Menthol | Hayakawa Aki

good things will happen 🧿

things that are meant to be will fall into place 🧿

warmth | kunigami rensuke x f!reader

⤷ warnings: 18+! making out, mentions of sex, fluff

⤷ word count: 1.6K

⤷ a/n: this is completely, 100%, a comfort fic. making out, fondling, no sex. domestic, slow, cute. hope you like it x

“Open up,” he breathes, amber eyes half lidded, face flushed as he looks down at you.

You comply because of course you do; Kunigami has an air about him, a… soft dominance that you can’t resist.

He runs his thumb along your lower lip, dips it into your mouth with a soft hum of “good girl,” and presses it gently against your tongue. “You’re so beautiful,” he adds, other hand cupping your cheek, grin growing on his face when you nuzzle against him, eyes locked with his.

Then he kisses you.

Frames your face with his large hands and presses his lips to yours, softly melting into you, growing hungrier with every wet smack of your lips against his. You’re pushing his shirt up, silently willing him to tear it off, your cool fingers hungry for the warmth of him, of the heat he radiates even now, on a cold winter morning.

He complies because of course he does; you may be madly in love with this man, but he swears he loves you harder. It takes every inch of self control to keep from manhandling you, despite how much you claim not to care if he’s rough.

He’s only gotten bigger, stronger, broader with age, and there’s no way he’d dream of hurting you. At least, not on a lazy Sunday morning. Not after what he did to you last night.

Once his shirt is gone, you pull him back down to you, humming contentedly when his weight presses against your thinly clothed chest, his heat everywhere when you wrap your arms around his neck, drawing your lips back up to his.

“Are you okay?” He asks after a few slow pecks, leaning up on an elbow, a finger drawing down your throat.

You catch his insinuation, and laugh back in return. “It’s not the first time you’ve gone a little too deep, Ren,” then you’re up on your elbows, too, pressing a chaste kiss to his nose. “Besides, you know I like it.” Which you do; you love it when he fills your mouth, your throat, makes you feel like you’re choking on him.

His blush deepens, and you can’t help but think it’s cute how he acts like this now, considering what you both got up to last night. It’s not the first time you a little rough together, but he generally prefers it when he takes care of you, so the skullfuck was definitely surprising.

“I like you here,” he says, voice a little gravelly, eyes unreadable. Two fingers press into your sternum and he’s pushing you back against his mattress, eyes drinking you in, those fingers ghosting over your skin as if he’s committing you to memory.

“I like me here, too,” you whisper back, eyes fluttering shut as those fingers find your left nipple, dipping under your little camisole to tease at the puckered flesh. A shaky sigh leaves your lips when his fingertips are replaced with his lips, his tongue; your thighs clench together at the familiar roll of need tingling at your clit—

Then he’s gone. Back up on his elbows, looking down at you, deep in thought.

When the silence— and the anxiety— gets too much for you, you open your mouth, “Ren, I—”

“Move in with me,” he blurts, suddenly determined. You’re speechless. “I know it’s only been a few months, but,” he takes a deep breath. “I know you’re it, you’re the one for me. And when I’m travelling for work, I worry about you in that shitty apartment—“

“I happen to like my shitty apartment!”

“— with its shitty reception and leaky bathtub. At least if you’re here, I know everything’s perfect for you, and there’s nothing you need to worry about.” He rattles off, frown on his face contradicting the deep blush in his cheeks.

“But your heating it horrendous,” you mumble, chest giddy with nerves, with happiness. “It’s always cold here,”

He leans down to brush his nose against yours, “I turn the thermostat down so you wanna cuddle me,” it’s a tender whisper, and it’s almost like he’s laying himself bare for you, all walls gone. Vulnerable.

You push up to kiss him, wrap your arms around him and tangle your fingers in his tangerine hair.

Everything he’s said is true: your one-bedroom apartment cowers lamely in the shadow of his three-bedroom, two-bathroom condo that’s fitted with matte black appliances and fixtures, has heated floors, and a fucking butler’s pantry. Sporting heroes get paid ridiculous pay checks, especially when their teams win on the world stage.

“So, you want me to move in so you know I’m here?” You whisper against his lips. “Is that all?”

“Well,” he dips his tongue between your lips and slowly lowers his mouth to yours, before pulling back. “You’re here all the time, anyway?”

“Not the answer I was fishing for,” you laugh at the perplexed look on his face, pull his head down until his cheek is squishing against your lips, then blow a raspberry. “Tell me you love me, meathead.”

“You know I love you,” he chuckles, pinching your nose with his thumb and pointer finger, and levelling you with a stare. “I love you,” he says, “and you can quit your stupid job and go back to school.”

You groan and let go of him, falling back against the deep blue-green sheets on his bed, “you’re too practical to be romantic,”

“Hey, nothing wrong with practical,” he chuckles, brows raised.

“I want romance!” You pout, reaching for a pillow and lopping him in the head with it.

He laughs and dives back in for more kisses, chaste pecks and tickling fingers morphing into a slow make-out session, groping and fondling; then you’re on top of him, grinding against the very prominent erection in his boxers.

“You,” he breathes, distracted. “You didn’t give me an answer— haa…” he hisses with a roll of your hips.

“Ren, of course I’ll move in with you,” you kiss him on the cheek. “Doesn’t mean I wanna stay here alone when you go parading around the planet.”

He pushes himself up on his elbows, almost knocking you in the nose, “you’ll come with me? When I go overseas? You said you couldn’t.”

If he were a puppy, his tail would be wagging.

“Well, I can get an online degree, can’t I? All I need is a laptop and internet access.” Your face feels heated now, because no matter how smooth you’re trying to be about the situation, you’ve always wanted to quit your job and go back to school, and here’s this man— this Adonis— promising to help you fulfil your dreams.

“We can go shopping today,” he smiles, tucking some stray hair behind your ear. “Do up the spare room; make it a home office,”

“Rensuke, you don’t have to do that for me,” you laugh lightly, a little embarrassed.

“Oh,” he deflates a little, big smile fading. “Am i going too fast? Scaring you? I just—“

“No!” You almost smack his chest, horrified with the idea of making him feel like that. “I just don’t want you to waste money on me; I can buy my own computer—“

“Wow,” he drawls almost sarcastically, the fire back in his eyes. “I thought I was overpaid? Shouldn’t matter what I choose to waste my paycheck on, should it?”

You roll your eyes, but smile nonetheless, “well while you’re at it, I’ll take some diamond earrings and a new car.” You joke, sarcasm thick and pressing as you lay yourself on top of him, your ear to his heart.

“Oh? What kind of car?” He asks, rolling you over, pressing a kiss to your cheek, before shimmying down your body.

Your fingers go to his hair, slowly scratch at his scalp, “I’ve always wanted something fancy, like… a Jag or Ferrari or something,” you muse as he groans, the pads of his fingers digging into your thighs. “But I’d probably be better off getting a family car, wouldn’t I? A beemer? A Lexus?”

A tiny part of you prays he missed it with all that groaning, but he springs up, eyes wide. “Family car?”

God, now you’re embarrassed. “I just mean, like, uh… it’d be better for the future?” You almost start to sweat under his stare, but he’s a bad actor, and his face crumples into laughter when he sees the mortification on yours.

“I asked you to move in, not to bear my children,” he jokes, but before you can say anything back, he’s burying his face in the crook of your thighs and prying them apart as you squeak and wriggle in his hold. “I’ve got a whole plan,” he explains between sloppy kisses to your thighs, your clothed mound. “But if you want me to put a baby in you, I’ll skip some steps,”

You’re giggling now, maybe because you’re a little nervous, maybe because you think he might not be joking about having a plan, or maybe because his kisses tickle too much. “You made a whole plan for me? Or is— Ren, stop it— is this some de-default plan where any women will do?” You’re laughing, grabbing his hair, his face, trying to get him out of between your legs.

He just smiles, and it’s warm and it’s golden and it’s him. Your heart blooms like a sunflower in your chest, pointing towards him, reaching for him, for his heat, for his light, for his love.

He crawls back up your body, kisses your neck once, twice, three times, until, “You’ve ruined other women for me,” he breathes against your lips.

“Really?” You kiss him, too, pull back to rest your forehead against his. “So Chigiri’s my competition then?”

“Oh babe,” he wrinkles his nose, does his absolute best not to laugh, “you’re not winning against the princess; I asked him to move in too.”

“Wonderful,” you smirk, “make sure to share him with me.”

“No,” he whines, a little dramatically. “I could never share you, not even with that princess.” The next kiss is passionate, raw, demanding. “You’re mine.”

“And you’re mine,” you concur, breathless.

“Forever.” He whispers, definitively.

His | 2 | Yandere Bakugou x Reader

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3

Story Masterlist

Summary:  You’re a petty villain, and your new villain-career is forced to an immediate halt when none other than Ground Zero captures you. He’s convinced that you’re in need of his help to change your tainted lifestyle, and you’re not going to tell him otherwise.

WARNINGS: ABUSE, INJURIES

Ground Zero’s grip on (Y/n)’s wrists twisted, shifting his hold on her and placing her back in the locked position she was previously, holding her arms together behind her with one hand. She felt Ground Zero’s weight shift as he reached for his belt once more. The clang of metal was behind her and immediately knew she was being detained. The gravel felt rough against her chin as she grimaced, looking forward at the dark alley her and the hero were alone in. She felt like freedom was just a few more paces away — maybe if she had been faster, or just had a quirk…!

Who was she kidding.

Ground Zero was not known for his mercy. He was not known for his compassion. He was not known for his gracious nature.

He was known for his ruthlessness. He was known for his hostility. He was known as the symbol of strength, and by God, did it show by just how bruising his grip was on her arms.

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Wow this was so so amazing 😫😫😫😫 i loved the parallel (?) of tae loving and wanting his cat and kook feeling that same exact way towards yn !!

Blessings

Ship: Yandere! Single Father! Jungkook x Reader

TW: obsessive behaviour, jk manipulates his son into believing reader is his mother :(, yandere behaviour, obsession, manipulative behaviour, manipulation, crying tae, extremely unhealthy relationships, terrible parenting, guilt tripping.

Based off this request: May I ask a Y!JK x reader where they are Cheetah hybrids and he’s a CEO but also a single father that is obsessed with reader but she always ignore him but then he kidnap her and makes his son believes that she’s his mother so she can’t leaves them cause she would feel guilty to break the child’s happiness? / from anon

A/N: hello everyone!! first thing, thank you so so much for all your support on the teaser? i can only hope this lives up to your excitement :) this isn’t a hybrid au, although the request asked for it. and also, happy holidays!! please remember to stay safe, stay hydrated, eat well, rest well, and remember that you are always loved <3

Word Count: 6.646k words :p

Taglist: @ephemerealkalon @kirbykook​ @snowyydayys​ @lovelyseomin​ @gucieguciekook​​ @kpopgirlbtssvt​​ @neoyugy​​ @opaljm​​ @saxpam24​ @born-slayer @anjcrbnll​ @infirebaby  @starscloser​ @ungodlyjoon​

ask y! single dad! jk or kid! tae anything! 

ask my other characters anything! 

| you’re the perfect person to complete their family |

“Daddy,”  a soft little voice floats from below, “look at my painting?”

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Responsibilities (4/?)

bestfriend!Nanami x Reader (SMAU)

Masterlist

Nanami takes an interest in your date

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

A/N: Hi everyone! We continue with our favorite best friends. With the weekend coming it also means I’ll have more free time to make more chapters, I don’t want this series to be too long so it will probably be less than 10 chapters as I want to do more SMAUS with the other guys. You're welcomed to send me an ask with any comments, questions, etc., you have on this. 😊

If you like the story please interact: reblogs, likes and comments go a long way. Feedback is always appreciated! Feel free to message me about it.

Taglist

@ermbehindyou @totallygyomeiswife @ash4ree @lov3vivian @namjooningera @sleepykittyenergy @silllly-jokesterr @shigarika @7haze @lizzie3d2y @jaybirdluvr73 @sweetdreams-inumimi @anuncalledbridge @troyesivanfrl @lavenderdaydream97

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Dog with No Teeth // Simon “Ghost” Riley x Female Reader

Like deer meat picked off by carrion birds, you are plucked up during a scavenging raid by tactical-clad men all in black. There is no possibility of returning to your old life. You’re forced to assimilate, to conform to the remaining dredges of society. With that comes a choice: select someone to marry or the government will do it for you. You make the rash choice, selecting the skull-faced stranger that snatched you in the first place.

Overall Warnings: Post-Apocalyptic AU, dubcon, forced marriage, forced proximity, eventual lovers, breeding, pregnancy, canon-typical violence

Chapters: Ongoing

One // Two // Three // Four // Five // Six // Seven // Eight // Nine // Ten // Eleven // Twelve // Thirteen // Fourteen // Fifteen // Sixteen // Seventeen // Eighteen // Nineteen // Twenty // Twenty-One // Twenty-Two // Twenty-Three // Twenty-Four // Twenty-Five // Twenty-Six // Twenty-Seven // Twenty-Eight // Twenty-Nine // Thirty

** indicates a Community Label

ao3 // main masterlist

the song washing machine heart by mitski feels very yandere bakugo coded i fear.

just,,,, i think if he was your second choice, like you started dating him because things between you and someone else (cough todoroki or midoriya) didn’t work out he would NEVER believe you really love him. it doesn’t matter if he grows to become your first choice, he will never truly be able to shake the feeling that you’re imagining one of them while you’re kissing him.

and like, he wants you to love him. he wants to believe that you truly think of him as your first choice now, but how does he do that when he’s seen how you’ve looked at his rivals. meanwhile he was always the one chasing after your oblivious ass.

you’re everything to him. he’s not just gonna get rid of you. he can’t get rid of you. he worked so hard just to be second choice, to have you now.

he can’t lose you to one of them.

it leads to him becoming very toxic and possessive out of fear. you need to love him, but he’ll never be not paranoid enough to believe you do. bakugo kinda traps himself in this cage of doubt and starts treating you like something that’s gonna get ripped away from him if he isn’t careful.

Omgggg ur bringing kuroko no basket back!!!! Amazing as always

┌─ “ ! „ WHEN YOU ASK

tw. yandere, dubcon, threats, coercion, some degradation, dom/sub themes, humiliation, noncon voyeurism, former bullying mention, threesome-ish, crying, knife, choking wordcount. 5.5k

a/n. ♡ commissioned by another amazing person ♡ thank you so much for the commission!! i hope you like this one and it lives up to your expectation and i !! ahHH i just always get nervous writing charas i haven't before but I had a blast! mwUah i hopeee you enjoy!!! kiSsES once again thankies to rhi for being best beta hehe

akashi seijuro x fem!reader

See, if someone asked, Mibuchi could say that he’s friends with you.

It wouldn’t be an outright lie -you’ve been in the same classes since middle school, he’s seen how you act around your friends and wave everyone goodbye with a smile- but maybe it isn’t exactly the truth either. Safer to say, Mibuchi knows of you. Would even call you an acquaintance of sorts, and he’s pretty sure you guys were sort of friendly when you were twelve and he sat next you in class for a good couple months — he might even have walked you home at some point.

You could have been friends, if he’d been a little less busy with basketball practice in middle and high school, a little less busy with the team. Because really, he’d have had every opportunity to. You were in the cheer squad for a couple years, and he’s pretty sure you were one of the girls who helped collect funds for the Rakuzan bus rides from and to tournaments- and you always seemed pleasant, kind. If he hadn’t been so focused on his sport career, he might’ve even had a bit of a crush on you.

Not that he plans on making up for it now, but it’s not hard to see or admit that you’re pretty stunning, you were back then— and you definitely are today. Perfectly manicured nails and beautifully glossy hair that makes you look full and warm and modelesque all at once. You shine. It’s hard not to notice someone like you whenever he sees you at their matches. He knows he’s not the only one. College jocks are hardly the picture of self restraint, and if you think signed athletes are any different, you’d be wrong. But all of that doesn’t really matter, because you don’t sit in the stands for him.

The redhead that he has spent the past few years playing alongside is lucky to call you more than friends. He respects Akashi. There’s almost no way around it when you play on a team alongside the guy, that pure, unfiltered resolve he has, and the steely brute force it sometimes takes the form of. Akashi wouldn’t exactly have it any other way too, and though that might get annoying if he were anyone else, Mibuchi isn’t arrogant enough to acknowledge that the guy plays best when he knows people he respects have his back. That type of world-class talent doesn’t come around a lot.

The redhead that has you sitting looking pretty in the stands is the same boy that’d shove you to the concrete in grade 2. The one he saw yank your pigtails and put glue in your backpack, isn’t he? The one who started the talk that you’d kissed a teacher under the bleachers, and stood by when Hayama stuck his hand up your skirt? Yeah, it’s probably because you aren’t friends that he doesn’t understand. All he knows is that kids grow up, and he respects the Captain.

So it’s because he respects Akashi that he finds himself in this situation, isn’t it?

You’re tiny. Well, everyone is sort of ‘tiny’ compared to most professional basketballers… but leaning against the concrete pillar with your perfect outfit and your arms wrapped around yourself, not a hair out of place - it is more vibes than actual appearance that makes you seem small. Compact, tiny, quiet, if he didn’t know any better, he’d liken you to a skittish little animal. You’re waiting, eyes scanning everyone briefly as they stream out. It’s sort of lonely looking, though. His head reminds him it isn't really his problem, but hey, it feels weird to pretend to not see you too.

And he supposes you are kinda friendly, right? As his long legs carry him through the sliding doors of the training center, he plops a sucker between his lips, glances over his shoulder and - makes the executive choice to walk up to you. If only to entertain you a little while Akashi takes his time running through the coaches’ comments, like he usually does. You blank when you notice him walk up, before doing a quick double take at the doors, and he takes the sort of deer-in-headlights look as a question on your end. “Akashi’s probably going to be a little bit longer, if I had to guess.”

“Oh. I see.” You let out a nervous little laugh, and wring your hands together, and he takes a brief second to look at you. Sure, he hasn’t exactly been very chatty when you’ve strolled in during practices with forgotten bento boxes, or when you sit at the very front row during matches with your perfectly presented exterior and a nervous glitter in your eyes, or even when it seems you’ve been dragged along to the teams events— but from what he knows of you… in the past, you’re not the shy little bunny standing before him now. It almost makes him a little self-conscious. Is it him that’s making you hesitate, or are you just… different now? People do change, after all. Still, it doesn’t seem… like change.

“I’m… Mibuchi, I was in the same class as you a lot growing up.” He finds himself explaining, in case you forgot. He wouldn’t exactly blame you if you did. If you managed to forgive and forget for Akashi, you could’ve forgotten most other things.

But you pause, and then your face softens into a slow smile. “I remember you, Reo-kun. We were desk mates in Ms. Tanaka’s class. You were always nice to me.” Right, with your high ponytail and cute bangs and your flowery frilly shirts. Thinking about it harder, he definitely did have somewhat of a crush on you back then. “It’s nice to get to talk to you again, it’s been so long.”

“You still like basketball, huh?” he asks, and you laugh and look at the floor, before nodding.

It takes a few seconds for your eyes to meet his again. “Yes, I guess so. Don’t have much of a choice.” It lingers when your voice goes a little more quiet. Right. Because, your boyfriend’s a pro-athlete. “Don’t get me wrong, I like the games! It’s really nice to get swept up in the excitement of it from time to time.” You sound light, breezy … but almost mournful too. It’s somewhere in your eyes, your long lashes unable to hide the deepness of it. “Honestly, I can’t wait for the season to start again.” Another beat passes, before you seem to snap out of it, and refocus on him. “You’re still playing too.”

Whatever tension crept up in his shoulders doesn’t loosen when he grins. “Almost fifteen years now, can’t let that streak go to waste.” He sucks on the lollipop for a long moment, before tilting his head. “Besides, pretty sure Akashi wouldn’t let me.”

It cracks your carefully crafted expression. For a split second -surprising both himself and you, it seems, because then your smile is picture perfect again. The same perfect smile you give everyone when they say ‘hi’ and Akashi laces his hand with yours. Or when you blow back a kiss across the field. And see, he isn’t too concerned with people’s reactions, usually. But it’s so sudden that it feels … weird. Everything suddenly feels weird. You never wear Akashi’s jerseys, even when he stuffs them into your hand before matches. Not that you have to… it’s just, you used to be cheer captain. It seems like something you’d want to do.

That sits weirdly. 

“You’re definitely right about that,” you agree, but the light of it doesn’t reach your eyes. Before he can think about it, the electronic doors slide open behind him— and as if you’re burned, you take a few steps away and into a new line of sight. “‘Juro, you’re back!”

“Why aren’t you waiting in the car, stupid?” is the first thing that comes out, reaching for you like you’re a lost child, as his mismatched eyes find Mibuchi. His face is perfectly blank of emotion as it always seems to be. “You guys were talking?”

Instantly, your eyes shoot up to his, and you seem to cling a little harder. “No! N-no, just… Mibuchi was waiting with me. We’re done.” You fiddle with the chain of your necklace when your boyfriend stays quiet and stares you down, searching for … a lie? An explanation? Whatever it is makes Mibuchi feel like he shouldn’t be watching. But he can’t pull away from the scene. His teammate eventually leans down to kiss you long and deep, and your shoulders drop a tad bit. Not enough to look relaxed.

“Hm.” If Akashi notices, he doesn’t mention it, and instead brushes his lips along your temple. “We should get home then. You look a little tired.” You don’t agree, but your feet start moving robotically upon the prompt, and the noiret takes that as the only clue he’s gonna get that the conversation is over.

“See you two next… practice,” he starts to say as you two walk off, but quiets down as you turn over your shoulder to look at him. There’s something off about your eyes. At least, he swears— there is. It makes him feel like he’s crazy. Because your pretty smile is right there, and you’re wrapping your perfectly manicured fingers around Akashi’s bicep.

The look doesn’t fade when Akashi simply nods, and ushers you along with a hand that lands in the dip of your spine. “Sure.”

+

The next time he sees you isn’t at practice. It takes him aback a little, putting the weights he was curling down to straighten up for a better view. You’re looking around like a lost puppy, and the reflection on the large glass panes boxing him off hides most of you from view, but sure enough- it’s you. Just you, once more, rubbing your hands along your arms as you wait in line for something.

It isn’t his business. It really isn’t, but- you didn’t show up to any of their matches or practices the last two weeks. Is it so strange that he’s sort of glad to see you alive and well? Not that he’d ever think badly of Akashi, but you’d been in such a bad mood when you left, and it just… didn’t seem right. He takes his water bottle to toss it onto his bag, before jogging on over out of the gates and around the corner right when you slip out of view. A few people walk around him, and he catches a brief look of your face as you hesitantly slip a card into the ATM.

Your hands are shaking. They’re shaking, and your lip is screwed between your teeth and… if it wasn’t you, he’d think you were doing something nefarious. “Hey,” he softly breathes as he walks up, and your jumpy squeak only makes him more uncomfortable.

Your eyes are so wide when you turn around. “Mibuchi! —Oh, Reo… it’s you.” The device behind you beeps. “Sorry, I,” your pretty face paints on a smile as you take out the money and slide it neatly into your purse, “I wasn’t expecting anyone to talk to me.” There’s a moment of silence as he scans you up and down, and that horrible feeling drops back into his gut. He can’t help it, it’s laced in the air between you two, it’s on his tongue, it’s in your eyes when you blink up at him. “Reo? Are you- okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” he nods, wiping his hands on his gym shorts. Is— should he say something? Is there something to say? It’s not like he can just … ask if you’re being treated badly. Hell- he’s been friends with Akashi since high school- he trusts the guy! There’s absolutely no reason he should be thinking like this. “You look beautiful,” he ends up blurting out, unable to think of anything else to say. “Me and the guys missed you at practice.”

“O-oh,” you giggle, and shake your head. “I was just a bit… busy at home, that’s all. I hoped Seijuro would’ve told you guys not to expect me.” Either you’re a really good actor, or some of your nerves slide off of you when you look up at him, and this time, he believes the smile. “But I guess I don’t have to tell you what he’s like, he isn’t really the talking type.” There’s a certain fondness in your eyes when you shrug. “You know, Seijuro bought me a ring five weeks into dating, when we were in high school. Said he knew what he wanted, and that he’d make me the happiest wife on the planet if I agreed.” You giggle. “At sixteen years old, he was already that way. I thought it was really romantic back then, his smittenness.”

This he remembers. Akashi talked about it in the locker room once, knowing you’d be cheering in the stands, he’s pretty sure he even showed off the ring despite the ridicule. Did you still wear Akashi’s jerseys back then? He can’t for the life of him figure out why he cares to remember so bad. Your tongue swipes out to brush your lips. “We’re a long ways out from high school now, huh?” Mibuchi’s hand twitches by his side as he watches the smile die out, but what the hell can he say. He wasn’t there for either of you, not really. If something did happen, would he even know?

His eyes sink down your face ever so briefly to your throat when you look off. There’s a mark purple and red where a necklace would have sat, bruised all around, and though faded- he stops smiling.

“What’s that?!” 

You jerk away with an uncomfortable glance, and a shake of your head. Fuck, he wants you to say something. He wants you to tell him some stupid story about a rash or a tumble, to tell him to fuck off and leave you be, because it isn’t his business- but you don’t. Maybe he does consider you a friend. “Hey, if- you ever need anything,” need help, he wants to say, but the word doesn’t make it out of his mouth. “You just have to ask, you know?” He doesn’t exactly expect you to drop everything and beg for aid in the middle of Kyoto, but the pristine calm that washes over you is almost eerie.

Your eyes find his. “Well— I- I want to visit my mom.” The tremble in your voice is soft, but it’s there, squeezing your fingers a little tighter. “Can you drop me off at the nearest train station? Seijuro’s off on a little business trip today, and he’s got his car. I don’t really… want to wait until he’s back.” A nagging little voice in the back of his head tells him not to get involved.

But the voice isn’t loud enough. “Of course, yeah.”

+

Akashi’s passes are bad today. He’s been on edge seemingly all practice, wiping sweat off the back of his neck as he talks to the manager- and Mibuchi doesn’t feel entirely comfortable just walking up to him. They don’t have the friendship they did in high school, and though he still appreciates the guy, there’s a space there that wasn’t there before. As if on cue, the redhead’s eyes flick up and meet his, differently colored eyes scanning him up and down, and Mibuchi looks away. He doesn’t want to seem too interested in your business, he’s pretty sure you wouldn’t want him to be either— but he can’t exactly pretend not to be curious anymore. It’s basically leaking out of him onto the polished floor.

Did you get home okay after? Did you and Akashi talk? Did you fight? 

The first hour results in a record of missed 3 pointers and shitty teamwork, so clearly the tension isn’t just in his head. Even their stern watcher of a coach eventually grits his teeth. “All of you, I want you to regroup before the end of the night, or I’ll have you dribbling until your arms fall off.” Everyone straightens out and gives a quick ‘yes, coach’. His eyes then slide to the Captain, and he crosses his arms. “Akashi, take a rest, you’re all over the place today.”

“You almost elbowed me in the face earlier, dude,” the shooting guard softly mumbles upon the prompt, and it’s barely a second before Akashi’s nose to nose with the man, his fist wound in the sweaty jersey by his throat. Everyone freezes up, and even the long-time coach is caught off guard by the sudden flare of anger. But Akashi doesn’t falter, and hisses out his words.

“Stay out of my fucking way then. This is my court, and you’re on my team. You serve me.”

The gruff older man stands up to separate the two with a short bark of the Captain’s name, as those devilish mismatched eyes flick up. “Akashi! Bench, now. You pull a stunt like that again and you’ll remain there.” It’s like there’s a black cloud over the entire gym that makes them hold their breath, until every so slowly, the fist unfurls and drops. The redhead doesn’t say another word, but his brows are just as furrowed as he steps back, and looks around. Those fiery eyes pass over Mibuchi just briefly, and he swears they stare a little longer than they should. “Now line up, you shitty little brats!”

“Yes, coach!”

Shoes squeak on the floor as they line up, and Mibuchi lingers on the interaction a bit longer. The shorter man catches the ball tossed at him, and slowly straightens up as he clicks his tongue. “Yes, coach.” He can’t shake the glare or the thinly laced impatience in his voice.

+

It displays almost three on the blinking alarm clock when the rattling at his door wakes him. There’s an impatient knock, and then another few ones about twenty seconds later that have him throwing the covers off. The house is as he left it for the night when he drags himself towards the entrance and waits for a moment longer, before a tiny sniffle catches him entirely off guard. It’s a woman. His tired mind still instantly comes upon you, and he unlocks the door when a hand again meets the wood.

The apartment light doesn’t fail him. It is you, though there’s a darkness under your eyes -smudged mascara- and your hands are bound before you, as you’re basically held up by your neck and you’re pushed into the doorway. Mibuchi stumbles as his hands land on your arms to stop your fall, and for a brief moment, everything seems okay.

Until the door is closed behind the three of you and the person who pushed glares with an anger that he can feel burn his skin. Akashi. The normally quiet, demanding Captain doesn’t have much of his usual restraint when he picks you back up by your arm and holds you out as if you’re a stolen toy— and he sneers as the hiss of his voice cuts. “You think I’m fucking stupid? I saw you looking at her all of last season’s practices. But she doesn’t actually want you, does she? She tried her very fucking best to run off, to no avail.” He briefly glares down at you when you whimper, and shake your head against the gag in your mouth. “Don’t pout, slut, you deserve to be punished. Don’t you think?”

You’re crying. Hard, a desperate, trashing cry that’s making his hairs stand upright. And he doesn’t think you could ever look ugly, but you’re definitely crying like you want the ground to swallow you up whole, and like the action of struggling this hard is causing you pain. “No, I don’t wanna.”

The entire scene doesn’t make any sense. Why are you — why is Akashi here? It fries his brain the longer he thinks, and his hands slowly slide off of your arms to take a tiny step back. “Captain…,” Mibuchi starts, reaching out to hold your hand. Akashi should let go of you. You’re hurt.

The movement has Akashi’s irises back on his teammate with fire, eyes wide and accusatory. “Move.” He takes you by your collar and drags you like you’re a kitten, before shouldering Mibuchi out of his own doorway to deposit you on the cold floor. It knocks him out of his daze enough to at least process the situation. This can’t be his former friend pulling something like this— but it’s playing out right before him. What the fuck? “I had to spend the entirety of yesterday driving up to Tokyo because of the stupid shit my flighty little wife pulled,” Akashi’s voice is tighter now, calmer, but not any less vicious as he watches you.

“Maybe if you get on your knees and beg my forgiveness, I won’t let everyone know what a fucking whore you are.” Through the gag, your muffled, pitched voice sounds out in the openness of his apartment. You look so pitiful, and Akashi’s not letting up as he grips your face to pull it only about an inch away from his own. “Apologize. You are mine. Doesn’t matter how far you run, you’re always going to be mine.” A thumb brushes along your cheeks to get rid of the silvery tracks. “I love you. You know I do.”

“You should let go of her,” his own voice comes before he has time to think it over. This situation is absurd, and he isn’t willing to just stand by to watch you get treated this way— at least, that’s until the other man turns to him and the brief moment of kindness is replaced by a darkness that flashes over his face.

The redhead’s hand disappears into his pocket, glaring at him from his elevated position in the baren light of the room. “Shut your fucking mouth, Mibuchi.” There’s not a sliver of familiarity left when he clicks his tongue, and like he’s the one who’s disgusted, narrows his eyes. “Don’t forget who you’re talking to.” The tense silence is only made more pressing by the way you give him those fearful eyes, shaking your head ‘no’ as the man before him steps a bit closer. “I am not here to ask your opinion… I’m here to punish her.” As he points in your direction, his hand comes out of his pocket with a knife, glittering brilliantly even in the dark, and is then aimed towards him. Your pinched crying starts up again when he pulls your head up by your hair, and Akashi raises an eyebrow.

“You think you’re the first with notions of heroism? This brat runs like it’s a hobby. You’re not special.” His eyes burn. “If I hear you talk to me again, I’ll hurt her,” he breathes, deathly serious as he turns to you, “and if you don’t obey, I’ll hurt him, okay? I know you don’t want that, baby doll.” When you wildly shake your head again, he kneels down by your side, and Mibuchi can’t do anything but watch as the spit-filled gag is pulled down your chin and Akashi cups your cheek to kiss you ever so softly. “I know, I know, it’s okay. You were being friendly, hm? You’d never use our friend here for your own protection. But you still let me find you, and now you get punished, you know that.”

“Seijuro, I’m sorry, please,” your voice barely sounds like you. It’s hoarser, desperate, and cracking with tears as wetness and snot runs on your face— “please let’s just go home. We don’t have to make up here, I won’t- I won’t run again, I promise.” Akashi stills for a second too long to pretend to be indifferent. But he still hardens up, and simply turns over his shoulder to look at the noiret with a cold look.

“Where’s the bedroom?”

“N- ‘Juro- no,” you start struggling again through your tears, and he wants to help you. “Please anything but this, I beg you! Seijuro!” Your poor wrists look rubbed raw because of the fabric, and be it the dejected look in your eyes or the sound of your cries ringing through his house -it sparks another surge of adrenaline in him. But the Captain doesn’t repeat himself, and the words ring through his skull. I’ll hurt her. “I’ll be your good girl-” you start, before dissolving into a mess of cries when the redhead wraps an arm around your belly and pulls you up onto your feet against him. You go soft and quiet when your face is against his chest, and Akashi presses the sharp blade of the knife into your neck.

“Well?”

“It’s to the left.” Mibuchi has no other choice, does he? He has no way of knowing if the man before him would actually hurt you— he doesn’t even know the person standing before him now. As he trails his eyes over the two of you in both worry and stress, the glitter of the ring on your finger doesn’t miss him. You really did get married, didn’t you? Was it always like this? He can’t imagine you’d have stayed as long as you have if it was… but then again, he clearly doesn’t know anything about Akashi. He doesn’t know anything about you either, from the looks of things.

“Come along,” Akashi says, leading the way to the abandoned bedroom with too steady a step. If he wasn’t so worried about getting you hurt -or worse- he could probably make a run for his phone charging on the kitchen counter. But by the time police got here, it’d be too late. So instead he just slowly, carefully follows behind as you’re deposited on the messed up sheets of his own bed, and stands in the doorway with baited breath. As Akashi slowly starts to undo each button of your silky pyjamas, a horrible feeling settles in his stomach, and he clears his voice. There’s no way it can be what he thinks it is. The stretch of skin revealed to him is littered with fresh hickeys, and Mibuchi looks away.

Not quick enough, clearly, because you pull up a sniffled breath and let out a little whine when Akashi hums. “Always make me embarrass you like this.” The soft lilt to his tone is almost gentle, if he wasn’t threatening you with a knife a minute earlier. “Crying like a baby until you get what you want, hm?” The ruffling of clothes is enough to have heat come up onto Mibuchi’s face, resolutely boring his eyes into the doorframe instead of you. Akashi can’t be serious. He clears his voice, and the Captain sighs. “So how long have you been in love with my wife?”

“Huh?” He looks up to see the way you’re holding the undone shirt to your chest and barely keeping your modesty, and Akashi giving him a blank look. “I- I’m not-”

“Sure you are. Just look at her.” He apraises you from his spot beside the bed, and runs his long fingers along your jaw and shoulder with a little breath. “She’s absolutely perfect. Aren’t you, baby? My beautiful little doll.” The kiss he lays onto your lips is genuinely soft, and loving, and a cold spike comes to Mibuchi’s spine at the sight of you melting into the touch despite everything. “Always perfect for me…” Akashi whispers, and then straightens up. “That’s exactly why I can’t let you go.”

He turns over his shoulder briefly to look at Mibuchi, and then sighs. “You should take a seat. I’m going to remind my little whore wife exactly who she belongs to- you sit and be quiet, understand?”

He can’t bring himself to answer verbally, but at the pleading look in your eyes -the one currently eating him up as much as it is sending hot flares down his body- he slowly takes the farthest corner of the bed and sits. Your eyes don’t manage to make it to his as Akashi unclasps your arms from around you and peels the last of your soft top off. His eyes flick down instinctively, he can’t help it, and makes his mouth a little more dry. You’re - beautiful, embarrassment coloring your cheeks and ears and chest with obvious humiliation that only makes the redhead hum. “You’re so pretty.” His rough palm comes under your face to grab it and force it to turn. “Look at Mibuchi, isn’t this what you wanted?”

“N-no,” you whimper, but bite your lip hard, and your chest rises and falls rapidly.

“You don’t like being watched?”

“You know I don’t,” your voice comes out soft, but there’s an edge there that only makes Akashi’s mouth twitch, as he forces you to uncross your legs. He starts work there too, peeling off your shorts down beautiful smooth thighs. The noiret tries to stop himself from watching so intently, he truly does, because it’s clear you hate every second that he stares. But — fuck, your little whimpers are making his heart race. He’s just a guy, and the stress, and flood of adrenaline is betraying him now. Once your shorts and panties are off, Akashi just watches for a moment, and you take a deep breath. “You can’t bully into it, Seijuro.”

He barely reacts. Brushes his rough thumbs along your tits and over your nipples, and pushes you back on the bed. “Shhh. We’re having a moment, baby. I didn’t want to do this, you know?” Akashi speaks like he’s cherishing you with his lips hovering yours, nudging your one thigh apart to make room for his hand as he runs two fingers along your slit. “But you make me. You’re just a stupid, dumb girl acting out because you want to be reminded of who you belong to, hm?” You shiver, and he spits onto his hand to start grinding his rough palm against your pussy as you close your eyes.

“No. No, I don-”

“No? You did this with Aomine,” he sighs, working two of his thick fingers inside you and you wiggle and hide your face into your shoulder, “and you did this with Kise too. But you’re still here. You just like getting your pussy fucked hard when you make me mad. Say it.”

“Ah- Seijuro, I-” His fingers curl in you, and your back lifts off the bed as your mouth opens into a silent moan. “Ah, ah— I like getting my pussy- fucked h-hard,” your voice is barely a whimper, but it’s quiet in the room save for everyone’s labored breathing as the slick sound of your pussy gets messier and louder. As you’re curling your hips onto his hand and resisting the urge to really fuck yourself onto his fingers, he pulls his shirt over his head and reveals the hard on covered by flimsy basketball shorts— and you let out a squeak. “Seijuro, ‘juro, I feel- mh-” You can’t even string a proper sentence together as he grunts, and traps your poor clit against the fleshy part of his palm.

“You should apologize for using Mibuchi,” Akashi softly says, a faint little grin on his lips that shows the glee in his eyes even more. “Go on.”

“But I— I didn’t use- ah, ahh-fuck.” Your wetness is glistening every time Akashi pulls his hand back and forces long fingers back in you- and you stuff the fabric of the gag back between your lips just to bite it hard as your tits are squeezed and he pinches your clit until your thighs shake. Then you cry, and open teary eyes to the man still frozen at the end of the bed. He doesn’t want you to look. To notice the shame pooling in his gut. “‘M sorry for using you.” Your snively look is too much.

Akashi hikes one of your thighs to your chest as he pulls his cock out and only shakes his head a little in disbelief, before lining up and pushing the drooling, red head in one hard pump inside. You whine out, and he licks his teeth as he grabs your throat and squeezes. “Needy fucking bitch. If you want to get your cunt fucked harder, you- should-” Each thrust slaps hard against your skin and hikes you further up, tits bouncing as your hands grab his forearms. “learn- to ask. Now Mibuchi will have to fuck his fist thinking of you, hm? Your- ugh- fault.”

His cock grinds deep inside your belly, hitting that spot good enough that you can’t open your eyes. Your ring glitters like your slicked pussy does, and the silvery tears on your cheeks. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you shake your head and sob, biting down on your puffy lips hard and clinging on. You look sorry. But with each thrust and squelch of your pussy taking Akashi as deep as you can, that look gets a little more faded. Maybe you're good at forgiving and forgetting.

You certainly look it.

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bakugou x f!reader

wc: 7.9K

MINORS DNI

summary: fed up with his inability to deliver the way he wants to in a relationship, bakugou turns to a dating app for casual sex and companionship. he assures his friends he’s capable of maintaining a platonic sexual relationship, despite his own misgivings. After things go well the first time, you establish a casual thing, and bakugou finds himself prying you open.

a/n: incredibly overworked reader and bakugou engage in a series of escalating casual hookups, bakugou falls for you, you fall for bakugou. choking, spitting, degredation, impact play, bondage, sir kink, daddy kink, praise, degradation, bakugou’s BIG on communication and aftercare, reader has corporate job and body is unspecific but she does have acne scars. bakugou is a mean hard dom right up until he cums and then he’s needy and affectionate, but if you’re uncomfy w degradation, this is not the fic for you. villain/hero predator prey kink roleplay is discussed but not described really. part one.

network - @http-404-error-unknown​

After the first time you sleep with Bakugou Katsuki, you avoid eye contact with him. You’re yanking your clothes on as quickly as possible, anxious to get as dressed as possible before he turns the lights on and you have to perceive yourself, perceive what you’ve done, been doing.

“Hey,” Bakugou says, “Should we uh, should we talk? About that?” You feel something cold wrap around your heart, a drawbridge closing.

“Um,” you swallow, “Um, I’m good. Don’t need to talk.” He looks over his shoulder, a little confused, but you’re focused on lacing your sneakers up again, ignoring him. “No need to um, to talk.” You reiterate and he nods slowly, inspecting you.

“Can I uh,” he walks across his bedroom, and when he rests a hand on your shoulder you jump like he’s shocked you.

“I don’t need the uh,” you gesture to the bed, “The cuddling and stuff, I’m all good.” You stretch a little. He narrows his eyes.

“Was it uh, good, for you?” He’s embarrassed at how relieved his is when he reads your genuine smile.

“Yeah.” You say brightly, punching him in the arm. “Thanks for having me, buddy.” He physically recoils at the nickname, glancing at his phone, he knew the people used tinder to date online casually, but he didn’t think you’d be this indifferent.

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