Jjk Men Zipping Up Your Dress

Stylish Niichan

Thong (Obey Me!)

━━━━━━━━━━ ✦ ━━━━━━━━━━

You decided on a scandalous thong for the day and decided to have some fun by teasing your ♡favorite♡ demon. At RAD. How does he react?

minors/ageless/blank blogs dni or get blocked :c

»Characters: Demon Bros + Dia + Barb

»Tags: ⚠️🔞NSFW , Possessive, Flashing, Some Humor, Smutty-ish, GN Reader/MC

»Notes: Few days late but I hope everyone had a good Valentines day! You are all loved ♡♡♡

Lucifer:

You visited him in his office and "accidentally" knocked a few papers off his desk. You bent down to pick them up.

His eyes widened briefly

Wondered if you did that on purpose

"Luuucifer? Are you okay?" You smiled slyly

So it was. This human is something else.

He leaned in close and whispered in your ear

"Careful now. If I find out anyone other than me saw what I saw, there will be punishment in store for you."

He smirked and rubbed your ass for a brief moment before giving a gentle smack sending you onto your next class

He saw the flustered look on your face and was quite content

Lucifer: 1 You: 0

He invited you into his study later that night though

Mammon:

You met up with Mammon at your locker. You decided to reach down in your locker to get something.

"H-HEY!"

Took off his uniform jacket and tried to cover you up

He was a blushing red mess

"Whaddya think youre doin' wearin' that! Here of all places! Anywhere even! No! I won't allow it!"

Was conflicted [Mammon cannot compute]

He was so turned on but upset thinking about if anyone else saw your thong!

He was so bothered he made you miss class

You two spent it in a secret cozy closet where he kept kissing/biting you all over while whispering "mine!"

Levi:

Oh poor unsuspecting Levi. You decided to tie your shoe in front of him.

Let out a small yelp

Immediate nosebleed

Wasn't sure if he should say something ...or just keep staring intensely

Okay he kept staring

Let out a small groan when you adjusted your thong and winked at him

Seriously!? Teasing him at school!? He should've stuck to online classes!

Skipped your shared class to go jerk off in the restroom

Satan:

You invited him after school to the library to study. While looking for books, you went for all the ones on the bottom shelves.

Could not stop staring while you browsed

Wanted to tell you your thong was showing but decided against it...since no one else was around he was going to enjoy it

He is a demon after all

Studying was hard after that

He found himself daydreaming

Was a little embarrassed he couldn't focus

"Who knew such a small piece of fabric could affect you?" You teased him

Ah so you knew...

Grabbed your hand and led you to an empty classroom for some fun

Asmo:

You sat in the back corner of class with Asmo. You "accidentally" dropped your pencil and bent to get it.

He gasped

Now that is sexy

He was absolutely mesmerized

He passed you a note complimenting your choice of underwear that day

Kept heavily flirting all of class

He might have convinced you to skip the rest of your classes for the day for other activities

Beel:

You invited Beel to the snack machine (RIP your wallet) and bent down to get his snacks.

Really caught off guard by your thong

Thought it was sexy as fuck but shook his head to clear his mind

Quickly told you it was showing

The growl he made wasn't his stomach but his throat when you said "Oh maybe it was meant specifically for you?"

He jerked off later that night to the thought of you doing other things exclusively for him

Belphie:

You were excited to see how this bad boy would react. You walked up to him and smacked his textbook on the ground, then picked it up in a dramatic fashion.

Well that was obviously intentional

But no complaints here...niiice

He snapped one of the strings/waistband

"Okay you got my attention. It looks good on you. It'd look better on the floor though."

Yeah he wasn't going to hold back his thoughts

"How about we visit the attic later? Just me and you?"

Diavolo:

So calm, so collected. But only you knew what a naughty demon he was. You went in straight for the kill and briefly flashed him in his office before running away.

Ohnononono

-Sighs- That human is completely dangerous.

SOS BARBATOS

Shut down the school while he offered a reward to anyone with your whereabouts

It didn't take long

Collected you in his demon form and carried you to his office

"You know what you do to me. Now look what you've done little one."

Barbatos had to cast a silencing spell and canceled the rest of his meetings that day.

I love an impatient feral diavolo,  sigh

Barbatos:

You guys had a little thing going on, but could you actually affect *the* butler? You were curious enough to try. You saw him heading your way and decided to tie your shoe.

Briefly surprised

Well...that's tantalizing

He cleared his throat and politely told you of your fashion faux pas

He took note of your slight disappointment

Oh so it was meant for him...this will be fun

He leaned down and whispered in your ear, tucking something into your hand

"Maybe nothing is better."

You peered in your hand and it was your thong!

He chuckled at your bright red face as you ran towards the restroom

He sent you a text: "I surely hope my visit tonight will be welcomed."

I like to think we won ?? 😩

⬦You might also like: Submissive & Breedable︱Virginity︱Flirting With Others

Who could ever leave me, darling?

SImon "Ghost" RIley x Johnny "Soap" McTavish x Reader Warnings: guilt, kinda cheating but not really, usual Simon fucked up thoughts, pining, a bit of religious imaginery. Summary: Men only feel good when they're drowning in guilt.

Simon has his alarm set at four hundred sharp; not a minute less, not a minute more. Before the birds and the people, before schools and training camps and the Sun itself. Suspended in time, even if he can hear his watch tick every second.

Activities at base start at five hundred, almost exactly. The big, old speakers blare that horrible music that you can still hear recruits groan at, while the rest just sigh and sit up. Simon hates it, always had. It somehow reminded him of Manchester and dear old daddy, of screams and the door slamming and things breaking again and again. A few weeks into his career, he bit his way through the panic attack he had for breakfast. 

But it isn’t why he gets up before that time. It isn’t because he’s nuts either-although, he won’t deny that one.

The kitchens start at four hundred, just like him. He remembers, back when he still had some baby fat and less baggage to carry, the fights that would break out with the other recruits, just to see who would get the chance to help inside there for the week. 

The kitchen is an absolute nightmare. Everyone is always yelling, fighting, clawing at each other’s throats. He had to dodge quite a few knives when he was the lucky bastard, but he wouldn’t so much as flinch when a glass broke or some plates ended up crashing against a wall. Violence is banned all over base, and especially inside there. But in the unspoken rule book, violence isn’t the same as aggressiveness, Simon-and all armed forces- know that. 

He has never actually asked, but he’s pretty sure some of the staff remember him from when he was younger and wasn’t Ghost yet, just Sgt. Riley, or even before that. Definitely before that. 

They must remember him standing in a corner without getting in anybody's way, washing the dishes peacefully in the middle of a warzone. Get there early, leave late. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he's sure they noticed how skittish he was at first, the sight of a man bordering on two meters acting like a mouse must have stuck. 

Otherwise, he doesn’t understand why they indulge him with the cups of coffee he always asks for, when they’re barely firing up the stoves.

It’s nice, getting the first fresh cups instead of the coffee that tastes like dirt everyone else drinks. Warm, black more often than not. The head chef-if Simon can call him that- always shoves a few of the little packs of sugar inside his pants, not even sparing him a glance before he's already insulting someone's mother for screwing up Jesus knows what. A little piece of Heaven at the price of waking up an hour before.

It’s still not the reason, though. 

“Aye, L.t., that for me? Or for th’gorgeous thing back at barracks?”

The fucker always asks the same shit, with the same smug grin and the sleepiness he hasn’t managed to shake off despite having been awake, too, since four hundred sharp. 

Simon shoves one of the cups at Johnny and rolls his eyes, urging the scalding liquid to subdue the smile he doesn’t want to show. 

He never touches a single pack of sugar. He doubts anyone but you knows it, but he prefers both coffee and tea so sweet it even smells different. He spares himself bitterness when he can. Mornings are not the case. 

“Should just get the one for her, if you’ll be so fuckin’ annoying.”

Johnny tears open three packs and pours them all in one go inside his cup, leaving another three untouched inside his other pocket. You like sweet things too.

Johnny laughs, doesn’t dare say anything else. Both soak in the peace of being awake before anyone else, afraid of tearing apart the little pocket in time that both have made for themselves.  

Simon stands up with your cup and doesn’t look back when he feels a pair of blue eyes following his every step. 

-

Johnny looks at Simon like he saw him make the galaxy itself. Like, with his own eyes, he witnessed satellites and stars and the entire universe come from Simon's hands. It feels overwhelming to look at, somewhat asphyxiating. His eyes shine, deep blue with waves crashing against his pupils. He doesn’t seem to notice, doesn’t do it consciously. Otherwise, he’d stop- or try to, at least. 

But Johnny always acts as if he's paying back. 

He gives Simon his brightest smiles, his best jokes, the best version of himself. He follows him around wherever they are, treasures every bit that Simon allows him to have of his person. You don’t think you have ever seen Johnny shine as bright as when he’s next to Simon. Were Johnny a different man and not the wicked fucking genius he is, you'd swear he does it blindly. 

It's not the case though. He genuinely thinks that Simon is one of the best things on Earth despite-or even with-his defects. 

Again, if it were any other person, or even any other context, you’d probably think he’s borderline pathetic. But the truth is, you’re not much better than him, and neither is Simon.

While Johnny looks at him like the galaxy is his own work, Simon looks at Johnny like he made it all for him. Even though most of the time when they’re together you can’t see his full face, his eyes shine so much it blinds you. It’s like he can’t look away, like Johnny is burning right in front of him with the energy of the Sun and Simon is trying to take in as much of it as he can. He’s not as harsh, not as closed off. The little creases by his eyes deepened in a hurry ever since he's had him in his life. If Johnny were the Sun, Simon would be a sunflower.

Neither of them seem to realize it though. Simon doesn’t realize he looks at Johnny like he looks at you, and Johnny looks at him like you do. Neither catch it, or if they do, they seem content to let things be as they are.

It's hard to be mad at something so intense, so… pure and selfless. What you see in their eyes resembles adoration more than anything else, lust rarely turning things red when most of the time it shines gold. When Simon told you for the first time that he’d die for Johnny, after he had a close call right in front of his eyes, you realized that there was just no way those feelings would go away. 

It was easy to make peace with. Easy to look at Simon walk lighter, easy to laugh at Johnny's jokes when he tries to make him laugh, easy to see their bodies gravitate towards each other. It even came easy, when Simon's nightmares startled you awake with Johnny's name slipping from his lips almost as often as yours.

Simon though, he sometimes looks like he’s playing a choosing game that doesn’t need to exist. Loving Johnny certainly isn’t hard, you think.

-

Johnny hates training the new recruits, which surprised Simon at first. 

He’s so bubbly and social that one would think he’s amazing with new people, which he technically is as long as he’s not the one that has to give them orders and tolerate the disrespect that hasn’t been beaten out of them. He doesn’t want to be the person to do it, afraid of seeing himself in one of their eyes. He can barely look at himself in the mirror some days.

Simon is burning with shame when he asks you to help with the new recruits just to spare Johnny. He expects you to glare at him and tell him to go fuck himself, because he thinks he deserves it, but you just smile and nod. He doesn’t tell you that it’s for Johnny’s benefit, wouldn’t ever dare throw something like that in your face, but you still smile at him in a way that twists his guts up and down. He doesn’t think about what else you might know. 

“Are they brand new, or SAS new?”

Simon grins at you without meaning to. He’s always pleased when you ask things out of nowhere that most people wouldn’t bother to think about. “Who Dares Wins, love.”

You roll your eyes at him, but he can see the smile that threatens to split your face. You haven’t helped him with recruits since the marines visited the headquarters a few months ago, and it hadn’t been pretty. Marines always tend to think they’re better than anyone, but Simon doesn’t think he has the right to criticize.

Standing next to you feels like coming home from walking through snow. Simon used to think that there was no coming back from dying along with Roach, and then dying again with his family. He was no better than a corpse, no better than a man buried deep underground. 

You smile at him, and he’d believe you dug him out of his grave with your bare hands.

"You can handle it, love?"

You shrug. "I can handle you just fine."

He laughs as he watches you walk away, smug grin decorating your pretty face.

-

Johnny doesn’t feel guilty, exactly.

Guilt comes when you do something wrong, when your actions equal damage in one way or another. He knows guilt because he's a common visitor at night, when the screams of innocent people keep him awake for hours on end and nothing he does quiets them down. But how could he feel guilty for the way he feels when he looks at Simon, when it so often feels like the only thing keeping him alive?

But he does think that it’s unfair to you. It’s not like he plans acting on it, he never would and he’s made his peace with that. But he sees the way Simon worships the ground you walk on, and chokes up just thinking about taking it away from you. So he won’t, simply because you don’t deserve that kind of thing and he’s not that kind of man. 

(Or maybe, maybe he is. Maybe he lays awake at night thinking about pale skin and blond hair, about scarred hands and a deep voice saying stupid jokes to pass the time. Maybe he is, but he won’t be just this once. Just to spare you the pain.)

“What’s the plan for today, Johnny boy?”

He laughs. Coming from any other person, the nickname would earn at least an insult to them and their mother. Coming from you? It earns you a hug.

“Don’t know yet, bonnie. Weapons, maybe.”

(Do you know?)

“Sounds like fun.”

He’s not sure if you’re being sarcastic or not. You have that kind of bite, not quite like Simon but more like Price. Simon does it to hurt, to keep people away. You though, it’s more a reflex than anything else. He likes it.

“At least it’s not recruits.”

You give him a soft, understanding smile that he doesn’t fully process before you walk away.

-

Simon does feel guilty.

Despite everything, he thinks you’re the best thing that has ever happened to him. He’s not a man of faith, but it's easy to believe when he's looking at your eyes. Whenever you’re near, it’s like he got a pair of lungs brand new, and he’s breathing properly for the first time. You’re not a magic pill that fixes everything, but carrying a cross would be a daily simple task if you were the one giving him sips of water. 

Feeling something so close to love for someone that isn’t you resembles treason too much for him. 

It's wasted on him, he knows. Wasted when you beam at him, when you touch his face and kiss his nose, when you hug him and grin and he feels so full . You're wasted on him, and he's known that from the moment you caught his eye, standing next to the captain. It's just gotten worse since Johnny got in the picture. 

But he’s selfish. He’s never been shy about that, doesn’t deny it or try to get better. He’s selfish, his hands have scars that show just how hard he holds on. 

He can recognize it’s a matter of choosing, though.

He dated a girl, for a short while. He was seventeen, already torn up inside and bruised. She was sweet, kind. She'd giggle at his dark humour and grab a wet cloth to clean up his split lip, the bloody knuckles. Always shrug it off when she asked, always smiling when she kept quiet and accepted it.

‘You're so calm’ , she'd say, pressed against his side. ‘So peaceful .’

She was also naive. 

He was thankful about it, at first. He'd pray she didn’t realize how wrong she was, how he wasn't anything but chaos. 

Being loved gently was nice. He liked her smile and her touch, how soft spoken she got after a certain hour, how her eyes reflected things he wasn’t sure were real. 

They were both confused, he thinks. She believed him peaceful and he lied to himself about it being a good thing.

But he's never been something remotely close to peace, doesn’t know what it is. Born screaming, grown up fighting, earning a living by killing. 

She loved a part of him that didn’t exist, he would accept later. The rage brewing inside of him kept him quiet because otherwise he'd fear spitting venom. She didn’t see him, and he didn’t love her. 

He thinks often about the artificial lungs from before, the metal bins that didn’t let people have an actual life. He thinks about oxygen tanks and insulin and Ozampic and Epi Pens, and realizes that he won’t ever be able to live without you now that he has a diagnosis. He can’t .

But Johnny? Johnny might just be the thing that throws him into anaphylactic shock. 

–

“What’s your favorite color, Johnny boy?”

He hums, thinking about it for a second. It used to be green before the army, turned into purple when his sister dyed her hair that color when Johnny was fifteen and the youngest had five. She chopped it a few months later and Johnny isn’t a fan of it now. 

“Maybe yellow?”

You snort. “Maybe? So you don’t know your favorite color?” You take a deep breath. “Hey, pick up the pace! This isn’t fuckin’ summer camp!”

Johnny can’t really help it: he laughs. He clutches at his belly, squeezes his eyes shut and laughs his ass off at the horrified looks of the recruits before they start running for their lives. You don’t stop frowning until you turn your gaze back to him and his cackles turn into soft giggles.

“I like it in the sky. Fuckin’ hate mustard yellow, though.”

You nod like he’s spitting the truth about the universe. It may as well be, sitting in the middle of the back camp with a cup of coffee between your hands. The sunrise suits you, he notices. It makes him feel warm inside.

“What’s yours, bonnie?”

You tilt your head. “All of them.”

He doesn’t have it in him to make jokes. It chokes him up, the way your eyes look at him full of trust and something softer he doesn’t deserve. 

“Why should I choose, Johnny? What purpose does it serve? I can see them all, have them all.”

He shakes his head, pulling you close until you rest your head against his and the slight shake of your hands dissipates.

“Jus’ admit ya dinnae what t’ say, bonnie.”

He wishes everything was as simple as not choosing.  

-

“Do you know if Johnny has a girl?”

Simon sits straighter without meaning to.

“I-I don’t- I'm not sure, no?” 

He'd like to think he'd know if he did. God, he fucking hopes so, otherwise his brain might end up splattered inside the-

“I figured. Can’t understand why, he's fucking gorgeous.”

Johnny's eyes are his favorite shade of blue. 

“He's fucking annoying, is what he is.”

He doubts his lack of denial flies over your head. Even objectively, no one could deny Johnny's a fucking dream come true. The big blue eyes and the charming smile make a killer blow, but Simon has watched him sleep and nothing else quite compares. 

“It just adds to his charm, Si.”

He doesn’t like the teasing edge to your words. He's not your friend , you're not supposed to be teasing him about someone else. It makes him squirm on his chair, avoiding your eyes from the other side of the table. 

“To each their own, love.”

It startles a laugh out of you, bordering on cynical. Simon doesn’t understand what the fuck is happening. 

-

“I could very well break your damn arm if I wanted to, McTavish.”

Threats stopped working a long, long time ago, just a few seconds after meeting each other. Johnny has been able to see through him from the get go. 

“And I couldn't?” Simon tilts his head, conceding the point. “But ya wouldn't hurt me.”

God, Simon sure fucking hopes so.

“You're a valuable asset to my team, of course I wouldn't.”

(I can’t live without you. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I can't .)

Johnny's hand is pressed to his chest, and Simon forgets for a few seconds that there are other men standing inside the same room, thinking he doesn’t notice them staring as soon as he got inside.

“Ya love me, jackass.”

Simon gulps. “I'd love for you to shut up .”

Johnny pushes him up and to the side. Simon will sustain for the rest of his life that he let him, that he put his guard down on purpose. It's easier than admitting he got lost in complicated living, that things got too real there, that a few words threw him off his balance.

He grabs Johnny's forearm and pulls , sending him tumbling towards the mat with a sneer. He doesn’t waste a second, turning back around and kicking at Simon's feet. He barely dodges it when Johnny manages to grab his shirt to pull him down with him again, and he loses against gravity. 

His arms are big and hard, Simon knows. Sometimes he can see the creases of muscle on his back, when laundry has fallen behind and Johnny has to wear clothes from his rookie days. A few pounds lighter, in every way possible. 

“Y'gonna hurt me, L.t.?”

Simon is on top of him, hot and huge and shaking like a fucking leaf. He can feel the dampness seeping from Johnny's clothes to his, memorizing how he feels pressed against him. 

Simon can’t breathe. 

“I can't.”

And Simon sees it reflected in Johnny's eyes. Something shatters, peeling away the film that separated their skin. He feels the sweat and the pounding inside Johnny's chest, can hear his own drown any noise outside, the tension snapping in the middle of a spar, and Simon doesn’t understand where he went wrong. 

You're looking at them from the door. 

ah, now tumblr makes a bit more sense, i’m excited to redo this blog and make more fics

Bestfriends| MHA X BlackFemReader

Hi Besties ! I was in a writing mood but, I didn't feel like messing with my current WIP because ✨procrastination✨, so here are some cute, maybe NSFW headcannons/scenarios about the boys reacting to their bestfriend(who they have a crush on) being at their place when they get home from a stressful day! This is literally my fingers moving faster than my brain, so bare with me if it's awful lol.

Warning NSFW (18+) Content| Viewer Discretion Advised

oral sex

fingering

foul language

mentions of blood

penetration (?) - idk, haven't written it yet.

Aged up/ ProHero characters

ProHero! Deku

You met when you transferred into the support course during your second year, he was always coming in to discuss changes in his costume design and the two of you just clicked. It went from casual greetings in the hallways to movie marathons on the weekends.

Whenever he'd go on school missions you'd hug him so tight, lecturing him to be careful. "I'll be fine, (n/n)" he'd blush, but he'd nuzzle against your neck before saying his final goodbyes.

Your protectiveness continued well into adulthood, when he was a full fledged Pro Hero. Always hovering and fussing over him, threatening to jump in if he was ever in trouble. He never complained about you babying him, though. He loved that you cared.

People found your dynamic hilarious, this big ole' man being lead around by little old you. Hanging on to your every word like a puppy. He was enamored with you, but for the sake of your friendship he never mentioned it.

Izuku was dead tired, the day had been brutal. He'd fought several villains, ended up in a hostage situation and fell off a roof. Blood and grit clung to his skin and hero costume. He was desperate to get to his hot shower and warm bed.

Walking through the door, he heard a random R&B song playing over the stereo and smelled fresh baked cookies. That could only mean one thing. She's home, he thought, smiling to himself as he made his way into the living room. Izuku had given you a spare key for emergency's but you honestly you used it whenever you were feeling bored. He didn't mind, he loved seeing you when he made it home.

"(Y/N). I'm home." he called out, kicking his shoes of near the couch. He started to worry when you didn't respond immediately but relaxed when he heard running water. Izuku trudged down the hallway, rolling his neck and stretching his sore muscles along the way. "Puppy. It's me." he knocked twice and cracked the door open, smiling when your bonnet covered head peaked through the frosted glass door.

"Oh my god, Izu! What the hell happened?" He chuckled to himself, not even five minutes into the house and he found himself on the receiving end of one of your lectures. "I had a rough day. Fucking tired." he groaned and you flinched at his words. Izuku rarely cursed, so he must be feeling pretty bad. "You almost done? I'm gross." he peeled off his hero costume, too exhausted to feel bashful. It's not like you've never seen him in his underwear before, you're his bestfriend.

"Friend" he mumbled, rolling his eyes. On days like this it was hard for him to hide his true feelings. All he wanted was to pull you into his arms and kiss the stress away. "I just got in but, I'll get out- "No, no. I'm gonna get in with you."

Before you could protest his was sliding the door open and pushing himself inside 🌚. "Izu!" you screeched, covering your breasts with your hands. It was counterproductive because it pushed them up nicely and gave him a nice view of your puffy cunt. Was she touching her self? he quirked a brow, but shook the thought off "I'm tired. I didn't want to wait anymore". That statement was pretty loaded considering the current situation and his feelings about your relationship. "Just this once, please" he pouted, handing you his sponge and body wash.

With a sigh, you took the items and began pampering your friend, being sure to nag him simultaneously. He couldn't care less, too caught up in the way your fingernails felt scratching his scalp or your soapy hands running across his skin. He didn't even realize you were crying until your voice broke.

"I know you can take care of yourself but, I still worry." you paused, resting your forehead between his shoulder blades and wrapping your arms around his torso. He hummed, rolling his head back and covering your hands with his own, it felt good being with you like this. Nothing could ruin this moment. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Izu. You're my bestfriend."

That did it.

In a flash he had you pinned against the shower wall with your legs wrapped around his waist and his face buried in your neck. "Look at us right now, (Y/N). Is this what bestfriends feel like ?" You felt his tip slide through your folds, picking up the slick that had been accumulating since he'd first gotten in the shower. "i-Izu ?" you stammer, and he pulls back to watch your face as he teases your entrance. "I don't want to be friends anymore, puppy." Your mouth falls open when he starts to push in, splitting you open on his enormous ✨cock✨ and he takes this opportunity to pull you into a bruising kiss.

"We should be lovers instead."

ProHero! Red Riot

The two of you met in the drugstore one day when he was looking for hairdye. The store was out of his usual brand and he didn't know which one would be closest to Radiant Ruby. So he was staring at the boxes having an internal meltdown. Dark roots are not manly.

"Try Very Vermillion, the undertone is different but its the same shade. If you just touch up the roots you can barely tell the difference." Your soft voice caught his attention, and then your bright smile and similarly dyed hair. It was a deeper red than his and it went well with your (l/d) brown skin. "Thanks, cutie. I really appreciate it." he pulled down his shades and winked, enough to make most ladies swoon but you just smirked back. "No problem, Mr. Riot."

"How'd ya know it was me?" he asked, following you down the aisle. He was shocked, it seemed like a pretty good disguise when he left in the morning. "Kinda had to mistake a killer smile like that" you winked, and the blush that grew on his cheeks was enough to put Radiant Ruby out of business for good. "Can I get your name?" he asked, red eyes never leaving your figure as you checked out. He thought he was being stealthy but you noticed. "(Y/N). How about you get me lunch too?"

Henceforth, you were inseparable.

"Yo, Ei. Where's your twin?" Katsuki teased, referencing your similar hair color and the fact that you were always wearing his merch. He called you his "mini me", which is true since he's a freaking giant. "I'm on my way to her place now!" he beamed, "she promised to make me some American food!" He loved when you cooked for him. One of his favorite pass times was watching you move around the kitchen, whipping up different dishes for him to try. "Tch, you two idiots should just make it official already." Katsuki huffed, nudging his friend who was smiling at his phone. Probably because you'd sent him an "adorable" photo wearing some new merch you picked up. "Nah, she's way too good for me." he'd smile sadly, stuffing his phone, and his feelings, in his back pocket.

You were putting the brownies in the oven when you heard the front door open. "I'm in the kitchen, Red !" you called, eager to see his expression when he saw the spread that you'd prepared for him.

Pro Hero! Red Riot had won a major victory today after an intense battle with some huge villain downtown. It was all over the news. He smiled and waved at the cameras, because it was the manly thing to do, but you could see that he was wore out. You wanted to do something special, so you prepared all his favorite foods. Fried chicken, Cajun steak alfredo, meat buns, and brownies for dessert. The man could eat.

"Hey pebble. What are you- wow ! What's all this ?" he smiled brightly as he entered the kitchen, tossing his mask on the counter and reaching for a piece of chicken. "Aht Aht!" you smacked his hand with a wooden spoon, "wash your hands first. You're filthy". He pouted but complied.

"What's the special occasion?" he asked, watching you fix him a heaping plate of food.

"I saw your fight on the news. You did so good, big guy!" You pinched his flushed cheeks and gave a knowing smirk. Eijiro may seem overly confident but he's actually pretty insecure sometimes; you're constantly reassuring him, being sure to remind him how great he is and how lucky you are to have him. It was fun for you because you liked how giddy he'd get after a few compliments. His praise kink goes crazy.

"(Y/N)- , stopp" he whined, but made no real effort to escape your grasp. "Why would I? You're the best, Riot. So big, and strong and manly." His cheeks were super red now and chewing on his lip.

Loose strands of hair fell into his eyes and you brushed them behind his ear . "(Y/N)" he whispered, you were so close and your words had his heart racing. "So brave. So kind." The game you were playing faded away as you gazed up at him. "So pretty." Your fingers traced the lines of his face, his cheeks, his nose, his lips. "You're so pretty, Red."

His resolve snapped. Trapping you between his arms, he bent down and pressed your lips together. An explorative action, kind of testing the waters. He pulled back and rubbed his nose against yours.

"I think you're pretty too."

One thing led to another and now you're sprawled out on the kitchen counter while his thick tongue swirls around your swollen clit with two fingers in your cunt and his thumb in your asshole. When your pussy contracts around your digits and you cum screaming his name, he licks the slick off his fingers and goes back down for seconds.

The man loves to eat.

ProHero! Mindbreak

The two of you met when he came into your new coffee shop in downtown Tokyo.

"Just a large black coffee, extra sweet, with a squirt of chocolate" he sighed, placing his card on the counter and rubbing his eyes. He looked miserable so you decided to cheer him up, or at least try to. "Wow, are you ordering a drink or me?" you giggled, a sickeningly sweet bubbly sound. It made him want to puke. "I don't think I could stomach both." he deadpanned. Ouch.

Too stunned to speak, you walked off and busied yourself with his order. "Nice going, Hitoshi. You hurt the airhead's feelings." he mumbled to himself, watching you pout and chew at your lip. He thought you were kind of cute. At least if you were into chunky little bimbos, which he definitely was.

"Sorry about that" he said as you handed him the cup, "hero stuff". "S'Okay!" You giggled again and leaned forward against the counter, flashing him a nice view of your tits. What a little ditz he thought, eyeing you as he took a sip. "Oh wow" he blinked, "this is the best coffee I've ever had". The smile that you gave him was so bright, he almost regretting telling you. It was way too early for this. "Great!" you chirp. sliding his card back to him. "It's on the house. A small thank you keeping the city safe, Mr. Hero."

Now he was too stunned to speak. He wasn't used to people being so nice to him; most folks were intimated by his quirk or his resting bitch face. It didn't bother you though. He mumbled a "thanks" and headed towards the door. "Come back and see us now." Hitoshi raised his cup and nodded, he'd definitely be returning.

He came in the same time everyday, ready to be met with the aroma of coffee and your smiling face. It got to the point that you had it waiting for him before he even made it to the counter. If it wasn't busy, you'd sit at a small table chat; well you'd do most of the talking. Hitoshi would just sip his drink quietly and listen to you ramble on about whatever ditzy thoughts were swirling in your cute little head.

"I don't that's what it means, sweetheart." He'd smirk whenever you misunderstood something. He loved the little face you'd make when you were confused. Your nose would scrunch up and the dimples in your chubby cheeks would pop out. "But 'Toshi, he specifically said 'those buns look delicious' don't you think they look good?" you pouted, pointing towards the freshly baked pastries. The perv was clearly talking about the way your round ass jiggled in that cute little mini skirt when you reached for something high on the shelf, but you didn't need to know that. "They look amazing, sweetheart. I'll take two."

Nothing particularly bad happened during Hitoshi's shift. He was just fucking exhausted. He'd been working the night shift for the past three weeks with no off day. You'd seen how worn out his was so you stopped by his house sometimes to make sure he was taken care off himself. You knew he kept a spare key above his doorframe, so you just let yourself in.

"Welcome home, Toshi !" you greeted him at the door wearing nothing but one of his muscle shirts. What in the actual fuck? "My clothes got wet when I was cleaning so I just grabbed one of your shirts while they dry. I hope you don't mind." Why would he mind when you were wearing the smallest shirt he owned and it fit your soft curves perfectly. You weren't even wearing a bra, round tits spilling out the sides whenever you moved your arms. And did you say you cleaned? He looked around and the place was spotless, hell you even fed his cat. Could you be anymore perfect?

"Thank you, sweetheart" He pulled you into a tight hug, pressing his body against yours and nuzzling against your neck. You always smelled so good. Like coffee and chocolate. "Thanks for what?" you giggled as you rubbed his back. "For everything" he mumbled and you scoffed, "I'd do anything for you, Toshi. It's no big deal." Hitoshi pulled back and looked down at you, "Anything?".

"Of course I would. I love you, silly."

"C'mere", Hitoshi picked you up and laid you on the couch, you were startled and confusion and you watched him curiously when he laid on top of you and pushed his face between your boobs. "I love you, too" he murmured, pulling the fabric to the side with his teeth and popping your nipple into his mouth.

"T-toshi!" you gasped, grinding up against him but he held your hips down. He flicked his tongue against the bud and pulled off with a *pop*, "You'd do anything for me, right?" One finger swirled around your nipple, while the other slid up your thigh and onto you clothed pussy. "Y-yes" you whimpered, taking a shaky breath when his finger snaked under your lacy panties and into your waiting cunt.

"Be mines."

Nastygirls| @xogabbiexo, @thicksimpx, @plussizeficchick, @namjoonswifeyy, @tenyaiidasslut, @po3ticb3auty, @kaizokuluv, @angwritez, @presidentmonica, @indiecursor, @arielspoem, @xosuki, @dejwrites @gabzlovesu

𝓜𝔂 𝓭𝓪𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓼𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓫𝓸𝔂𝓼 💖💕🌷

i’m actually losing my mind ✨ please give it back

𝑲𝑰𝑺𝑺𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑫𝑼𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑨𝑵 𝑨𝑹𝑮𝑼𝑴𝑬𝑵𝑻

— Bakugō Katsuki, Todoroki Tōya, Ryōmen Sukuna, Fushiguro Megumi, Eren Jaeger x f!reader

cw. suggestive, mild chocking, hair pulling, finger licking, biting, jealousy

M.list

BAKUGOU KATSUKI

Resting on the edge of his office desk, the number one hero stares back at you as you furrow your brow and blink your long lashes, “Katsu you need to come home and rest” you complain after for the sixth night in a row your husband hasn’t come home, making you worry.

“I can’t” he growls pointing his calloused thumb at the large windows, “they need me out there” — “our kids need you too and so do I”, and silence falls when you raise your voice — when you make to leave Bakugou roughly grabs your wrist.

You bump into his hard chest as he pulls you to him, bending just enough to press his lips to yours and force his tongue past your lips. In an instant, your mind fogs when he lets go of your wrist and grabs your neck bringing his other hand to your ass, squeezing it hard.

Continua a leggere

𝘪 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘬𝘶𝘨𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘰 𝘪𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘬𝘴𝘫𝘴𝘩𝘧𝘣𝘬𝘴 𝘺𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘺𝘢!

VISUAL SIBLINGS 💗

Anything (König x Reader)

The 1st instalment in the Anything-Verse

Main Masterlist

Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

Like the characters? Read their fics below!

Sunshine Masterlist || Saint Masterlist

Series Summary:  A lack of information from the chain of command results in König mistaking you for an enemy sniper.

A/N: I have no idea how we got here

Category: Angst || Hurt/Comfort || Forced Proximity || Enemies to ?

Warnings: Graphic description of violence || Graphic description of injury || Graphic language

“You’re a liability.”

The words rang like a church bell. You were never one for petty violence but in that moment, after he’d so calmly said the words, you thought that you just might kill him.

“A liability?” You hissed, glaring at your superior like he’d grown two heads. “I’m a sniper, Sir, not a fucking ninja.”

The captain simply shifted his weight lazily, unfazed by your temper. He’d dealt with it many times throughout the years but it hadn’t bothered him because you weren’t inherently his. You were somebody else’s spitfire, under another unit’s command; but now you were part of the 141 and you needed to learn.

“Come on, Birdy. You know I’m right.”

Birdy.

You had Soap to thank for the name. ‘Snipers and birds both shit on people from above’. It wasn’t creative and honestly you could have thought of one hundred better names to offer, but once Ghost started addressing you by Birdy, it was set in stone.

When you said nothing, he continued.

“You can’t fight your way out of a wet paper bag,” he scoffed, swallowing a snort when your eyes widened. “Sniper’s need to defend themselves too, Birdy. You learnt that the hard way, remember?”

How could you not?

The knife wound had healed but the memory of it had not. Images of the hooded man wedging a blade into your shoulder flickered across your vision. Fists bearing down onto your jaw. Fingers wrapped around your throat.

A chill skittered across your skin.

“So, what’s your suggestion?” You crossed your arms over your chest.

When the corner of Price’s mouth quirked upward, you’d already begun to regret asking.

“Simple, really.” He shrugged, “someone’s gonna train ya.”

Your stomach dropped and a cold shiver traced the length of your spine.

“Who, Sir?” Your voice was barely a whisper. “Ghost’s not here. Everyone’s on leave.”

Price smirked.

“Not everyone.”

___

You felt nauseas.

Anxiety had your stomach in a death grip, and it was all you could do to not throw up. Pacing up and down the gym mats, you tried to cool your nerves.

There was only one person that had remained a complete anomaly to you and now he’d been given literal permission to beat the shit out of you.

Training.

You remembered what they loved to call ‘training’ at your old unit. You’d never been the fastest or the strongest, that was not your job. You were the one who could take make an impossible shot a kilometre away, but that’s not what ‘training’ entailed.

Your body ached at the memory.

There was a small noise by the doorway and your body stiffened. He was letting you know that he was there, his equivalent of a knock.

You both knew that he could have had you on your back whenever he pleased.

“König.” You acknowledged him as confidently as you could, turning to face the beast head on.

The giant stood in the doorway looking like the fucking bogey man himself.

“Birdy,” König inclined his head. Those dark, watchful eyes observed you from beneath his hood, taking in your visage. Heat licked the back of your neck and you began to sweat under his gaze.

He was clad in his usual getup from the waist down, the tactical cargo pants and the hefty boots being his barracks favourite. It was the hoodie that had caught you by surprise, you’d seen it a few times in passing, but up close it rendered you breathless.

“I didn’t realize you were staying with the 141,” you said, swallowing nervously as he stepped into the room, ducking his head to avoid hitting the frame above.

This was a sick, sick joke.

“My transfer was approved,” was the only explanation that he offered you.

You knew, logically, that what had happened between the both of you had been a misunderstanding. It was a communication failure on behalf of the brass that had almost gotten you killed but the idea of working with him, training with him, made your stomach drop.

König’s hands got to work removing his gloves and the memory of those fingers wrapped around your throat made you flinch.

You’d set up a sniper’s nest atop the rooftop, watching the entrance of the building the 141 was infiltrating. They were going to flush out the target and send him running right into your line of fire.

No-one had been informed of KorTac’s involvement.

You’d heard König before you’d seen him, the dismantling of your trip mine giving you enough indication to roll onto your back to investigate. By then, he was already upon you.

You’d kicked the rifle from his hands but that was where your advantage finished. He’d dragged you by your ankles from your weapon, straddling your flailing body as he got to work. The knife he’d brandished stabbed into your flesh violently, and at first, you’d thought he only punched you.

Until the searing hot pain bloomed across your body and blood sprayed across his hood.

Those emerald eyes were wild and hard as he gripped your face over your balaclava. You couldn’t think to react, dizzied by the agony of knife he twisted into your skin. His palm covered the entirety of your features, fingers tight against your temples as he pulled your head forward then smashed it back into the concrete.

You thought your skull had exploded.

Fists ploughed into your jaw but it was as though you were numb now. Finally, his fingers were drawn to your throat, squeezing tightly as he leaned in. The cloth of his hood brushed against your battered body, filling the space between you as his lips pressed against your ear.

“Your fight is finished,” he hissed heatedly. Then König pressed down into your skin.

You don’t remember what happened afterward. You knew that he’d been called off by his chain-of-command just in time to stop himself from ending your life, but that was according to Soap.

You were in a coma for two weeks.

It took you months to recover.

And only once you came back to work, fit to fight and ready to go, had you discovered that König had applied to transfer into the 141 shortly after the incident. KorTac had offered him up to fill in your position while you recovered.

Not only had the bastard nearly killed you but he’d taken your place.

Now that you were back, he would lose his place as a sniper and be back to running with the team on the ground.

König watched you carefully from where he stood.

“You’re my instructor,” you said plainly, stating the obvious. “Price made you my hand-to-hand combat trainer.

“Ironic, isn’t it,” his voice came quietly from beneath the hood, a small snort following in suit.

You would have laughed had you not been so fucking terrified. You were about to take your place back on the team, a position this giant clearly wanted and now he was given the chance to put you back into the hospital with no questions asked.

You wouldn’t be able to do anything against him. König was a mountain of a man, a force to be reckoned with, and while he tried to make himself as disarming as possible it was implausible to hide that frame.

“Did you want to get started?” König asked, leaning his hip against the table beside him. He was so casual for someone who had nearly killed you.

“No,” you said simply.

“Are you not up for this?” König ventured carefully, pushing off the bench and taking a slow step towards you. Your heart thrashed against your ribs at his approaching figure and you forced yourself to stay still. “You still have bruising-“

“That’s what happens when someone shatters your fucking face, cunt,” you snapped, casting your gaze from his. You were hoping that he wouldn’t bring it up, everyone had danced around your condition for so long. No one spoke about how fucking ugly you looked as you tried to recover.

“It was an accident,” his voice was hard, almost bewildered at your sudden aggression. “We both paid the price for someone else’s mistakes.”  

“Don’t talk to me about paying the price, you fucker,” you snapped, shoving against his chest. König yielded a step and it infuriated you even further to know that he’d allowed it. “You got the fucking job you wanted, you got the transfer you wanted, you got the training you wanted. Didn’t you?”

“Yes, but-“

“You wanna know what I got?” You snapped, shoving him harder this time. König’s eyes narrowed and he snatched your wrists, holding them against his ribs to stop your assault. You continued anyway, walking his body backward until his heels hit the wall. “I got put into a fucking coma.”  

König’s gaze softened, his chest heaving beneath your hands. You could feel his heart pounding beneath your fists, you could hear his breaths grow ragged.

“I know,” he murmured, his fingers tightening on your wrists. “I was assigned to watch over your bed for those two weeks."

You stared at him for a long moment, sniffling and gasping for air after your rant. König lowered his head and his grip loosened.

“What I did to you…” he trailed off, unable to meet your gaze. How ugly must you have become that he couldn’t withstand looking at his own handiwork?

You turned around, hiding the hot tears forming along your lashes. You were so fucking ashamed by the terror gripping your throat, embarrassed by how much your image affected you. You hated feeling disgusting. You felt like everyone’s eyes were on you at all times it was suffocating you, they gawked and stared and whispered about how your 'pretty face was ruined.'

You began to understand why people wear masks.

“You ruined me,” you rasped. “And I couldn’t do anything to stop you.”

König was silent from behind you, mulling over your words. You couldn’t bring yourself to be embarrassed by your outburst. He had stabbed you, shattered your skull, broken your nose and jaw and nearly snapped your neck- he deserved to listen to you yell at him at the very least.

Fingers slid over your shoulders, slowly turning you around to face him. You tugged against his hold half-heartedly, vision swimming beneath never-ending tears.

“Look at me, Birdy.” His voice was soft and pleading, his hand slowly moving to cup your bruised jaw. You froze as he manoeuvred you, forcing you to face him square on. König slowly lowered himself to rest a knee on the ground, leaving him still taller than you but closer to eye level.

With the hand that was free, he reached for his hood. You swallowed nervously as he carefully pulled it from his head, resting the cloth on his upright knee.

Dirty blonde hair lay splayed across his forehead, the length curling by his ears. Dark brows framed the emerald gaze that watched you intently, taking in your visage as you observed him. All of him.

The scars caught your attention.

Winding from his upper lip, across his eye and leaving a line through his brow, the winding length of damaged skin presented itself. There was another scar along the bridge of his nose that travelled across the width of his cheekbone and into his hair.

“Do I…” König trailed off, full lips parting as he mused over his next words. You stared in awe at the innocence of the freckles smattered across his features. “Are you afraid of me?”

You said nothing for a long moment, mesmerized by the features of a man that had haunted your thoughts for months. He’d been the centre of your existence for so long, the reason you ached and the reason you’d bled. König had plagued your every waking moment ever since the incident, and now he knelt before you. He was on his knees baring his vulnerabilities to you, knowing you could destroy him with it.

“Of course,” you whispered; your voice shaky as you met his gaze.

König’s expression became pleading, “then let me teach you how to beat me.”

His thumb lightly caressed your purple cheek, brows furrowed as he took in his handiwork. “Let me pay for what I’ve done by teaching you how to never let it happen again. And when you finally beat me, revenge will be yours and you may do as you wish.”

“Anything I want?” The words slipped from your lips before you could stop them.

A wry, sad smile pulled at the corner of König’s mouth.

“Anything, mein vöglein.”

My little bird.

____

Next Chapter