight.

“mmmmmph. noooo.” you whine, sleepily.

he laughs lightly, shoving his face in your hair.

“i know. i know. but we’re gonna be late.” he coos.

you squirm a little in frustration.

“please. i need 5 minutes.” you whine.

he sighs turning you to face him.

“fine. but only 5.” he relents, throwing the sheets off himself.

“nooooo. stay with me.” you pout.

“i’ll see you in 5 minutes.” he replies sternly.

he spends his five minutes getting dressed then returns to his bed.

“it’s been 5 minutes, sweet girl. time to wake up.” he says, pecking your lips.

he watches your brows furrow deeply and you feel like you could cry.

“i need to sleep katsu. i cant.” you say and your voice breaks.

his eyes widen at your croaky voice.

“hey. hey. what’s wrong, are you cryin?” he whispers, brushing your hair out of your face.

“oh.” he says as the realization clicks in.

you peel your eyes open, trying to snuggle into his hand.

“what?” you croak out.

his eyes soften and he kisses your forehead.

“you have a fever.” he says.

“explains why i feel so shitty.”

he drags his thumb over your cheek, caressing your face gently.

“stay in bed. i’ll tell aizawa you can’t be in class.” he says lowly.

you whine and he laughs as he feels your hands weave themselves around his neck.

“you won’t stay with me?” you say with watery eyes.

he leans in to press his forehead against yours.

“you know i can’t. i’ll go downstairs and get you some medicine, kay?” he says in an attempt to soothe you.

“be fast.” you whisper and he chuckles before pulling away.

“so clingy when you’re sick.”

when he returns from getting you medicine you’re fast asleep once again.

he drags his hands down your arms before landing on your waist and caressing your sides.

“wake up.” he says against your cheek.

you whimper, opening your eyes the smallest bit to see him sitting on the edge of the bed.

“hi.” you mumble.

“hi.” he coos, exaggerating his voice to sound sickly sweet.

you grab his hand from off your waist and hold it close.

“got you medicine, open up.” he says while grabbing the medicine with his free hand.

you open and he pulls you up slightly, placing the pill in your mouth.

next he grabs the water he brought you and places it to your lips, watching you sip at it.

“good girl. lay down now, okay? see you soon.” he mumbles kissing your forehead and standing from his spot on the bed.

“bye suki.” you smile before rolling over and hugging one of his his pillows close to your chest.

he finishes getting ready before leaving his room and walking alongside kirishima to class.

“hey man! where’s yn?” kirishima greets him, giving him a high five.

“sick in bed.” katsuki grumbles.

“wow. how are you ever gonna get through the day without her?” kaminari pipes in to tease katsuki.

“shut the fuck up, at least i pull.” katsuki grumbles.

kaminaris jaw drops in shock and offence.

“damn. way harsh.” kirishima says, trying not to let his laugh slip through.

the three of them continue to bicker as they walk into class.

“hey, aizawa!” kaminari cheers to his teacher.

aizawa grumbles in response, too tired to respond.

kaminari and kirishima go to take their seats while katsuki stops at aizawas desk.

“what.” he groans.

katsuki huffs, annoyed.

“yns not coming today.” he replies.

aizawa raised a brow in question.

“why?” he frowns, untrusting.

“she’s sick.” katsuki answers, and starts to walk over to his desk, not caring enough about his response.

aizawa huffs at his rudeness but starts to teach the class anyway.

a couple periods go by without you and katsuki’s trying to keep his cool. he knows you need your rest but he misses you.

the period before lunch is when you call.

he steps outside to take it, despite aizawas protests.

“hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, remembering telling you to only call for emergencies.

“kats- katsuki.” you say through your sobs.

“hey baby. what’s going on?” he says, trying to keep you calm.

“it hurts. it hurts so bad i cant-” you whisper through groans of pain.

“what hurts? what do you need?”

“my stomach. i threw up and i think there’s more. i need you. need you so bad.” you whine, more sobs following.

“i know it hurts, sweetness. can you wait until lunch?” he asks, tone still soothing.

you whine and whimper through sobs and gasps.

“i cant. i cant do it. i need you so bad, please katsu.” you beg, clutching your stomach.

“i’m on my way, baby. just try to breathe through it, okay? cryings only makin it worse.” he says and you agree before ending the call.

he walks back into class and aizawas frowning, arms crossed over his chest.

he grabs his bag and heads out the class without speaking, aizawa yelling behind him.

“i don’t get paid enough for this.” he grumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose.

katsuki speed walks to his dorm, opening his door to see that you’re not in bed.

“yn??” he calls out before hearing the sounds of you throwing up.

heading into his bathroom he finds you curled up in a ball on the cool floor, hand reaching to flush the toilet.

you have tears streaming down your face rapidly, gasping for air and shaking.

“oh baby.” he frowns.

you turn your head towards him shakily, tears starting to stream down your face once more.

he watches you hand reaching towards him through trembles.

sitting next to you on the floor of his bathroom he opens his arms, taking your outstretched hand.

you whimper, crawling towards him onto his lap.

feeling his hands come up under your shirt to draw shapes on your back you release a deep exhale.

“what happened? hm?” he mumbles in your ear, pressing a kiss to your temple.

you nuzzle your face in his neck and shrug before bringing your head back up to look at him.

his eyes soften at your teary ones.

“i hate this.” you frown, pout on your lips.

he hums, lifting his hand to brush across your face and tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

you kiss his open palm before laying your head on his chest.

“can we go have a nap?” you ask timidly.

he doesnt respond but stands with you still in his arms.

as the two of you lay down together he whispers praise and soothing affirmations to calm you.

his hands caressing your thighs and back, sometimes coming up to massage your shoulders lightly.

“mmmm love you.”you mumble sleepily.

“love you, sweet girl.”

ON MY KNEES

made by bloodybeni

Title: Loving Suffocation.

A Continuation Of This Piece.

Written for a very lovely, very indulgent anonymous commissioner.

Pairing: Yandere!Loid x Reader x Yandere!Yor (SxF).

Word Count: 4k.

TW: Non/Con, AFAB!Reader, Slight Somnophilia, Spanking, Sex Toys, Breeding, Mentions of Pregnancy, Medical Malpractice, Oral Sex, Obsessive Behavior, Slight Gaslighting, Bruising/Marking, and Overstimulation.

You never did get to see your opera. A lack of oxygen turned your cramped world blurry and abstract, and you faded in and out of consciousness while Yor fussed over your ruined dress and gathered you up in her arms, the strip of fabric she’d tied around your neck and stuffed in your mouth – not quite a gag, but enough to convince your uncooperative vocal cords that calling for help wouldn’t be worth the effort. Sometime between being pulled against Yor’s chest and slipping out of that sex-saturated storage closet, you blinked and by the time you could find the strength to open your eyes again, you were in your apartment, in your own bed, your makeshift gag gone and your wrists bound  behind your back with a generous amount of duct tape. You briefly considered calling for help, but you were past the point of screaming. Even if you tried, the Forgers were your only neighbors close enough to hear, and you’d seen enough of enough of that family for a lifetime.

Just as exhaustion began to overwhelm your better judgement, you caught stifled footsteps in the near distance, heard the door to your bedroom creak open and shut with enough force to shake the drywall. This time, when you closed your eyes, it was in a deliberate effort to will yourself to sleep. An effort that was, of course, rendered futile by Yor’s hand on your forehead, a soft hum too tender to be purposefully deceptive. “I think they might be asleep. The poor thing could barely hold their eyes open.”

“That’s fine.” Instantly, your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach. He spoke quietly, keeping his voice low and airy, but even in worst dreams, Loid seemed to be able to carve out a place for himself. It made sense for him to make an appearance in this nightmare, too. “Can you show me where the damage is?”

You held your breath as Yor’s hand drifted from your face to your thigh. After a moment of hesitation, she nudged you onto your back, pulling the ragged remains of your skirt up to your waist. You fought not to bolt up as cold air washed over your exposed, abused cunt – not to ball your fists as you felt Loid’s narrowed eyes pry into you the way they always seemed to when you passed each other in the hall, when he got home before you could find a reason to get out of the Forgers’ suffocating apartment. You managed to hold yourself still as he clicked his tongue, edging that much closer to the foot of your bed. You could picture him leaning over you, perfectly styled blonde hair falling ever so slightly out of place as he took long, agonizing seconds to evaluate the bruises lining the inside of your thighs, the crescent-shaped marks Yor’s nails had left pressed in your hips, your waist. Calloused fingertips brushed over your ankle, but further restraint was deemed unnecessary as his attention shifted back to his wife. “And you said you found them…?”

“Unconscious,” she filled in. You could hear her shifting her weight, feigning concern as her husband evaluated you. “In front of our building. I tried to wake them up, but they panicked, and I remembered the treatment you told me about for—for hysteria.” She paused, swallowed. “I thought I could help, but I’m afraid I might’ve just made things worse…”

Loid’s response was delayed, put off in favor of inching that much closer to you. The mattress dipped as he rested a knee on the foot of your bed. Don’t move, you repeated to yourself, despite the ever-growing urge to get up and run gnawing violently at the back of your mind. If you pretended to be asleep, you’d only have to tolerate a few minutes of his attention before he got tired of leering at your conscious body. If you pretended to be asleep, they’d leave and you could start to forget this ever happened.

It got harder to be so rational as he reached out, running two fingers over your slit and splitting apart the lips of your pussy, giving himself a better view of your abused clit, your entrance – still pitifully drooling slick. You tried to remember what kind of doctor he was, but any specialties that might’ve come to mind were immediately forgotten as his gloved fingers slipped inside of you. You had to bite back a quiet hiss as he scissored open the sore walls of your cunt, his touch probing and experimental. At least Yor had the decency not to draw it out. “You reacted swiftly and efficiently. Even trained paramedics leave residual damage.” He drew back suddenly, and you fought not to jolt at his callousness. “Can you show me what exactly your…” He trailed off. You could practically hear the curiosity in his voice. “…your treatment entailed?”

Yor made a noise you couldn’t decipher. Loid moved away from you entirely, but Yor was quick to take his place. She settled into the space between your legs, her hands – shaking ever so slightly – taking up your hips, her fingertips near-perfectly aligned with the dark bruises pressed into your skin. You felt her breath ghost over the inside of your thighs, the flat of her tongue run gingerly over your slit, and you bolted upward on instinct, mouth open and ready to—

—ready to have your scream stifled and suffocated by Loid’s palm as he forced his hand over your mouth and shoved you back into the mattress. Unable to claw at his arm, to pry him off of you, you thrashed under his steadfast hold, but he didn’t seem to pay you any mind. Rather, his eyes met yours for all of half a second before flickering to his wife, sparing her a slight nod. “Patients usually react with some level of resistance. You can go on.”

Yor’s eyes widened, but any shock she might’ve felt seemed to melt away at her husband’s assurance. She was more nervous, now that she was performing for an audience rather than assaulting you in the privacy of her chosen hideaway, but the little, tentative movements of her tongue got braver over time, her eyes closing as her hands drifted from your waist to your thighs. She nudged your legs onto her shoulders and latched onto your clit, suckling with just enough force to draw a reaction out of your burnt-out nerves, to leave you trembling and struggling to swallow back pained moans and pathetic whimpers. It hurt – more than anything, it hurt – but she had your body trained, knew just what points to hit to get what she wanted out of you. More than that, your body knew that it wasn’t going to end until she reached her goal, until she had you cumming on her tongue for the— god, how many times would this make? You’d lost track after the first dozen, but even if you hadn’t, it would’ve been impossible to tell, impossible to know what she’d accomplished the first time reality started to blur and consciousness was rendered more of revokable privilege than something you’d ever be capable of holding on to without help. In less than a minute, you were grinding against her tongue involuntarily, the movement of your hips stilted and jerky. You couldn’t have called it a real orgasm, not when any pleasure you could’ve felt was so overshadowed by a searing sort of ache, but Yor seemed satisfied – drawing the back of her hand over her chin as she lifted her head, sending Loid a sheepish smile.

“I just, uh,” she started, drumming her fingers over your thigh. “I just did that until they calmed down. I’m not sure if it helped.”

“I see.” Loid, for his part, failed to let his air of stoic professionalism so much as waver.  “And how many times did the patient reach climax?”

“…thirty?” Yor let out an airy, nervous laugh. “Maybe more. It… It was a little hard to keep track, in the moment.”

“And they’re still so unruly.” He was kind enough to feign concern, to let his tone soften and purse his lips into a thin frown. For a second, you let yourself believe that you’d just stumbled into a bad situation – that he and his wife were under some shared delusion and genuinely thought they might’ve been helping you, but then you caught a spec of crimson on the collar of Yor’s dress out of the corner of your eye and thought better of trying to humanize them. “Would you mind if I took a closer look?”

The question was posed to Yor, not you. “Please do, you’re the doctor here,” she spouted, hurrying to get out of Loid’s way. Loid was more hesitant, his palm lingering over your mouth as his eyes found yours. He was cold at the best of times – his expression often hollow when he thought your attention was elsewhere, his touch enough to send a chill down your spine on the rare occasion he found an excuse to put his hands on you – but the look he sent you as he uncovered your mouth was nothing short of frigid. The threat was clear, albeit ambiguous. You had no idea what Loid was capable of, let alone what extremes he was willing to go to.

But, you knew what Yor could do – you’d caught her in the act.

And you weren’t eager to find out what’d she’d do to you at her husband’s request.

When his hand finally fell away from your mouth, you didn’t make a sound. Rather, you dug your teeth into the inside of your cheek as Loid wrapped an arm around your waist and hauled you onto his lap – his thighs cutting harshly into your stomach. The position was enough to leave your cheeks burning and humiliation tying knots in the back of your throat, but whatever embarrassment you might’ve felt was multiplied ten-fold as his hand ghosted over the buttons lining the back of your dress and your only remaining protective barrier fell away – mutilated fabric now limp and useless beneath you. You started to writhe, but the heel of Loid’s palm found the small of your back, pressing into the base of your spine with just enough force a pained whimper past your lips. Reflectively, Yor moved to reach towards you, but Loid shook his head. “It’s important to test for reactiveness,” he explained, tone flat and steely. “I can take care of bruises and cuts, but lasting nerve damage will make things—” He paused, clicked his tongue. “—difficult.”

“Oh!” Yor clapped her hands together. At least she seemed to sincerely believe that, even if she wasn’t helping you, her husband might be. You couldn’t tell what Loid was thinking, but it couldn’t have been so benevolent. “Is that what you’re doing now? Testing for reactiveness?”

“Exactly.” Loid flashed her a smile. You felt him shift, fish something out of the pocket of his suit jacket. Aching numbness had put you at a distance from his invasive touch before, but Yor’s mouth had done away with that – resurrecting the buzzing sort of hyper-sensitivity that meant you weren’t able to hide the way your hips bucked against his thigh as he slid something sleek and metallic into your drenched pussy. It was oddly shaped – one end tapered and the other flat, small enough to fit in the palm of your hand but still big enough to leave you squirming uncomfortably as Loid pulled back. “Normally, I’d use more intricate equipment, but there are a few experiments I can run on my own.”

You heard nails against metal, a soft click muffled by stiff machinery. After a second of delay, the object inside of you let out an abrupt pulse of pure vibration – harsh and sudden and awful. Your reaction was reflexive, undisguisable. You threw your head forward as you bit back a bubbling, broken moan; waves of intense reverberation beating at the walls of your cunt. There was no time to brace yourself, to grow into the piercing sting – it was already too much. The walls of your pussy clenched around the source of your agony, and before you could think to stifle your reactions, to give them as little as you possibly could, tears were blurring your vision, dripping down your cheeks. Yor cooed, kneeling in front of you and cupping your cheeks. “Poor thing…” she mumbled, before looking up towards Loid. “I don’t think they’re enjoying it.”

Another wave of pulsing reverberation, a jagged cry forced past your lips. “P-please, turn it off, take it out, I can’t—”

It took you a second to process the sound of a palm against flesh, how it might’ve been connected to the bright flash of pain just below the curve of your ass. When you could bring yourself to glance over your shoulder, his hand was raised, his expression stern. The sight was enough to make your heart ache in your chest – a sensitivity which surprised you. You hadn’t thought there was anything the Forgers could do to hurt you more than they already had.

“We’re going out of our way to help you.” It was the same tone he used with Anya when she refused to do her homework or threatened to drop out of her upper-crust academy. Whatever genuine sympathy he might’ve had for you was buried beneath a heavy layer of practiced stoicism and nearly totalitarian authority, turning the words cold where they should’ve been comforting. “It’s unfair to be so ungrateful when Yor’s already sacrificed so much of her time for the sake of your health. Why don’t you apologize to her?”

Again, you heard that same soft click, and the vibrations pulsing out of the object in your cunt doubled in intensity. You let your head fall forward, clenching your eyes shut as you struggled to spit something out. “I… I’m sorry, Yor, I didn’t mean to—”

You were cut off by a sharp moan, the feeling of Loid’s fingers tracing over your slit. Soon, the pad of his thumb found your clit, pushing dull circles into the sensitive bundle of nerves. He let out an airy chuckle as you withered into yourself, your legs spreading involuntarily as your feet struggled to find purchase on carpeting that seemed to be just an inch too far, to ground yourself on something that Loid didn’t even have to try to keep just out of your grasp. “Don’t strain yourself,” he muttered, your unwanted reward for your easy compliance. “How does this—” He pushed a rough pattern into your clit, drawing out a wavering cry. “—feel?”

Miserable. Torturous. The worst thing that’d ever been inflected onto your poor, spent body. You deflated, your chest flattening against Loid’s thighs. “…it hurts.”

This time, he let you finish before pulling back, his palm striking your ass with twice the force he’d used before. You cried out, the noise uneven and anguished, but your pain didn’t seem to rank very high on his nebulous list of concerns. “I’ve already told you not to be so ungrateful,” he said, shaking his head. “Do you know what would’ve happened if we weren’t here to help you?” Another strike, another ragged sob. “You’d be suffering on your own, in excruciating pain and spiraling into your own delusions. If we hadn’t been there to correct you so quickly, you would’ve been unrecoverable.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You were babbling, now, your apologies clumped together and nearly unintelligible. Loid cut in, pointed as ever.

“You’ve already apologized.” Two digits slipped into you, splitting your pussy open. Somehow, the added stimulation only seemed to make his device’s vibration more unbearable. “Now, it’s time to tell Yor how thankful you are.”

“Thank you—” There was no hesitation, no resistance. If you’d been able to, if you hands hadn’t been bound, you would’ve clung to her, dug your nails into her shoulder and your teeth into Loid’s thigh, anything to feel like you weren’t about to fall apart altogether. “Thank you, I’m so— I can’t— Thank you—”

It was Yor, this time – her mouth crashing against yours as her hand found the back of your head. Her tongue slipped past your lips, raking over yours with a ginger sort of tenderness and raking her fingers through your hair, drinking down every little moan and whimper her husband forced out of you with enthusiasm. She lingered there, lips moving gently against yours, as you reached your next climax – the number completely lost on you, now. When she pulled away, eyes glazed over and a dark blush painted over her cheeks, Loid hummed approvingly, fishing his bullet-shaped device out of your pussy and switching it off. Slick dripped down the inside of your thighs, your chest heaving stiltedly against his lap, and you noticed, for the first time, something large and stiff pressing into your stomach. For your own sake, you decided you weren’t going to think about it.

But, like always, Loid was quick to tear even the comfort you found in your own mind away from you.

“You did what you could,” Loid started, with heavy sigh. “But their condition is worse than I thought. It might take more than the usual treatment to set them back on the right path.” A lengthy pause, an arm looped underneath you. With more care than he’d seen fit to show you all night, Loid repositioned you on your back in the center of your bed. You were too exhausted to so much as try to protest. “For cases like this, insemination is the only known cure.”

Yor blinked up at him, more curious than confused. “Insemination?”

“Pregnancy,” Loid filled in. “It can be done artificially, but for cases this severe…”

Your heart dropped into your stomach. Weakly, you tried to sit up, but it was Yor that stopped you, this time, pressing her hand flat against your shoulder and pinning you down effortlessly. “If that’s what’s best,” she chimed, her smile wide and brilliant. “Can I help?”

For the first time, Loid’s expression seemed to warm. “Of course.”

Less than a full minute later, you were slotted against Yor, your head resting on her chest and her arms loosely wrapped around your midriff. Loid had reclaimed his position in the space between your open legs, one hand on your hip and the other toying with his clothes, shifting the waist of his now-wrinkled dress pants down just far enough to free his flush cock – already hard, already leaking pearls of arousal. The sight, paired with the breathy sigh he let out as he wrapped his fist around his shaft, was enough to dash any hopes you might’ve had of a last-minute change of heart.

You squirmed in Yor’s hold, your fists balling around your own near ruined sheets as Loid aligned himself with your entrance. You didn’t realize you were talking until you heard your own voice, fragile and desperate, nearly too broken to be comprehensible. “Please don’t, I—I’m not sick, please don’t—”

It was Yor who hushed you, this time, smiling as she pressed a fleeting kiss into your cheek. “He’s going to help you,” she whispered, tone simpering where you wished it would be sterile. “You can just sit back and relax while we—” She paused, squeezed you against her playfully. “—make sure you’re alright.”

There was a beat of silence, of stillness. Eventually, you managed to stutter out, “I don’t want your help.”

Loid let out an airy chuckle, tracing the flushed tipped of his cock over your slit. “You don’t have to want anything.” He bowed his head, leaning down far enough to rest his lips against the top of your head. “You’ll need all the help you can get, in a few weeks.”

You didn’t have time to protest, not before he thrust into you – sheathing himself to the hilt in a single stroke.

You tried to scream, but Yor’s mouth found yours in a moment, swallowing any fractured noises you might’ve been able to make. Loid didn’t seem interested in giving you time to adjust; immediately falling into a rhythm just as forceful and just as cruel as anything else he’d done to you. It wasn’t a question of if it would hurt, anymore, but how badly. The feeling of his not inconsiderably length splitting open your aching pussy alone was enough to bring tears to your eyes, and his rough thrusts, his shattering pace – all of it only working to agitate the few parts of you that hadn’t already gone numb to his assult. You clenched your eyes shut, willing yourself to go completely numb, but Yor cooed, one of her hands falling away from you only to find its way to the curve of your stomach, her palm soon pressed flat against your skin. “Miss Anya did mention wanting a younger sister,” she muttered, nuzzling into the dip of your shoulder. “It’ll be difficult to hide, ‘till it’s over with. There used to be a single mother working at city hall, but the State Security Service paid her a visit and…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “But I’m sure that won’t be an issue for you!”

“Of course not.” Loid’s voice was breathy, his attention mostly elsewhere. He did his best to stay composed, to maintain that painstakingly professionally air, but you could feel him twitch inside of you, feel his hips stutter as his pace grew that much more brutal. “We’ll be taking care of you. When you start to show, you’ll move in with us, and—” A groan, a pair of tired eyes allowed to close. “—and if you cooperate, we’ll make it so you don’t have to worry about anything aside from the baby. Any added stress will only make the pregnancy more difficult.”

Loid’s hips pressed against yours, Yor’s mouth on the curve of your neck. “Our little family is growing so quickly.” You could feel her grin against your throat, fangs ready to clamp down at the first sign of resistance. “I can’t wait until you’re better. You’ll be so happy, when you’re in your right mind again.”

Your mouth fell open, but anything you might’ve said died in your throat long before it could ever reach your tongue. There was no pleasure to it, no stimulation other than the same grating sensation and the pinpoints of pressure where Loid’s fingertips dug into your waist, but if your comfort mattered to Loid, he would’ve stopped as soon as he saw what his wife did to you. He cursed under his breath, throwing his hand forward and hauling your rigid body that much closer to his. You didn’t have a chance to brace yourself, to trick your pain-addled mind into believing there was anything you could possibly do to get away from him before he went still, something thick and searing flooding into your unprotected cunt. He lingered there, his cum leaking out of you despite your pussy’s futile attempts to cling to his cock, and for the first time, you let yourself think about what they were taking about – insemination, pregnancy, growing families and new siblings. You let yourself acknowledge the weight of Yor’s hand against your stomach, Loid’s hips against yours. You let yourself breath in, holding the air in your lungs for a moment before exhaling and going limp against Yor.

Fuck.

If you never saw the Forgers again, it’d still be a day too soon.

Yor started to pull away from you, but Loid stopped her. “Conception can be fickle,” he started, fighting not to pant audibly. “It’d be for the best if we were…” His eyes dropped to you. “…thorough.”

“Do you hear that?” Her hold grew that much tighter, her smile that much brighter. Her lips ghosted over the shell of your ear. The feeling might’ve sent a chill down your spine, if you still had the strength to be afraid of them.

“Loid’s going to take very good care of you.”

big bro sukuna because im a sucker for sibling au

Part 2

This is so sweet. I love Katsuki so much

You’re slow dancing in the living room with Bakugou one night. It’s later than he’s typically up, but neither of you could really sleep, and found yourselves in each others arms. His head rests on top of yours, and your feet are on top of his, as he gently waltzes you two around the room. You sigh into the naked skin of his chest, feel his heartbeat beneath your ears, kiss the scar on his skin.

“I love you so much.” You whisper, eyes fluttering shut. You can feel the breath Bakugou takes in, deep and shuddering. He’s quiet for a moment, as he sways you left and right, before answering,

“I love you too,” he tells you truthfully. You blink a couple of times, biting at your bottom lip to quell the emotions that always bubble up when it comes to him and your love. Why is it always so overwhelming?

“So much it makes my heart hurt, actually.” You confess quietly, squeezing him a bit tighter to you. He does the same, skims his mouth across your hairline as he takes in the smell of your shampoo.

“Mine too.” He mirrors you, makes you wanna hold him tighter until he combusts in your arms, the flames of his flesh taking you out with him. But all you can do in the moment is bite gently at his pec.

“Don’t ever leave me, okay?” You warn him, finally pulling away enough to look up at him. Bakugou frowns at you, eyes flickering between the wet stain and your teeth imprints on his chest, and up to your eyes that shine with vulnerability. He stares at you for another few beats before kissing your forehead.

“I would never.” He says, and he sound so sure. So sure that he’d never fall out of love with you. So sure that he’d never find anything better. So sure that he will escape death every time. So sure that he’ll come back to you, even if it has to be in pieces. So sure that his heart will forever beat to the rhythm of your name, sure that you will forever be apart of him.

“You’ll never catch me crying or begging for a man.” You stick your chin up to him in defiance, but he sees it wobble anyway. “But if you ever leave me, I don’t think I’d survive it. Don’t leave me.” Your voice gets soft, pleading, and you find him wiping away tears you hadn’t known escaped.

“I won’t.” Bakugou tells you, seriously, as he goes from holding your waist to your cheeks so that you can’t look away from him. “I wont I wont I wont.”

“Tell me you love me again.” You demand from him almost immediately, and he answers you just as quickly.

“I love you.” He doesn’t hesitate, confesses so surely, that your eyes flutter at the sound. You bring his face to yours until his mouth skims your own, whispering against it,

“One more time?” You plead, and he obliges you. He always does.

“I love you I love you I love you.” And he kisses you and kisses you and kisses you until you’re breathless and giggling, leaving behind the world around you. All you have is him, and you’re sure that he’s all you need.

Fractalize (part 1)

Title: Fractalize

Fandom: Hunter x Hunter

Summary: Lack of hope creates a strange kind of numbness.

Word count: 3700+

Characters: Chrollo x Reader (female)

Notes: yandere Chrollo, kidnapped, depressed and miserable Reader, Reader is dissociating a lot, morbid pondering, suicidal thoughts, explicit/triggering language/words, Reader's thoughts on possible sexual assault in future. Part 2

Fractalize - making things into smaller copies of themselves over and over again.

Sometimes you stand in front of a mirror and try to picture yourself in another timeline. One where your life didn’t take this specific turn. You try to imagine a different setting, a different apartment - perhaps the one you had before Chrollo started moving you around like a luggage bag. Maybe living in a cottage by the sea or an old farmhouse. Someplace rural, peaceful. With a garden and fresh air, far away from the city noises.

It's difficult at first, your reflection keeps slipping through your mental fingers every time you think the image is set in place. But with practice it becomes easier, sort of, so you can now see yourself clearly as you brush your hair - not here.

A blue dress on, made for nights at parties with friends. Laughing until your stomach hurts and eyes become sore. Making silly faces over alcoholic beverages. Or you can wear your favourite jeans with a high waist and head out to the pub, the same one with crooked stools and a broken sign. Drink cheep bear, eat greasy peanuts from a little bowl, listen to some small band play unknown and unheard songs.

Leave intoxicated, and everything is too fast and vibrant and wonderful until you're back home.

It's your favourite pastime now: imagine, remake and slip.

Imagine. Remake. Slip.

You don't quite remember the last time you laughed, a month ago maybe. Maybe more. Lack of hope creates a strange kind of numbness, dull, cold, you would compare it to a winter plastered all over your insides, but it's almost colder than that. It freezes everything and turns it into icicles hanging off the roof.

Remake, slip.

You have new vocabulary now.

"Mm" - is for when he asks you if you like a dress or a top and it doesn't matter how you actually feel about it, because it's going to end up being worn anyway.

"Okay" - is for when Chrollo sets another fancy meal for you on a dinner table and "Eat, don't be shy".

"I'm not hungry" - doesn't work with him, even if it's the truth. You always eat what's put in front of you, that's the rule, because he's not above shoving the spoon into your mouth, so you spare yourself the tears and sobs that will probably come with that. It's so bizarre: how much effort he puts into keeping you alive when you're anything but.

"Whatever you want" - is for when he asks you something that requires a choice, between two or three options usually. He's not one for an extensive list.

"If you say so" - for everything else.

You used to delude yourself with the idea that if you managed to appear pleasant enough, pleasant-talking, pleasant-listening, smiling a bit here and there, it would gain you some privileges and perhaps a bit more freedom. It did. But never where it really mattered. Those little things were absolutely inconsequential in the grand scheme. Yes, you can have that sweater, dear. No, you can't have your own bed. Yes, you can come shopping with me, if you give me a kiss. No, you can't take walks without me holding your hand.

Yes this and no that.

Those moments were fragile and so very takeable that they didn't give you any sense of accomplishment, just a short respite and bitter aftertaste that made you feel pathetic.

Wasn't worth it.

***

"Do you like animals, dear?" Chrollo asks out of the blue one day. He's reading something on his tablet while you're curled up on the couch, watching TV.

It's a new series that's been on the major channels for a few weeks, a mystery drama about a girl who moves into a house she inherited from her grandfather. The picture provides a distraction enough to have you forgetting where you are for a brief period three times a week.

You pull the blanket higher. "I do."

He knows it.

The girl on the screen finds a mysterious box hidden in the attic. Perhaps there's something valuable inside. Or information about her grandpa; your fingers tug on a loose blanket thread without much thought.

"What kind?"

Or maybe it's just a time capsule with photos and postcards and random objects collected over the years.

Or-

You had a cat before he took you. A foster grey ragdoll with blue eyes who liked to rest on your belly and bump her head against your chin. You called her Miss Whiskerton and kissed her little nose, because she did act like a proper lady - poised, dignified and entirely too proud to eat food mixed with medicine. The worst enemy Miss Whiskerton has ever had in her cat life was the corner of your couch. When you weren't paying attention, she would dig her claws into the fabric and leave thin lines. You hope that someone took her in.

She probably thought you abandoned her.

"Cats."

Chrollo hums in acknowledgment and continues scrolling through whatever he's looking at - maybe news or auction listings, you don't know nor do you really care. You shift under the blanket, pulling your legs closer to your body.

"We can get one, if you'd like."

"No."

Your answer is immediate and short, without thinking. You know it, you know him by now - there's nothing Chrollo does out of spontaneous generosity, it always benefits him in some way. And you've studied him enough to figure that any pet would only be a tool to keep you tamed and compliant. Puppies make life better. Happier, lighter, with goofy smiling faces and wiggling tails. Cats make life better with soft purrs and paws stomping on your chest. They're too easy to love.

"Why not?" There's a sound of tablet set on a wooden surface.

The girl on the screen is trying to solve a combination lock on the box when the TV switches off and your little world of carefully shot scenes and scripted lines vanishes. You don't need to turn around to guess where's the remote.

She almost had it, but now you won't know what's inside until Thursday evening.

Your reflection stares back from the dead screen, blank-faced and with a blanket pulled up your nose. It tickles a bit. "Because I don't want one."

A chair creaks. "Why?"

You close your eyes shut for a moment before opening them again. This is tiring. Always probing, digging, pushing. Trying to find chinks in your armor, but all you're wearing is just a flimsy dress with thin straps and a blanket you wish could swallow you whole.

"Don't need it."

"You said you like animals," Chrollo sits next to you and places a hand on top of your covered legs. He squeezes your thigh and you stare ahead, wishing he would just leave you alone tonight.

"I do." Your fingers twitch under the blanket, nails scratching at the fabric.

Strange. Sometimes it feels like he understands perfectly that you want to be alone, have time for yourself and don't want his constant physical presence. At the same time Chrollo brushes this all aside like old tin foil wrappers - insignificant. He pulls the blanket down and you cling on it stubbornly for a few seconds before letting go. His thumb and index finger grasp your chin and turn your face towards him so you have no choice but to meet his eyes.

There's such still intensity within him that made your skin crawl whenever he looked at you with this much focus and attention. You don't know what he saw there most times, it used to be fear or anger or sadness - right now it's none of these things. Everything inside you feels jammed and stiff.

"We should get a fish then," he continues, brushing hair out of your forehead. "You can watch it swim around, wouldn't that be nice?"

Chrollo talks to you like this sometimes, as if you're a child who needs to be convinced to eat veggies or take medicine. Like you're simple-minded and he's reasoning with you out of good will. It's sickening. You hate it.

"I don't want a pet," you repeat the words slowly. "If you're going to give me something only to take it away, then I don't want it."

His finger leisurely stroking your chin pauses at the edge of your bottom lip. Something flickers behind his eyes, it's barely noticeable but you've become good at catching those minuscule shifts. He smiles, yet there's nothing joyful about it. "Take it away? Why would I do that, dear?"

"Because that's what you do. Because that's how you are." You don't try to pull free from his hold, he'll only tighten it; not enough to hurt, no, he is too suave and polished for that - or wants to appear so - but enough for you to feel trapped under his palm.

There's something off about you, you can tell, but are not quite able to discern what or where. It sits in the very structure of your bones and eats away with ravenous appetite. An imbalance in the gut. Fever-warm body, cold fingers. Thoughts like potholes.

"And how am I exactly, according to you?" His voice is light, playful, a stark contrast to his eyes that study you with unnerving precision. Chrollo rarely loses his temper and never gets violent with you (yet, you correct yourself), but he has other ways of expressing displeasure, and they're petty, ugly and cold.

"Cruel," the word rolls off your tongue so effortlessly that almost frightens you; it's easy to tell the truth when you're this numb.

He looks taken aback for a split second, and the smile freezes. His hand stops midway to your hair. Then everything's gone.

Chrollo releases you and leans back into the cushions, almost thoughtful, like your observation is something that requires careful consideration.

"I suppose, it depends," he says finally.

"On what?"

"On how you choose to see things. Your perspective is bound to be biased, dear."

You don't respond.

To continue this conversation would be pointless and circular, like running on a treadmill, like everything else between you and Chrollo, really. He simply has too many answers to any possible argument, and no matter how convincing you manage to make them sound, he'll poke holes into each one. You don't want a fish. Or a cat. Or a dog, a bird, anything that moves and breathes and looks at you with big, trusting eyes.

Chrollo is cruel. Not in a way that's straightforward and brutal. Not in a way of someone who'd tear your limbs apart or rip off a fly's wing to see it wiggle. You have no doubt that he is capable of such a thing, but that would be uncouth. Cruelty in his case is a quieter, more delicate affair - in a way of a sculptor who'd chisel off everything unnecessary and unneeded, no matter the size or significance, to produce something entirely his.

His hands are soft, his voice is always composed, and he wears well tailored clothes. But the rest is sharp, clean and merciless.

"I think I'll go to bed," you say and push away the blanket.

"It's early."

"Mm."

He takes your hand just as you're about to slide off the sofa. Chrollo's always faster than you, always ahead and always observing, and that little realization while bitter is not so shocking anymore, more like another fact that you file away from your interactions.

You watch him. Wait.

"You're distraught," he says. "But you should know by now that there's no need for that."

Your hand remains in his grasp, limp and heavy.

"I don't enjoy seeing you upset, dear. Even more if you make false conclusions."

You turn to see the expression on his face - and there isn't one, at least not the type that most people would make. There are no frowning eyebrows, no clenched jaw that would indicate irritation, nothing like that.

"You're giving me too little credit," his tone is quiet as he runs his fingers up and down your wrist. "My intentions are not to hurt you. They are much, much sweeter than that."

"But you would," you say quietly and lean closer, ignoring the obvious implication behind his words. There is a hollow sensation inside of your head that prompts you to speak, everything is hollow - body and mind, heart, the space in your guts, your throat. "You would hurt me, if that's what you thought was necessary. Rip me apart and leave me deformed beyond repair, to fit into whatever framework you've laid, you would do that."

You're not being deliberately cryptic or fatalistic. These are your observations, based on a period of months spent together. They take root in no one being there for you anymore, in your phone which is long gone, in your closed accounts, your missing laptop and old clothes, the entire previous life in the city that has been discarded for something new. Chrollo was very methodical, you can give him that.

He doesn't listen, he studies your responses. Every single word. He has a talent for that, for absorbing everything about you while hardly ever letting you glimpse his interior - all that you know about him are tiny slivers which you picked up through living together, observation, accidental bits.

You expect him to contradict your statement, to offer a logical explanation why you're wrong, but instead Chrollo brings your hand to his lips and presses a kiss against your knuckles. The touch is light and dry.

"You're not entirely wrong, dear," he says and moves closer until you can smell his aftershave, something fresh.

His proximity is uncomfortable, it always is and probably always will be.

"I'm right then," you say.

"No," he keeps your hand in his grasp. "But you're not entirely wrong either. That's what makes you interesting."

There's a strange kind of fondness in his voice, it's subtle, yet undeniably present. You've never felt less interesting in your life, in a dress with thin straps that's too fancy for a lazy day at home and your bare feet and tangled hair.

"If you say so," you respond and slowly tug your hand free. "I really want to sleep now."

You get up, and he lets you go without another proposition. The blanket falls off onto the sofa, and before you slip into the semi-darkness of the bedroom, he says,

"Not beyond repair. But I like to believe we can both agree it doesn't have to come to that."

***

The drive feels endless. Houses and streets blur in a mix of colors, shapes and people, which soon change to an empty highway with greenery on both sides. Trees and fields, tall grass swaying gently in the wind and rare cars passing you by. Chrollo's hand is resting on your leg; he hasn't moved it since the car started, but you choose to ignore it in favor of your regular pastime, the one that's made of imaginary worlds and places where the timeline stretches differently.

Mostly it's just you and the layout of your fake apartment.

Imagine, remake, slip. Repeat the steps until it becomes muscle memory.

You have this daydream on loop now. Wooden floor and wide windows, lots of sunlight. Books everywhere, comfy clothes and not a single skirt in your closet. A cup of tea with honey in the morning, and Miss Whiskerton curled into a soft grey ball on your lap. You feed her salmon in a shiny bowl, occasionally she catches a lizard outside and drops the tail on your doorstep as an offering, looking immensely proud of herself.

A smile slips on your face without meaning to, a wobbly thing; you promptly wipe it off.

It would be a crime to show such blatant joy. This fantasy has become so sweetly personal that every fiber of your being resists even acknowledging it in front of Chrollo. He can sense a stray happy thought from miles away, like a hound, and will never stop prodding until everything is raw and tender. You've learned to say less in his presence, especially if it's something that has you invested. Chrollo knows how to pick things apart.

You lean your cheek against the glass. This world would never happen, never in a million years, but dreaming doesn't hurt anyone, does it?

Your grandma, wearing an apron, sets a tray filled with fresh pastries on a table, because she's amazing like that. She fusses and worries and pretends to scold you. For not calling enough, for not coming sooner, for not eating well. For leaving.

"Dear."

You almost jump.

Chrollo's voice brings you back where his hand is heavy on your leg, you're wearing a dress above the knee and aren't allowed to use scissors or knives.

"Mm?"

"That frown of yours," he says, turning into a small road. The surroundings change again, it's quiet here, not a soul in sight. "It's been there for fifteen minutes now."

You sit up straight and move your hair out of your eyes. Chrollo's a perceptive one, so this is a reminder not to sink too deep around him, unless you absolutely need it.

"Was just thinking."

"You do it a lot lately," he states and looks at you from the corner of his eye.

True, but you have no intention to confirm it. First, he won't like the reason behind these thoughts. Second, he will dig and try to worm his way in. No. Most of what you've been fixating on, staring out of the window like a mindless drone, or reading and rereading pages that you barely grasped, would fail to create anything more complex in his heart than desire to pull it out.

For whatever twisted reason, Chrollo cares for your well-being, or, more precisely, your acceptance of his advances. Yet his way of caring isn't nurturing in any sense.

Chrollo's interest (you don't dare call it love) is crushing, too heavy to carry - he'll find what troubles you and "fix it" in way that will twist it into something pathetic. Something that shows how you have nothing else to cling on but him. You're not stupid enough to keep falling into this trap. Being a slow learner doesn't mean you don't learn at all.

He's done it before. He'll do it again. So you reply, "I haven't noticed."

His thumb rubs circles on your thigh; you press your shoulder against the car door as if hoping it might open. It doesn't, much to your disappointment.

"What was on your mind then?"

Something you shouldn't tell him, that's for sure. Chrollo's watching you, even if his eyes are trained on the road.

"Random stuff," you say. Half-truths, half-truths are safe. "A weird dream I had this morning."

If you bothered to look, you'd see a raised eyebrow and the faintest hint of amusement at the corners of his mouth. You don't.

"Tell me."

You hate when he does that.

"It was boring."

"I'm interested in anything that made you so pensive."

Chrollo likes conversations with you, even if they're short. You can tell that he does, or he wouldn't be trying to make you talk and getting subtly frustrated when you choose not to. It never shows outright, Chrollo is very gifted at keeping his calm exterior, but there are certain giveaways like the slight tightening of his hand, an emphasized "dear", a pause here, or a quiet exhale through the nose. You could make a list out of these.

If you ignore him, he gets quiet and handsy or petty enough to throw away the only dress you feel comfortable in. Stop bringing you new books. Take you to places you hate.

It's always the small things that kill you, not the big, dramatic ones. The devils in the details.

"There was a lizard," you begin, and he hums in response, prompting you to continue. "It was cute with brown spots and a tiny tail."

Lies weave themselves easily, intertwine with truths and turn it into something that resembles a story.

"It was sitting on my windowsill and I wanted to pet it. A cat came out of nowhere and almost ate it, then I woke up. It's a silly dream."

There. Nothing to dissect here, not that you can see. Just a nonsensical dream, filled with random happenings and strange emotions.

"And that's why you frowned for fifteen minutes?"

"Yes, I got sad."

Yes, you think. Yes, Chrollo. I frowned, because I care for the damn lizard that doesn't exist, an animal from a dream. A stupid musing, nothing special, a very mundane and simple thing, because people do have silly dreams sometimes, and it's not a crime. It's not a crime and has nothing to do with that fact that I have a whole dream world where I'm not with you in my head.

"How peculiar. You never struck me as the type to get upset over something like this."

"You never asked," you respond flatly and Chrollo's hand on your thigh moves an inch.

It brushes up, closer to where you really, really don't want it to be, so you squeeze his fingers hard and redirect them to the curve of your knee.

"True," he says after a pause, not sounding too bothered. A month ago you would've brushed his hand off completely, probably that's why. Chrollo is convinced that with enough patience and effort he'll be able to close that final barrier between you both. Time, coaxing, a dose or two of endearment, some carefully calculated touch - but you'd rather stick a knife through your ribs than have sex with him. Or his patience will simply run out and he'll rape you. You're not delusional. Not a fool. "Well, that can be fixed. I'll make sure to ask about your dreams more often, dear."

You lean back into the seat and stare ahead, this time without anything pleasant on your mind. Of course he will. Of course he'll take this as a sign to dig deeper and invade that small bit of solace, Chrollo can't simply co-exist. He wants it all.

"Mm," you say.

Your new vocabulary is such a handy thing.

all I can think about is Viking!Bakugo, his family sets up an arranged marriage but he hates the idea, he prefers to be chief of his own village with no support and be able to do it all alone to prove his family wrong. As soon as his fiancé turns up, he sees you and all thoughts leave his head as he sees how pretty you are and how all eyes are drawn to you as they all thinking the same thing. He notes how standoffish you are and how you look like a born leader from the way you stare back at his villagers. He immediately falls for you and tries to court you in his own ways, giving you the best pelts, catching the biggest food and weaving bracelets with the brightest colours. 🫡🫡🫡🫠🫠🫠🫠

WAITING FOR YOU [10.5K]

— viking!bakugou katsuki x reader

SYNOPSIS: your new fiancé is ruthless, rude and stupidly gorgeous. after being forced into an engagement with him to keep peace between your villages, you need to find some way to get along or at least come to an understanding. it happens quicker than you think once you catch him bathing in his private lake.

WARNINGS: minors dni, 18+ scenes, female reader, princess/honey pet names, chief’s daughter, arranged marriage, fiancés, enemies to lovers, misunderstandings, handjob, fingering (f), face sitting (f), outdoors but private, yn has hair long enough to be in a bun.

NOTES: i think it is very funny that when i started answering this ask i apologised that i really enjoy this idea but i don’t think i would be able to bring it to life. 10000 words later and i think something is alive and kicking lmao thank u for sending this to me and i even did a little viking research for certain words but certainly do not take this as gospel lol defo viking old fashioned violent cottagecore aspects with modern day dialogue. i hope everyone who reads this enjoys because i spent a lot of time on this! i am realising all my au!bkg fics are all very long because so much more background is required before we get into the smut lol ANYWAY yeah thank u user titantears!

bakugou katsuki is the chief of his village, the leader of his army and your new fiancé. 

you’ve heard everyone talk about how what’s his is yours and yours is his. that’s what marriage is, two people coming together in unity but your marriage with this brute beast of a man feels anything but that. nothing is yours. you’ve moved to his village, living in his home, eating his food and adapting to his way of life. you can’t even say he is yours, in fact you wouldn’t be surprised to find out he hates you since he does everything to prove he does but say the words. at least you’ve got a beautiful shiny ring on your finger that you spend more time admiring than really understanding what it means. you’re tied to this stranger forever.

one thing you and the great bakugou katsuki have in common is that you’re both forced to marry each other. an arranged marriage between two wealthy chiefs of their villages. this chief in question is bakugou’s father although he is rarely seen around these days due to old age and bakugou stepping up in his place. your marriage arrangement is just a pact so both villages don’t invade the other and giving your life to this man makes it all worth it for the survival of your people.

you have seperate bedrooms. you have to see him for breakfast and dinner, his only term and condition. he’s somewhat civil when you eat, but all too soon conversations become snappy, leaving you to storm off and him clanging his utensils against his plate.

“so… what are your plans today?”

“nothing.”

bakugou grunts before silence takes over the room.

he tries again, “nothing at all?”

“there’s nothing here for me to do. why do you care?”

“you talk like your heads up your ass,” he snarls.

you fake a gasp, “just like you then?”

the most tender moment you could place so far was when you had to stand beside him when you were announced his fiancé to his people. the warrior that is often described as ruthless could barely look you in the eye, which shocked you to no end, though when he whispered softly, “i’m gonna hold your hand. is that okay?” it’s like you were doused with a warm blanket after a cold day. you locked eyes with him for a second before whispering, “yes.” his people won’t stop talking about this moment, or how it came across to them.

though that moment is long forgotten the next day when you land the last word in another bicker with bakugou in front of his whole army. you know you shouldn’t have been out here but the best thing about your new fiancé was that he was easy on the eyes. so easy that if you didn’t have one of his servants poking you to get changed or to eat up or to do something, you’d be drooling all over yourself just watching him. this led to you sitting and watching him be a dickhead to his army, shouting at them to work harder, be faster, and to, if it was even possible, be more violent. his vulgarity should make it easier to snap your gaze away from him when he turns to face you though it doesn’t. he’s dressed in tight black cloths, chunky silver jewellery around his neck and always, your pupils drift to the silver band around his finger. the item that connects you both together. he’s dressed casually compared to his warriors who are doused in layers of chest and leg armour, you know it’s another way to prove he’s better than them all, that whilst training them he doesn’t need it. though a sharp curved axe that looks heavy to look at hangs by his waist as a threat. he doesn’t scare you though, especially with how attractive you find the hoop piercings littering his ears and the expensive stolen bracelets across his arms.

he bites at you, face like a sour lemon, “why the fuck are you out here? isn’t there somethin’ you can be doin’ indoors?”

“what is with you and telling me to do something? can’t i just watch you work?”

“it’s not interestin’ and it’s unsafe for you,” he’s annoyed, barking an order at one of his warriors right after.

you think the only thing that’s unsafe is the way he makes you feel when he gets too close, you know your skin is too hot to touch. you notice his warriors staring at him, confused at how he is yet to raise his voice at you and how you’re so okay with being beside him.

“how is it unsafe being around the people who’re supposed to keep our village safe, fiancé?” you taunt and he narrows his eyes at you.

bakugou bends his back to whisper in your ear, lips almost brushing your skin. “my men work so hard they barely see women, let alone ones as beautiful as you. you bein’ here is addin’ an extra distraction and job on my list.”

your breath hitches at the compliment, whispering, “distraction for them or you?”

bakugou doesn’t want to admit it yet he’s rising to his full height and ignoring the smell of baked goods that linger off your clothes. “both. now fuck off.”

“you need to learn some people skills if you want to have a wife, bakugou. you’re acting like a prick.”

bakugou rolls his eyes dramatically, tired of this conversation with you. his soldiers are watching the interaction intensely. they’ve never seen bakugou act anything but strict and merciless, usually solving his problems with violence. they definitely haven’t seen him blush in annoyance from a woman. 

“i’ve never heard that one before, good job. now remove yourself before i do it myself.”

you bite your tongue, deciding to give up with this one though you can’t help but wonder how it must feel to get manhandled and thrown over his shoulder.

“you won’t see me at dinner,” you shout over at him, walking away.

“i definitely will, princess.”

he did end up seeing you, dragging you from your room over his shoulder and plopping you in the dining room.

occasionally, you catch him watching you and he doesn’t look away. his fiery eyes are steady on your body with a frown you can’t translate. you’d be brushing your hands through the flowers landscaped across his home while he sits with the other higher members of his army. he scrunches his nose, his head resting in his palm. he’s gorgeous with his wheat blonde locks and scar through his eyebrow. his bicep is the size of your head and you’re perfectly aware of how easy it would be for him to pick you up and throw you around. bakugou doesn’t turn away when you frown back at him, only when one of his excited army members prods a finger at a map does his attention shift before a bubble of laughter floods from them. you think your fiancé is the butt of the joke from the way his red spreads all across his neck.

your new relationship is rocky, filled with tension and pure impatience. 

at least you’re lucky your family chose a handsome fiancé for you. you watch from afar when thick mighty legs and ass step into the bakugou private lake to bathe. his strong shoulders with more muscles than you thought were possible on a human and a large beautiful figure. bakugou is all wide shoulders and tiny waist, scars and slashes littering the expanse of his back and if you voiced how attractive you found a back you’re sure you would be locked up. you’re surprised to see him without his bracelets or necklaces, the only jewellery still on being his ring and earrings.

the weeds and grass that surround the lake dwarf you whenever you bathe, always droop into your eyes and cover you intimidatingly. yet with him, they stretch tall, pointing to the sun so there’s enough space for him to dunk his head in the water. nature isn’t overwhelmingly large beside him, in fact with all the roughness that is bakugou katsuki, the water and greenery cares for him like a lover would.

his blonde hair curls at the tips with the water, dusting to a darker blonde, matching the deep shades of green. his arm rises to scrape it all off his forehead. the lake glazes his body like a shield and you don’t miss how he lightly pinches a lily stem between his fingers to bring to his nose. he hasn’t even turned around yet and the sight of his back, scrubbing himself clean… you don’t think you’ve ever been attracted to someone so much. not even your father’s old scribe was this attractive and he was the most attractive in your village.

you’re careful to be silent and you’re well aware of how perverted this could turn out. you swear you were just on a walk around his land and now you’re distracted by your fiancé cleaning his body in the lake. he’s completely naked, dripping with water. the dirt that marked his skin is washed away, leaving him golden and shiny in the sunlight. you don’t know what you want a peek of more his chest or his—

“who’s there?”

bakugou turns in your direction in a flash. fuck. you curse the skies because you know you didn’t make a sound. his hearing is immaculate and so are his senses. you debate whether to reveal yourself or if he’ll just leave it. actually, you know he won’t leave it.

“i know someone’s there. reveal yourself or i’ll kill you without question.”

you sigh, flinging your head back and looking to the clear skies. for fucks sake.

you stand tall, faux confident because his ruby jewel red eyes looking at you, paired with a grumpy violent frown, has you feeling lightheaded for all the wrong reasons.

he’s stepped to the shallower end of the lake now, his bare chest in view and finally, his face. he’s so gorgeous. tanned skin, rolls of abs. facial features all in the right place yet with a masculine charm that has you humming. you wonder if he realises.

you step out from behind the tree, chin high. “i was coming to bathe but you’re already here. i’ll come back later.”

you’re lying through your teeth but bakugou can’t catch it, focusing on stopping the flush of red up his neck. now the thought of you naked in the lake beside him is filling his head and he’s rubbing his hand against his forehead roughly.

your eyes study his bicep, then the thick scar under his right pectoral and your body flushes with heat when you think he caught you.

“you didn’t bring any cloth to dry yourself?” he asks, voice deep and troubled.

your eyes widen in alarm, that’s true. stupid lie. “i usually… air dry. stand out in the grass.”

now it’s bakugou’s turn to be surprised, “hah?” he can’t help it. “what if someone sees you?”

you blink, “everybody would know i’m off to bathe. only my maid would be around to watch out. well back home anyway.” that’s true.

bakugou grunts. he needs to get that same routine for you here. “i’ll get out ‘n’ you can bathe. i’ll sit out and watch for you.”

“w-what?” you splutter.

he cannot be here while you bathe and what did you say… air dry? fuck fuck fuck.

“i’m gettin’ out. i was done anyway,”

water ripples around his body as he moves, strong limbs controlling the water. he walks closer to you, the clear lake water inching lower and lower down his hips. you can see the brush of hair leading to his—

you spin around in a rush, “bakugou! oh heavens.”

your chest is heaving, your fingers to your lips. you still hear him moving behind you, bare feet against the grass. his fluffy cloth against his skin.

“i’m hurryin’ up for you. don’t want you complainin’ back to daddy that i don’t let you live your life of luxury,” he remarks and you’re about to spin around to curse him out but you don’t want to get a glimpse of his cock. that’s a lie. you really do but you don’t want him to know that.

“i don’t complain to my father!” you shout, completely flustered, “and i can just come back later.”

“you can turn around. i’m covered,”

you do turn, slowly and now he’s the one lying. he’s only half covered, cloth at his waist covering his chunky thighs and that. just by the indent from the cloth, you know it’s large. still, his shoulders and chest and arms are out. they’re a killer.

you force your eyes to meet his. his jaw is strong, arms crossed against his chest and he speaks his next words like they’re scraping painfully across his throat.

“undress then. i’ll keep watch out for you.”

no, no, no. no.

“you don’t need to do that. i’ll just come back later.”

bakugou shakes his head like his word is law. “you still need someone to look out for you like you had back home. i’m doin’ it.”

“don’t you have army stuff to do? you don’t need to stay!”

he ignores your question completely, “nobody else is here to watch you.”

you blink at him. you’ve never thought about someone seeing you the other days you’ve showered here. it’s not something you’ve cared about since not many people on bakugou’s grounds have access to this lake and if they heard someone here they know to walk away. apart from you apparently. but you can’t go back on what you’ve started now.

“do you not want me to see you naked?” his eyes skim your body and your next breath is weaker. then he quirks a brow that makes you mimic his crossed arms, “y’know i’m gonna have to one day.”

“yes i know that. we aren’t getting married today though, are we?”

bakugou has only ever felt this weird, uncomfortable, childlike embarrassment, stupidly horny, oddly at home mixture when he’s by you.

you’re both looking at each other, though you don’t know each other well enough yet to decipher the emotions in your eyes.

truthfully, you don’t mind him seeing you naked. you have a nagging feeling at the back of your head admitting that you want him to. you want him to like what he sees and feel the undeniable urge you’re feeling about him right now. to touch, kiss and lick the fresh lake water off his skin.

you begin to unlace the front of your cardigan, dropping it to the ground. then you’re kicking off your shoes and your finger is hooked in the strap of your thin dress.

“wait, you’re undressing now? let me turn around or somethin’ woman!” he grumbles,, stepping around you and facing towards his home.

your laugh feels like butterfly wings against his skin, light and melodic and he thinks it’s the first time it’s for him. “i thought you said you’re going to have to see me naked?”

“y-yeah but i didn’t mean…”

you pull your dress down over your breasts and ass, watching it fall gracefully to the ground. next is your underwear and you’re completely naked before your fiancé. though he’s got his beautifully toned back turned away.

“so what did you mean?”

bakugou’s whole face is flushed pink, the tips of his ears red. he wipes his large hand across his face, grateful you can’t see him from the front. “i just meant i will in the future. that’s it.”

you dip your toes in the lake water. it’s sun toasted. warm between your toes. you hum to yourself at the feeling.

it’s silly where your trust for this man comes from. you’ve barely spoken these past few weeks minus snappy remarks and quick-tempered conversations. though you know he wouldn’t turn around for a peek at you so you take your time submerging yourself in the water. you scoop all your hair to sit on your head, re-wrapping it in a silk strip of cloth.

“so i think this is the longest conversation we’ve ever had without arguing. if it could be called one,” you try and you notice his head twitch at the sound of his voice.

“i wonder why.”

“what?”

“you sit with me at breakfast for a full three minutes, pushing the food around your plate before runnin’ off like i smell like horse shit.”

“oh,” you pause, biting down on your lip, “you don’t smell like horse shit.”

“yeah, princess. i know i don’t.”

you’re not a princess, you’re a chief’s daughter so you have no clue why he always calls you that. you do enjoy the name though you despise it when it’s used mockingly by him. which it is. often.

 you sigh, “i am not the biggest fan of your breakfast and in the morning i usually run off to pick something up from the bakery.”

“what? how come nobody told me?”

you shrug even though he can’t see you, “nobody comes with me. i sneak out the back.”

you’re not sure why you admit it but you guess it’s that weird trust you have in him. 

“well, we’ll change it then. i can’t have you sneakin’ off just to fuckin’ eat breakfast.”

he doesn’t make it sound like it’s a chore or you’re being childish or stupid. he says he’ll fix it. your chest blooms with warm fervency. you push it away.

“since we’re here i also think your horse hates me. every time i try to stroke him he grunts and growls at me. kinda like you. so that’s why i stay away from you outside.”

this time bakugou laughs. this is the first time you think you’ve ever heard it and the smile naturally flows onto your face too. it’s oddly boyish compared to his body which is nothing but man.

“daisy hates everyone but me. just feed her and she’ll be fine. i’ll give you some food for her next time. she’ll fall in love with you.”

the same question is on the tip of your tongue. how do i make you fall in love with me? because that’s what happens in normal marriages right? not because you, for some reason, want this man’s affection.

“and what’s the excuse for your attitude?”

“i’ve only got attitude because you do,” you accuse.

“really?” he bends to sit down, leaning back on his arms and stretching out his legs in the grass. he’s still got his fluffy cloth around his waist. “that’s why you’re snappy at me before i even talk?”

“i’m just… bored and erm…,” you sigh and it feels relieving, admitting the thoughts plaguing your mind about your new life, “there’s nothing to do around here and i don’t know anybody.”

“i’ve got a library,” he blurts, head turning to the left but he’s unable to see you behind him at that angle, “and we can… i guess you can come drink with me and my friends and their wives. they’re alright.”

“really?” you’re shocked at the prospect. bakugou inviting you to be with him in his free time?

“yeah. you’re gonna meet them anyway and the library you get into with a key. i’ll get my blacksmith to make one for you.”

you brush your hand through the lake water, fixating on the ripples it creates. you weren’t expecting any of this today. who knew your fiancé was willing to compromise? you don’t know how exactly to say thank you, you’re not even sure if you should yet since nothing has come to fruition.

“i don’t mind you turning around. this all just caught me off guard.”

you can tell by his back that he tenses up, muscles tight and bunched. he scrambles to his feet, adjusting the cloth around his waist with his head looking down at himself.

there’s a tight pause in the air minus the soft tweets of birds. “are you in the water?”

“yes.”

“completely?”

you laugh again and bakugou doesn’t mean to flutter his eyes shut. “yes bakugou.”

“soon you’ll be a bakugou. my name’s katsuki.”

“yes katsuki, i am completely in the water sans my head and shoulders. i need it to talk.”

there’s a grumble, one you can’t make the words out of. he shuffles on the spot but still doesn’t turn.

“so are you going to?”

“no.”

“why not?” you frown, watching the six foot five body before you, “what happened to you’ll see me naked anyway?”

“i’m keeping watch.”

you feel a streak of stubbornness gush through your veins. maybe it’s the lack of attention you’ve gotten since being dubbed bakugou’s fiancé or the growing need blooming in your lower half. maybe it’s these odd mixed signals you’re getting from your lover to be.

“katsuki, turn around and look at me.”

“i fuckin’ said i can’t.”

“nobody is going to come and see me, i bathe out here alone all the time!”

“yn, i said i can’t.”

he doesn’t raise his voice the way you see him do with his army. he doesn’t even say it angrily with clenched fists the way you see him get when his army is getting things right. he says it steady yet almost shameful, a whine twinged at the end. it sounds like he wants to but something’s stopping him.

your brain doesn’t connect to the rest of your body when your legs begin to move. towards the lake’s edge with your toes raking through the grass.

bakugou’s head twitches, “the fuck are you doin’?”

your wet hand lands on his arm and he tenses again.

“yn, you… fuck,” he dips his head down.

“what’s wrong?”

he doesn’t tell you, instead he shows you and… holy fuck is it hard to miss.

bakugou katsuki turns around to face you and your first surprise is the way he keeps his eyes directly on yours, not your dripping wet body in the golden evening glow. he’s got a pained frown, pulled eyebrows and baby pink cheeks.  his jaw is clenched so hard that you’re sure it must ache.

your second surprise is the growing bulge under his white fluffy cloth. the thick, long, massive bulge that you think, if your calculations are correct, has to be about eight inches? holy fuck, how will that fit inside you?

“oh my—,”

bakugou looks up to the sky with a loud exhale, “fuck, i’m sorry—,” he’s not sure the last time he’s ever apologised to someone. let alone for being hard.

“w-why? since when?”

bakugou huffs an uncomfortable laugh, rubbing his eyes.

“i could hear you being naked behind me and the fuck do you mean why? d’you know how hard it is to not look at you right now?”

you bite down on your lip, looking down at yourself and remembering oh yeah… you’re naked right now. the only thing on you right now is your pretty ring, glinting in the light, the same as his. you hold your hands behind your back at the observation. he’s attracted to you, like you are to him.

“i said you could. you can look at me.”

with those five words, bakugou’s pupils drop below your eyes. your skin burns wherever his eyes focus. on your lips, the curve of your bottom lip. your soft shoulders with glittering water droplets dotted across them. then your chest and he makes this weird grunty sigh. he wants to cup one or put one in his mouth. maybe cup one and put the other in his mouth. taste the lake water off your skin and circle your cute nipple with his tongue. then your soft stomach, he wants to lay his palms over you, he wants to touch, he’s dying to. then your mound, unshaven and he’s wondering how you taste. whether if he dips his fingers between your plush thighs, will they come away wet? he hums at your hips, thinking about spinning you around to see your ass and if it’s how he imagined it would be under your dress. then your feet, hidden in the grass.

bakugou feels lucky, elated, he thinks you’re so fucking perfect.

you were not expecting that. maybe some horny monologue, but to be called perfect? he gulps, eyes wide like he wasn’t planning on letting that slip.

“i’m not takin’ that back. you’re perfect. better than i imagined.”

“you’ve imagined me like this?”

he snorts, “of course. you haven’t imagined me like this?”

he thinks it’s very possible you haven’t but he risks it by pushing it back on you. he wins because you only give him that glare he’s growing to think is adorable.

“i’ve also imagined your ass and from the front i already know it beats expectations,” he grins and you’re wondering where the shy to show his boner bakugou went.

you shove his shoulder, “you are not what i imagined.”

bakugou doesn’t know what to make of that. he tilts his head to the side, “what did you think?”

you’re surprised at how you don’t feel self conscious or at all awkward being completely naked with bakugou. he’s back to focusing on your eyes though when you talk they drop to your lips and when you move to hold your side, he glances at your breasts. otherwise he’s back giving you his full attention.

“well, everyone back home said you were cruel, vicious and violent. how you were known for going berserk in battle,” you give him a smile he can only class as cocky, “you don’t know how many grandmas i have praying for me.”

bakugou raises his eyebrows. he knows what people say about him so he’s not completely surprised. “i am all those things, though i’m not in a battle with you. i haven’t tryin’ to be. us being bitchy to each other just happened.”

“i thought you hated me.”

“i think you thought you were supposed to hate me.”

you sigh, taking the silk ribbon out of your hair and redoing your bun. bakugou’s been doing a good job so far ignoring the pulsing in his cock. it’s heavy between his thighs and it’s only getting heavier with the sight of your arms in the air, your tits moving too. you’re gorgeous, pretty features all in the right places.

“i guess so? i didn’t want this arranged marriage stuff,” your hands dance in the air as if to explain before landing on your hips, “but i’ll do it for my family.”

bakugou wants you to do it for him, for yourself. he thinks he can get you to admit it.

“i was the same,” he mumbles, “hated how you were suddenly just here. in my space. i wanted to run my village on my own because i know i can but fuckin’ family. don’t wanna disappoint the ‘rents.”

you hum before him in agreement.

“i’ll be good to you. the best son, best chief, best warrior, best husband.” he nods at you and you don’t mean to step closer to him but you do, holding his promise tightly in your chest.

“do you promise?” you look up at him, eyes wide with hope and bakugou never wants to let you down. he hopes he never does.

“swear on my village.”

you freeze. you don’t know what means more to bakugou than his village, his people. you’re breathing heavy and the prickles of warm heat from the sun is making you sweat. actually the promise which feels worth so much more than a marriage certificate is making you sweat.

you lay your palm flat on bakugou’s chest, sinking down to the tuft of dark hair just above the cloth. it’s doing such a bad job at covering him.

“can i help you?”

your voice is sweet, nervous for rejection and bakugou wants nothing more than to just give himself to you. to thrust himself in your smaller palms exactly how he wants.

“i didn’t… i didn’t say that to get somethin’ out of it?” he starts but you only smile at him. how would you react if he kissed you?

“you didn’t do anything. i was the one out here. you only stayed to protect me, right?” your voice is taunting, like a magnet dragging him to you. your palm doesn’t move any lower, waiting on his command.

“but… fuck.”

“you can tell me what you like. i’ve been with a few guys back home so—,”

a large palm covers your mouth with swiftness, “don’t talk about other men around me if you don’t want to get a letter from back home that there’s been a raid.” katsuki’s voice drops octaves deeper and you cross one leg over the other. you guess this is the bakugou people warned you about. you lightly pull his hand off your face with no resistance.

“yes chief,” bakugou rolls his eyes and clenches his jaw. he’s willing to ignore that now. he’ll come back to it later, “so what about me touching your co—,”

bakugou grips your hips before walking backwards with you. your hands fly to his chest, glancing backwards. “why are we going—,”

“i don’t want anyone to see what i’m about to do to you.”

“i’ve told you nobody can see us here. i bathe out here all the time.” you’re now knee deep, now thigh deep in the lake. tall grass and weeds surround you and your fiancé protectively.

“i’m gonna be with you every time you bathe now to look out.”

“that’s not possible. you’re out early in the mornings and back late in the evenings.”

“i’ll change my routine.”

“you’re planning on changing a lot for me, aren’t you?”

“you’re my wife.”

he says it with finality and for the first time, you don’t have a comeback. perhaps that you’re only his fiancé but it feels pointless. you gaze down at his cloth, half submerged in the lake.

“it’s all soaked!”

bakugou wastes no time untying it from his hips, rolling it in a ball and throwing it onto the grass.

“guess we’re both gonna have to air dry.”

finally, your eyes drop to his cock and what a pretty cock bakugou has. maybe that’s the wrong word, since it looks like it could cause damage to your insides. the tip is a round, bulbous, deep pink that you’re wondering how it feels against the inside of your cheek. he’s got three thick veins around his length that curves slightly to the left. the base is so much darker than the rest of him and he looks so smooth. so hard and almost painful.

you give his balls a soft squeeze and bakugou bucks in your hand. his hand clenching around your hips for some type of stability. his crimson eyes are hidden from view, shut and he’s clenching down hard on his teeth, the scar on his cheekbone creasing.

“princess… oh fuck,”

you’re going to be able to see bakugou katsuki, chief of the village and head of the army, fall apart and you’re going to do it to him.

“it’s okay katsuki, talk me through it, tell me how you feel,” you whisper, your voice no louder than the grasshoppers and crickets around you.

“j-just stroke me. tight and hard,” he grunts, head dropping to your shoulder to see what you’re doing to him.

you do what you’re told, fingers circling his length and pumping. he never mentioned speed so you go steady, delighted to hear your name fall from his lips, dripping in pleasure.

“y’know i went out to get that m-massive fuckin’ fish for dinner yesterday all to impress you,” katsuki’s got no clue why he’s admitting this now, not when you’re so close that you’re sharing body heat and he can lick to water off your neck. “you never ate it.”

you never knew that he went and got it, especially not to impress you. there’s barely any space to react not with him holding you so tight. he begins to thrust his hips in your hand.

“i didn’t know you got it for me. i don’t like fish.”

bakugou laughs, deep and gravelly you feel it between your legs and right in your ear. “i know that now, honey. next time i’ll kill a—,” his breath shakes and you’re mesmerised by him, his body. so muscled and strong and he’s yours. “i’ll kill the next village’s golden fuckin’ cow for you. would that impress you?”

you can barely think straight. the next village is barbaric, though that’s nothing for bakugou. you’re nodding before you realise you’re doing so, “yes, yes it will.”

“gonna cover you in silvers and golds,” he grunts and the ring on his finger imprints into your hips, “the next r-raid, gonna take everythin’ you’d like.”

katsuki moans loudly, a whiny, “fuck” accompanied with a dribble of precome over your fingers. his breath is hot and his fingertips are pressing into your hips. you make a move to thumb his head but he stops thrusting immediately. “if you touch there i’ll come and i’m damned if we start this relationship with me comin’ first.”

you loosen your grip on his cock as he lifts his forehead from your shoulder. “can i touch you? want you to come on my fingers.”

your breath halts in your throat. oh you’ve imagined this, not in this situation with your legs in the lake, outdoors and surrounded by lush greenery, but in your private bedroom in bakugou’s quarters. your legs spread on your bed while your thoughts wander to the blonde man and how he’s easily able to wield a weapon.

katsuki doesn’t kiss your mouth, you think he purposely avoids it, instead littering wet nibbles and kisses down your neck and shoulder.

you gasp at a particularly hard nibble, “yes, touch me.”

in your fantasies, katsuki is rough. he pushes you onto the bed, he doesn’t ask whether you’re ready and he always always makes you come. you think he could be like that though right now he’s anything but.

one hand stays at your hip to keep you from twitching as beneath the water bakugou kicks your legs further apart. you hold onto him in surprise but there’s no time to complain as his thick middle finger skims through your centre.

“ha, knew you’d be wet. it’s all in your eyes, honey,”

you just mewl, cheek leaning on his chest. you feel his cock bob against your stomach.

with his single finger he begins to circle your clit and you’ve wanted a release so bad these past few days that that touch alone feels like fireworks lighting up inside your body. your eyes are sliding shut, mouth dropping open as bakugou literally coos in your ear.

“d’you like that? got a pretty fuckin’ wife, don’t i?”

“fiancé,” you whine and you don’t know why you bother to correct him. he feels so safe, his skin cosy and the air fresh. you’re nodding against him, “so good.”

“technicalities. you’re mine either way,” he pecks your temple, rolling your clit on his finger until he hears your breathing become ragged. bakugou looks down at you and he’s not sure what swells within his chest.

he’s been with a few ladies in the neighbouring villages though he’s never felt anything for them minus fleeting attraction. looking down at you with your plush lips parted and your eyebrows furrowed like the pleasure is too much... your smooth skin compared to his scarred chest. your hands are scrambling for purchase, resting between your breasts and his chest and he’s begging to be chest to chest. you’re angelic, unlike anything he’s ever seen before yet so similar to the beauty of nature.

he’s seen it all, he’s done it all. committed the most gruesome of murders, stolen out of greed and lied for his own fulfilment. he knows that in those religious books they keep in the churches with all those sins under his belt, he doesn’t deserve somebody as heavenly as you. with your glares, always opinionated and your strange habits. your shiny hair, your galaxy filled pupils and your curious hands always touching something. he wants to know everything about you, have you by his side, he wants you to like him and soon, maybe love him.

you whine against his chest, a soft, “katsuki.” and he feels like he’s been set alight, a realisation of who he has in front of him ringing through his head.

he wraps his forearm against your lower back and growls in your ear. “gonna make you come all over my fingers. bet you taste heavenly, princess. wanna hear it all, don’t keep anything to yourself. you hear me?”

he wastes no time dipping two fingers into your centre and the friction from your wetness makes him go in like a dream. your arms go around his neck and you’re sure you’re dribbling against his chest. the sensation of him inside, prodding deliciously against your walls has you throwing your head back, “yes,” you moan, “yes, yes, yes.”

bakugou’s amazed at how you begin to bounce on his fingers, fucking yourself back onto him with no thoughts but hedonistic desires. a loud sloshing fills the air, it’s dirty and lewd but neither of you make a move to stop it.

this is the first time you’ve done anything together. the first time sexually but also just your first time completely alone together. you sleep in separate rooms, there’s always servants or soldiers or someone around but now it’s just you and him. you fucking yourself on his fingers.

“i knew, i knew this would feel good,” you squeal, a layer of sweat coating your forehead. bakugou’s hand slides up your stomach then your breasts to cup your jaw.

you look fucked, drowsy eyes, parted lips. though you don’t stop riding his fingers and he watches how your features shift as he thumbs your clit again.

“oh shit,” you breathe and bakugou grins cockily.

“you knew this would feel good? with me?”

your hum of agreement accidentally becomes a high pitched whine, “yeah. your fingers are so…” you arch your hips, chasing his thumb, “so big.”

he chuckles hearty and confident and he swears he’s forgotten the painful heavy limb at his hips until your fist circles it again.

“come with me, katsuki,”

he jolts in your hand. he’ll do anything you say, he didn’t realise it until this moment. but he says it anyway.

“say please, princess,”

you’re pouting, cheeks hot and eyes ready to plead. bakugou knows he’s lucky, he’s lucky you chose him.

“come with me please, i want to feel you come because of me,” you trail off, transfixed by his pupils on you.

“i can do that for you,” he murmurs, lips brushing against your cheek.

you’re both rabid animals in the wild, a pile of heaving chests and moans and grunts in the water. sweat coats you both as your bodies move in sync, chasing the same feeling but together. bakugou thrusts into your palm, not hiding the deep grunt when you thumb his wet cock head. swears fall from his lips whilst you pair a few swears of your own with mewls.

together, you’re messy. lubricated by your own need. you don’t stop moving and neither does he.

“gonna be the best husband. you won’t need anyone else.”

“i don’t want anyone else.”

it’s a switch that goes off inside you. your eyes falling shut, your hips moving faster and your insides clench around his fingers as if you’re trying to keep him inside. your hand slows down on his cock while you come but that’s okay since he splutters over your stomach and under your breasts. loads and loads leak out of him and you keep trembling on his fingers. he finds that despite all the noise you made before, you orgasm in silence. just an open mouth and body slowly going limp.

bakugou keeps thrusting until he’s done and even he’s shocked at how much he’s able to produce. you can’t blame him, he’s been so tense with you around not knowing how to just talk to you and somehow this feels like it’s broken down a few walls between you both.

you come down from your highs clasping onto each other like a lifeline. sweaty palms and clammy skin though you both don’t mind. in fact, it’s something you could get used to really quickly.

“how about we wash off again and do that air dry thing you said?” his voice murmurs in your ear and you lift your cheek off his chest to pay attention to him.

katsuki looks lighter now. his cheeks a natural lovely pink, his carmine eyes glistening and he doesn’t have his typical frown. you actually find his resting face quite pretty and up close you can see how his eyelashes are long and uncurled batting against his skin. his nose is slightly wonky with a bump which you can assume is from fighting and you have an urge to kiss the scar going through his lips.

then you remember him calling you perfect and all the promises he made you before you were even having sex. your fiancé really isn’t who you thought he was. it’s all making you feel… shy, a silly little girl with a crush blossoming inside your heart. he just made you come with his fingers and you did the same to him, there’s no time for this. why he didn’t kiss you when you were so intimate? is that too personal for him? did he not want to?

you meet his eyes then look away to the clear lake below, you scramble out of his touch, weirdly awkward without his heat around you.

“oh yeah, we could. yeah,” you blurt, turning away from him and washing yourself again in the lake.

bakugou watches you, slow to begin cleaning himself again. he washes his chest, his fingers, his face and hair in silence before he says, “do you regret what we just did?”

you spin around to face your fiancé and you gulp. with the sunsetting behind him, the shadow his body creates only makes him look larger, beautiful. just the size of him makes you feel protected and you’re suddenly imagining him giving you a speech about how he’d protect you with his life. well, he did say he’d be a good husband before. his pert brown nipples, his stupidly toned chest and you’ve seen him help the villagers with farming and carrying goods back and forth. all jobs he doesn’t need to do, way below his level but he does anyway. why didn’t he kiss you?

the frown he gives you now though you recognise as a worried one. weakly furrowed brows and wide shiny eyes. he’s cautious and shies away from touching you.

you shake your head, “no, i don't regret it.”

katsuki’s frown doesn’t let up. he brushes all his wet hair off his forehead. “was it shit? did you not like it?”

oh you loved it. coming on his fingers, palms against his chest. next you wanna hold onto his bicep, bite down on it. again, you shake your head and bite down on your lip, “no i really enjoyed it but…” you trail off.

katsuki wastes no time, wading through the water over to you. he slides a palm to your cheek and you’re close to him again. your whole body feels electric. “but what? i can’t be a good husband if you don’t talk to me.”

his thumb traces your bottom lip, his hot breath covering your face. “i just…,” you huff, this isn’t you, “you didn’t kiss me! we did all of that and you didn’t kiss me once!”

he doesn’t mean to but the left side of his lips quirk up in amusement, his other hand sliding to your waist to hold you against him, “i did kiss you. there’s these bruises here to prove it.” he rubs his finger against your neck and you shiver.

“you bruised me?,” you blink and his smile is full blown. you feel like dropping to your knees before him because who knew bakugou katsuki could smile like that? “wait, no i meant on my mouth, you never gave me a proper kiss!”

he agrees with you, nodding slowly like he’s soothing you. his finger even draws shapes on your bare back. “i didn’t. that’s somethin’ you want?”

you have all his attention, and the shyness after your outburst is creeping back in. “yes,” you whisper.

“why?” he arches a brow.

“what?”

“why do you want me to kiss you, princess?”

you remember what he said before, he can’t be a good husband if you don’t talk to him. “it’s something i require. often. you’re the only person i can ask them from.”

katsuki looks satisfied by that answer, with an impressed roll of his lips, he murmurs, “that’s right. only i can kiss you.”

he leans into your lips, firstly brushing his chapped ones against your softer ones and you feel your whole body yearning. “okay.”

bakugou captures his lips with yours as if he’s breathing air into you, though it doesnt cool you, just sets you alight. you inhale him, wrapping your arms around his neck to drag him into you closer than humanely possible and his arms instinctively wrap around your waist. the kiss is controlled on his side, giving, like he knows you’re impatient and you could beg for more.

he pecks and lightly bites down on your bottom lip, only causing you to gasp out for another.

“katsuki,” you sound stern, though he only laughs at you.

“yeah, yeah, i’ll give it to you,”

katsuki slips his tongue into your mouth, your lips parting eagerly. a hand comes to cradle your cheek as excitement sparks down your spine and youre unsure how you lasted so long not doing this. how you have the rest of your life to continue doing this with him. he unsurprisingly tastes like the lake water, fresh air and smells like the fresh greenery around you. he’s easily dominating, controlling the kiss and sucking around your tongue. you moan instantly, completely ravenous and he only grins against your mouth in understanding. 

you want more and more but he pulls away with a smug grin.

“was that good enough for you?”

you look like you’ve been through it. cushion lips, out of breath with sleepy eyes. you’re not about to beg for another when he’s already so cocky.

you do decide to tell the truth though, “yes. could have been longer though.”

he huffs a laugh and your arms tighten around his neck. you want him again, you want to feel him again.

“we have forever, princess. and were gettin’ frog footed being in here.”

you can’t help but laugh at his phrasing, ignoring the soft warmth that spreads at the thought of forever. you guess you do have forever with him. you don't see your desire burning out anytime soon.

you untangle from him, wading through the water and out of the lake.

“there’s the ass i’ve been wantin’ to see,”

you glare at him following behind you, ruby eyes shining in amusement. you swat away a hand coming to squeeze you.

“has anyone told you you’re annoying?”

“no. they don’t wanna get their head knocked off.”

“figures.”

together, you lay out on the grass naked. it doesn’t take too long to dry but since you found out you don’t mind, okay, enjoy being in your fiancés company, you’re relaxed beside him.

“i’m surprised nobody has called you for village business or army business or family business. you’re in a lot of peoples business.”

you turn to face him, grass tickling your neck and cheek but he keeps his eyes upwards to the darkening evening sky, stars yet to appear.

“i tell them not to bother me when i’m bathing. hate getting interrupted during the only time i get to myself.”

you blink awkwardly, “oh, i guess i did that?”

he slowly turns to you, focusing on your lips then your eyes. fuck, he’s been to multiple villages, travelled far and wide and nobody has been as beautiful as you. he almost doesn’t feel worthy to be so close, intimate with you.

“you’re not included in that. you can bother me.”

“really? even before we… made up?”

your foot brushes his shin and he makes no move to shift away.

“i never really disliked you. just didn’t understand you.” he flicks his eyes down your body beside him and you feel your heart thunder against your rib cage, “you can join me in the lake anytime, princess.”

you roll your eyes despite the smile spreading across your cheeks. “now, has anyone told you how flirtatious you are?” you lean on your side to properly face him, a finger tracing shapes across his chest, “if i knew i was missing out on all this, i would have said i hated your food much sooner.”

katsuki grunts unamused though his eyes shine, “i wish you did too. i’ll fix shit around here, it’s your home too.”

“i appreciate that.”

it’s a comfortable silence, you being touchy while bakugou just lets you. the tips of your fingers trace the ridges of his abs, his scars, his marks. you’re careful to avoid his nipples though you keep getting intrusive thoughts to kiss them. his body is undeniably strong, wielding so much strength that there’s so much to touch that you don’t know what to do with yourself.

“you’re very affectionate.” he states.

bakugou doesn’t stay around women long enough to get to this part of cuddly aftercare. being this way around women only comes when he visits other villages with the air of danger and debauchery. he used to think the fact he knew he could get killed for sleeping with women from the other villages made the sex more thrilling though lying outside naked with you is the most comfortable he’s ever felt. like he’s supposed to be here with you and everywhere else he’s ever been was wrong.

you shrug loosely, “everyone would want to touch you.”

your hand brushes against the thick hair on his lower stomach and bakugou frowns over at you.

“that’s not what i wanted to hear. i said you are. not everybody else.”

your voice drops a few decibels, you don’t mean for it to, “do you want me to tell you i think you’re attractive? i’ve been wanting to touch you for a while. watching all these people look at you like you’re their god, people willing to die for you. now you’re out here with no weapons, just pure muscle alone with me. it does something to a girl, you know?” a single eyebrow raises along with the corner of your lips.

surprise has your hands scrambling as two of his large palms find your waist and plops you right on his chest, straddling his body. he grabs his cloth to prop behind his head and he keeps his hands on your thighs, squeezing and massaging. this position is a lot, you hope he doesn’t feel how wet you are on his chest. imagining the wet patch when you shuffle off him makes you flush.

bakugou knows it’s stupid but he doesn’t want you to see how he’s half hard yet, just how easy you get him aroused by touching his chest and talking to him. 

“when do you think you’ll start seeing me as your god? it would make my life a lot easier,” he smirks.

you shake your head, “hopefully never, i want to see you as my husband and friend.”

“friend?”

bakugou feels taken aback at how easy conversation is with you, how he can’t stop talking just so he can hear you talk in return. you’re brushing his blonde locks off his forehead, “yeah, i’d love to be your friend. we did rush into this fiancé stuff rather quickly,” you giggle.

he hums, “friends with benefits.”

“men,” you shake your head mumbling even though you’d say the exact same. “my friends with benefits fiancé.”

“sounds good to me.”

bakugou realises all at once, he’s not as strong as he thought he was. also he can smell your pussy and it’s leaving smears on his chest. “would it be crazy to ask you to sit on my face? i can smell you, princess.”

your jaw drops at his bluntness and you want to roll off and close your legs though he pins you down by your thighs. the heat of your lower half increases intensely. you’d love to just grind on his chest but he’s offering his mouth? yes, you’ve daydreamed about this too.

“oh my god, katsuki.” you splutter and he drags you along his chest.

“cmon, wanna taste you properly. feel you fall apart ‘cause of my mouth,”

you’re not sure how you could even start to say no to him, especially when you only want to say yes. he looks angelic with the new moonlight beginning to dust his golden hair and you know you should be scared with the growing darkness but youre not. the thing that could cause the most damage is ready to beg to eat your pussy.

“you’re unbelievable,” you murmur even though you lift up to crawl up to his face. you’re hovering your heat above him and the man lets out this animalistic moan, his eyes falling shut. you feel a roll of wetness spread through you. bakugou’s hands hold your hips like his life depends on it.

“talk to me, princess. about anythin’ you want,”

“what do you—,”

he practically drops you on his mouth, his lips finding your clit with ease and sucking, hard.

“holy—,” you gasp, your back arching and it doesn’t take long at all for you to start grinding on his face, fingers clenching chunks of his hair like handlebars.

bakugou licks and licks between your legs, you can even feel him swallowing everything he gathers on his tongue before swiping again. your whole body rumbles, feeling as if it’s been set alight. you don’t think you’ve ever been treated with such need, such vigour. you’re a wheezing burst balloon of moans and mewls, rocking on his tongue and flinging your head back every time he nudges your clit.

he pulls you away from him for a single second and you’re already gasping at being away, “talk to me.”

then he dips his tongue in your hole and you’re withering.

“a-about what?” you whine as he stops lapping you up and bites down on your inner thigh, “oh fuck, katsuki!”

you begin to babble, anything that comes to mind, mostly all your thoughts about him. “i-i sometimes watch you carry furniture and hay barrels for the o-old ladies—,” a soft sigh slips through as his thumb presses against your asshole, “i think it’s so a-adorable b-but then you get all sweaty and fuck.” 

bakugou studies you through squinted eyes, every reaction, what you love, what you’re saying to him. he ignores the heaviness of his balls and focuses on pleasuring you. he hums between your legs and your grip tightens in his hair. you’ve been watching him, the same way he’s been watching you all the time.

he doesn’t need to push you to talk more because you’re doing it on your own. swirling your hips on his face, “i see t-the way the women look at you when we’re in town and it m-makes me…” you’re arching your back and bakugou knows your close. he presses down on your ass, sucking your clit between his lips, “it makes me so m-mad, katsuki,” you whine as if you’re close to tears, “thinking about if you’ve ever f-fucked them.”

fuck. oh shit, you’ve been jealous? bakugou knows it’s not healthy for him to get turned on by the prospect but you’ve been so annoyed around him all the time to find out you’ve been jealous? you’ve been staring at him this whole time?

his realisation hits as hard as your orgasm, the sensation rocking through your body, heat springing to the tips of your toes and fingers.

your wail is loud, though you’re both sure nobody is close enough to hear you. again you’re riding his face, taking what’s yours and smartly, he lets you. playing with you till your soft and limp, thighs about to squeeze his head from overstimulation.

he lifts you off him slowly, “okay princess, you’re good,” wrapping you in his chest as you try to regulate your breathing again. 

there’s crickets in the air, hoots of owls and the soft breeze making the trees dance. living in a village as a chief’s daughter, there weren't many opportunities to be outside in the dark and not assume imminent danger. in bakugou’s arms, you’re sure there's nothing you can't face.

bakugou blurts the words before he can even think about them, “i haven’t by the way.”

you glance up at his face, shocked to find how shiny his mouth is from his spit and you. you gasp and when he notices, he just wipes his face with his hand before sucking your juices off his fingers. his pink tongue darts out to taste every bit you left over and you cant help your next words coming out as a mindless flutter.

“you haven’t what?”

“fucked anyone from here,” he shakes his head.

you won’t call him a liar though it feels a little suspicious, “you’re not telling me you’re a virgin, are you?”

bakugou rumbles a laugh you can only find endearing despite the situation. you feel the laugh vibrating in his chest and you even lay your palm against it.

“no, princess i’m not.” 

you blink, you’re not sure why you feel so jealous of people you’ve never met, over a man you’ve known for not even a whole month. you definitely weren’t expecting your new fiancé, chief and leader to be a virgin, heck you’re not either but still it must be nice to be chosen by katsuki and not his family.

“okay,” you breathe.

“what? why do you sound all upset?” he rolls you on your back and lays sideways facing you so there’s no way you can escape his gaze. his rough fingers brush hair out your face before cupping your cheek. “talk to me. i can’t be a good husband otherwise.”

that seems to be the new button he can press to get you sharing all your secrets.

“just that it would be nice to be actually wanted by you instead of just being dumped with me.”

bakugou blinks, hand freezing before frowning, “what the fuck?”

“you’re stuck with me for the rest of your life, so it’s okay if you saw other people too. i think lots of marriages do this. i will probably too later on. i know you didn’t exactly want me and your parents chose me for you like mine chose you and—,”

“yn.” you think it’s the first time he’s said your name all night.

“yes?” you whisper.

“other people don’t matter, none of them matter. d’you really fuckin’ think that i didn’t choose you? that i didn’t have a say in having you as my wife? do you think you didn’t either?”

you’re silent for a moment, pondering on the idea, “what do you mean?”

bakugou huffs a laugh, “there’s loads of chiefs' daughters, army leaders' daughters across the villages, even countries, neighbouring countries. even so, i don’t need this deal our parents made, i can fend for my village.”

you sit up abruptly, looking out to the navy sky and his pupils only follow you nonchalantly, “so why am i here?”

“because i want you.” bakugou claims, loud and clear, “and you wanted me to. otherwise you would have told your parents no like you did to every other dickhead suitor that came your way.”

you glance over at him and he only looks back at you. 

“tell me i’m right. ask my village, i’m never fuckin’ wrong.”

your mouth opens though nothing comes out. bakugou, however, just lays back on the grass, closing his eyes. “couldn’t say no to my beat up face and what did you say earlier? sweaty body helping old ladies?”

you shove his side though he doesn’t move, he just yanks you back down into his chest.

“you’re insane.”

“they always say that to the one that knows the truth,” he lays a kiss on your forehead and you feel at home. then his tone turns stern like a lecture, “i’m yours and you’re mine. nobody is seeing anyone else.” then he stops, biting down on his lips, “but if you do ever think about that then you have to tell me—,”

you shake your head, “no, i only said that in case you did.”

“i fuckin’ don’t. you’re all i need.”

“good.” you trace your finger across his collarbone, “i guess i did choose you. i’d get love letters from the most random men and they’d even turn up at my home declaring marriage with me. a whole song and dance. then you came along with a gorgeous ring and you didn’t even have to say too much, everyone’s heard about you. i thought i said yes to get it all over and done with, my parents wanted me to marry so bad. i think i was just waiting for you.”

bakugou reaches for your hand, kissing the ring on your finger. “i was waitin’ for you too.”

“katsuki?”

“wife?” you poke his side, so he corrects himself not before rolling his eyes, “fiance? princess?”

“it’s getting chilly, so let's go indoors. i’ll put my dress back on.”

bakugou stops you from getting your clothes, “they’re dirty, i’ll just bring you inside.”

“i’m not going inside naked?!”

“i’ll cover you,” and he demonstrates how he’d do so by standing up and effortlessly dragging your body from the floor and into his arms. your chest is against his, your arms around his neck with his arm against your ass. 

“your servants are going to drop dead after seeing us like this so soon.”

“they knew this would happen. they could feel the sexual attraction every time you’d bite my head off for asking you a question at dinner.”

“they were always stupid questions!”

“you never gave me much to work with,” he replies and without too much thought, bakugou presses a kiss to your lips. a soft one like lovers would. “how about you come out with my friends and their wives tomorrow?”

you’re biting down on your lip and nodding before he even finishes, “as friends with benefits fiancés?”

bakugou chuckles, loud and brash, starting the walk up to your shared home, “whatever you want as long as i’m yours.”

you wrap your arms around his neck tighter as bakugou manoeuvres you both in the dark. your smile is glowing and you don’t think you’ve ever felt so happy, “yes chief.”

feedback appreciated

Deku - Midoriya Izuku

TW: NSFW, noncon, yandere

Thinking about being childhood friends with Izuku, who’s always had a bit of a crush on you. 

You’ve always known, but you’ve never humored it. He’s your friend – anything else would just be awkward. If you had to put it in any other term, you’d say he felt more like a little brother.

You wish he’d allowed the two of you to grow apart – as normal people do.

There wasn’t really any reason for the two of you to stay friends after middle school. His quirk suddenly manifested, and he got into UA – became a pro-hero – and then the symbol of peace. And you were still… kind of just doing your thing – studying, working, struggling to pay rent – struggling to keep a date…

The two of you never had much in common anyway, and you never really knew what to talk about with him anymore – only knowing to ask him how his mother was. After all, you grew out of your otaku phase a long while ago – and otherwise, you felt out-educated in any and every conversation the two of you had with each other. You swear talking to him makes you feel like a toddler learning your first words – it’s humiliating, and you don’t understand how any of it’s remotely stimulating for him, either.

Still, he’ll text you when he has the time, asking if you’d like to meet up at a café – talk, catch up – and you, not wanting to be rude, always accept.

You’d gone wide-eyed the first time you’d met him after middle school. Jeez Louise – he’d had to have grown twice his size – jacked and scarred to no end. It only got worse over the years. Now, adults – he must be twice your size. Bigger even.

You blush now when he flirts with you. But not so much for the reasons he wants.

Honestly, it’s more uncomfortable than it’s flattering. It was Izuku, after all – Deku – no matter how little he resembled the crybaby from your childhood – he’d always be that same nerdy loser friend who’d chased after you ever since you first met.

He might have grown up, but his crush on you hadn’t.

His doe-eyed look of longing and adoration had always made you feel a little awkward – a little sorry for him. And now that he’s become a man, it’s only become even more… desperate… a little pathetic, actually…

Bedroom eyes that make you laugh nervously, pretending to brush it off as a joke but really wishing he’d just give it a rest already. Surely, as a pro-hero and public figure, he could get a date? One of the many screaming fangirls that pine for him everywhere he drags that awful golden cape he has on his shoulders. And if not any of them, then maybe a model. A movie-star even.

Why is he so hung up on you?

The funny thing is, you’d tried vying him of his crush by telling him about hook-up after hook-up, boyfriend after boyfriend – treating him like a girlfriend you could gossip with.

But it’s almost like he takes it as a challenge – talking and helping you through your relationships, giving his input and advice – just like a real friend would… only… always implementing something… something condescending, something suggestive, something saying you ought to be with him instead – he’d never treat you like that, he’d never do you wrong, you’d be taking good care of with him.

You’d made the mistake of saying you were struggling with a class at university – just to make conversation – just to talk about something trivial. But of course, he’d seen it as an opportunity – quick to offer his help, saying he’d taken that class as an extracurricular – just for a bit of fun, he’d said, light reading material he’d done on the side of his internship.

You don’t know why it’s so hard to tell him no.

Suppose it’s the possibility of being wrong – the guilt of thinking he has impure intentions when he’s supposedly the purest person in the world.

But you should have trusted your instincts.

“Please, Izuku-” You’d immediately restored to begging. Who wouldn’t? He’s a two-meter-tall monster of a man – jacked with muscles fatter than a bear.

Your phone’s been missing since you came back from the bathroom – your lips wet with his unwanted kisses – your neck sore from having his fist wrapped around it when you tried stopping him.

You’d only managed to break free after biting – blood salty in your mouth. You nearly vomited, choking on a mix of bile and fear.

Fuck – your legs are so weak, you might just buckle from the dread alone – feeling like a bunny snagged on fox teeth.

“You used to take me when we’d play wrestle... you remember?”

The comment is pulled out of nowhere.

He stalks you, a fond look on his face as though the two of you were reminiscing good old times. As though his eyes weren’t a nocturnal green like foxfire on the fen. As though he wasn’t radiating black whip – ready to snare you.

“Think you can take me now?”

You had your hands raised apprehensively – but the hopelessness took its toll and made your entire body shake on the spot.

Your only hope was to talk him out of it. If only you could think past the fear and string a sentence together that wasn’t along the lines of “Please-”

But something about that look on his face told you he wouldn’t listen to reason anymore. Not manic, not like a person who’d finally snapped – but controlled – resolute – and playful even. Nothing like you’d ever seen. Nothing you could understand.

“What’s wrong, hm?” He smiles, head tipped in that charming way that used to make you want to pinch his cheek. Now it just makes you sick to look at – swallowing thickly as you tack another step back away from it. “I’ll go easy – so don’t worry… I know it's not exactly a fair fight anymore…”

Your better judgment failed you – fight-or-flight kicked in, and you made a break for it. 

Budging into the couch on your way, it’s a messy scramble for the door – but you manage. Feeling feverish with dread and pumped full of adrenaline, you brush the cold handle with just your fingertips before something wraps around your midriff in a snug grip – pulling you back into the living room.

You’re lifted from the ground, kicking – now screaming – flailing in the air before you’re flipped on your back against the couch.

“Don’t be like that~” He murmurs. “Always so wishy-washy~” Voice in a low purr that makes you feel like coughing up your heart – squirming beneath him and his heavy hands as they paw your thighs beneath your skirt – manhandling you like nothing you’d ever imagine him to do.

Raking his fingers through the dough before squeezing your ass greedily – kneading his fat crotch against the thin fabric protecting your cunt. 

“Complaining about all your weak-dicked boyfriends as if begging me to come fuck you myself – yet such a flighty little slut when it comes down to it.” He sneers. “Let me help you out.”

One hand tugs your panties until they rip, whilst the other hand pulls up to grab your face – squeezing your cheeks to keep you still when forcing his kisses on you.

“After all… what are friends for?”

Hiii just thinking about Bakugo x reader where reader’s in danger from a villain attack and Bakugo saves her heheh. And then the media’s eating it up like 😭😭

this is such a cute idea!! ✨

Accidental Damage

『♡』  pro-hero support fem!reader x pro-hero bakugo ╰➤ ꒰ pro-heroes au | secret bf/gf ꒱ ♡ katsuki bakugo masterlist ♡

summary: you've been swamped with work as a pro-hero support engineer, pushing 80 hour weeks over the busy season, and finally have a day off! bakugo, however, isn't so lucky and ends up getting called in for an emergency patrol during your movie date. instead of sitting at home, you decide to treat yourself and head out into the city. turns out, you probably should have stayed home...considering the fashion district you frequently visit was the villain-of-the-week's choice of attack. tags & warnings: mild violence, anxiety, cursing | lovers (bf/gf), fluff, emotional comfort, physical hurt, protective bakugo, reader doesn't have a quirk, reader's a badass, accidental pda, oops the secret's out now, bakugo treats reader like a princess a/n: wanted to change up the dynamic a little and make reader & bakugo secretly date from opposing sides of the hero world! i'd love to see more of the support class tbh ꒰ Ao3 version | word count; 2,890 ꒱

It’s your day off! After working endless hours for the past month, you’re finally free of the frenzy of Support Request busy season. Spring is often the time that most heroes submit their upgrade and repair requests to their agency’s support team, resulting in a non-stop effort to get through everything in a timely manner. The agency doesn’t want to be responsible for a hero not being able to perform their patrol duties from malfunctioning hero attire.

The original plan of the day was to spend it in your apartment, watching movies with your bombastic hero of a boyfriend - Dynamight. Unfortunately, just like 9 out of 10 other times, he was called out on an emergency shift to cover for someone else.

Being the girlfriend of the number 6 hero wasn’t easy, especially because no one knew you two were even together.

The two of you attended UA High together in separate classes - Class A and Class H. You knew of one another, but never had a chance to talk outside of the occasional ‘hey.’ After graduating from UA, the two of you happen to be hired to the same agency in Tokyo as you were assigned to his support team. A few late night dinners, long phone calls, and plenty of flirty banter later, you started quietly dating the explosive hero. It’s been about two years and you’re happy as can be - secret or not. It wasn’t for any purpose other than to keep the media out of Bakugo’s personal life and focused on his hero career as it was common for the public to become judgmental and fans to get…protective, to say the least. The last thing you wanted to do was to risk his ranking or public image for the sake of labeling him as "taken."

───

"Oh god fuckin' dammit," Bakugo cursed as his phone rang on loop, vibrating to the edge of the coffee table. Removing his arm from your waist, he frustratingly snatched it from the table before the final ring. You caught a glimpse of the caller ID before he answered and left the couch.

AGENCY EMERGENCY LINE

Aww...we just started the movie, you thought, disappointed in the timing.

It was unavoidable, though, considering he was in the top 10 of the pro hero circuit in a record amount of time after graduating from UA. He was damn good at his job and worked his ass off to get where he is today. You're so proud of him and all he's accomplished, but that doesn't mean that you hate how often they pull him back into work on his days off. He hates it just as much as you do.

You overhear a bit of the conversation as he moved to the hallway to take the call.

"Dynamight, we need to you to assist..."

"Spare me the damn formalities and just tell me where the hell you're sending me."

"It's downtown, sector 24, you'll be going along side..."

That's all you heard before he was out of earshot.

You never held it against Bakugo whenever this would happen, it wasn't his fault at all, he had a job to do and he was needed - that's all it was.

He returned from the hallway, a scowl on his face as he plopped onto the cushion next to you. You already know what he's about to say.

"I'm sorry sweets, I gotta go back to work." He leans over and plants a soft kiss on your cheek. "What a fuckin' week. Been lookin' forward to finally sitting at home."

You frown as you squeeze his hand reassuringly. "It's okay, the world needs the great Dynamight."

Bakugo groans in defeat, leaving the couch to run for the door. He's about to put his shoes on and grab his keys before he pauses, dropping his boots in the entryway and skipping back over to the couch. He bends over the arm and sits awkwardly on it as he grabs your chin, turning your face to his. He places a kiss to your lips and it leaves you breathless, like always.

“Love you, sweetheart,” he purrs, finger brushing along the top of your cheek.

“Love you too, Kats,” you respond quietly as his hand leaves your cheek. “Be safe, text me when you head home.”

He grabs his keys and wallet from the entryway, shuffling through it and placing his credit card back onto the table.

"Leavin' my card for you to take, baby. Go buy somethin' pretty for yourself."

And just like that, he's out the door and on his way back to the agency for the fifth time this week.

───

Bakugo had a habit of not letting you pay for almost anything, no matter how much you protested against him - it was one of his ways of showing his love for you. He would often scold you for having somewhat of an overspending problem, but your motto was always “money comes back!” He’d roll his eyes and hand you his credit card, preferring to spoil you instead of letting you drag yourself into debt. You learned to stop refusing his offer to pay for things a few months into your relationship, knowing full well he'd never back down after he'd steal your card out of your hands or swap it for his when you weren't looking.

Might as well take him up on his offer and go shopping!

Strolling down one of the main streets of the fashion district, you pop into one of your favorite clothing boutiques to browse around. It's busy for a Sunday afternoon, but the crowds don't bother you. Whenever you came here, Bakugo would often wait a street or two over to avoid said crowds. He hated them, but never wanted to leave you alone, so he'd tag along in ways that made him comfortable.

You're flipping through a sales rack outside of the store when a sudden rumbling in the street catches your attention. An earthquake, maybe? A couple of people around you notice as well and stop what they’re doing to focus on the vibrations. A moment later, the street becomes riddled with panic as the entire crowd is rushing in the opposite direction.

Of course a villain would show up to ruin your shopping trip.

You always make sure for these type of scenarios that you keep a spare gadget in your bag for protection. Bakugo wasn’t satisfied with you carrying just a normal self defense weapon, so he helped (more so forced you to) craft a device that would allow you to “save your own quirk-less ass” if push came to shove. He knew how talented you were and dedicated to your craft, always thinking up new gadgets and drawing plans off the clock. He wanted to encourage you to create your own genius contraption rather than solely making things for the heroes around you.

Digging through your bag, you grab onto the make-shift object that resembles a pair of bracelets. You slip them on and push the buttons on the underside of each bangle - activating the mechanism inside. They cover your hands in a binding of metals that resemble armored gloves and crawl up your forearms and end at your elbows.

Time to see what these babies can do!

You laugh to yourself at the thought of calling your creations "babies." It fondly reminds you of Hatsume and how she would be ecstatic over her piles of support items she's constructed, constantly flailing around the support classroom with glee.

Your attention is roughly brought back to the villain landing a few stores away from you as a giant gust of wind forces remaining civilians out of his way. He's sporting a jetpack-like bag on his back, motorized arms poking out of it like a spider. He spots you out of the corner of his eye, immediately curious about your support gear.

"Oh? What do we have here?" He questions, gesturing in your direction. "Those look too high and mighty for a girl your size. Are you even a hero?"

You know he's trying to antagonize you and get under your skin, and unfortunately, it works. But if you can keep him distracted until a hero shows, he'll do less damage to the area and you can prevent unnecessary causalities.

"Who needs a hero when a 'normie' like me can kick your ass with my bare fists?" you instigate, praying that'll convince him to shift his full attention to you. It does, aggressively launching himself in your direction with his...spider legs?...and lands in front of you, bending over to level his eyes with yours.

"Those are some brave words for a bug like you."

You take a deep breath, steadying your stance before landing a swift right hook to his jaw, sending him soaring into the street. Your gloves make a soft hiss as they release the energy stored inside them.

Yes! God, that felt good. Is this how Kat feels?!

The villain clamors to his feet, seething with rage as he readjusts his set of translucent goggles.

"You little bitch!"

You brace yourself for impact by crossing the gloves in front of you, summoning a temporary energetic barrier to guard against his attack. The force sends you stumbling backwards, falling straight on your ass as you roll out of the way of a robot leg slamming down next to you.

Just keep moving, don't stop moving, remember what Kat taught you!

You're extremely thankful in this moment that Bakugo practically forced you to train with him. He was adamant on you having basic fighting ability - hand to hand combat, some karate, self-defense moves, and more importantly, staying in shape to outrun any villains. He didn't think you were incapable of handling yourself, he just wanted you to be able to kick some ass while doing it.

As you're zigzagging the villain, dozens of cameramen and reporters are flooding the scene, desperate to get the 'first look' on the details of the commotion. Your tunnel vision on the current threat in front of you keeps you busy, not noticing the massive media crowd forming around you on both ends of the street.

The villain jumps up, catching you off guard as he lands behind you, smacking you in the back with a robot arm with a loud thwap that sends you careening into a clothing rack on the street. A collective gasp is heard from the peanut gallery, clamoring over your safety for 'views.'

You may or may not have hit your head - unsure if you're dizzy from the fall or a potential concussion. Shaking yourself out of the haze, you scramble away from a follow-up attack from one of his mechanized tendrils.

"Aw, are you backing away from the fight you started?!" He taunts, arrogantly laughing at your defensive maneuvers.

In the distance, you begin to hear soft booms echo through the air, steadily growing in volume. You knew exactly who was rushing to the scene.

Oh buddy, now you're fucked.

You can't help the devilish smirk that crosses your lips, anticipating your hero boyfriend to show up and blow this guy into the pavement. In the interim, you have one final trick up your sleeve - literally - to give this guy a pre-beatdown of your own.

"Nah, just wearing you down so I can knock your ass out!" you boast, channeling your best "hero" speech.

With a few taps of your fingers on the metal gripping your forearms, the gloves begin to channel energy into the palms of your hands, lighting up with blue sparks as it charged. You needed an extra 15 seconds before they were ready to burst. The villain notices, swiping at your feet to knock you down before you can properly dodge. The breath is knocked from your lungs and leaves you gasping for air.

Boom, boom...boom!

You can tell Bakugo's almost here as the explosions get louder with each burst.

Just 5 more seconds...

"Yo, spider-freak!" Bakugo roars from atop a nearby building. "We can do this th' easy way or hard way. Your choice, jackass!"

He hasn't noticed you yet as your gloves begin to beep, signaling the charge is ready for use.

Perfect timing.

Getting to your feet is more of a struggle than anticipated as you're still recovering from the previous strike. Wobbling on jelly legs, you plant your feet solidly on the pavement to the best of your ability, bring your hands up in front of you and aim your palms at the villain. Your loud cackle catches Bakugo’s attention, sending a panic coursing through his veins as he finally sees you - shaking like a leaf with a grin on your face.

What the fuck is she doing?!

His train of thought is interrupted by your gloves firing off a massive burst of energy, hitting the villain square in the chest and slamming him into the ground, shattering his robotic accessories in the process.

Holy shit, those fuckers work after all.

Bakugo can't help but snort at your ballsy attempt to hold down the villain, feeling simultaneously proud and scared shitless that you'd put yourself in the middle of harms way for strangers - just like himself. He's blasting off the building and down to the street to wrap up what's left of this D-lister villain.

The blowback from the gloves, however, is way harder to handle than anticipated. As the gloves emit vapor and a sharp hissing noise, you're sent teetering backward, tumbling across the street until your body skids to a halt.

───

Everything fucking hurts.

But holy shit, that was exhilarating.

There's sirens in the distance while you lay there, signaling that they're more than likely surrounding the asshole and taking him into custody. You groan and grumble while sitting up, propping yourself up on your elbows as a loud thud lands at your feet.

You know the sound of those boots anywhere.

"Dynamight?" you feign, pretending to be distressed after the fight. "Oh, you showed up at the perfect -,"

He cuts you off with a sharp quip, his voice gruff with a playful tone. "Shut the fuck up."

Bakugo crouches down as he's grabbing your wrists and hoisting you up onto your feet. He holds onto you for a moment while you get your bearings, wobbling like a baby deer. Once you're steady, he pulls you flush to his body and cups your chin in his gloved hand. Before you can protest his movements, he swoops down and your lips meet.

He's kissing you.

In the middle of the street.

In front of every single press company in the city.

In public.

You squeak against his lips, putting your hands on his chest to create space between the two of you as you pull away. He's perplexed at your hesitation until the realization whips him back to reality.

"Fuck!" Bakugo snarled, a pink blush creeping up the back of his neck. He was too caught up in the moment with adoration over your bravery that he...forgot he was on duty.

Cameras and reporters are rushing over, shouting a million different questions at the two of you.

"Miss! Are you a hero, too? What's your name?"

"Are you Dynamight's side-kick?"

"Dynamight, you saved the city once again! Who is this young lady in relation to you?"

"Are you worried this will affect your reputation with your supporters?"

"God, the agency is gonna fuckin' hate me for this," he growls.

Oh no. You just inadvertently tainted his reputation. He might get demoted...if only you had just stayed home today.

Bakugo turns toward the thousands of camera flashes and video cameras, arm slung around your shoulder.

"This is y/n, she's a support engineer from my agency and saved your asses today," he says confidently. "And she's my girlfriend, so don't get any wrong ideas about it."

What?!

The mob of media personnel begin speaking all at once to Bakugo again, shouting question after question.

"How long have you two been together?"

"Is she in training to be a hero, too?"

"That device was impressive! How did you manufacture it?"

"Do you have a quirk?"

You're standing there, dumbfounded that Bakugo just openly admitted to your relationship on live TV and to news reporters. You can't help but flush red over the barrage of questions, not used to this kind of interrogation in your line of support work.

He sighs, shaking his head as he removes his arm from your shoulder and moving to hold your hand.

"Quit it the questions, we're leaving."

With that, he parts through the crowd with you following behind, crossing over to the other street before letting go of your hand.

"Katsuki...are you sure you’re okay with this?" you ask timidly, aware that you can't take back what he said.

"Idiot, I don't lie about things like that. Now I get to show off my perfect princess."

You say nothing in return, just quietly squeal and do a little happy dance.

Perfect princess.

"Let's get your stubborn ass to the medical team, you look like shit," he teases, poking you in the forehead. "And we should probably tone back the output on those gauntlets, that coulda killed somebody - or you."

You hum in acknowledgement and follow him down the street, heading back to the agency together.

think of the gloves as, like, ironman suit type gear? how you can just pop them on and use them as enhanced fighting gear. hehe, a cute little panic fluff is always fun. thanks much again to @queenpiranhadon for the prompt!! 💜

Divider by : @/saradika