Not Your Baby

play stupid games;

summary - bakugou gets drunk and bets his girlfriend, but is there a more sinister manipulation occurring? part one.

cw - cucking, rough sex, manipulative yandere izuku, no one is well behaved, blindfolds, degradation, praise, *hurt* comfort, sub drop, angst but there is comfort, light bondage, they're all a little toxic but also are well intentioned, cum eating, voyeurism, threesome healer reader.

MINORS DNI

“Katsuki,” your voice is a whisper with a hint of pain, “You bet me?” Your boyfriend shifts uncomfortably. “You, you bet me?” 

“He did,” Shindou takes a sip of his whiskey, “But sweetheart, I’d never touch you without your permission.” You shiver, the AC at the cocktail party is blasting at your back. 

“Fuck off,” Bakugou yanks you into his body, “I’m gonna beat you in the popularity poll, and whatever I said when I was drunk isn’t gonna mean shit.” Shindou watches your teeth close over your lower lip. 

“Did you really bet me, Katsuki?” you mumble, so quietly that Shindou barely catches it. 

“Do you not fucking believe in me?” Bakugou snaps at you. You stand up and excuse yourself, and he rolls his eyes before realizing you’re serious and standing, “Wait, baby, come back I-” 

“Fuck off.” You snap, and Shindou watches Bakugou weigh chasing after you, and decide to let you go. The dark haired pro hero pats Inasa on the shoulder, shaking his head before standing. He breaks from the group at the gala table and follows you down the dark hallway, finding you where you’re leaning against the wall with your eyes closed. Shindou clears his through and offers you his drink. You down it so fast it dribbles on your chin a little, you wipe it away with shaking hands. 

“He cares about you,” Shindou starts, and you roll your eyes, “He does, alright,” he brushes some hair from your face. 

“He bet me,” you simmer, “Shindou, he just, we’ve been dating for months and he just said, yeah, cool, Shindou fuck my girlfriend if I lose a popularity contest.” 

“Are you upset because you know he’s going to lose?” He asks, smirk on his lips. You look away, scoffing.

“You’re an assole.” You shake your head. 

“Newsflash, most pro heroes are. You’re a healer, you could have worked at a hospital instead of an agency.” He touches your arm softly while you chew the inside of your cheek. “Legitimately,” he moves so that he can make eye contact with you again, “I would never touch you without your permission. You know that.” You nod. 

“I know.”  You cross your arms over your chest, something else is clearly bothering you. “Shindou I, I think I’m a good healer-” 

“Maybe the best in the country.” He counters and you shake your head. “I don’t wanna see you do that shit,” he shakes his head. “Really. You might be one of the best healers in the world, you’re absolutely wasted at their agency.” 

“You don’t have to say that.” You cross your arms. “And I mean, I had a lot of offers, but I wanted to be with my friends, the people I went to school with.”  

“I know I don’t have to say that, and yet here I am, saying it.”  He touches your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I mean,” he smirks, “I’m not gonna make it easy on either of ya, if I win.” He leans in to speak in your ear, lips brushing your cheek, feeling you shiver. “And when I take you,” you look away from him, “I’m gonna make him fucking watch.” 

“He’s not going to lose.” You protest, gently pushing him away from you. He obliges, the hard muscle you can feel under his shirt another reminder that you spent your life at the mercy of powerful people. “I believe in him.” 

“You can’t be serious,” Shindou laughs, stepping further away from you. “You’re defending him right now?” 

“I,” you swallow, and Shindou reads the genuine pain and indecision on your face. “I had a crush on him for a really long time.” You say softly, and he nods. 

“Listen,” He shrugs, giving you a soft smile. “I can’t pretend I don’t understand what it’s like to have a fantasy of a person, only for the reality to be not what you were expecting.” 

“He’s really a very good partner,” you protest, “He is, he cares for me, he’s just, I dunno,” you chew your lip for a second before finishing, “Clumsy with my feelings.” 

“He’s immature.” Shindou shrugs. “He’s a good hero, probably a good guy. But the guy’s 22, in the most high pressure situation he’s ever been in, not a good sign by the way, that he’s dealing with that pressure by going out more with his friends, but I’ll let that stand.” You look away. “You’re a smart girl, you already know all the things you need to know.” He reaches for you, tucking some of your hair behind your ear. “If you need some time to accept them, I get it.” He lets his hand fall and leaves you, standing alone in the hallway. You collect yourself, as best your able, hands trembling. You adjust your dress, take a deep breath, and make your way back into the ballroom, sitting down next to Bakugou.

“You know I only did it because it’s never gonna happen.” He says in a low growl, leaning over to speak in your ear immediately. “I love you, and I, I was just fucking around.” 

“You don’t get to fuck around like that and keep me.” You say, barely audible over the hum of conversation around you. He stiffens, he can hear his heart pounding in his ears. “I’m not breaking up with you, but if you lose, I’m gonna sleep with him.” You don’t look at him, but imagine the way his eyes would narrow at those words. 

“You can’t- “Oh, please,” you hiss, turning to him, “Tell me what I can and can’t do, I fucking love it when you do that.” His jaw sets. 

“I’m sorry.” He mutters. “I’m sorry, I was drunk, and just,” he runs his fingers through his hair, “I just, you’re everythin’ to me, okay, I wanted to prove to him I was serious so I bet something that mattered.” You hear his voice catch on the last word, and his hand comes to rest on your knee, you catch a familiar burning determination in his eyes. “I’ll be better. I’ll make it up to you.” 

“Yes,” you sigh, the little seeds of doubt starting to germinate in your chest. “Yes you will.” You look up, and Bakugou’s arm around your waist turns to iron as someone taps on a microphone and calls the annual hero gala to attention. Bakugou’s hand trembles as he reaches for his drink. The statistics are fairly predictable, with new agencies much lower on the list, but they’re doing alright so far. That’s when you do some quick math, Bakugou isn’t going to lose the popularity contest, but you were intimately familiar with the data on saves at the agency, despite only being the healer. They were down a hero, Mina was recovering from knee surgery for a few months. They were going to lose the ranking to Shindou’s agency in number of saves. Bakugou realizes a second later, swearing under his breath.

“I told you not to do it.” Kirishima mutters, inspecting his reflection in a silver plated fork. “I told you not to run your fucking mouth, didn’t I?” Bakugou scowls, studying the pattern on the rug. 

“Oh shit,” Denki flashes a boyish grin and touches Bakugou on the arm.. “Listen if you’re letting other guys have a piece of it can I -”

“It?” You whirl on him, “Are you fucking serious right now?” Denki shrinks, flashing his palms. 

“Bakubroooo protect me.” 

“Drop dead.” Your boyfriend snarls. Shindou clears his throat loudly from a few tables over, crossing his arms over his broad chest, smirking. 

_____ 

Bakugou walks you to the door of your apartment. 

“We okay?” he asks, knowing the answer. You laugh bitterly. 

“I’m just tired of you treating me like property.” You say, leaning against the door. “I mean, even if  you were drunk, I’m not yours to give out. We were friends for a long time before we started dating, maybe we-” 

“No,” he breathes, taking both your hands desperately, “No please, come on, I, fuck.” He screws his face up. “I’ll quit drinkin’, no more parties, no hero shit, I’ve been lettin’ dunce face and shitty hair drag me out because they need to blow off steam and I hate clubs and shit so I get wasted, and it’s not a fuckin’ excuse but goddamnit, please, please don’t end this, I’ll,” He looks so desperate that your heart melts. 

“Okay,” you glance down the hallway, unlocking your door. “Okay, um, come in, I won’t,” your heart aches in your chest. “You know I don’t want to leave you Bakugou.” You fidget. 

“But.” He says, hands trembling in his pockets. 

“But you hurt me. Again. So be better.” You reach out and touch his arm, he dives for you, wrapping his arms around your body, burying his face. 

“I will.” He vows hoarsely. “I will.” He rubs your back. 

“Come to bed, kats,” you say and he nods, so grateful you’re willing to hear him out that he nearly doesn’t see the message from shindou, his phone lighting up while you’re in the bathroom, and he’s lying in your bed. 

Shindou: I want you to be there. 

Shindou: to watch. 

Bakugou: I’m gonna blow your fucking brains out

Shindou: temper temper 

Shindou: bet she doesn’t like your mean streak 

Shindou: sweet little healer Shindou: does she like being overstimmed? I’m gonna find out but I thought I’d ask first. 

Bakugou: as if you could make her cum. 

Shindou: I have some unfortunate news for you. 

Shindou: just because you’ve been struggling with it doesn’t mean it’s hard. 

“Kats,” you call, and he barely hears you, “I’m getting in the shower, alright?” 

“All good,” he gunts, “I’m gonna crash, I’ll be here when you’re done.” He inhales deeply through his nose. It was going to be a long week. 

On Wednesday, Denki pokes his head into Bakugou’s office, looking a little nervous, not meeting his eyes directly. 

“Hey I uh, Shindou just put a meeting on our calendars?” Bakugou scowls, and flies to his email calendar. “Is it uh, is it what I think it is?” 

“Jesus fucking christ.” Bakugou rakes his fingers through his hair. “Who else is on it?” 

“Uhh, it’s me, Sero, and Kirishima. He cc’ed Deku but-” 

“What the fuck?” Bakugou stands, slamming his palms against the desk. “He cc’ed Izuku?” 

“Listen, maybe I’m off base but maybe this is a good reason not to bet your girlfriends pussy on your agency stats.” Denki shrugs, an evil smirk on his face. 

“Get out of my fucking sight.” Bakugou snarls and Denki squeaks, letting the door close behind him. He groans and collapses in his office chair, hands sparking when he gets a little chime on his computer, and a popup. Midoriya Izuku has accepted the invitation. 

“Are you going to look at me?” You say softly, as the elevator takes you up to Shindou’s apartment. “After I mean, are you going to be able to look at me?” Bakugou mashes his palms into his eyesockets instead of answering.

“I love you.” He says after a long silence. “Nothin’ Shindou or Deku can say or do is gonna change that.” He scowls. “Plus I deserve this. For bettin’ ya in the first place.” 

“You do.” You say petulantly. “Plus I’m sure we’ll have a safeword.” He nods. 

“They fuckin’ better.” The elevator doors open and he presses a kiss to the top of your head before stepping into the hallway, and leading you gently down the hallway to Shindou’s apartment. He knocks once and the door swings open. 

“Hey,” Shindou leans down and kisses your cheek before beckoning you inside. It’s a large apartment, dark wood and well stocked bookshelves. The couch is a luxurious leather, and there’s a purposefully unfinished exposed brick wall in the kitchen. “It’s pretty nice, right?” He stretches, you can see his chest muscles rippling through his thin gray t-shirt. “Don’t worry, ah,” his eyes flick to Bakugou, “A few years in the field and I’m sure you’ll be able to afford something like this.” Bakugou mutters something under his breath and the smirk on Shindou’s face widens. 

“Hi,” you hear, and  you round the corner into the living room and see that Deku’s already here, somehow already taller and broader than he was at your Yuuei graduation. “It’s so nice to see you!” He says, standing and taking both of your hands, giving them a squeeze. “You too Kacchan.” 

“Yeah.” Bakugou grumbles, giving a nod to Sero and Kirishima, who are sitting on the couch, Sero’s on his phone and Kirishima looks deeply uncomfortable. “You know you don’t have to stay, shitty hair.” 

“He wants to see y/n’s tits as much as I do,” Sero says, elbowing the redhead without looking up from Twitter, “But he’s pretending to be ashamed about it.” You swallow and Kirishima goes as red as his hair. 

“Are we just waiting for Chargebolt,” Shindou says, eyeing the nervousness easily readable in your expression. “Oh,” he coos, “Come here.” He reaches for you and Bakugou reluctantly lets the dark haired man pull you into his arms. He rubs your back, and you feel your anxiety dissipate just a little.. “Don’t worry, we’re gonna take good care of you, sweetheart.” 

“Yeah, don’t worry, Kacchan.” Midoriya can’t keep the hint of the smirk from his smile. “We’re gonna take perfect care of your girlfriend.” 

“Just have a fuckin’ safeword.” Bakugou snaps, crossing his arms over his chest, flopping in a chair. Deku nods.  

“You okay with the colors?” Midoriya asks, touching your shoulder, pulling you from Shindou a little. “Red for stop, yellow for less, green for fine?” You nod. 

“Gonna need you to say it for us, sweetheart.” Shindou says, and you swallow, finding your voice, but only barely. 

“I understand.” There’s a hard knock at the door and Deku lets you go, disappearing down the hallway and returning with an out of breath Denki Kaminari..

“Oh thank god,” he pants, doubling over. “I ran here after patrol.” Bakugou crosses his arms over his chest, looking anywhere but at you. 

“Nice to see you,” Deku chirps, as Denki settles on the couch. 

“Have you ever been with two men at once?” Shindou asks you, pulling your focus from your audience. You shake your head. 

“I’ve actually, um,” you bite your lip. “I’ve only been with one other person besides Katsuki. Like, ever.” 

“Awwww,” Shindou coos, “God, that’s adorable.” He straightens up, stretching a little. “Your job is easy, all you have to do is listen to us, alright, if you’re a good girl, we’ll reward you.” 

“I don’t really brat.” The words tumble from your lips before you can stop them and Deku laughs, glancing at his former classmates. 

“I have high standards, we’ll see about that.” He glances at Bakugou. “I can’t imagine Kacchan is very strict with you.” 

“Can we shut up about me?” Bakugou rasps, bouncing his knee up and down. “Get it over with.” Deku laughs, and starts slipping your jacket off your shoulders. 

“I dunno about you,” he turns to Shindou, “But I think I’m gonna take my time.” Shindou shrugs, a smirk on his lips. 

“Fine by me.” You let Deku take your jacket fully and immediately regret the little sundress you wore for ease of removal, because you already feel bare and you’ve barely gotten undressed. “I don’t want you to think about your audience at all, at least at first.” Shindou says, taking something off of his coffee table. “So I’m gonna blindfold you, is that alright?” You nod. 

“You should get used to confirming things out loud for us.” Deku interjects, “You can just say, yes Daddy,” your head snaps to Bakugou, whose fists are white knuckled. You look back to the two pro heroes.

“Ah, um,” you shiver, Shindou’s apartment is cool. “Yes, um, yes daddy.” 

“Good girl,” Deku coos, taking a moment internally to admire his own restraint, that he managed not to rip your dress off the moment that word left your lips. He rubs your upper arms affectionately instead. “We’ll warm you right up alright?” Shindou finishes tying the blindfold over your eyes and as your world is engulfed in darkness some of your inhibitions dissipate. Deku slips the first strap of your dress off of your shoulder, then the other one. You feel it crumple to the floor. 

“You’re beautiful,”  you feel Shindou’s breath on  your ear, as he draws your back into his chest. “Such a beautiful girl.” You feel his hand on your bra clasp, then feel it fall away, you have a brief moment to wonder how long it took him to learn to do that so efficiently before you feel his hands on your chest. Shindou palms your breasts, your nipples already pebbled in the cool of the air. Your mouth drops open a little when he rubs them, pinching them gently, then harder, you suck in a breath through your teeth. Izuku gently tugs your panties down your legs and you feel his fingers on your folds, parting them softly. He stares up at you, giving your clit the tiniest kitten lick. You mewl softly, and Shindou buries his face in your neck, you feel his rough tongue on your soft skin, sucking gently then biting down, in a way you know is going to leave marks, but it’s getting hard to focus, with Izuku’s teasing touches and Shindou’s hands wandering your chest. 

“Oh,” you feel your face start to warm, as Deku slips a finger inside you, “Mm,” your moan is sharp, hummed through your lips, as your legs start to tremble. 

“Right there?” Deku asks, “Oh,” he adds a second finger, “I can tell, that’s it, right there.” You whimper again, and they all watch you struggle to stay still, hands reaching for Izuku, then flitting back to your sides when you think better of it. “You can touch me,” he teases gently. “C’mon, if you want me so bad, pull my hair, show them all how desperate you are.” You whimper again. 

“Just don’t try that shit with me.” Shindou says, before sinking his teeth into your neck hard enough to make you yelp. “You’re gonna stay nice and still while I take my turn on ya, arentcha baby,” 

“Y-yes daddy,” you breathe, and Izuku starts to kiss and suck at your clit, and your legs buckle. Shindou holds you up, wrapping an arm around your waist, locking you against his body. Your back arches involuntarily, and you gasp, holding onto Izuku’s hair for dear life as your legs nearly give out from underneath you.. 

“Holy shit,” you hear, and it’s Sero, leaning forward in his seat. 

“Oh my god,” Denki manages. Kirishima leans back, face still burning, arms still crossed, to sneak a glance at Bakugou, who is studying the carpet in front of him. You let out another whine and Deku picks up the pace, 

“Oh, oh my god,” you breathe, “Oh my god, fuck, fuck,” You squirm but Deku’s hands around your thighs might as well be iron, holding you in place.

“Are you gonna cum?” Shindou asks you, and you nod quickly, desperately. “Beg. You don’t cum without permission.” He pinches your nipples hard enough to make you gasp sharply. “You belong to us tonight.” 

“Please,” you pant, twisting in his arms so that your head is tucked right under his chin, “Please please, please, daddy, please can I cum?” A shudder rips down your body as you teeter on the edge of your high. Deku’s hands sink further into your thighs, and he barely manages to resist turning around, to see the look on Bakugou’s face as his girlfriend cums on his tongue.

“Whaddya think?” Shindou looks over at Bakugou, who looks positively volcanic, “Should she get to cum?” 

“Fuck. off.” Bakugou says lowly, and Shindou grins like a jack o’ lantern. 

“That’s a no.” Shindou lifts you off the ground by the waist, pulling you away from Deku’s touch. You tremble and struggle a bit, processing the lack of sensation, the feeling of your orgasm being ripped away from you. The pro hero pins your arms behind your back before setting you on the ground again, catching you just before you reach between your legs for some relief.

“I didn’t say-” Bakugou stands angrily. 

“This is as much a test of your ability to obey as it is hers,” Shindou interrups, maddeningly calm. “If you’re not cooperative with us, she’ll pay the price. So be a good boy,” You hear Kirishima chuckle nervously at that,  “And sit back down.” Bakugou swallows, feeling Denki, Sero, and Kirishima’s eyes on his as he slowly sinks back into the chair. “There you go. Next time, just say yes, and we won’t have to do this. Or you could, you know, not bet your girlfriend.” You twitch in his arms, making a soft sad sound and he leans down and kisses your forehead. Jealousy twists in Deku’s stomach, and he makes quick meaningful eye contact with Shindou, who releases you, pushing you towards the other pro hero as you stumble on shaking legs. 

“Sweetheart,” Deku coos, catching you and rubbing your back, “Sweetheart it’s not your fault,” you sniff, “You’re being a very good girl for us.” He touches your shoulder. “Very good.” 

“I wanna be good.” You say softly, and every man in the room takes a sharp breath. “I wanna be good, for you.” 

“You are, baby,” Deku says emphatically. “I promise.” He gives you a squeeze and moves you in front of him, before collapsing in an empty armchair and pulling you into his lap, still blindfolded, poorly balanced on his knees. “Now I know you’re not used to taking a fat cock,” he says, still speaking sweetly, the way a teacher would to a student, “But you’re gonna take mine, and I don’t wanna hear-” 

“Shut the fuck up,” Bakugou snarls, unable to contain himself, “You don’t know shit about what she can take.” There’s a split second of silence. 

“Is that right?” Shindou drawls. “Hand behind your back.” You obey quickly. “I think you should see what your boyfriend’s gotten you into.” He says, slipping the blindfold from your eyes and pulling the knot out easily. Deku takes the opportunity to take his shirt off, tossing it on the ground before hooking his thumbs in his black sweatpants and pushing them to the ground underneath you. Shindou ties your wrists carefully together, letting you lean against his chest for balance while the other pro hero undresses. You blink in the light of his living room, and then look down, letting out an involuntary nervous squeak, just as Shindou secures the knot. He’s thick, and it’s long, even with prep you know the stretch will be painful. 

 “Relax,” Midoriya says, “You ready?.” You nod, and he uses his feet to scoot the chair over to an angle where you can’t see any of the men behind you, but they can see his face, watch his eyes lose focus as he pressed the head of his cock to your entrance. “That’s it, just like that..” He breathes. “Good girl.” You sigh softly, your eyes fluttering shut as he pushes farther inside you, “Let me in,” he says softly, and for a moment he can pretend that you’re alone, that you belonged to him, just like you were always supposed to. He’s pulled back to the present when you whimper. “Let daddy in,” he repeats and Shindou suppresses a chuckle, watching you sink down on Deku’s cock. 

“Oh, oh my god,” You choke out, and Midoriya makes eye contact with Bakugou he starts to fuck you, “Oh my god,” you moan this time, the pain bright in your voice. “S’so big, I’m-” Shindou reaches out and touches your shoulder, a warning. 

“It’s so big, daddy.” Deku corrects, voice honeyed and breathless, a smirk on his boyish face. 

“Daddy,” you whine, “Please,” you suck in a breath, “It’s-please can I have a second,” He nods, and rubs comforting circles in your hip, slowing his movements. 

“I’ve got you,” he says, sitting up a little and wrapping an arm around your waist. “Do you trust me sweetheart?” 

“Yes, daddy.” You whisper, and he leans farther forward, wrapping you in his arms and kissing your neck as he starts to fuck you slowly, pulling soft little musical moans from your lips. 

“I’m the number one hero,” he says and Bakugou’s nails nearly break the skin on his own palm at the genuine emotion on Midoriya’s face. “I’ll take good care of you, baby, and I would, you know, if you came to my agency, I’d take care of you.” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, even if your brain had been working, sinking his teeth into your neck, letting you gasp in pain as you take the last inch of him and cry out softly. Deku moves his hands lower, holding you down on his length while you squirm. “What’s your color baby, you okay?” 

“Green,” you say, voice half protest, half pleasure. 

“I’m gonna move,” he warns and you relax against him, eyes shut. “I’ll hold your hand, okay?” You nod, and he laces his fingers with yours, giving your hand a quick squeeze before bucking his hips up into yours. 

“OH!” You spasm in his arms, not expecting him to move so quickly, it almost feels like you’re being split open, you feel him press a reassuring kiss on your cheek. 

“So,” he groans, “Shit, Yo, she’s so tight, can barely move.” Shindou rolls his eyes at the younger man, coming to stand behind him and reaching around your body, his fingers lightly vibrating by the time they touch your clit. 

“Shh,” Shindou breathes, kissing your cheek, letting you lean back against his chest while Deku fucks you, “Takin’ it so well, sweetheart, you’re doing such a good job.” At the praise, you relax a degree, and Deku can move a little, behind your back, Shindou takes your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. 

“F-fuck,” you choke out, “Fuck, Deku, I-” 

“Yeah?” He cuts you off, every soft roll of his hips against yours is bringing another wave of pleasure to your mind, and you’re still sensitive from your ruined orgasm earlier, still close. 

You choke out a sob, shoulders shaking, as the sensation of being filled and toyed with overwhelms your consciousness. 

“Good girl,” Deku coos, eyeing Shindou’s closeness and wanting to take back control of the situation, “Good girl, taking this, okay, if you’re good we’ll let you cum, is that what you want, to cum for us?” 

“Yes,” you say, your voice hitched and desperate. You roll your hips against Shindou’s face, but it seems like he’s used to it, expertly avoiding your most sensitive spots, keeping the pleasure just on the edge for you. 

“I kinda,” he says, “Wanna ruin it again.” 

“You’re so mean,” Deku laughs. “She’s dating Kacchan already, hasn’t she suffered enough?” Shinou laps at your cunt, pulling another soft cry from  your lips. 

“Please,” you beg, “Just, just fuck me a little harder, and I can, I can cum, I promise I-” You feel Deku pick up the pace and tighten his grip around your waist. 

“Keep begging.” He orders swiftly and you do, broken pleas falling from your lips. 

“I mean,” Denki breathes, elbowing Sero, “Are we all gonna pretend this hot as shit?” He palms his lengh. “Sorry bro, but jesus fucking christ.”  

“She’s so fucking hot like this,” Kirishima whispers, leaning forward.

“I wanna see her cry more.” Sero grins.

“Shut. The fuck. Up.” Bakugou growls, turning to his friends. 

“I mean,” Denki says, smirking, barely audible over your pleading, “This is why you don’t get drunk and bet your girlfriend.” He shrugs. “Right, I mean, I know I’m right. Oi,” he says to Deku and Shindou, “What do I have to do to have a turn?” 

“Join a different agency!” Deku says brightly, momentarily distracted. “I invited Iida and Shouto and they were so sorry they had conflicts. I made it work.” 

“Please,” you beg, feeling Deku’s cock hit that spongey spot inside you easily with every thrust, “Please can I cum, I’m gonna,” you squirm, trying to get away from Shindou’s magically vibrating tongue, “Please, I’m gonna lose it.” 

“Can she?” Deku looks to Bakugou. “Gonna let your girlfriend cum on my cock?” 

“Please Kats,” you whimper, “Please Katsuki, please, please, I’ll be good, need it-” 

“You need it?” Shindou says, dripping in condescension. 

“Yes,” you choke out a sob, “Yes I need it, daddy please.” 

“She can.” Bakugou says, eyes all over your body, on every mark they leave, every bruise, every rough touch, and a smirk slides across his face, “Cum for me, bitch.” You twitch in their arms, your orgasm ripping through you like a knife, it’s like you’ve been thrown off a cliff, the free fall is ecstatic and terrifying. Deku fucks you even harder, Shindou pulls away to watch Deku’s cock disappearing into your soaking cunt. 

“Fuck, baby,” Deku groans, throwing his head back, “Fuck you’re gonna make me, fuck, I’m gonna cum, inside,” his voice gets deeper, darker,  “Wanna breed this fuckin’ pussy,” he tightens his grip on your hips and Bakugou scowls. “Gonna cum inside, you wanna have my fuckin’ kids, you wanna have the next number one hero, right baby?” 

“Ohmygod,” you cry out loudly, not at all coherent. “Fuck, fuck fuck,” your voice carries as you keep cumming, the orgasm is a few minutes long, Deku fucks you through it and Shindou carefully keeps you right on the edge of overstimulation. 

“You belong to him, huh?” Shindou asks, while you’re still breathing heavily, choking out little sobs, Deku lifts you off his cock and sets you on all fours on the coffee table, so that Bakugou can watch the number one hero’s cum dribble out of your pussy, thick and white. “Lick that shit up.” Bakugou looks at Shindou like he’s insane. “I’ll punish her, if you don’t.” Shindou threatens. “And she’ll take it, but it won’t be pleasant. I promise.”  Bakugou swallows, looking at the way you’re already trembling. 

“Fine.” He says gruffly, and Denki inhales sharply. “Shut the fuck up.” He says again, sinking to his knees on the carpet, all the men in the room watch you soften at his comforting touch, the way  you shiver with happiness when he rubs a circle in your thigh. “Baby,” he coos, “Baby, color?” 

“Green.” You mumble, and he pauses, mouth inches from your cunt. 

“You sure?” His touches are feather light. 

“I am.” You say. “Thank you for asking, though.” 

“There’s nothin’ I wouldn’t do for ya.” He says, leaning forward and licking a stripe up your core, pulling more moans from your lips as he laps roughly at your overstimulated, swollen hole, wiping his mouth off with his hand when he’s done. Deku ghosts light patterns on your back with his fingertips and Shindou rubs the top of your head before slipping the blindfold off of your eye. 

“Hi, baby,” he coos, and you blink, getting used to the light. “I wantcha to look at your boyfriend, can you do that for me?” You nod and he lifts you, turning you around so that you’re face to face with Bakugou, still on his knees by the coffee table. 

“I love you.” The words tumble from his lips before he can stop them, just as Shindou lines himself up behind you, frowning, missing the surprised expression on your face. 

“Do you love her?” Shindou asks, the head of his cock pausing at your entrance. “Or is she convenient?” He pushes himself inside you and Bakugou watches your mouth drop open Shindou starts to fuck you. 

“I love her.” Bakugou says, staring up at the other man. “I do.” 

“Because,” Shindou throws his head back, groaning before responding, “Fuck, what a good little cocksleeve,” he slaps your ass hard, and tears spring to your eyes in front to Bakugou. “Because we both know she’s hurting,” he rolls his hips against you and you shudder with pleasure, “Her career, by staying at your agency.” 

“Fuck you.” Bakugou says. 

“I,” you choke out, “It doesn’t,” you whimper when Shindou reaches two fingers around your body and you feel your knees buckle as they start to vibrate against your bud. 

“It’s selfish,” Deku says, pulling himself out of his post orgasm haze to jump in, “To keep her there, when she has better offers.”

“What kinda self worth do you have,” Shindou says to you, touching you softly as his words rip right through your skin, “To stay with a guy who would loan you out like this, huh?” You take a shaky breath in. 

“Why,” you gasp again, trying to form sentences, as Shindou plows into you, setting a brutal pace, “Oh, oh my god,” you feel his cock filling you completely, feel the boy's eyes on your body. 

“You can touch her.” Shindou says to the men on the couch and it’s a moment before any of them reach for you. Denki’s first. He cups your breast and lets out a low whistle. 

“She’s so pretty,” Kirishima breathes, “So good,” he coos, reaching out, cupping the side of your face, stroking your teary cheek with his thumb, “So good.” Bakugou swallows, reaching within himself, wondering why he can’t offer you the same kind of validation, wondering why you’re doing this for him, why you work with him, when Deku is the number one, when Shindou does better on popularity numbers, when Kirishima was more kind, when Denki wasn’t afraid to touch you in public. You open your eyes, and see the tears in Bakugou’s, 

“I need a break.” You say quickly and all the men let you go as you leap at Bakugou, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Hey,” you say softly, “Hey baby, where did you go on me, huh?” He swallows. 

“I just,” he peels you off of him so hard that you stumble back, Deku catches you. “I just dont uh,” He stands. “I know I don’t deserve you.” His voice is barely a whisper. 

“You made a mistake.” You say, standing to meet him, cupping his face in one of your hands but he grabs your wrist and peels you off of him. 

“I,” he pauses. “I gotta go.” 

“Katsuki,” you say, your voice hitching in your throat, “Seriously I-” 

“I bet you?” He says, shaking his head, backing away. “And you didn’t dump me?” Your teeth close on your bottom lip and there’s an awkward silence. 

“I love you.” You say, and behind you Shindou pulls his sweats back up to his hips. “I love you, okay, and I-” He shakes his head, cutting you off, bile rising in his throat. 

“They’re right.” He says sharply. “You shoulda taken a good offer, and told me to go to hell.” Your eyes widen and he grabs his coat off of the back of a chair. “I’ll drop your stuff off. Don’t call me.” He nearly runs out of the room before you can summon the breath to respond. There’s an awkward pause. Kirishima stands. 

“We’ll take care of it,” he gives you a soft pat on the head and Sero and Denki nod, following the redhead out of the room. The door closes with a soft click and you turn around to Shindou and Deku. 

“Um,” you swallow. 

“Don’t do anything,” Deku says quickly, snatching a blanket off of the back of Shindou’s couch, wrapping your body in it and gathering you in his arms. Shindou collapses on the couch and Deku joins him, sitting you like that, in between them. 

“What um,” you blink a couple times, “What’s happening?” 

“Kacchan freaked out,” Deku says softly, Shindou reaches over and rubs circles in your thigh. “He’s right, though, by the way, that you sacrificed your career to work at his agency.” Your lips twitch. 

“I didn’t think I was anything special.” You mutter. 

“Oh,” Shindou says, combing his fingers through your hair, sending shivers down your spine, “You really are, sweetheart, and I could pull the stats to prove it.” You curl up in a ball on the couch. 

“Am I an idiot?” You ask, your voice is tight and small. The two men exchange a worried glance over your head.

“No,” Deku says, “No okay,” he rubs a comforting circle in your shoulder. “Listen, get dressed, and we’ll take care of you tonight.” 

“You um,” you wipe your face, turning to Shindou, “You didn’t cum, I”m-” 

“I literally don’t care,” he says, rolling his eyes, “Not to be rude but I’m a pro hero, if I wanna get laid, I get laid.” He puts a hand on your thigh through the blanket. “Stay here, okay?” He looks to Deku. “Grab her a glass of water and just take a sweatshirt from my closet.” A few minutes later you’re sipping a glass of cool water and wearing soft clothes. 

“I was pretty surprised when I heard you agreed to this,” Deku says softly, “I mean, I know you had a crush on Kacchan when you were in general studies, but uh, I was surprised he asked you to work at his agency before you started dating.” Your jaw tightens and Shindou slips an arm around your shoulders. 

“I,” you whisper, “He just, he seems so sure all the time, he’d tell me something, and I’d just believe it.” You shake your head. “Fuck, I, he just dumped me. I-in front of all of you.” The corners of your mouth force themselves downward. 

“This is sort of what I wanted to say in the hallway to you,” Shindou says, “That I know you like him, but he doesn’t,” he pauses, picking the right words, “Sorry, it’s not a problem with his personal valuation of you. It’s a problem with his professional evaluation of you.” You nod a couple times. 

“Thanks for um, taking such good care of me.” You say, standing abruptly, reaching for panties where they’re crumpled on the floor. “I should go though, I’m sure you don’t want to deal with this.” The two men stand in nearly perfect synchronization. 

“Please.” Deku says, taking a step towards you. “Hear us out.” You start looking for your panties, “Look at me.” He reaches out and cups your face, speaking with a bit more authority, and you freeze. “You’re such a good girl,” he says, and you melt into the softness of his touch, head spinning, “That’s it,” he says, seeing you relax, and he pulls you into his chest. “What if you stayed with me,” he murmurs, “And we talked about it in the morning.” 

“With you?” You glance at Shindou, who comes and stands behind you, locking his arms around Deku, trapping you between them. 

“Do you honestly have any friends who won’t take Bakugou’s side?” Deku says and your lips droop downward. 

“I don’t.” You say, knowing Mina wouldn’t, knowing Sero and Denki and Kirishima had already chased Bakugou when he’d left, rather than checking on you. The two men smell like pine and cedar, and they feel so, stable. 

“Don’t waste your time worrying about that,” Deku murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “If you wanna cry, you can cry to us, that’s fine..” You nod slowly.

“Bakugou,” your lower lip trembles, “He just left me here.” 

“He did.” Shindou says, resting his chin on the top of your head. “But we’re here.” You nod slowly. 

“O-okay, I’ll um, I’ll go with you, Deku, I,” You lose track of the sentence, still reeling. Shindou kisses the top of your head and Deku gives your waist a little squeeze. 

“We’ll take such good care of you, baby.” He says. “You can trust us.” You nod again, wiping your tears as you let them gather you on the couch. “I’ll get a blanket, we can put on a movie and order food.” He picks his phone up off of the coffee table and goes to Shindou’s bedroom. He stops, and takes a deep breath, catching Shindou’s smug expression. He just shrugs, and takes his phone out, knowing that his co workers are anxiously waiting for an update.

Deku: it wasn’t that hard. 

Iida: he didn’t? Did he?

Shouto: of course he couldn’t handle it, bakugou’s more ego than he is human being. 

Deku: kinda hate myself for suggesting this but you wanna dip early at work and come make her feel better? She’s pretty upset, and I’m worried Shindou’s gonna take our money and the healer.

Iida: it’s heroic of us, to save her from working for anyone else, but I can sense you have doubts, Midoriya. 

Shouto: she needs a caretaker. We can do that for her, keep her safe. I’m happy to ask the interns to cover for us.

Shouto: how much did we need to bribe shindou to get him to pick this fight with Bakugou? 

Deku: 10K and he can borrow her a few times a year but it’ll be worth it. We need her. 

Shouto: We do, and she needs us. She just doesn’t know it yet. 

Iida: agree. 

Deku sighs, sliding his phone back into his sweatpants pocket and returning to the couch where he tucks the blanket around you. Shindou releases you and gently pushes you towards the other pro hero. To Deku’s delight you take his hand with both of yours, leaning into him. 

“Kacchan’s an idiot.” He says softly, as Shindou gets up and walks to the restroom, tossing Midoriya a sly smile over his shoulder. You shrug. 

“I love him.” You look up at Midoriya and his heart breaks. He's never seen you this vulnerable, not in the field, not during exams, not even when someone was gravely injured. Your eyes are watery and unfocused, and your lower lip is trembling.

“It’s not your fault.” He says, hating the little string inside of him pulling him down the path of least resistance, causing his mouth to form the words he knows will make you stay. “I know how hard you’ve been trying, and he’s just not ready yet. He’s too immature.” You sniff, and remember confiding your crush to one person, and one person only, listing your reservations to a very patient Kendo Itsuka. You had no way of knowing, none at all, that Deku was standing outside the classroom listening, and that these years later he’d use your own fears against you. 

“I have been trying hard.” You warble, folding into him. He rubs your back. “I’ve been trying so hard.” Midoriya nods. 

“He never yells at you, does he?” You hear a sharp undercurrent in his voice, and feel the pro hero relax as you shake your head. 

“But even watching it, I feel like, I dunno.” You mumble, hiding. He leans over and kisses your head. 

“It’s not that late.” He offers, and if you peek through the curtains of the huge window in the apartment you can see the last vestiges of golden light shining through. The sun has not quite set. “Shouto and Tenya are going to a bar if you wanted to come out and meet them, maybe Uraraka might come by.” You swallow. 

“I haven’t seen them in a while.” You stretch. “But I should, I should um,” You blink back tears, “Did he dump me or fire me?” Midoriya winces. 

“Both, I think.” 

“Fuck.” You rub your eyes. “I wanna actually, I want to go to my office and pick up my stuff but,” you lift your head, eyes wide, “You won’t make me do that by myself, will you?” 

“Of course not,” he says, oozing sincerity, “Of course we will, how about we rip the band aid off, I can have them pick us up here?” You nod, burying your face in his chest, heart aching. 

______

You say your goodbyes to Shindou, who gives you a warm hug and a soft kiss on the forehead, and waves your concerns away when you mention promising to return his clothes. Midoriya pockets his phone when you step out into the hallway. 

“They’re gonna meet us downstairs in a car.” he says, and your eyes widen. 

“Oh oh, that’s not necessary, I don’t need anything fancy.” You shrug. “I could call an uber or-” 

“We have drivers.” Midoriya cuts you off. “So it’s no trouble really. No trouble at all.” He offers you a hand, and you take it, letting him lead you to the elevator and through the lobby, feeling him rub circles in  your palm with his thumb. The car that pulls up is sleek and black, and Deku opens the door for you before helping you climb up into the backseat. 

“Hello,” Iida greets you stiffly, and you squirm with embarrassment as you reach for a seatbelt. “I hear you had a rather difficult evening.” You glance fearfully  back at Midoriya, who flashes his palms. 

“I spared them the details.” 

“I’m just an idiot.” You mumble, burning with embarrassment, flopping in the seat next to Shouto, who pats your knee awkwardly. 

“Well,” he considers, “You’ve made a series of decisions based on how they felt, rather than thinking about them, and perhaps that’s an experience to be learned from.” You burst into tears as Midoriya closes the car door and gives Shouto a stern look. “I, but,” he says quickly, wrapping an arm around your waist, scooting you closer to him, “You don’t have to do it by yourself anymore.” He blurts. “If you want, we’ll, we can be helpful.” 

“I think what Shouto means,” Midoriya says, as you feel the engine of the car hum to life, “Is that it might be worth it to lean on your friends for a bit.” 

“All my friends are gonna take Bakugou’s side,” you snip bitterly, wiping your face on your sleeve as Iida hands you a handkerchief.

“I don’t take his side.” Shouto says sharply. “And I’m your friend.” You perk up the slightest degree at that, so he keeps going, “I’d never,” he shakes his head, huffing, “I’d never bet you. If you were mine I’m not sure I’d let you out of my sight.” That makes you laugh, you wipe some of your tears and you lean against him. 

“Bakugou’s impulsive,” Iida says gently, adjusting his glasses, “You deserve stability, both in your workplace, of course, and romantically.” He stretches his shoulder a little and through your tears and little sobs notice the pain in his face. 

“Did you,”  you reach for him, distracted, “Did you hyperextend your elbow?” he cocks his head at you, confused. “You might have, sorry,” you mutter, wiping your face and scooting across the black leather seat towards him. “Let me just,” you take his hand quickly and energy shoots from your fingertips up his arm, pooling at his elbow. He lets out a little sigh of relief. 

“I, didn’t even realize I’d injured myself.” He squints at you. “You know, if you need to find a new job quickly, perhaps you could work for us?” You blink up at him, and all three men watch and wait as your teeth sink into your lower lip. 

“I suppose,” you look down at your hands. “I don’t have anywhere else to go.” There’s a brief silence, where each man considers their own integrity, their ambition, and the mark this little lie would have on their immortal souls. 

“We could hire you,” Deku says finally, somehow managing to make it sound nonchalant, unpracticed. “On a trial basis, of course.” You look up at him eyes wide. 

“Please,” you lean forward, “I’ll, I’ll owe you forever, I, Midoriya I have rent to pay and student loan debt so I need a job.” 

“That’s what friends are for,” he says, keeping his smile light. “We’ll  help you carry your things from his office, but um, there’s the matter of where you’re going to sleep tonight?” You wince, and rub your eyes. 

“I was going to get a hotel.”

“That’s not necessary.” Shouto cuts in. “I have a guest room.” 

“We all have guest rooms.” Midoriya says, and it might be your imagination but his eyes darken just a little. “You’d be quite safe with any of us, I don’t know if it’s a good idea for someone with a powerful healing quirk to stay alone in a hotel.” 

“Of course.” Iida agrees and your phone buzzes in your pocket. You glance at it then put it. 

“It’s Kirishima.” You press your lips together. “I don’t want to talk to him though.” You let it ring, letting it vibrate in your palm. Iida clears his throat and holds his hand out. You give him the phone and a tiny warmth sparks in his chest. 

“Good girl.” He says stiffly. “I’ll give this back to you tomorrow.” 

“They’re all going to hate me for breaking his heart,” new hot tears squeeze from your eyes and Shouto pulls you into his chest, warm hand on your waist, much to Iida’s and Deku’s displeasure you curl into him. 

“Shhhh,” he breathes, rubbing your back. “No they won’t, and if they do, they’re idiots.” You manage an almost laugh and he lights up at the minor success. You refuse to lift your face from his chest, until the car pulls up to the empty hero office building, it’s so late now that the only people present are the cleaning staff. Your office is small, but there are a few personal items and a fair amount of books to be boxed up. The three pro heroes make quick work of it, with Deku snatching the framed photo of you and Bakugou at graduation and placing it face down in the cardboard box. Shouto floats to you, resting a hand on the small of your back. 

“I didn’t mean to imply,” he says quietly, “In the car, I didn’t mean to imply that you were wrong to trust your heart. I wasn’t suggesting alternative action.” You look up at him, suddenly feeling quite tired. “I was suggesting an alternative method of collecting data.” You nod slowly. 

“So you weren’t chastising me for listening to my heart.” You reach up and take one of your last books off the office shelf. 

“I was chastising you for ignoring your head.” He pats your back, taking the book from you and closing the box. “Is that the last of it?” He turns to the other two men, who nod. “You’re staying with me?” He says so smoothly the others barely notice it. “I assume that it might be awkward, after tonight to stay with Midoriya, and Iida’s all the way across town.” 

“Thanks, Todoroki.” You say softly, before either of them can jump in. He nods, the smallest smile on his lips. 

“Don’t mention it.” 

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom,” you excuse yourself and the three men stand in awkward silence until the door closes behind you. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Deku hisses. 

“Inviting a beautiful woman to sleep in my guest room?” Shouto raises his eyebrows. “I’m not sure what you mean.” 

“I mean I’ve already,” Deku blushes a little but plows forward, “I’ve already fucked her, so I sort of assumed that was me calling dibs I-” 

“Absolutely not.” Iida interrupts. “Bakugou has also slept with her, and none of us respected that claim.” His words hang awkwardly in the room for a moment. “We can’t fight over our healer,” he says seriously, “It makes the most sense for both of you to get out of my way.” 

“Out of your way?” Shouto says, eyebrows raised. “I don’t think I’ll be doing that.” 

“You’re not emotionally intelligent enough to handle her,” Iida says, with a little shrug, “And you’re too emotional and committed to being the number one hero to spend enough time with her. I’m the obvious choice.” 

“No?” Deku sputters. “No you’re not-” The door opens and you step back inside, looking a little puffier than you had when you’d left. 

“Todoroki, can we go?” You say, eyelids drooping. “I really just want to be alone.” He nods, extending an arm for you to take like a regency era gentleman, and sweeping you out of the room. He calls a separate car in the elevator with just a few taps of his smartphone, swiping away his group chat messages from his angry hero partners. 

Deku: seriously? I just assumed I had dibs. 

Iida: never assume dibs. 

Shouto: I thought dibs were “an antiquated form of dividing wealth” 

Iida: I come from a long line of people who called dibs, we just never did it so colloquially. 

Deku: we can’t let this be a problem. 

Shouto: agreed, the two of you can fuck off. 

Iida: I don’t think so. 

Deku: I also don’t think that’s the solution. 

Shouto: she’s had quite a day so I’m going to focus on her :) goodnight. 

He pockets his phone, and feels a twinge of guilt at your red rimmed eyes, but it dissipates when you sigh and lean against him as you wait for the car. Neither of you speaks for most of the drive, the silence is surprisingly comfortable. He leads you through the building,and the elevator rockets you up to his penthouse, where he takes you by the hand and sits you on his dark leather couch, taking the throw blanket from the corner and tucking it around you. 

“Sorry,” he says softly, “I have maybe an invasive question.” You blink up at him. “Have you ever, ah, I mean I don’t want to make assumptions about the nature of the activity earlier, but you’ve really folded in on yourself.” You nod, tucking your legs into your chest. “Have you, were you,” he stops himself, bringing some courage to the surface. “Was it particularly rough, generally, I-” 

“Yes.” You blurt, and he frowns, darting to his kitchen and coming back with a cool glass of water that he sets on the coffee table in front of you, before sitting on the couch next to you. “And,” you mumble, “I feel so dumb.” 

“May I touch you?” He asks, and you nod, sniffling. He sits down next to you and pulls your legs into his lap, tucking your head into his chest. “Is it incredibly rude of me to assume you subbed?” You laugh bitterly. 

“No.” You close your eyes. 

“Sub drops are uncomfortable but fairly common.” He presses his lips to the top of your head. “I’m sure you were very good,” he gives you a gentle squeeze, “Sure you were a good girl for them.” You sniff again, feeling your heart rate calm a bit. “Do you want to talk about what happened?” You shake your head, relaxing into him. 

“I just wanna talk to K-katsuki.” You get out. “But he said not to call him, so I, I can’t do that.” Shouto flips his memory to the early days of therapy back when he was maybe, sixteen, finding an old rhythm. 

“What would you want to say to him, if he were here?” 

“That I don’t care,” your voice rises a bit, “Where I work, but I,” you squirm uncomfortably. It floats to Todoroki’s mind a second before it comes out of your mouth. “Did you like me, or did you need a healer at your agency?” Shouto squeezes you again. “And is that why you bet me?” Your voice gets small again, “B-because you already saw me like an object?” 

“If I were Bakugou,” Shouto says, and then clears his throat, “I’d uh, I’d probably say something like I care for you, very much, but I’m not in a place emotionally to value you like you deserve to be valued.” You laugh lightly. 

“He’d have sworn.” 

“He would have.” Shouto agreed. “You know we get fined when we do that on broadcasts, so I’ve trained myself out of it for the most part.” 

“You were the only one who cursed as much as him in school.” You snuggle against him, closing your eyes. 

“You can sleep, but have a sip of water for me.” He says, reaching for the glass and bringing it to your lips, waiting until you’ve drunk at least half of it to set it back down, holding you tightly against his body. Your eyes flutter shut, but he can’t bring himself to stop talking to you. “Do you remember when we met?” he asks, and you think about it, so much of that day now was Katsuki, when he’d yelled at you and you’d surprised everyone, including yourself when  you’d yelled back. The way Kirishima and Mina had spirited you off to their lunch table, how you’d spent the next four years living, and breathing, and studying with them. “You ah, you helped me with my wrists.” He offers and you nod, remembering. 

“You were locking them when you were fighting,” you yawn, “Repetitive stress injury.” He nods, and you take his hand, running your fingers over the callouses. The cracked skin softens and heals in real time. 

“You don’t  have to do that.” He says quietly and you shrug. 

“Consider that one on the house.” You yawn again and close your eyes, consciousness slipping from you like a wave back into the ocean. Shouto takes a minute before taking his phone out, scrolling through the group chat messages. 

Shouto: I might not feel good about this. 

Iida: so return her to me. 

Shouto: no no I mean breaking bakugou and y/n up on purpose. 

Deku: it’s what’s best for her!

Shouto: she’s quite upset. 

Iida: so don’t sleep with her?

Shouto: I really want to though. Fuck I really want to. 

Shouto: also I think she sub dropped deku way to fucking go 

Deku: ooop I was concerned about that but she did also go through a breakup like,,, mid scene so I wasn’t sure how to proceed

Shouto: She’s sleeping in my lap. 

Deku: okay so you’re welcome??? 

Deku: fucking her only made this worse she’s so sweet 

Shouto traces your outline, and you let out the softest sound, snuggling into him. He doesn’t dare move, not when his stomach growls or when the light changes in the apartment. Eventually, when the clock blinks 12AM, he touches your shoulder softly, but doesn’t wake you all the way, just enough so that you’re semi conscious as he carries you down the hall to his guest room, laying you on the clean sheets and tucking the duvet around your body. He pauses for a moment, watching your chest rise and fall easily, the creases gone from your forehead. He wracks his brain, stepping outside the room, how long had he even been aware of you? From the first moment, he decides, from that first day, when you’d touched his arm and the pain had melted away you’d been, something to him. A friend, maybe, at first, and then, someone who was kind to him. Someone who didn’t treat him like a celebrity, or a pariah, or an object. 

That’s what’s on his mind as he pads softly down the hallway, and looks out over the city. It would be cruel of him, he surmises, not to take care of you, when you spend so much time caring for everyone else. 

_____ One Month Earlier: All Might Hero Agency

“Ugh,” Deku groans, rubbing his eyes and setting his phone on the table. “I can’t watch this.” 

“What’s happening?” Iida says, looking up from his takeout container. The three of them were working a late night at the agency. 

“I think y/n moved in with Bakugou.” Deku turns his phone around and shows the other two pro heroes. Iida sighs, and Todoroki frowns. “I just, okay.” He leans forward conspiratorially. “I’ve known him my whole life, right, and he’s better, a lot better than he was. But better, better isn’t that good, still.” 

“I remember how he spoke to you our freshman year.” Iida says. “And then he had the audacity to fail the licensing exam anyway.” Todoroki clears his throat. “And you did as well, I remember.” 

“Which one of us went rogue with intent to kill,” Shouto muses, “I can’t remember.” 

“The point,” Deku says, “Is that she took his job offer, she’s moving in with him, she works for him, I mean, she’s our friend, it’s a conflict of interest, maybe we should say something.” 

“Her friends should say something,” Iida couches, “Maybe Mina, or Kirishima, they both occasionally had level heads.” 

“I’m sure he’s made her all kinds of promises,” Deku shakes his head, “I just feel like she doesn’t realize her own potential, or what she’s getting herself into working for him.” 

“I heard,” Iida says, pausing to take a sip of his water, “I heard that she took his offer without reading it, Sero told Tokoyami who told me.” 

“Without looking at it?” Shouto wipes his mouth with a napkin. “Does she know, I mean, she got other offers.” There’s a brief silence. “I know that once she started liking Bakugou she was essentially blind to anyone else,” he covers a laugh with a little cough, “Remember when Inasa met her, he,” the laugh escapes this time. “He kissed her hand and she just said, ‘Thank you’, and went to go check on us.” 

“I do remember him being quite surprised at her indifference.” Iida smiles. “But yes, I always thought maybe it would pass but she seemed so blind to his flaws, I just assumed one of them would talk her out of it.” He frowns. “I hope, I hope he speaks to her more kindly than he did in class, at least when they’re alone.” 

“Kacchan’s not a bad person,” Deku jumps in, “I don’t think he’d hurt her on purpose, but I mean, it feels, it feels wrong that we know he’s taking advantage of her liking him to get her to work at his agency.”

“Do we know that?” Todoroki asks. “Maybe he gave her a good offer.” 

“He must have.” Iida couches. “I wonder,” he trails off, “Maybe we should check in. As friends, of course, I,” a slight blush creeps up on his cheeks, “She’s quite, ah, capable. I just think we should remind her that should this for some reason fall through, that she’s not an island, you know?” 

“Yeah,” Deku nods quickly. “We could stop by, um for lunch or something, maybe bring them a housewarming gift.” He fidgets. “I, I could text Kacchan, and see what days work but, um, he might tell me to fuck off.” 

“You’re the number one pro hero,” Iida rolls his eyes. “Just show up. She’ll be happy to see you.” 

“I’ll come.” Todoroki jumps in. “If you don’t mind, I, it’s been a while since I’ve seen her, and I know I spent less time with her than you but we still were ah,” he thinks about the amount of vulnerability it took for him to be comfortable with even your gentle touch, how he’d started to miss it after graduation, how he’d found himself looking forward to seeing you after a hard fight, and remembering you wouldn’t be there. 

“Ah,” Deku pauses, “I think um, we were close, so if you don’t mind, I’d like to see her on my own.” He laughs, “I mean, no one spent more time with her than I did.” 

“It’s true.” Iida confirms, “Especially her first year, I had half a thought that they got us a healer specifically to keep your growth with One for All from stagnating due to your reckless nature.” Deku’s face colors. “No offense, obviously.” Iida says, looking distracted. “I did always wonder if you were ever jealous, since she was so focused on Bakugou despite how much time you spent together.” 

“She um, she talked about him a lot, yeah.” Deku says, suddenly very interested in his takeout. “But it’s not like I didn’t get it, like I said I grew up with him. He’s a big personality.” The words hang in the silence. 

“You, get it then?” Iida says, “What she sees in him, I mean, because I can’t for the life of me understand it. She’s so sweet, and gentle, and he’s loud and abrasive.” There’s a silence. Deku swallows a big bite of dinner.

“You’ll tell us then,” Todoroki says, “If you pop by their apartment, you’ll tell us how she is?” 

“Sure.” Deku says, and Todoroki is struck for the first time in a long time with the reminder of how difficult it was to tell when Midoriya Izuku was lying. 

___ 

Midoriya stands at your doorway, having rung the bell at a time he’s sure is too late for you to be at the office, but when he knows Bakugou is out on patrol. He only has to wait a moment before the door swings open and he’s rewarded with your presence, soft and sweet as you had been when you were in school. 

“Oh!” Your eyes widen with surprise, adorable. “Deku, I’m so sorry, actually Bakugou’s not here,” you step aside to let him in without a second thought, of course you do. He’d only been the number one hero for a few months, it had actually taken longer than expected, but of course you trust him, everyone did.. He’s surprised, the place you’re sharing is modest, the view is nice but it’s a one bedroom with a small kitchen. 

“I’m actually here to see you.” He says, and watches your reaction carefully. You don’t betray anything, giving him a confused smile. 

“Are you injured?” You cock your head at him. “I can’t imagine anyone could land a punch on you.” He laughs. 

“No, I mean, we spent a lot of time together in school and it just occurred to me that I haven’t seen you since graduation.” He flattens his palms on your countertop. “I wanted to catch up, if it’s a good time.” 

“Well,” you take the teapot off the stove and fill it with water, when your back is to him his eyes flick to your ass, the curve of your hips in your jeans. “I can’t believe the number one hero made time for little old me.” You set it on the stove, turning the burner on. 

“Please,” he says, “You know that without your help in school I wouldn’t be number one, hell, doubt I’d be top 50.” You shake your head, leaning against the counter next to the stove as he takes a seat at your island. 

“You were always determined, there were just times that determination took a real toll on your corporeal form.” You shrug. “I put you back together and you’d hop right back out there, it’s an honor to be a footnote in your story.” You catch his eyes, they’re slightly narrowed, there’s something about the way Midoriya looks at you that makes you feel like you’re a molecule under a microscope. 

“You really think of yourself like that?” He says softly, and he watches your eyes flick to your bedroom door, to the sweatshirt discarded on a chair that’s far too large to be yours. “You think of yourself like a footnote in someone else's story?” A sad little smile flashes across your face. 

“Sorry, Deku, I won’t unload on you.” You turn away from him again, taking two mugs down from the cabinet and set them on the counter, carefully selecting a tea bag for each of them. 

“Do you call Kacchan by his hero name,” He teases gently, “I’m Midoriya, c’mon, still the same idiot who broke every bone in his body at least once when he was in college.” That gets a laugh out of you. 

“No, I don’t call Katsuki Dynamight when we're alone.” You set the tea in front of him, and Midoriya is grateful for the distraction, shocked at the way you casually drop his best friends first name. 

“Katsuki,” He repeats, unable to stop himself, and his stomach twists as you fidget nervously. 

“It’s new.” You admit. “But I like it, honestly it suits him.” 

“Huh.” Midoriya blows on his tea. “You can, by the way, unload on me, I’m pretty strong or y’know,” he flashes you a sheepish grin, “That’s what they’re saying on the news these days.” You look at him, but he sees through your polite smile, you look exhausted. “What’s up, really?” He tries. You look back at the sweatshirt on the couch. 

“He’s working hard.” You say, nearly whispering, like he can hear you. “But he’s frustrated, and I want to help and I don’t know how to get him to let me in.” You shrug. “You know this has been his dream his whole life, Midoriya, and I know he had a lot of growing up to do. Still does maybe.” You chew your lip. “I just wish he knew how much I believe in him.” 

“Yeah?” Midoriya manages, bile rising in his throat. 

“Yeah.” You sigh deeply. “Like, I know he can be a good hero, and I get that the red tape and performative shit is hard for him, but he’s so kind, deep down.” You light up, as if you’d just remembered something. “Promise not to tell him I told you about this?” He nods, and watches you flit to the refrigerator and take something out. “He’s been making me lunch every day. No matter when he gets back from patrol, when I get up there’s a bento for me.” You squirm, like the happiness inside you is fighting to get out. “He loses his temper, sometimes, but I do really believe he cares about me.” 

“Does he lose his temper with you?” Midoriya asks, keeping his voice perfectly modulated, tinged with just the edge of concern. 

“Not usually.” You press your lips together. “I know he’s frustrated.” You repeat, and shrug again. “I believe in him.” 

“And what about you?” Midoriya presses, gently, strategically. You laugh at that, genuinely. 

“What about me?” You repeat again, but continue, afraid of sounding like a parrot. “I mean, I can’t hold up a building, I can’t win a battle, pretty sure you could pin me in less than a second.” His muscles twitch at the invitation but he stays seated, sipping his tea. “I’m always going to be there when powerful people need me.” You couch. “But I’m not deluded enough to think that makes me powerful.” 

“You’re not.” He sets the mug back on the table. “But you are important. I suppose there’s a difference, isn’t there?” You nod. “I can leap through walls, and fly, and fight, and win, but at the end of the day I need you,” he catches himself, “Or someone like you to keep me in condition to do it.” You nod slowly. 

“You’re very kind to me.” You say eventually. “You always were, Midoriya.” His mouth goes dry. “I often felt alone, when we were in school. But you always took the time to talk to me, while I healed you. I appreciate that.” 

“I consider you a friend.” He smiles at you. “Not just a healer.” He watches you process that information, watches your lips twitch downward. “What, what’s up?” He pushes, just a little harder now. 

“I don’t think,” you muse, thinking out loud. “I don’t think Bakugou thought of me as a friend, until,” he watches you remember something that clearly embarasses you, “Until um,” you laugh, “Actually the story is funny, if you promise not to be weird about it I’ll tell you.” Midoriya forces a laugh, and smiles, holding out a pinky finger. 

“Promise.” 

“He um,” you lean forward conspiratorially, “I don’t think he saw me as more than the person who put him back together after a fight until he saw someone else flirt with me and decided he didn’t like it.” Midoriya rubs his chin. 

“Oooh wait, what happened?” He keeps the excitement in his voice normal, modulated.

“It was at one of the interschool events,” you giggle, and he’s transported back in time, 

He can see the way you used to hide behind your hair when you were nervous, the way you’d look after staying up all night studying, your smiling face in the stands at sports festivals. “Do you remember Shindou Yo?” Midoriya blinks, of course, of course he remembered Grand, his face was plastered all over the center of the city right now in some cologne ad. 

“I do, yeah.” He leans forward, listening. 

“While you were all competing, he sort of pulled me aside and he was asking me all these questions about my quirk, and healing, and what you were all like, and at first I thought he was sniffing around for information about his competition but then he um, he just rested a hand on the small of my back while we were talking and I realized I was being hit on.” You pause for dramatic effect. “Didn’t even take five seconds, Katsuki was there immediately, as angry as I’d ever seen him, dragging me back to the group.” You laugh. “And essentially he hasn’t taken his hands off of me since.” 

“Really?” Midoriya shrugs. “And that doesn’t make you feel like, I dunno,” he pauses, searching for the right words, the ones that will sow the doubt he’s looking to nurture. 

“It made me feel wanted.” You sip your tea. “And I’d be the first to admit he has some rough edges, and a fucking awful temper.” You shiver despite the warmth of the room and that’s it, that’s the thread Midoriya wants to pull. 

“What do you mean?” He asks, knowing already. 

“Oh,” you wrap an arm around your ribcage. “It’s hard for him to direct his anger at a source right, something goes poorly and if you’re standing too close you’ll get caught in the explosion, for lack of a better metaphor. He always apologizes though,” your smile gets a little wistful. “We’re working on it.” 

“Uh huh.” Midoriya says. “Good for you.” 

_____ Present 

Shouto can’t sleep. It’s not natural for him, and he fumbles in his drawer for the little orange pill bottle he’d regularly relied on during school, taking one out and letting it dissolve on his tongue. He feels his heartbeat slow, remembering what his therapist said about panic, and about analysis when  you were panicked. That when his body was in fight or flight mode, analysis was pointless. He breathes out slow, and wonders if you’re doing the same, if you’re dreaming of Bakugou, if you’re dreaming of the apartment you’d shared, of Shindou’s hands on  your body, of Deku’s. He sits upright in bed, sweating, tossing his thin cotton pajama shirt on the ground before flopping backwards. Even in his medically induced sleep, his dreams keep him from true rest, he wanders through disaster zones, stumbles through fires, makes his way across ruined cities, all following the sound of your voice.

pls if you enjoyed this hop in my ask box or leave a comment/please reblog

understated. | 3.

✦ you and nanami have been working side by side for three years now. when nanami brings his son to work with him one day, it changes the entire trajectory of your relationship in only 24 hours.

✦ nanami kento x f!reader

✦ word count: 2.2k

✦ warnings: none.

contents. | 2. | 3. | 4.

previously. 

instead, he says, “you know, i’m actually a little concerned that yuto’s turning out to be more and more like gojo every day.”

you choke on whatever’s in your mouth (which is not much - just air and spit).

nanami nods understandingly. “i agree.”

your choking turns into some sort of incomprehensible disapproval. “absolutely not. i won’t let that ever happen, not over my dead body.”

“well you’d need to live in order to make sure, right?”

you hang your head back and hear the tiny breath that escapes his lips as you slap your hands over your eyes. he’s got a much smarter mouth than you’ve ever realized - so much that you think yuto is turning out to be the most like his dad.

not a moment after, he says, “by the way, i’d much prefer having you as my partner than gojo as well.”

chapter 3. 

“it’s fine, i’ll fix it.” 

nanami’s already at his desk when you come into work. itadori looms over him, a frown plastered on his lips. 

it’s not a scene you haven’t witnessed before.  

“good morning,” you say tentatively. “what’s going on?” 

itadori opens his mouth to explain when nanami says, “nothing.” 

that’s not a response you haven’t heard before either. 

you stare at nanami. you’re hoping he feels you staring and just tells you what’s going on, but the more you stare, the more frustrated you get. 

when itadori blinks at you, you already know he’s judging you - and you won’t even deny it - you are one of those girls who looks at someone (nanami) and expects them to read your mind (and tell you what’s going on). 

Keep reading

polarity | 05 yandere!jungkook au

pairing: yandere!jungkook x (f) reader

genre: yandere

warnings: 18+ , toxic relationships, unhealthy and obsessive behavior , mentions of mental health, manipulation, blackmail, cheating,

word count: 13.1k

summary: Your best friend’s new boyfriend becomes infatuated with you…

Parts: 01 | 02 | 03 | CS | 03 JK | 04 | 05 

A/N: So sorry for the delay but my wifi was doing me dirty again. Hope you guys enjoy !:) ALSO this is not edited yet so forgive me .

—

Neither of you said anything at first, not a single greeting or question was uttered. You both stood there, letting your eyes wander over each other in curiosity for god knows how long.

There was still one thing that stood out though. How the woman’s gaze kept returning to your necklace.

“I’m sorry, you are?…” She was the first one to speak, you were yet to form the appropriate response to acknowledge her and explain what you were doing in her son’s apartment.

You debated what you should tell her. The truth? It was out of the question, you were naive but not that naive. The first time meeting her and you immediately jump to accuse her son of blackmail and tell her everything wrong with him? Those were dangerous waters, you still didn’t know if what Jungkook told you about his family was true or not.

There was so much left unclear and so much yet you didn’t know.

“I-,” You take a step back, further widening the door open. “I’m Jungkook’s girlfriend.”

The lie sat surprisingly well on your tongue, as if that’s exactly what you truly were now. You supposed it was, not willingly but that’s  the title he would undeniably give you.

His mother doesn’t seem as shocked as you expected her to be despite the way her eyes widened momentarily, and her mouth opened slightly as a gasp left her.

“Oh!” She told you, her face relaxing as realization slowly seemed to hit her. “Yes, of course. He told me about you.”

He had?

You can’t help to be taken aback, not expecting Jungkook to actually mention you to his mother. How long had she known about you? Was it a recent thing? You wondered if Jungkook had already fed her too many lies , convincing her that he had formed a normal relationship with you.

The thought made you uneasy, how far had Jungkook planned this exactly?

Keep reading

Sooo soo great!!!

UNHAPPY BULLY

SERIES PART 1-4

Warning: May contain triggering content, bullying, mentions of blood, and other things you might not like. Errors might be present, please don't mind them. Enjoy!

Summary: She's the quiet one, she's the loud one, he's her tormentor, he's her problem at school. He might be obsessed with her.

Word count: 7.4k

Since it was requested and liked, I decided to make a story with almost the same premise, excluding the one-shot material, it's the full package. There's more to come. If you want;)

The more she tries to avoid it, the harder it gets. It's a bittersweet truth.

Subjected to his mean words retained a cynical outcome on her conviction, always glaring at her, smiling at her misery, touching her with intent to hurt, tossing paper balls at her, sometimes pulling her hair If she ever had the tragic coincidence sitting in front of him. Whenever they shared eye contact, she feels as though he is wordlessly disparaging her with his blood-red eyes. For the most part, however, it wasn't physical.

Today, he seemed more competitive.

Sitting in the far back with the other girls, separated by gender, she observes the way her blonde bully perfects his task, hearing her male classmates cheer at the sight, for anything minor or major, she had gotten adjusted. Her teacher returned, a whistleblower hanging from the collar, a small stick he likes to use at his grasp.

The girls beside her quietly laughed, whispering something into each other's ears, some lack shame she presumes.

They tapped her shoulder and gently uttered 'the boys told us to give you this message, Katsuki likes your black underwear.' She ceased, side-eyed her giggling classmate, then pressed her lips together, the humiliation sweeping up her body, she nervously looks back at their teacher, attempting to disregard the dreadful beats of her heart. Thoughts ran rampant in her affected mind, she clenches her fist around her wrist, swallowed her unease when the teacher noticed her.

"Let's see how much you've all improved since the last time, we'll be doing a race test, then throwball test, finally, strength test." He sternly spoke, glancing at his students, some appearing excited, others apprehensive.

"First row, you are up."

The words dulled themselves, the noisy cheers and girls talking tuning out, she just couldn't help but overthink, the most consistent thought being, 'when- how did he see it?' She has been so meticulous in evading him, no boys were allowed in the changing rooms unless someone beguiles, leaked information to disrespect her. It wouldn't be uncharacteristic of her classmates. She briefly looked at the other side, watching the blonde focus on the current race, however, slowly looked her way and smirked, as if he was anticipating her reaction.

She was the one to break away the instant their gaze met, steadily inhaling while she bit on her lips, she attempts to concentrate, hopefully, neglect her pressing notions for a short while, so she doesn't end up butchering her physical test.

"Ok! The last row, you are up!" She rose, jogging behind the girls to catch up, each race consisted of five students, she was up with the gossiping girls and two mean girls who probably knew what colour of underwear she was wearing now. She gulps, slowly taking her place in between them, failing to dismiss the pessimistic feelings, she got in her position, her heartbeat accelerating, she feels like she isn't in the moment when the whistle sounds out and the five of them galloped.

The applause was loud in her ears, shouts and raving she heard of her that managed to bother her. She kept up her pace, in the lead before the black-haired classmate caught up, then she listens to her say. "You suck, black underwear." She teased, quickly running forwards, she grimaced, using her last bit of energy to force herself to move hastily. As they neared the finish line, she sprinted right behind her, both of them now in the same place. It could be a tie if they kept up. She gave her nasty glare, putting all her strength and eventually left the girl behind, securing herself the first place.

She had never won the golden opportunity before, so it came as a pleasant surprise when her teacher cheered and said, "Woah! That's a big improvement, you had come last place, right?" He asked, she nodded, breathing heavily. He patted her and sent them away, then she saw, the shocking look in the girl's grey eyes. Hatred.

"She came first place, okay how did that happen?" She heard them mutter amongst themselves, staring at her as if she had grown another head.

"She must have cheated."

She sat down, pulling her blue water bottle out only to see it empty. Someone... Drank it? She knew exactly who it was. She groaned, thirsty but toiled to keep her temper in check, she leaned back, resting her trembling legs as the adrenaline fades off. Her throat itching for some water.

Wiping the sweat off her eyebrows, exhausted from just the first test, she inspected the boy's competition around the ground, a certain green-haired boy seizing her attention, in the last place, but still pushing with all his might. Small-ish, lean, short, and quirkless, a distant friend from childhood, he's another victim of her bully, known as deku, while she was referred to as loopy, in short, crazy.

"Ok! Last team! You are up."

It was katsuki's turn, she could heed the boy's gaiety already, the blonde pushed past the depleted greenette who didn't say anything and walked back to his seat, even her female classmates smiled, silently interested in seeing him.

"On your marks, get, set, go!!"

The five boys were off, and her bully quickly obtained the lead, the four others wanting to get the first place but Katsuki had already travelled a long distance and they wouldn't reach in time. He was going to win from the very beginning.

The crowd lauded, flaring the guy's ego, he gave a big restrained smile, moving back to his place, with a huge swell of arrogance, settling down in the middle of the restless boys, still celebrating their bets.

"Now then we are done with the racing test, we can go onto the next game, throwball. You'll be divided into two teams, consisting of both boys and girls, gather round, I'll team you up." Everyone got up, thrilled for the match-up, she wasn't too pleased about it, lazily hauling herself as she blended into the mob, observing her teacher evaluate his choice and gripingly put them into wrong teams.

"Team A, Miyamura, shin, Makoto, lolly, rudo, midoriya..." Then he carried on, she didn't get picked in that team, and neither, her bully, she was about to get teamed up with him, wasn't she? This day couldn't get any worse.

"Team B, Bakugo, Rosie, Haru, Asahi, lei, Aiko, Aoi..." Then his wrinkled eyes landed on her, she knew she was doomed.

"And L/n! Ok, we are good to go!"

It had been such an awful experience discussing strategy and arrangement with her bully, he straight up didn't want her in his team, but begrudgingly decided to have her beside him in the middle. She knew she was to be horrible at this, and he was going to hate her more now since he's so obsessed with winning, with victory.

The match began, most of the throws ended up on the blonde's side, and whenever it did head towards her, he would catch it instead, one time, he even hit her on the cheek with his elbow when he caught the ball, it hurt, she started to dislike him even more.

The fierce competition was ongoing, she had thrown a grand total of two times, miraculously, he deliberately plucks her out of place when she had to receive the brown orb, she ended up on her butt at least thrice, and they were in the lead, a few points and it will be over.

Relief had flooded her senses upon thinking the finale, she was expending less awareness when Katsuki yelled her name, and she was met with the ball to the face, disorienting her vision, she stumbled back, gripping her throbbing nose and face, she looked down at her palms and found blood, the dark red liquid slowly drips down her lips, she swallowed, looking at her teacher who rushed towards her before taking her off the field. Everyone stood still, silence engulfing their once clamorous contest.

She suffered a minor nose bleed, got cotton stuffed in her nostril, and had an awkward atmosphere upon entering the classroom, she was expecting someone to tease but none were sneered her way and the rest of the classes went on normally. She hadn't gotten any 'are you okay' either, she doesn't know if she preferred it or not.

Her P.E teacher nearly had a heart attack, one of his statements stuck with her, 'you are so delicate, you need to get strong.' He meant it with good intentions, she had heard that expression from her parents as well. Her bully hadn't backed off from making her day a little less bad by stealing her notes for the upcoming class. If she was caught not possessing her notebook, she's bound to get lectured and punished.

She hated him.

After class, she confronted him.

"Can you give me back my notes?" She vehemently spoke, arms crossed, one leg stuck out, tapping against the floor impatiently.

"Oh, you look ugly with those in your nose." He said, faking an exaggerated disgusted facade.

"Return it back or else..."

He turned towards her, fully facing her with a tough look in his eyes, she returned the gesture, pinching her lips with the way he stood with pride.

"What are you going to do? Report me?" He taunted, leaning inwards, challenging her with a glare.

"Yes, this time to the principal."

He laughed, grumbling, "just for a book?" He tsked, continuing, "you are pathetic."

"No, for everything you've done." She spits back, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Oh! Is that so? What evidence have you got against me? Deku? He won't get in a word, he's a loser, and you are far worse than him." He retorted.

"The principal won't have a reason to deny if I bring my parents into the picture, plus you still have my notebook with you, you haven't returned so it should be proof enough." She responded, not missing the way his lips twitched, his eyes hardening.

"Hey, dude! Why are you keeping us waiting for so long?" His friends shouted from the front of the class, halting at the sight of their friend and his victim, "you want us to leave without you?" They smugly smiled, elbowing each other, then slowly walking out, leaving the both of them to themselves.

"If you say anything to anyone, I'm going to make your life a living hell." He threatened, grabbing her collar and propelling her towards him. "You don't want that, do you?" He ceased for a moment, grinning wide as if he had gotten a brilliant idea, he resumed, "if you want me to stop, maybe we could do a trade."

"No thanks, I know how you are, it's probably not in my interest." She bravely muttered, it irked him, he shoved her away, the smile on his face fading away, "you don't know when to give up, do you?"

He grimaces, shifting back to get his backpack, plopping it on his shoulder, he stared at her maliciously and said.

"If you want your notebook, you gotta have something in return for me."

With that, he left.

She strutted there for a short while, reflecting on her alternatives because no matter what, he somehow manages to outsmart her. Every time.

When her tears were more than her words, her courage less than that of her quirk. She met her bully, with blonde hair, ruddy eyes, and an enlarged ego that seemed to increase tenfold once applause was sent it's way, it was a one-time thing, she was just going to play along with boys her age, perhaps younger since she had no one else, and while most of them were against it, a sweet green-haired boy insisted, holding her hand and bringing her with him.

It was discouraging to be thereafter the severe disagreement, however, she still followed, she was the only girl with four to five chaps.

That day, was the first and last time she was ever going to reside in that group.

They were far rowdier and carefree than her, proudly walking in the street, she and the other boy trailing behind them, and then they stepped inside a convenience store, she had watched them buy stuff, all might items, she observed their smiles upon tearing it open, right outside the shop, grinning in delight.

The blonde kid was far happier than any one of them, denying his now treasured object any spying eyes, protecting it and retrieving it inside his pocket. She felt out of place, for some reason.

Then, they played hero and villain, like any other kid she's seen, she had to be the one rescued, and she oddly delighted that. The green-haired boy was a villain, while the blonde one was a hero, she was the civilian who needed saving. It was a fun pastime, her heart was beating fast, watching the two quarrel, until the greenette got harshly pushed down. She got up and asked him if he was okay, it did not please the others.

"You are supposed to ask me if I'm okay, not him!" The blonde sneered at her, she frowned, lowering her gaze, muttering, "was I supposed to? But you weren't hurt." She innocently replied, "even villains are humans like us, they get hurt too, you know."

"Do you have a crush on deku or something? Because you sound stupid." He argued, she shared brief eye contact with the kid, a sad expression now on her small face.

She doesn't know what to say.

"I think I like him more." She hesitantly answered, "you don't know how a hero should act, they are never mean to anyone."

It bothered him.

Then came a hard shove.

That was what she recalled, seeing the all might plushie at the store, safely tugged at the corner, almost gone, the shop had a handful of customers at this time, nowadays, finding hero merch was common, and it got a lot of attention and profit. All might has never been her favourite, not after her mind associated that bitter memory with meeting her bully, then the green-haired boy, Deku, she never got herself to know him, maybe she was upset, angry with how things flipped upside down. Or she just resented him for suffering around those mean kids, it made her sad thinking about him, two of kacchan's victims.

"Oh! um..." she faced the timid voice, finding her greenette classmate standing before her, shying away from direct eye content, she turned away, picking the item from the toy section and prepared to depart, "you're taking that...?" inquired the boy, particularly no feelings stuck out to her, she felt nothing towards him, neutral, leaning a little towards dislike from time to time.

"Yes, did you want it?" she asked, ready to hand it to him, but he hastily disagreed, "n-no! It's fine! I've never seen you here, buying all might stuff..." he awkwardly replied, pressing his lips into a thin line. "I usually don't but because of someone, I have to," she responded.

His eyes light up, and he flashes her a tiny smile, "is it a gift?"

She quickly shook her head, furrowing her eyebrows and narrowing her eyes at the image of having her bully as a kind of friend, "no, I just gotta get it for my notebook." he questioned her with a puzzled look, "as an accessory?" she grinned, faking enthusiasm. She couldn't deal with any queries right now. She tries to leave, but is stopped again, by a curious boy who asked, "are you and kacchan... in a relationship?" she quickly answered, in a bitter tone.

"No." she gave him a brief glance and took off.

'He calls me loopy for a reason, perhaps he is right.'

The next morning, she approached him, demanded her belonging, and got back a crude response, asking for a little something, she had gotten a plushie but, would he even want it? A grown boy who was a bully would want something soft that she went out of her way to get, with her pocket money, to her liking, he wouldn't, a hardened guy like him can't appreciate it.

"Unless you give me something precious of yours, I won't give it back." he arrogantly declared, further irking her, her eyes sting, her throat tightened, and the urge to slap him amplified.

"I don't get it, what do you want?" she mumbled, irritated. As if she would ever willingly hand him her most treasured item with ease.

"Hmm, preferably something black." he shrugged. He knew that she knew what he was talking about, but she acted obliviously. "A mask?"

He moved forward, and softly whispered, "Black underwear loopy, remember that?"

She immediately pushed him back, ignoring his wicked laugh, and sat down, recoiling from stress and anger, glaring at his taunting form, how long can she go without her notes.?

At lunch break, she eagerly requested some of her classmates to lend her their book but, nobody was ready to hand it off and hope for the best, he seriously threatened them not to give her any help?

At last, she stopped in front of her final choice, Deku.

She stopped him as the entire class emptied, even their bully, so it was just the two of them, alone, together, as victims. She halts at his desk, gulping down her concerns.

"Can you lend me your science notebook, I promise I'll return it as soon as possible." she spoke pleadingly, he nervously stared at her, "um..." without hearing his answer, she slouched, speaking a little louder, "don't tell me Katsuki threatened you too?" he bowed his head down, looking up regretfully, confirming, "kacchan's been telling everyone not to help you with anything, but..." he finished, voice latched with sorrow. Their gaze connected, she fought the urge to tear her eyes away from him.

"Is that why you were getting him that plushie...?"

She momentarily ceased, thinking it through, then gently uttered.

"I wasn't thinking about it, I just bought it impulsively. Besides, not that he will return my notes either way, even if I gave it to him before he laughed." she honestly replied, correcting her posture and stepping back. Now aware, even he might not be able to aid her.

"But- you got it for him..." he softly mumbled to himself, lowering his eyes to his plain neat desk, hands gripped in his laps, blinking at his held fist.

"I don't get it, why are you so upset about it?" she mused, observing his expression alter and diffuse. "I-I'm not! I promise, just, do you regret meeting me?" he suddenly surprised her with the query, she watched him shift nervously in his seat, avoiding her eyes like it meant something horrible, "no, I don't. Actually, I don't think I've made amends with you."

He tearfully glanced at her face, wanting her to carry on but she turned her face from him and clutched the straps of her bag in her fingers, saying one last thing before cutting her short conversation with him, "it's okay if you don't wanna help, no problem, I'll see you tomorrow."

She leaves. The sting of guilt doesn't take long to invite itself in.



The school campus is brimming with students, tall, short and alike, striding their merry way home, she was one of them, gaze cast down, attending to the dirt crushing underneath her school shoes, it was breezy for a moment and then it wasn't, the light slowly veering orange. A heavy arm suddenly grabs her neck from behind, prompting her to avert her gaze to the familiar person holding her waterway in a tight squeeze.

"You're coming out rather late, what were you doing with deku?" The grumpy raspy voice of her tormentor sounded near her ear, she shoot him a scowl, about to plop his arm back to his side, however, he resettled his grasp and further leaned over to her cheeks.

"You could have my notes if you are so desperate." He mocked, snickering at her miserable endeavour.

"Yeah sure, why don't you just give me my notebook back." She acknowledged.

"What if I burned it and threw it away, you still want it back?" He muttered, drawing closer to her, his arm now slithering to her waist, just low enough, clasping her hipbone, perking up at her startled reaction.

Without saying anything, she ripped off his hand, removed it from her body and jabbed it to his left side, rejecting his terrorizing grimace, quickly stepping away from his reach, ambling towards the entrance.

"If you are not going to tell me then I'm going to ruin it, and I won't give you mine either, not like anyone else is going to entrust their belongings to you." He shouted, knowing where to pull her strings.

Even though she wouldn't admit it, she needed it before tomorrow.

She thinks for a quick duration, examining for any tell-tale signs of dishonesty or animosity, she forced herself to oblige, she couldn't get reprimanded for something fixable. Hesitantly, she speaks up.

"Fine." She swiftly made her way towards him, defensively folding her arms near her chest and disapprovingly staring at his arrogant face.

"What's your deal with that nerd?"

"I asked him if he would give me his notes, that's all, plus we met at a shop yesterday, nothing happened, I was just looking for something to buy." She responds.

He doubtingly peers, soaking in the slightest shift in her movement, her face, and his gut told him she wasn't lying right under his nose, he hums, pulling his bag off his shoulder, he quickly takes his book out, hands it to her, not before lifting out her reach.

"You better not damage it, or pour any drop of water, juice, anything, think you can do that?" He boasts, chancing to get an 'aye' out of her lips. She frigidly nods, lips tightened.

He smiles, content with his plan.

"Good. You better come to school tomorrow, don't even try to get me into trouble for getting absent with my notes."

"Okay! Geez, you have too many restrictions on your list, why the demand?"

"You should know who's in control right now, you say anything more and I'll snatch it back." She silently groans, mentally mourning her desperate decisions.

Her room reeked of jasmine. Denser in the centre of her space, her bed still unmade, curtains half drawn and her worn clothes thrown on her stool, she sat down on the comfy mattress, drawing out a relieved sigh, she inspected her sloppy area.

Suddenly standing up to view the book on her study table, she didn't notice it before, but his notebook oddly smelled like caramel, a little bit of burnt sugar, and an unidentified fragrance she couldn't pinpoint, was it apples? Or perhaps it was a men's cologne.

Seeing her phone, she instantly kept it back into its original position, interested in checking on the latest news about recent incidents, unfortunately, as soon as she opened it, she saw a lot of messages on her insto and reluctantly decided to hold off her mundane endeavour.

As she tasks herself to answer, she finds a few accounts of her classmates, and then it leads to her curiosity heightening and ripening, perceiving their cringe profile and caption, in the end, she managed to unearth one shocking discovery.

Her bully had an account.

She couldn't negate the familiarity between him and her hypersensitive torturer, it had to be him, no posts were made, just a simple affidavit to show his personality, she wants to bet his side-bubbies did this for him, but there's always a possibility of being false. Most of her classmates were following him, except her, and her distant friend.

Maybe he was dared to make an account- there's no way he did it out of his own will.

KATSUKI BAKUGO IS NOW FOLLOWING YOU. 1 SEC AGO.

Her eyes grow wide.

She receives the notification before a request to message, she wildly couldn't approve his follow petition, she could block him. Even if that sounds harsh, he's committed worse. Sadly for her, he is just going to afflict her more misery if she doesn't.

The proclamation reads, 'follow me back loser, you don't forget to bring my notebook tomorrow if you don't return it, I'm going to kill you.' He cared more about his paper tablet than her feelings. She stiffly hovers over the button, her thumb slightly trembling, stare trained on the smirking face of her bully, his picture confirmed it.

It was him.

Hesitantly her fingers tapped on the letters, erasing her sentence twice, rephrasing it properly in case he assumes it wrongly, the entire time, she doesn't realise she was holding her breath, chewing on her lips, reading her memo thrice, she sends it.

She accepted to follow him back and then blacklisted him. She couldn't see his messages and it was better that way.

Besides, not that he will care.

About to retire from her device to freshen up, disregard and forgive, she gets an unknown call, she immediately rejects it, standing up to close her curtains. It was likely just a bogus call.

Now adorned in soft clothes, she plops on her chair, her phone on mute, prepared to relax and binge-watch videos, but her mother shouting for her presence downstairs had compelled her to put her idea on wait again. She internally groans, carrying herself towards her mother's voice.

She retreated to her dull space after a tough while had breezed by, mildly annoyed but still had a soft tint in her eyes, grabbing her gadget to take pictures of her bully's notes since she doesn't feel like writing and it being impossible jot it down in a single day, she chose to print it out the next morning before school. She opened the slab, gently turning the papers and observing his rather neat handwriting, too elegant for a fella like him. She was astonished.

At unlocking her golden covered phone, several unknown calls had been made to her number, she got uneasy. Checking it prior to making a quick call to know who was trying to get a hold of her. She bought it to her right ear, nervously surveying her entire room as the call begins to drag on.

Until a firm stern voice startled her senses.

"Why didn't you pick up earlier?"

She knew who it was just by the tone of his voice, low, raspy, and an angered portrayal of him already playing inside her head.

She spoke.

"I didn't know it was you." She defended, her legs glued to the floor as she stiffly tried to think ahead, bitting her lips for reassurance.

He didn't answer.

"So- how did you get my number?" She anxiously inquired, glancing at the walls, anything her gaze landed on. She needed some sort of closure, her heart was slowly starting to pound faster.

"Deku gave it." He replied in a single breath, his line on the call was oddly quiet.

She looked at her clock, it was already past nine, was he a late sleeper?

"It's late, I'll hang up now. Bye." She sheepishly uttered, quickly tapping the red button and moving into her chair. She concludes with how different he sounded.

The next sunrise, she woke up late.

She didn't concern herself, at first.

Then recollected her plan to print his notebook just in case, then came her frenzied rush, unfortunately, she had less time to spare and ran out the door with her mother screaming to have breakfast, she sprinted, legs shaky and adrenaline coursing through her blood, breaths short and quick, inhaling through her mouth, her dry uniform dampen with sweat.

Jogging hastily at the scenery of her destination, she galloped across the deserted surface, dismissing the prying stares by her classmates, already in class and seated by the window. She stopped in front of her classroom door just on cue for the bell to ring and signal their impending lot. She collapsed, only to sit straight up and anxiously rampage her bag's contents.

Fishing out the notebook.

Searching it to see if it was the correct one.

It was, she could pass it over during lunch break. The problem was, approaching him willing, after the tactics he pulled on her, she's uncertain, cautious, careful, she shouldn't let him take advantage of her meek nature but, when their eyes connect and he glares with potent bitterness, her heart halts, and the air captive inside her lungs. He was intimidating.

She avoided him, solely for that rationale.

Part of her did not want to admit, she was frightened.

Instead of delivering it to him herself, she begged one of his side-buddies to do it in her cause, and he strangely consented, muttering her thanks and departing with the notebook. She grew more sentimental over it than her bully.

Positive this subsisting to be the last time she had to repay anything of his.

Besides, he was probably enraged she arrived later than sooner and was adamant about teaching her a lesson via a harsh glint, she's subconsciously made a comparison to him being moody vs his usual temper, pondering the same thing upon dropping down on her seat and getting a candy bar out of her pocket. In a hurry, she left her lunch box as well, and she didn't have breakfast either, so this was much she could afford with her current pocket money.

Students were present with her, just her bully and his friends were missing, breaks were her least and most favourite time of the day, it is also when her heckler was picky on her.

In the back seat, her green-haired friend shyly peeks at her figure, his hand grasping a pen and words neatly in scribbled. Wishing to talk with her, but decked not to.

And his intuition was right about it.

Entered their childhood bully with hands stuffed in his pockets. His buddies eluded from his side, standing straight as he loomed over the spirited female, immediately glancing up to stare at him, he lours, deferentially uttering.

"Why didn't you come to give me my notes huh? Are you that ungrateful?" He narrowed his scarlet eyes, furrowing his cream coloured eyebrows.

"I bet you are, didn't even say a word of gratitude after I humbly gave my help to you. You thankless brat." He scornfully ridiculed her, the girl took no intuitive to respond, drinking in his words, admitting mentally, he was right, she didn't thank him. Silence followed.

It was tense for a long moment.

She opened her lips and said.

"Thank you." She wasn't as prideful as him, and it didn't seize much out of her to say something appreciative.

He appeared taken aback, however, his hardened expression endured, he let out a disgruntled sigh, still glaring at her being.

Watching her without saying anything.

"Hmph. Loser." Finally, he mouthed, showing her his back and fled.

Her timid friend had taken note of everything unusual, but simply looked down and dismissed his longing to communicate.

But still, his gaze lingered around her.



School had ended, and she arrived home early, stomach protesting for some delicious contents, without having done anything she normally does after coming home, she strode towards the kitchen and opened the fridge. To find vegetables and none of her delightfully treats, she plopped down, upset with her spotting. "Oh you are home so quickly, you must be hungry." Her mom mocked behind her.

She internally mourned, speaking without thinking, "I am, I had to go without breakfast because I borrowed a notebook from someone troublesome." She frankly confessed.

"Why is that? You weren't absent for at least a week." Her mother remarked, walking towards the counter to prepare her daughter's belated breakfast.

"Hmm. This person insisted on giving me their notes and also demanded I give them back in time."

"Sounds like someone troubled."

She chuckled, sounding in agreement.

"I don't want you staying with anyone with bad influence, you hear me? Teenagers and alike are pretty rowdy these days." Her mother said, keeping the filled plate beside her daughter.

"That's an understatement."

"Well, you know better than me, don't remain in a bad friend group if it isn't for you."

She nodded, finding nothing wrong with the elder's worries. Besides, she was correct.

Finishing her food, she takes off to her room. Still craving for something sweet, but she was exhausted, she didn't want to do anything but rest and sleep, no homework, no nothing, even if she got in trouble for it.

Laying down after changing her outfit, she browsed through her phone, accidentally opening and closing apps she wasn't supposed to. Insto was now her least preferable place to pass time after she found out her bully and classmates also had accounts she never recognized until currently.

The screen is abruptly altered and she suddenly rises, seeing the unknown caller ID yet again. She did not want to pick up.

Thwarted, she childishly frowns. Huffing before accepting the call.

"Hello." She mumbled.

"Shut up loopy, why aren't you replying to my messages? You ignoring me!?" She could visualize his temper flaring.

"What messages? I didn't get any." She acted pretentiously, recalling herself blacklisting him, right after she replied to his first texts.

"Oh, I get it. You are ignoring me." He softly declared, declining her answer by cutting off the connection.

Abandoning her in sharp silence.

Her first few epochs at school have been uneasy, tense, although the peace was addicting, it was far unnerving existing without any unpleasant response or jeers, she shouldn't feel remorseful but, somehow it resolves in her pitying him, not her. Was it emotional manipulation? Or was she tripping herself?

He was frowning her way whenever she feigned ignorance, it bothered him, during breaks he would near her only to push shoulders and dismiss her certainty. Whilst classes were going on, she observed him break a pencil from the corner of her eyes, they sat at a place where they both could catch a glimpse of each other, in the middle, a few seats further or less, she on the left, closer to the window and he on the right.

Throughout it all, her lower abdomen was aching, maiming in a horrendous way that meant something bloody.

Quickly she got up, everyone's attention focused on her, moving towards her stunned female teacher, slightly leaning forward and she whispered. "Can I use the bathroom, please?" She pleaded, staring at her with soliciting eyes.

Her teacher thankfully let her, she raced to the washroom, mentally thinking, wishing her menstruation hadn't started. Regardless, she enters the restroom, rushing into a stall and removing her undergarments. To see dark red spots, she groans, whimpering at the sight.

Did she even bring pads?

Quietly, straining an innate smile, she arrived at her classroom, walking to her seat with a lowered gaze, slowly and steadily settling down, involuntarily, internally, cringing. Following this class was lunch break, so she could survive this.

What little time was left in that duration, her eyes were blown wide, lips pressed tight, and her notoriety drifting off. Her complexion dimmed as sharp jolts of pain coursed through her guts, she swallowed her spit more times than she counted, hands on the desk, her index finger squeezing the other, legs kept close and on the edge of her seat. Just subtly grinned when her teacher looked at her weirdly.

Subsequently, prior to any students leaving, she bolted out and disappeared into the hallway. Her bully watching her.

Coming back, appearing so much brighter and soothed, she swiftly took her place, bringing her lunchbox out and prepared to eat her agony away. Chunking on a piece of fried chicken, cold but still good, she softly chews in the noisy classroom, opting to take another bite but stopped herself as someone bought an empty chair in front of her desk and made themselves comfortable.

"You look stupid." He said.

She just peered at him unbothered, putting her meal into her mouth and cutely munching, no more meeting his eyes.

He grimaced in disdain, pushing himself forward, the mental feet of the chair scratching against the floor. He smirked when she stared at him, pleased with grabbing her interest.

"Why aren't you replying to my messages?" He pressured. She shrugged carelessly, darting her eyes around her desk.

"Hmph." He groaned, continuing, "guess you still don't know how to be grateful." He mocked. She promptly got disturbed.

"Yeah, you could return my notebook." She said he threw her a glance, offering her a warning stare.

"If you weren't such a brat, I would." He laughed, maintaining eye contact.

"I'm not the one bullying myself."

"You sure you can just talk back to me? Because last time I checked, I still have your notes and I can destroy them." He challenged, she took the bait without a second thought.

"I'll just tell the teacher you did it." She threw back, carrying on, "I mean how much can they ignore? It wouldn't be the last time you'll do it."

Without any inclination, he shoved her lunch box off the table, spilling the contents on the dirty floor. Strengthening his nasty glare, shoes planted on the surface, eyebrows furrowed and back erect, ready to take a swing at her face if she dared to say another accusing word.

She held her breath, staring at his face, all her classmates noticed their commotion, slowly she looked down at her spilt food, her heart beating loudly in her chest.

"If you so much as to say a word to the teachers about me, I'll end you." He hissed, his voice ringing in the calm room.

She struggled to keep her voice low.

Throwing daggers as he stood up and receded without voicing any foul words, pushing past the confused students who gawked at the scene.



She had horrible cramps the next day.

She took a day of leave, swimming in her blankets, curled up inwards, squirming, curtains were drawn to a complete close, encasing her space in a gloomy glow, tranquil except the tone of the waft, a mildly sweet fragrance roaming in the air, occasional noises of vehicle, the indistinct tune of birds. The girl tossed her blanket, feeling too warm and sluggish. Her eyes were heavy, the lure of unimaginable dreams getting tougher to resist, limbs loosely plonked, hoping to surrender and sleep without a care in the world.

She was startled awake late evening, feebly wiping the drool and gingerly attempting to recollect her last thought, stretching her toes, rubbing her face, and picking her non-functioning self up. In her dreamy state, moving towards her phone to disconnect it from the charger.

The thing she saw first, were five missed calls.

She glanced at the clock, assuming what time she drifted off to sleep, however, the calls were recent, fiddling with her choices, she goes back to bed, to lazy around till tomorrow's doom, but, seems like whoever was calling her weren't so patient.

She received it, somewhat composing herself and activating her mind.

"Hello-"

"Why weren't you at school." His deep voice interrupted hers, she blinked, pushing her lips and pressing the device closer.

"I wasn't feeling well." she honestly answered, stiffly standing in front of her bed.

"Yeah right, like it didn't have to do with what happened yesterday, you told your parents, didn't you?" he senselessly points the finger at her, impeaching her.

"I don't understand what you are talking about, I've been very generous with you since we've met, I haven't gone around telling everyone your bad qualities." she angrily retorted, torso leaning forward, lips tightened, and pulled upwards. Disliking his way of accusing her.

"And you've been shamelessly passing messages over to me by others, you think you have the right to be angry at me?" she calmly explained, mildly pitching her tone up.

"You haven't even given me my-"

"SHUT UP!!" he abruptly yelled on the call, surprising her, biting her lips from saying anything more, she could, but she had to be mature with the immature.

They both didn't say anything. He was breathing heavily she noted.

"First you go ahead and block me, then you have the guts to ignore me like if I'm nothing! You really know how to get on my nerves!" His voice cracked, and he sounded uncharacteristically hurt. "You better unblock me and reply to my messages." he darkly threatened.

"Or else..." she goes still.

Both sat in absolute silence, she was feeling uneasy, repressing the immediate urge to sever their unneeded conversation. Because she didn't feel comfortable nor safe.

"Why didn't you come today," he asked again. She thought twice before opening her bitten lips.

"I... wasn't feeling too good." she tensely replied.

"Aren't you going to ask for my notes?" He sounded like he was giving her an order rather than a stretch of kindness. "N-no... I'm fine, thanks."

"You'll be coming tomorrow, won't you?"

She gulped, wide eyes staring at the calendar, softly responding.

"I'm not sure."

"You won't come tomorrow?" he shamed daze, unconvinced with her uncertainty, now delicately mocking her with a low hostile tone.

"If I'm okay tomorrow, I'll come." she firmly stated.

Even though no words were spoken, she could feel his displeasure.

"Tell me your address." he sternly spoke.

She anxiously considered her few options. Outright telling what he wanted, or being clever about it and cutting the call midway, but he would confront her the very next day.

However, her mom shouts her name and it ended up being the perfect opportunity to say their goodbyes. "Sorry, gotta go now."

She quickly pressed the screen, tacitly stopping the call. Dropping her device and slowly inhaling, thinking over their exchanged words, she feels as though her heart would burst out her ribcage, closing her eyes for a moment, she wobbles her way to her mother.

"There you are! You've been sleeping for long dear, do you want some medicine?"

She declined, mulling over to sit, behaving unusually. Not bound to go unseen by the elder.

"I think I need a new haircut."

It wasn't like she couldn't afford another leave, she could sit all day in her room without worrying what her bully was going to do, irritatingly so, he's turned to online communication when he can't torment her face to face, eye to eye, recycling a loop of misery, designed purely for her. He was going to force her to give him her home address, if he hadn't already made someone vomit it by violence, verbally or physically. 

She already knew what was in store for her, and dreaded it. 

She almost thought of returning midday with an acted performance of a minor stomach ache or anything she could pretend but realized would only be prolonging the inevitable.

She still didn't want to go.

Stiffly sauntering across the stress, unwillingly making her way to school, to remain a prisoner till the noon, steadily increasing her pace, she carried on, heart dreadfully pounding, releasing shallow exhales, her mind figuring all sorts of scenario to toil with, but still the intense urge to just trot back to her dwelling and not take a step out till she feels stable.

As she continued, she fell into disquieting notions. Soon ceased before her loathed destination.

Faking her smile upon catching a familiar face of her teacher, muttering a good morning, and a slight nod. Then resumed her sad walk to class.

She really wanted to turn back.

She didn't want to go.

She couldn't take it.

Impulsively, desperately, she sprinted through the hallway she'd just passed, pushing towards the entrance and booking it. She did not want to stay.

She kept running till she arrived in a remote area. Gasping heavily, gulping her spit to her scorched throat. Her heart still thumping as loudly as possible, the realization of terror sparked up, dread pooling in her stomach.

She had an arduous time breathing. Her chest was hurting, a keen burning sense rippling inside, she felt tears stream down her warm cheeks, she feels awful. She told her mother she'd go to school and not wander off to the city in a fit of distress, her teachers saw her, wouldn't they question and notice her disappearance? Perhaps even call her parents and let them worry.

Even if she did go back, what reason was she going to give? She came back because her stomach was hurting? Because she was scared? Because she didn't want to go.

Considering both truths and lies.

She'd need to calm down first.

TAGGED PEOPLE

@1zzielizzie @survivorofmath

If you wish to be tagged, let me know.

high enough | haitani r.

haitani ran x fem!reader

summary: ran didn't know why he kept coming back to you when he knew the risks involved--or he supposed he did, he just wasn't willing to confront it yet.

warnings: sub!reader, dom!ran, bonten timeline, unprotected sex, a bit of gentle manhandling, mentions of gang violence and wealth disparities, angst + hurt/comfort undertones (? kind of i guess)

notes: ty teepot n eris n (eventually) kat for betaing sobs @sakusins @kxeyas @sano-obsessed

y'all this piece might be the one im most proud of i s2g i actually love how it turned out

He didn’t know why he was here. The air was cold against his skin, bitter on his tongue and the sky was dark, the only thing illuminating the street around him was the distant, flickering street lamps. Sirens and gunshots resounded through the air--a few streets away, he pinpointed, too close to you.

He should move you out of this area, but as soon as the thought raced through his head, he felt distinctly uncomfortable. He shouldn’t care this much. He shouldn’t care at all, really. You were a nobody--a random girl he had met at a bar a few months back that he used to relieve the stress that being a Bonten executive weighed on him.

But if you were a nobody, then why did he keep coming back?

It was easy for him to rationalize if he ignored a few important points. Sleeping around put him more at risk in regards to dangerous situations--fuck around with the wrong person and he might just be ending the night with a bullet lodged in his skull or a knife cutting open his neck. Sticking to one person, at the very least, lowered those chances. 

But even as the thoughts ran through his head, he knew that it wasn’t so simple. Sticking with one person brought other risks--risks of leaking sensitive information, risks of enemies pinpointing a possible weakness. It brought vulnerabilities that he just wasn’t quite able to accept because it would ruin any possible rationalization he might have to come back to you so often.

A particularly loud gunshot caught his attention, narrowed eyes shifting down the street toward where it came from, fingers drifting to curl around the loaded gun holstered at his waist. You lived in one of the shittier parts of the city--an area caught in the crossfires of the brutal, ongoing gang war between Bonten and its rivals.

It was dangerous for him to be here, the logical part of his brain reminded himself. There were hits on his head with bounties that would put oligarchs to shame, coming to this part of town with no back up, no one knowing where he was, no plan in case things went wrong, it was as good as a death wish and yet he found himself at your doorstep every other night. 

He was playing a dangerous game, a game of Russian roulette that he knew would end with him losing but he couldn’t bring himself to stop pulling the trigger. 

Go back to the apartment, he told himself but even as the thought raced through him he was pulling the trigger yet again--fist rising to knock heavily on your door. 

It was late--well past two in the morning but you were a night owl, you were usually up til the sun rose and slept well into the afternoon. And a part of him wondered if he had any hand in your odd sleeping schedule, he was sure that it hadn’t been this fucked before the two of you met but the thought conjured a warm feeling in his chest that he wasn’t willing to try to decipher. 

He waited a few moments before his chest began to curl anxiously. 

Why weren’t you answering?

His nails dug into his palm as he considered what to do--knock again? leave? 

He brought his fist back up against the door, knuckles rapping hard and rapidly against the wood. A series of worst case scenarios began to flood his mind--what if they realized what you were to him? 

You weren’t anything to him, he tried to argue back immediately but the sinking feeling in his chest was proof enough that you did mean something to him. 

His throat felt like it was closing up, the air around him becoming heavy, suffocating, he couldn’t breathe--images of you limp and bloody on the other side of the door flashing through his head, tied up and scared, wounded and unable to move, dead. He ignored the way his hands shook as he took a step back, preparing to kick in the door himself just so he could make sure you were alright.

But he didn’t have to. Just as he was about to drive his foot into the door, it unlocked from the other side and a numbing sense of relief swept through him as his eyes fell upon you standing in the doorframe, eyes sleepy and confused and trained on him. 

He could breathe again. 

Another blank.

Your nightgown hung off your shoulders as you brought a hand up to rub at your left eye, a yawn slipping past your lips, “Ran,” you murmured, “I didn’t think you were coming tonight, I would’ve stayed up. ‘m sorry. How long were you waiting?”

“I didn’t mean to wake you up,” his voice was colder than he intended for it to be and he hated the way your lips tugged down, and he hated himself for being this way, “I can go.”

“No,” you reached out, your smaller hand grabbing his and he stiffened instantly. Your hand dropped back to your side when you noticed his reaction, “Come in, it’s late, you looked exhausted.”

Ran opened his mouth to protest but didn’t get the chance, “Please,” you said quietly and Ran faltered, eyes unable to meet yours.

It’s late, whatever is going on down the street is getting closer--it isn’t smart for him to be wandering around in this area with the Bonten tattoo branding his throat, he rationalized as he stepped into your home. 

“You need to be more careful,” Ran said as you shut the door behind him, relocking the door with a flimsy chain that even Kokonoi Hajime would be able to kick down if he wanted to. He would have to get it replaced with a stronger one. “What if it wasn’t me behind that door?” 

Your lips pulled up into a soft smile that did something to his heart that he did not like. You looked back at him from over your shoulder, “I’m not one to linger on ‘what ifs’,” you told him. Ran looked down at the floor, unsure of how you could live so carefree in such a dangerous area. “You should go change out of that, I’ll go get you a glass of water.”

You didn’t wait for a response, walking in the opposite direction. He only stared after you for a moment, lips turned down, eyes heavy as you disappeared from sight. And Ran tried to pretend that he didn’t know the way through your home like the back of his hand, despite the confusing twists and turns of your hallways, ones that most people would end up getting lost in. He tried to pretend he didn’t recognize every little ding in the wall, every little stain in the wallpaper; he tried to pretend that he didn’t know which floorboards to step over, the ones that were worn out due to storms and the passage of time that you couldn’t quite afford to get redone. 

His shoulders were tense and stiff as he pushed open the door to your bedroom and he still continued to pretend--he pretended that the clothes tucked away in one of your drawers weren’t ones that he had ended up leaving during one of his nights staying over, ones you washed and cleaned despite the fact that you could barely afford detergent and your washing machine was on its last legs, even if it meant taking out some of your own clothes to tuck his away safely in your dresser. 

He ran his fingers through his hair, purple and black strands falling loose around his face. He let out a heavy breath, chest tight as he unbuttoned the red-stained shirt and tossed into the bin next to your dresser--casually, too casually, like he would in his own apartment. 

He felt ill. 

His eyes caught the cracked mirror resting against the wall by your dresser and his lips twisted even further down when he noticed the bruises lining the left side of his body—almost hidden, but not quite, by the dark tattoos decorating his skin. 

You would notice, you always did.

He hesitated as he reached for one of the cloth undershirts of his that you had stored in your dresser, an uncomfortable feeling stirring in his chest. What was he doing? He shouldn’t be doing this. 

He shouldn’t be doing this.

But it was addicting, you were addicting, you brought him a type of high that no amount of drugs or alcohol could hope to give him and he couldn’t bring himself to give it up, give you up. Even if he did know deep down it would be for the best; even if he knew it could get him killed, get you killed. 

A shattering of glass, a shriek, the trigger was pulled again, this time by his invisible opponent. 

Ran was moving in an instant, tearing out of your room without a second to waste. His shoes slammed against the floorboards, his lungs burned, his eyes were wide and he felt the world collapsing around him. Ran was fast, he knew that, he’d always been the fastest in whatever gang he was in--Tenjiku, Rokuhara Tandai, Kanto Manji, Bonten, no one could ever keep up with him--but in that moment he swore that time must have been against him, his feet felt like they were dragging against the floor, sinking in quicksand, it was like he was trying to run through waist-deep water and the tide kept pulling him back, preventing him from getting to you. 

His heart was in his throat as he turned the corner into the kitchen, gun in hand--he hadn’t even noticed he had pulled it from where it had been strapped to his waist. 

His heart was beating in his chest so loud that he was sure you could hear it, his eyes were wild as his gaze darted around, trying to figure out what had happened until his gaze fell upon you on the floor, eyes wide and trained on the gun in his hands.

You were on your hands and knees, glass shattered beneath you that you were trying to pick up with your bare hands, water pooling below you. His heart rate slowly calmed down once he realized what had happened--you dropped the glass. The raised gun fell to his side, his shoulders relaxed.

He could breathe again.

Another blank. 

You gave him a small, apologetic smile, “‘m sorry,” you said again, and he hated when you apologized--especially to him, “the glass slipped.”

You were unbothered by the gun in his hand, relaxed even, and Ran wondered if that had to do with the fact that you were used to guns and violence considering the part of the city you lived in. Or was it that you just trusted him that much? The latter thought made that warm feeling in his chest return. He pushed it away. 

He couldn’t move as he watched you clean up the glass, his feet were glued to the floor, holding him in place even as his mind told him to move forward and help you so you don’t end up cutting your hands. 

He didn’t understand you. He wasn’t sure if he ever would. He didn’t know why you kept willingly letting him into your home. You knew who he was, what he did--you had to, even if he had never explicitly told you. Everybody knew what the tattoo branding his throat meant, and the area you lived in leaned heavily toward Bonten’s enemies and they had received plenty of intel that their rivals were using civilians as their eyes and ears to keep an eye on Bonten’s movements without risking their own men. 

You knew who he was, what he did, you knew the risks that came with associating with him and yet every night he found himself at your doorstep, you opened your home, your arms, your bed for him. You took him, you gave him something to look forward to after long grueling days of blood and pain instead of drowning himself in drugs and alcohol trying and failing to forget old memories and what he had turned into, what he had dragged Rindou into. 

It had never been enough, no matter what he took, no matter how much he drank, the memories haunted him, fear consumed him--fear of what could happen to him, to his few remaining friends, to Rindou. 

It had never been enough--not until he met you at least, and all thoughts of trying to deny how much you meant to him disappeared as he watched you chat easily about your day at work. Your words went in one ear and out the other as his mind raced. You had become important to him quickly, too important, too quick. You had become the light to his darkness, your home a sort of sanctuary that he had never had experienced until he met you. 

You were good to him--too good. Sometimes he wondered if he was ruining you, a poison that was slowly eating away at your health, an acid corroding your happiness, your stability, your future; and sometimes he wondered if this was just a cruel, elaborate ploy from his enemies, showing him what love was like and then ripping it away.

His world stilled, his vision tunneled onto you.  

Showing him what?

Anxiety began to twist in his stomach, curl through his limbs, ice cold fear began to spread through his body and that familiar fight or flight feeling took hold as his breath quickened. Every instinct told him to run, protect himself--weakness, vulnerabilities, they weren’t allowed in his line of work. Every weakness brought disaster, every vulnerability brought death. He had seen it time and time again with friends and enemies alike. 

You’ll get yourself killed, you’ll get her killed, and he was about to turn on his heel--flee your home in an effort to protect himself and the one thing that might bring him genuine happiness--but then you looked at him as you stood from the floor, tossing the shattered glass into the garbage can, and you smiled, and Ran was selfish. God, he was so fucking selfish because instead of turning on his heel and leaving--making the choice that ensure you weren’t targetted by his enemies in attempts to get to him--he moved forward.

You let out a soft hum of surprise as Ran brought his hands to your face, large palms cupping your cheeks, fingers tracing your skin, toying with your hair and you inhaled sharply when he pressed his lips to yours, gently at first, his lips moving slow in time with yours, a special dance that only the two of you knew.

He knew that it was wrong, that he was risking your safety for his own selfish desires, but Ran couldn’t stop himself. He tilted your head up, one hand sliding behind your head, fingers entangled with your hair to hold you impossibly closer, and he could feel your fingers trembling from where they were wrapped around his forearms, he could feel the way your eyes fluttered shut as you relaxed into his touch.

And Ran thought it was sickening how you could be so at ease with someone like him, so willing to give into him, so happy to give into him. He didn’t deserve it, he didn’t deserve you, he was selfish and inherently cruel and he was undeserving of your love when there were so many better men out there that could treat you better than he could, give you the stability and safety that you deserved.

But unfortunately for them, and unfortunately for you, Haitani Ran was not a good man--a good man would have let you go so that you could make the best of your life, would have given you the means to get out of this shitty area so you could live a life free of crime and danger. But Ran was not a good man, and instead of pushing you away like he should, his grip tightened. 

His hands slid down your body, wrapping around your thighs to lift you and you gasped into his mouth, legs wrapping around his waist and arms circling his shoulders. You pulled back slightly, lips parting to speak but Ran didn’t give you the chance, leaning in again to capture your lips with his, tongue tracing the inside of your bottom lip. 

He knew you were probably confused, he could practically predict the question on your tongue--Ran had never been one to display affection like this, the most he kissed you was when he was half-drunk on your pussy and not thinking straight, and he didn’t want to answer the question you were bound to ask. He wasn’t ready to verbally admit the conclusion he had come to--verbally admitting it made it real, and Ran wasn’t ready to face the consequences of it being real. 

And it was unfair to you, he knew it was. He kept you in limbo, wondering each night if he would show up, wondering what you really meant to him, and you deserved better than that, better than him. 

His grip tightened on your thighs and you let out a soft moan into his mouth, your arms fell from around his shoulders, delicate hands coming up to his cheeks instead. Ran’s eyes slid shut as your fingers traced his cheekbones, nails drawing gentle patterns on his skin. And you always did this and he was quite sure he would never be used to it. His breath shuddered against your lips and he tried to hide it by kissing you deeper, his tongue running against yours, tasting the mint on your breath. You had always touched him softly, from the first night up until now, and it was another thing he would never understand because Ran was rarely ever gentle with you--he tried, he swore he tried but soft touches to your skin would always turn into bruising, borderline painful grips as he desperately tried to fuck away the pain and fear and stress that laid so heavy on his shoulders. 

But it didn’t matter how many unintentional bruises he left on your hips and thighs, ones that caused his chest to swell up with guilt when he woke up before you the next morning to slip out before you could try to convince him to stay, you would always cup his face gently the next time you saw him, tracing your fingers over his scars and tattoos, showing him a type of tenderness that he had never experienced in his entire life before you.

His throat felt tight as the slow kiss began to shift into a far more needy one, his teeth nearly clashing with yours as he leaned in closer, stepping from around the kitchen counter to lead you down the narrow halls toward your room. And yeah, he had to admit that it was harder to pretend that he didn’t know all of the little nooks and crannies of your home when he kept his lips pressed to yours, not even bothering to look where he was walking as he brought you back to your room.

“Ran,” you gasped against his lips, “What’s wrong?” 

Instead of answering, Ran pressed his lips to the underside of your jaw, trailing hot, wet kisses down your neck, making your words melt into soft moans next to his ear as his teeth grazed your skin and his lips massaged bruises on your neck. Ran let out a groan into your skin as one of your hands slid behind his head, intertwining with his hair, nails scratching his scalp as he laid you back on your bed.

And it was crazy, really--your bed creaked underneath the two of you, the mattress dipped, and he knew his bed back at his own apartment was objectively exponentially more comfortable than yours but he had never felt more at home, never slept better than when he was laid up with you in yours.

He dragged his lips back up your skin to your lips, arms braced on either side of your head, body heavy on top of yours. Your legs tightened around his waist and Ran bit back another groan as he rolled his hips against yours, feeling you whimper against his lips.

He carried his weight on one arm as he brought his other down between your bodies, and then between your thighs to slide your panties off. He smiled against your lips when he wasn’t met with the pretty silk panties he was used to. 

“Thought you weren’t expecting me to show up?” he murmured against your lips and you giggled, eyes bright as you looked at him and the warm feeling in his chest grew and he couldn't even bring himself to push it away this time.

“I was still hopin’ you would,” you said, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his lips that had him dizzy and reeling. His throat was tight as your lips left his, head falling back against the pillow and he couldn’t stop himself from chasing your lips, pressing them hard against yours with a type of desperation that he didn’t know he had in him.

As if you could sense the turmoil within him, which you probably could if he were being honest, you matched his intensity. Lips slipping against his messily, hands sliding across his shoulders, smoothing out over his skin, tracing his tattoos and making his body shudder, and Ran fumbled to undo his button and unzip his slacks, brows furrowing in frustration.

A curse slipped from his lips as he failed to undo the button again, but he paused as he felt your hands cup his cheeks, lifting his face to force him to look at you.

“Relax,” you said quietly, voice smooth and gentle and at once, all of his frustrations seemed to fade away, “There’s no rush, we’ve got all the time in the world, Ran.”

Ran’s breath was shaky as your hands drifted down his body, undoing the buttons with ease and he let out a moan as your fingers slid up and down his cock, hips bucking into your hand as you freed him from his pants. 

There were a million words on his lips—telling you that you didn’t have all the time in the world, that there were so many risks, so many dangers, that he was sorry for dragging you into this life and that he was sorry for not being a good enough man to let you go. 

But nothing left his lips—he did not voice his fears, he did not apologize, instead he kissed you more intensely, holding the side of your face hard, hoping to convey all that he couldn't speak aloud through his actions.

Your fingers wrapped around his cock gently, languid strokes that had him gasping against your lips, eyes fluttering shut. 

He bit down on your bottom lip, tugging it, and his eyes slid back open, meeting yours, questioning.

You gave him a small smile, and it was all of the answer he needed. He reached down with one hand, a large hand wrapping around your thigh and lifting it, pressing it up against your chest and hooking your leg around his shoulder and then repeating the process with your other leg. 

His jaw clenched as the tip of his cock nudged against your entrance, slipping against the slick and sliding between your folds. He bit back a low groan as you gasped but couldn’t hold back the moan that fell from his lips as he began to push his cock into you at an agonizingly slow pace.

Your legs were trembling on either side of his head, chest heaving and your nails were digging into his bicep as you tried to control yourself but the fluttering of your walls gave you away. Heavy pants escaped your lips as he bottomed out into you—walls contracting and squeezing him so good that it nearly had him whimpering.

And he watched as you braced yourself for the hard, heavy thrusts you were used to—the ones that would knock your breath out of your lungs and have you dumb and drooling into the mattress by the time he was done with you; that would have him out of breath and sweating, thighs tense and shaking as he emptied his load into you for the third or fourth time of the night.

But this time was different—slow, deep strokes that had your jaw slack and eyes half-rolled back. He could feel every inch of your walls as your cunt tightened and fluttered around his cock. Each roll of his hips had your thighs twitching and trembling and your toes curling as Ran let out shaky breath while he turned his head to the side, pressing his lips against your ankle as he continued the steady pace.

Each drag of his cock against your walls had his arms tensing and flexing on either side of your head, shaky groans that he couldn’t quite hold back spilling from his lips as your cunt clung to him like a lifeline—wrapped around his cock so tight that each slow roll of his hips had his eyes knocking back.

“Fuck, baby,” he gasped into your skin as he buried his face into your neck again, “Feel so good.”

And you were letting out barely intelligible babbles, begging him to fuck you faster, harder, but Ran couldn’t bring himself to do it—the new pace unlocking something primal within him, a warm unfamiliar feeling that had heat pooling in his lower stomach and spreading across his body like a wildfire.

He forced himself to pull his face from the crook of your neck, pressing his lips against yours again, and he inhaled sharply through his nose as your babbles for more shifted into high pitched whines and desperate moans. 

His lips brushed yours, breath mingling and creating a dizzying sensation that had him light headed. His eyes traced your face, hips stilling against yours as he watched your eyes water, glassy and unfocused and barely trained on his face, lips wet and swollen. 

You were beautiful—you were always beautiful but right now….

He brought one hand to cup the side of your face, watching as you instinctually leaned into his touch, eyes lidded and glossy, filled with a sort of intense love and trust that had never been directed toward him his entire life. You looked at him as if he weren’t Haitani Ran, a wanted criminal, a gang executive, a murderer and a liar and a coward.

Or maybe you looked at him like that because he was Haitani Ran.  

His throat felt tight, his heart felt heavy.

“I love you,” he breathed out before he could stop himself and he watched as your eyes widened, if only slightly, but he didn’t give you the chance to let his words register, instead leaning down to press an open-mouthed kiss to your lips as he began to rock his hips into you again.

He fucked himself deep, deep into you—as if he couldn’t get close enough—his slow place gradually shifting into a faster one. Your walls clung to his cock and he was letting out low groans into your mouth as he felt your cunt spasm around him.

You were close, he could feel it in the way your hips were rolling up to meet his, he could hear it in the way your moans were becoming breathy as your voice shook, in how your arms were wrapping tight around his shoulders, trying to hold him as close as possible.

“‘m gunna cum,” you sobbed against his lips, “‘m gonna cum, Ran, I-“

You didn’t get the chance to finish your sentence, one particularly sharp thrust of his hips had your jaw going slack and your eyes rolling back, body spasming beneath his. Ran let out a low groan, lips pressed to your jaw as the feeling of your walls contracting tight around him pushed him right over the edge—mind hot and fuzzy as he spilled his cum deep inside of you.

He panted against your skin, body heavy on top of yours as you went limp beneath him, chest rising and falling rapidly as you tried to recover from your high.

Ran let out a hiss as he let his cock slip out of you, rolling onto his back to pull you onto his chest. Your eyes were tired and droopy as you looked up at him and Ran let out a soft hum, bringing one hand up to cup your head as the other traced patterns on your skin.

“Ran…” your voice was soft, shaky, you still sounded half out of it but there was a question in your eyes that made him anxious.

“Go to sleep,” he murmured.

“Will you be here when I wake up this time?” your eyes were sad, your lips wobbled, and Ran’s heart was in his throat as he looked down at you.

The words spilled from his lips before he could consider what they meant, “I will.”

And he supposed the relief and adoration on your face was worth the fact that he would have to confront questions that even just the thought of made him sick and fearful. But you rested your head back down against his chest, eyes fluttering shut and breath evening out and Ran knew he wouldn’t have the heart to go back on his word—not with you.

He toyed with your hair as you slept soundly on his chest, his own eyes slowly drooping shut as exhaustion took hold. He leaned down, pressing his lips to the top of your head once before letting his head drop back against the pillow, and as he slowly allowed himself to drift off to sleep to the sound of gunshots and shouting in the distance, he couldn’t help but wonder how many blanks were left.

—-

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dropping this tonight at 10:45pm GMT !!! interact to be tagged <3

lovesick (I)

— pairing: yandere ot7 x (f) reader — word count: 5.9k — warnings: yandere, stalking, obsessive behaviour, harrassment, mention of violence/bodily harm, 18+ — summary: You dreamed of the day you would get your very own soulmark. Though, you didn’t expect to wake up to a searing hurt in your arm, the phantom pain of your shoulder being dislocated and your forearm fractured. As if dealing with the worst possible soulmark ever wasn’t bad enough, you also have to come to terms with the fact that you’re being stalked. When the letters and gifts you receive begin to escalate and the police offers no help, you have no other option than to figure out who’s behind it yourself – and hopefully before it’s too late. — amazing cover by @leithold​!

Next

Your foot is throbbing – again.

You fall back into bed, lifting your leg up to rest it over your knee. You wince as you examine the damage, purple and yellow bruising covering your swollen ankle. Lightly pressing around the area, you’re relieved to find that it only seems to be slightly sprained.

You glance over at your bedside table as your alarm goes off again, the framed picture next to your phone catching your attention as you silence the shrill sound. It’s a photo of you and Heejun, your next-door neighbour turned best friend. This particular one was taken on the night before he turned eighteen, your grinning faces showing off the pure excitement you both felt at the time.

Ever since you were little, even before you met Heejun, you’ve always dreamed about meeting your soulmate. You’ve lost count of the endless nights you stayed up imagining what kind of mark you would find once you woke up on your 18th birthday. Your favourite was always discovering a note written on your arm – the same as your parents. A close runner-up was the countdown mark Heejun had, you always made sure to check in with him every day to watch as the time suddenly decreased or increased. You’ll never forget the day he called you, voice choked up with tears and joy as he told you he had finally bumped into his soulmate.

With thousands of different variants of soulmarks and new ones being reported every day, you always thought you would end up with something sweet, something fitting to the fairy tale you always wanted. You certainly weren’t expecting to wake up to a searing hurt in your arm, the phantom pain of a dislocated shoulder and forearm fracture sticking with you for weeks afterwards.

Keep reading

(𝟏) 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋

ও rating. explicit

ও summary. you work for an anonymous phone sex business on campus, andyou would have never guessed that your first client would be the Atsumu Miya—most popular guy on campus who sits three seats ahead of you in calculus. and you’re pretty sure he doesn’t even know you exist. | wc. tbd.

cw/ tw. college au. nerd!reader, volleyball player Atsumu, phone sex, dirty talk, mild hurt/comfort, miscommunication, fraternity parties, rough sex, unprotected sex, praise kink, strangers to lovers

ও featuring. Atsumu x Fem!Reader 

ও an. okay, i turned my self-indulgent fic into a multi-part fic:) please comment on this post if you’d like to be tagged. NOTE: the Taglist is closed | follow #📓 .one missed call for updates.

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Please remember to read all content warnings before proceeding.

Part One—You get your first caller, and can’t tell why he sounds so familiar…until you do.

cw/ tw. phone sex, praise kink, pet names (ex. baby, sweetheart)

Part Two—After weeks of phone calls, you get to know Atsumu which makes pretending a little more difficult.

cw/ tw. sexting, phone sex, praise kink, pet names (ex. sweetheart, pretty girl)

Part Three—Things get even more difficult when Atsumu needs help with his homework before his next game, and who better to help him than the class tutor.

cw/ tw. sexting, phone sex, praise kink, pet names (ex. sweetheart)

Part Four—The truth always finds a way of coming out.

cw/ tw. tba…

Part Five—Atsumu confronts you.

cw/ tw. tba…

© satorini 2022—do not copy, paste, or translate my works anywhere.

᯽ warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, oral fixation, fem reader & pet names. Finger sucking, daddy kink. Draken babies reader, as he should, implied cockwarming.

᯽ Oral fixation off the charts today. Had to get this out because my brain rotted

Draken was reading through the news on his phone, one arm laying across the back of the couch while his eyes shifted over the words on the screen. It was a pleasant morning, the sun shining through the blinds, casting streams of golden along his black hair that was hanging lose around his shoulders

He didn’t take his eyes off his eyes phone when he felt you settle between his thighs that were spread apart. He also didn’t take his eyes off his phone when he felt your cheek pressing up against his right thigh, a little hum leaving your pouting lips.

“Kenny?”

“Yea baby?” He still didn’t look at you. It’s only when one of your hands lifted to his holding his phone, fingers fiddling with one of the rings on his finger that his dark gaze fell to you. You were still pouting and it made him smile a little.

“Kenny” You repeated again, and he caught the subtle whine in your tone.

“Yes, lil love?” He asks, sitting up a bit from his spot, finally setting down his phone so you could take his hand into both of yours. You were looking up at him through your lashes, tongue poking out to lick at your pretty pouty lips. You continues to play with his hand, tracing the one of the larger veins that crossed the back of his palm. “You need somethin?”

You nodded, your eyes fluttered a bit. Your gaze left his to look at his hand, before looking back up to him while nibbling on your lower lip. You cheek pressed further into his thigh when his grin grew, and finally you couldn’t help but whine. A soft, little whine.

“Mhm.. need—“ you licked your lips again. “Really want your fingers..” you trailed off as you brought his hand closer to your face. You pressed a kiss to the cold metal of the rings on his middle finger and ring finger, your eyes seeming to get a little glossy layer when he chuckled softly.

“Yea?” He spreads his legs a little further, his free hand patting the thigh you’re not leaning on. “C’mere, up.”

You don’t hesitate to crawl into his lap, curling yourself comfortably in his lap as you keep his hand held tightly in yours. You whined again, this time the sound vibrating through his skin cause your lips were pressed up against his knuckles.

“Open your mouth, pretty.” He murmured, his lashes lowering a bit as you obediently lulled your glossy lips open. His two fingers, specifically the two with the rings, didn’t hesitate to sink between your lips. Pads of his fingers pressed to your tongue as you closed your mouth around him, the pleased mewl you make around the digits making his pants feel a little tighter. Your eyes are shiny when you look up to him again, and he couldn’t help but picture little hearts in your eyes when you suckled his digits.

“That’s my good girl…” he murmurs softly, relaxing into the couch and letting you lay on him further. His other hand rubs your thigh, squeezing the familiar doughy flesh in his hand and gently massaging. “Just needed somethin between these pretty lips, didn’t ya?”

You nod, nice and slow and hum against his fingers. Your tongue pokes at his fingers, smoothing over his rings and sighing deeply out your nose. A little bit of drool bubbles from the corner of your lip and draken can’t help but chuckle fondly at you.

His cute little baby.

“Can suck on em all you want, okay?” You nod, eyes now getting a bit narrowed as your brain turns off. Just how he likes it. Loves seeing you pliant and soft, just for him. He pets your tongue, wetting his own lips as both your hands wrap around his much larger wrist. It makes his cock twitch under you.

“Then daddy’s gunna give you his cock. I know this pretty little mouth will keep it warm f’me.”

Tagging: @tokyometronetwork and sister wives @tokyomanjihoe @1990-06-12 <333