thranif - Tumblr blog

[thranif]

Hi!!! Ok I'm honestly very sorry for not being active for months ;-; I was kinda forced into a hiatus and completely forgot about tumblr all together ;-;

But I'm back!!! And I'll be working on my collab pieces that are LONG overdue and more!!! And hello to my moots ;-; sorry I didn't reply to your msgs but geheehehehee I'll be wreaking havoc soon >:3

[thranif]

Sero's whore: activated.

PLEASE talk more about Sero and phone sex, I have a NEED

pick your phone up | s. hanta

➳ cw ;; phone sex, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, mild corruption, super dialogue heavy, established relationship fem!reader, 18+

➳ wc ;; 1.5k

➳ a/n ;; sero is smooth to me bye. also how do we like this banner. kinda cute right? title is jack harlow song!

"Talk to me, baby."

Sero Hanta has always had a slick mouth on him.

It used to get him caught up in all sorts of shit in his rookie years. He has an affinity for quipping back and forth, bits of sarcasm laced intricately with jokes. His sense of humor is observational, he's quick to take the hit and he always lands on his feet.

It's not Sero's voice that gets you though, as much as it's the way he talks to you. It's the diction, the word choice - how he strings words and thoughts together that makes your thighs press with need. It's always been like that - since then beginning. You think that's what attracted him to you. You'd be lying to yourself if you said he didn't manage to turn you on during arguments.

It's the way he does it, the way he corrects. There's this relaxed way of speaking to you, eyes lidded as he stares you down like he knows something you don't. You're convinced he does to a degree.

You don't know what you expect when you mention the idea of phone sex to him. That you're interested in it. You're not expecting the way he spews out dirty talk - how he says it so easily. Doesn't blush or stutter, making something stammer in your chest. He leans back in his chair - stretching as he presses his ear against the phone.

You're missing him a little more. He's half-way across the world doing work for a big mission and it's been making you a little more lonely than you expected to be, but still - something about his agreeance is incredibly embarassing for you.

"C'mon, d'ya wanna have phone sex? Hm?"

"Hanta, we can't."

"Yeah we can," ― You can hear the grin in his voice, practically picturing it in your mind ― "Not like it'll get you pregnant. Don't get shy on me - let's have fun."

"You're working." is what you say but your mind is already running amok thinking of him. He laughs, closing his eyes.

"Took a break just for you," ― He hums, pausing to stretch ― "Aren't I the best?"

"You're so annoying." you huff, irritation running through you. He laughs at that.

"You wanna fuck me so bad, huh." He snips back, tongue running over lower lip.

"Shut up, I don't wanna tell you things anymore." you groan, embarrassed. Talking to your boyfriend over the phone like this proves to be more gut-wrenching than you expect.

"Of course you don't," ― He hums, staring at his computer distracted ― "You want me to tell you things, right? Want me to tell you what to do?"

Maybe it's because you can't see him. Because all you can do is hear the sound of his voice - but something settles uncomfortably in your gut when he says. You shake a little.

"Hanta.."

"Am I right?"

You whine, covering your face.

"Yeah, yeah whatever." you whine again. Sero laughs a little more, smiling. You're so cute, his heart squeezes.

"Want me to tell you dirty shit, huh? To touch yourself to the thought of us, yeah?"

You nod your head but realize he can't see you, opting to reply with another pathetic 'yes.'

"Must really miss it. Were you thinking about it?" ― He hums, listening intently to the way your breath stutters ― "Tell me about it."

You breathe a deep breath, something stirring in your gut.

"Just.. thought about you. You're too far away."

He chuckles.

"Just thinking about me gets you wet?"

"Do you think it doesn't?" you reply back, easy and sincere. Sero takes in a ragged breath.

"Fuck, this was a bad idea." He gets through a sharp breath. You laugh a little at his sudden discovery.

"You think so? Am I makin' you hard when I talk about it?" you tease back. Sero lets a hand drag over his hard-on in his sweats.

"You make me hard if you breathe around me right," ― Sero comments with a laugh ― "Fuck, you don't even have to do that."

"Hanta." you whisper

"Yeah, baby?"

"Talk to me. Tell me what you want me to do?"

The tension is mutual - thick and heavy in the air. You're so caught up in Sero, in just Sero. All you can hear is the sound of his voice in your ear, how it reverberates through you and makes you sticky. Your body racks with a shiver when he laughs.

"Play with yourself - tease it," ― Sero comments with a deep breath, spitting into his palms. You can hear it and that alone excites you. He wraps his hand around the base of his cock ― "Like how I touch you, do you remember?"

"Yeah..yeah - but it doesn't feel as good," ― your voice comes out in a choked whine as you lay back. The phone next to your ear, you use your hands to touch and tease your body. You pinch your nipples through the front of your t-shirt, rubbing them soft ― "Miss you."

"I miss you too," ― He marks, stroking himself. He always knew you sounded sweet, but just being able to hear makes him erratic. The way your sheets move underneath you - the little moans you let out, soft and quiet ― "But you can't touch yourself yet. Need you to feel good first."

You listen obediently. You touch and tease, but you need to hear him. Want to hear the sound of his voice coaxing you.

"I'll know you if you lie to me," ― He teases, stroking himself a little harsher ― "I can hear everything"

"Hnggh, that's embarassing."

"It's cute. You're so needy, just for me. Thinking about fucking me through your cute little PJ's, huh? Putting my hand on your mouth so you don't wake up your roomates?"

Your clit beats twice, pulsing as you tease yourself. Your voice gets caught in your throat as you groan. The thought of it sends your heart-racing. Sneaking Sero into your bedroom and feeling him so deep, caging you in with his body. Lean muscle and lanky but so handsome. Your neediness grows.

"Fuck, please."

Sero can feel his resolve crumble. The way you play off each other, how you listen to his word and whine. So fucking cute.

"Don't wanna wake 'em up right, they get mad when you sneak me in. Just want me to fuck you deep and keep you quiet, right? Want it so bad you're fucking yourself to the thought of us."

He hears you moan again, a little louder this time. You must be home alone, and the thought of that gets him excited.

"H-Hanta, fuck, want your dick so bad."

"I want you too," ― He pants, tugging his dick up, a full shuddering ripping through him ― "Wanna put it in. Wanna fuck you full and keep you full."

"Can I touch myself, please, please?"

"Touch your pretty pussy for me. Start slow."

You breathe a ragged sigh of relief as you put your hand in your shorts, sneaking past your panties. Your middle finger drags softly against your clit, to one side to get the right pressure. You whimper, drawing a soft circle.

"Want more," you say on instinct. Sero laughs at that.

"So impatient," ― He tsks, voice a little sweeter than he intends ― "You know you like when I drag it out, yeah? Like when I play with your clit and teased you."

You whimper at the memories, countless - of Sero rutting his cock against you. Of dragging you to the edge relentlessly until you cum for him so hard your chest gets tight. It doesn't feel as good, but it's relief all the same. Sweet, sweet relief as you play with your clit with images of Sero running through your mind like a dirty film. The sound of his voice fuels you.

"Y-yeah, I like it. I like you, Hanta, fuck -" you choke on something as you feel a particular strike of pleasure. You slow down, and you think that Sero must be right that you like being teased. It feels so good.

Sero isn't in good shape on the other side of the phone. You can hear him jack off - tugging on his cock with his eyes closed. Vivid pictures of him pinning to your full-sized mattress making his stomach churn with lust. He wants to tease you, wants to feel you fall apart on his cock like always but he can't.

And there's something about how much you two want each other that makes it hard to breathe. The need is present, heavy on your tongues as you incoherently attempt to speak back to him.

"Hanta, fuck me, fuck."

"Wanna fuck you so damn bad baby. I'll fuck you so good when I'm home. Make you feel good, promise I will." he groans as he listens to you speed up. The desperation teeming on the edge of your voice as you touch yourself, faster and faster. All you can hear is the sounds of each other moaning - off in your own worlds, thinking of each other.

You feel yourself getting close, your throat closing up. Something hot and white comes over you in a flash, just barely able to get the words out. Your mind feels unruly, lust ripping you half

"H-Hanta, I'm cumming..!"

"Me too, fuck - cum for me,"

You finish with a heavy tremble, body shaking as the thoughts of Sero cloud you down to the air in your lungs. You cum with a deep crying as you hear grunt and cum on the other side.

You struggle to get your breathing even as you laugh a little, shifting to pick your phone up off the bed.

"I miss you." you say through a laugh. Sero gives you ragged chuckle.

"Promise I'll be home soon.

[thranif]

thinking about being in a relationship with atsumu for like five months...but the only nasty things you’ve done together are blowjobs, handjobs, dry humping (basically things that don’t directly give you pleasure) and it’s not because atsumu doesn’t try to get his mouth, hands, cock, and whatever else on you—in fact, he’s the complete opposite.

you’re the one who doesn’t want to let him touch you (perhaps due to your insecurities and such) but fuck, the moment you spread your legs for him, watch his slightly trembling hands peel your panties down your soft thighs and dewy legs, there’s literal stars in his eyes and a little bit of drool on the corner of his mouth.

“can’t believe you’ve been hidin’ my pussy away from me for so long, baby.”

he hasn’t even fully removed your panties from your ankles before the few strings of his self control snaps, and he quickly dips his head towards your pussy, mouth and tongue quickly licking and suckling away at your glistening folds.

the groan that erupts from his throat is louder than the high-pitched moan coming from you, and he doesn’t waste his time anymore, quickly lapping and sucking your clit into his mouth, tongue swirling over the bundle of nerves as your cries spur him on.

he eats you like he’s been doing this since the start of your relationship and he technically has—but only in his dreams. it’s only in his dreams where he has made you cum so hard that you get headaches from the overstimulation. but now, sweetness and musk emanating from your cunt cements one goal on his mind and he proceeds to eat your pussy like a man starved of his favorite meal. if only you knew how long he’s been wanting to do this.

his large hands push your thighs to your chest, folding you in half to give him better and unrestricted access to your dripping cunt, shining with your slick and his saliva as your fingers tug and tangle within his blonde strands.

“gotta make you feel good too, y’know?” he grunts in between licks of your clit, finally pushing his tongue inside your hole. your hips jerk and back arch from the new sensation, instinctively grinding against your boyfriend’s face as you build towards your orgasm.

atsumu’s groans vibrate through your core and your eyes are glossy from the pleasure you’ve been shying away from for so long. he bobs his head in sync with his ruts on the mattress, instantly addicted to the taste of you on his tongue.

the slurping noises are obscene, but it only serves to make the knot in your stomach tighten and toes curl. atsumu’s nose is nudging against your clit and it has you reeling, the swipes and swirling of his tongue inside your tight walls has you hearing colors.

his fingers are hot against the sweaty skin of your thighs, imprints of his fingertips on the softness of your flesh as he loses himself in you. he abruptly pulls his tongue out and quickly pays attention to your pulsating clit, his tongue switching between sloppy licking and wet sucking. the squeaks of the mattress are getting louder by the minute, same with the cries of pleasure and relief that’s coming from the both of you.

“atsumu! oh my god—f-fuck, ‘m g-gonna cum!”

and you do, you cum so hard that the scream of his name bounces off on the walls and the pleasure coming from your mouth shoots down his cock and he can’t stop himself—doesn’t even want to—from cumming in his shorts like a young boy. his groan of your name against your clit makes you squeak, hips grinding his face as your back arches off the bed, riding the last vestiges of your orgasm.

you think it’s over, only whimpering his name as his cheek rests against your wet cunt, inhaling the scent of your slick that’s invading his senses. you think he’s going to let you rest, let you recover from your very first orgasm with him, but evidently—he has other plans.

his strong hands flip you until you’re lying on your tummy, quickly maneuvering you until you’re on your knees.

“what—?”

“you think i’m gonna be satisfied with one orgasm, sweetheart?” he scoffs, spreading your cheeks as he reveals your puffy folds to his caramel eyes once more.

he groans as he watches a clear trail of slick leave your hole, traveling down to your clit as he licks one long and wet stripe, moaning as he tastes your fresh juices once more. you whimper as you bunch the sheets in your hands, shivering from the determined look in his eyes—the same expression when he’s playing a difficult match.

“i have months to catch up on,” is the last thing he says before he ducks his head, mouth and tongue latching on to your pussy for the second time that night, and he’s definitely nowhere near the last.

now that he finally knows what you sound like, what you look like, what you taste like—it’s going to be a cold day in hell before you can keep miya atsumu away from his pussy ever again.

[thranif]

just imagine your fave being pussydrunk

cw: oral(f. receiving), fingering, dry humping

tags: @dejwrites @gabzlovesu @nanaminshousewife @angwritez @aasouthteranoswife @indiecursor @rinhoes @earlesskitten

You never can comprehend why he gets like this, driven near mad, his mind teasing the lines of destruction. Every time he returns from the grueling chains of work, his place of serenity always ends up being compressed between the thighs he swore were pried apart.

Worst of it all, he had no honor for reserving such acts at night, wanting to have you at any given time. Should he arrive from work either during the beaming hours of day or the ungoldy hours of night, even fatigue and hunger couldn't faze him.

Whenever he does finally get his hands on you, your body seemed to automatically succumb to his advances, lingering kisses along the pulse of your neck and few tugs at your panties was all it took.

It's a reaction that he can never grow tired of, the excitement of having his slender digits slinking between the puffy lips of your cunt, revealing the prize he'd truly die over. When the broad of his tongue lays down that first stripe from the fluttering hole to the hooded nerves of your clit, nirvana isn't even the word to use.

Addicted, a drug that kept him wanting more and more couldn't come close to describe what he felt. The way he laves the slickened muscles in your essence was downright filthy, but who were you to judge?

Not like you attempted to anyways, thoughts so complex as judgement never did occur during his salacious indulgences. Not with the way his lips greedily pulled thder bud inside the hollows of his mouth, his eyes trained to every rivulet of your essence dribbling past your slit.

He didn't have to use his fingers, never making a difference in his honest opinion. He feels that just off every flick of his tongue, every kiss bestowed by his lips and every nudge of his nose, he'd have you cumming almost nearly as hard as if his cock was buried inside you.

Almost.

Even after pulling countless orgasms from you, the sloppy mess he'd made of you only appealed to his sights even more. With two fingers gently nudging at your g-spot, he’s noticing everything with keen eyes.

“Fuck–your clit’s a twitching mess, Princess. Gonna cum for me again? C’mon then, I want it all over my tongue,” he encourages, pushing yet another sloppy kiss onto the glistened pearl.

And God, does the man get so undoubtedly aroused that he's purely relying in the limited space within his pants to get him off, the erratic bucks of his hips denting straight into the mattress, or any surface he had you sprawled across for that matter.

Once he's finally finished, why he doesn't even bother with wiping his chin. He'll smear the damned mess with the pad of his thumb, licking off whatever he could. Before giving you a second to even catch your breath, he's already pressing up against your chest with his soiled lips nipping at the shell of your ear with a message to reignite the flames within your tummy all over again.

"Thanks for spoiling me, Angel."

[thranif]

would suggest 1, 7 and 11 for the kinktober thing, if you're feelin' it

I got one done lol— Oral/choking prompt for @bkdkkinktober

“You don’t have to force yourself, Izu.”

But he wanted to return the favor… all the times his boyfriend had taken such sweet care of him, sending his body through fits of orgasmic highs just with his tongue…

Izuku whimpered as he slid down Katsuki’s prone body and freed the man’s cock from its fabric constraint. “I want to.”

It couldn’t be that hard, right? Katsuki made it seem so easy, yet faced with the sizable appendage now cradled in his hand, Izuku swallowed back a buildup of saliva as the nerves crept back in. But he wanted to try… without looking like an idiot to service his boyfriend and make him croon with pleasure too. He spurred himself forward and propped himself up on his elbows over the man’s thighs.

While Katsuki gently raked fingers through his hair, giving him supportive suggestions, Izuku placed his tongue at the base of the shaft…

“That’s good baby,” Katsuki purred. “Slow and steady, and breath through your nose. Lick it like a popsicle.”

Such a concept made Izuku snort a laugh— popsicle, not a bad visual. All the video research he’d done said to have fun, enjoy the experience, and listen to his lovers prompting. Think about what Katsuki’s done to him and try to emulate it.

He flattened his tongue against the taut skin and licked upwards, just as instructed. Each soft moan from Katsuki guiding and spurring Izuku on, up along the veiny ridge, then swirling around the head before repeating with short bursts and wide sloppy strokes to coat the area in saliva. One hand kept wrapped in a gentle but firm grip around the base of the shaft, while fingers of the other rubbed pressured circles over the sensitive bundle of nerves of the perineum— pulling a deeper groan and widening reaction of Katsuki’s legs. So far, so good.

Izuku ignored the excess saliva dripping down his chin, or slobbery wet smacking of his lips as they plunged over the head of Katsuki’s cock, suctioning to the skin in careful oral ministrations. He could feel his boyfriend’s tangled fingers gripping into his hair, and unintelligible groans trying to guide his movements, halting, or pushing him on. His own face felt warm from the bursts of heat radiating off Katsuki’s cock, and his own hot breath fanning out over the confined space. Through long, wet strokes of Izuku’s tongue mapping the cock’s ridges, palpating the sensitive nerve lines, until swallowing the head once again.

“Mmm,” Izuku smiled with his mouth still anchored, and throaty vibrations causing his boyfriend to shiver.

“Damn, baby you’re doing so… good…” Katsuki groaned.

Izuku sped up his hand strokes to match what his mouth was doing, and for a while, careful not to go too deep by accident and risk choking. He alternated through long strokes and massaging the shaft with his fingers, while his tongue palpated the head and frenulum with textured licks. But in such a heated moment filled with lust and desire for pleasing, it was hard to focus. His mind swam with salacious, heady thoughts, and licentious desires, fueled by Katsuki’s straining cock, firmly swelling as the man’s breathing grew ragged and moans heightened. Izuku knew his wish would come true soon enough and lost control, plunging deeper.

As Katsuki’s head hit the back of Izuku’s throat, his head jerked back, and eyes rolled. “Oh— fuck, Izu…”

Oh, fuck was right, as stars instantly went off in Izuku’s vision and his gag reflex kicked in. His grip tightened around Katsuki’s shaft as he pulled away, coughing, and gagging. “Damn it!” He swore at his mistake.

Katsuki quickly sat up, “You, okay?” He questioned as he rubbed his boyfriend’s back through the fit and wiped away a few broken tears at the corners of his eyes.

“Y-Yeah,” Izuku dismissed his state and immediately started to shift back to what he’d been doing. But Katsuki stopped him. “I’m fine,” he stated again. “Please, let me?” So, Katsuki obliged with a smiling nod and laid back down again.

Izuku took a deep breath and refocused in where he’d left off, stroking his boyfriend’s cock in pressured and paced, up and down motions, thumbing the head before a quick pressured kiss. He then closed his eyes as his mouth latched back onto Katsuki’s tip, puckering his lips to create a suction seal, and swirled his tongue around languidly. His hand did most of the work this time, jerking off the shaft in rapid succession to the reinvigorated blonde’s moans, and mixed with wet smacking sounds filling the room. A perfect flow finally achieved, Izuku moaned over the shaft in a high, letting the vibrations tickle his boyfriend’s cock into submission.

It didn’t much longer as Katsuki’s breathing grew labored, his fingers fully tangled into Izuku’s hair and pulling the closer his boyfriend brought him to an end. “Fuck yeah, that’s it…” his hips lifted slightly as the first wave hit. “Take it all baby…”

The heated liquid shot out and Izuku’s mouth clamped down to contain the sticky seed. If not for holding down his legs, Katsuki would have bucked and caused him to gag again, but he managed to contain the damage. He could feel every pulse of Katsuki’s shaft with each release, and let the man ride out his orgasm firmly nestled between his lips until finally, the last of it was spent and Katsuki’s body relaxed again. Izuku swallowed and wiped away excess saliva from his lips as he sat up.

“Dork,” Katsuki chuckled and pulled his boyfriend up to cuddle against his side. “Happy now?”

“Very,” Izuku grinned in satisfaction. Mission accomplished.

[thranif]

I have this thing I imagine a lot :)

Both Katsuki and Izuku are sugar daddies for the reader and also have been friends since they left UA ( reader knows ). The reader sends them pictures of everything she buys, pictures of herself, FaceTimes them, talks to them when THEY need to talk, they talk to her when she needs to talk, another thing is they have sex together.

All three of them, but bakugou is a switch, deku is a dom and the reader is a sub. Bakugo is only a sub for deku and he has a major praise kink, because we all know kat loves being praised <3.

Reader is ofc a sub for them both and had a major degradation and praise kink, and deku LOVES feeding into their kinks. Ofc they have other kinks but mainly those.

Can the readers pronouns be she/her?

…. Idk how good this was 🤷🏽‍♀️

sugar high - izuku/katsuki/f!reader

ೃ⁀➷ response; you're a genius, anon!! hope this is okay!! i tried to stick to the ask, but i may have gotten a bit too carried away... this is way more plot heavy and long than i thought it'd be, but well... here ya go!

ೃ⁀➷ content warnings; smut, threesome f/m/m, sugar daddy au, mutual pining, harsh degradation, lots of praising, dirty talk to the max, oral (f! receiving), anal sex (m! receiving), hard dom! izuku, service switch! katsuki, sub! reader, and obviously aftercare <3

REQUESTS ARE OPEN.

Things had always been easy between the three of you.

It just… worked. When you had first met them, your hair had been a mess, your tank top covered in soot and sweat. The dopey smile on your face said it all – you were a support course student with too many ideas and too many ways to entertain them.

Izuku had been quick to avert his gaze and blush, while Katsuki merely stared you down with a snarl.

Extending a hand, you smiled, other hand resting on your cocked hip. “Y/N L/N, nice to meet you!”

“Katsuki Bakugou. The nerd’s Deku.”

And as he nearly popped your arm out from its socket when he shook your hand, it was like your fates had been sealed.

Izuku, Katsuki and you.

The friendship had been going well. Almost too well.

Katsuki’s brash personality and loud explosions paired well with Izuku’s stubborn meekness, and your bubbly intelligence. It was like you guys were made for each other.

After graduation, Izuku and Katsuki were rising the hero charts so quickly they were able to start an agency within a year.

You, their prized inventor.

By the age of twenty-three, they were the top two heroes, the ranking changing almost hourly.

What really kicks everything off, however, is a certain night. A night where everything changed.

Your office sat on the second highest floor, the rest of the space filled with machinery and prototypes. Floor-to-ceiling windows ran around the front wall, overseeing the city you helped protect. In your own way.

It was well past midnight, the moon high in the sky as its reflection shone against your skin where you sat.

You could feel the eyebags high on your cheeks, and your mind fuzzed on the edges in exhaustion.

So what if you hadn’t slept for nearly three days?

Being so close to an utter masterpiece was way more important. Even if every time you tried to focus on something for more than a minute, your eyes would glaze over and grow heavy. Even if you caught yourself collapsing onto your desk more times than you could count.

In your exhausted daze, you don’t hear the door being unlocked.

You do, however, feel two warm hands on your shoulders. Jumping, you snap your head around (although not as fast as you could’ve, due to your deprived state).

“Hey,” comes Izuku’s soft voice, grainier and deeper from your high school years. “What are you still doing up? Kacchan and I haven’t seen you leave the office for days.”

“‘M sorry,” you mumble, bringing up a hand to wipe at your eyes, “I just gotta finish this. I’ll be out soon.”

There’s a deep exhale, before your chair is swiveled around to face the large man. His calloused, war-torn hands reach up to cradle your cheeks, the warmth sending electricity down your spine.

“Y/N,” he says, sterner and clearer this time, “You need to sleep. It’s non-negotiable.”

With a whine, you shake your head, leaning away from him. “I don’t need to – I, I need to work,” you repeat, your words slurring together.

You hear Izuku tsk, the sound out of character for the marshmallow of a man. “Sweetheart, I won’t hesitate to throw you over my shoulder and haul you back to our spare bedroom.”

While you should be focusing on the information that sentence contains, you can’t help but focus only on the pet name. Sweetheart.

You liked that.

Maybe a bit too much.

“I’m getting Kacchan,” Izuku breathes, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his phone.

He turns away from you, one hand left stroking at your cheek and hair. “Yes – Kacchan I know it’s late – no, I don’t want to get my ass kicked – no, this isn’t about – just get here, okay? I’m in Y/N’s office, she needs help. I’m serious – okay. See you soon."

Izuku shoves the phone back into his pocket, crouching down in front of you. Looking up to meet your eyes, he rubs at your thighs soothingly. “Y/N, I know that you need to get this done. I know. But please, please just get some sleep. For me?”

At this point, you just didn’t want to give in to your childhood friend’s wants. Maybe it was petty, but you didn’t want to let him win, now.

Or, maybe – just maybe, you were tired.

Katsuki walks in, then, hands in his pockets like they usually were. No matter how many years went by, the man wouldn’t let up on his ‘bad boy’ act. Even when he never broke rules.

“Get the fuck to bed, Y/N, or we’ll make you.”

Shaking your head, you sit up straighter, blatantly ignoring the two as you try and continue your write-up. Pen in hand, you start your work again, albeit with sluggish movements and blurry vision.

Crooked, warm fingers grab your chin, turning your head. Meeting the harsh emerald eyes of Izuku, you can’t help but flinch under his gaze.

“Baby,” oh, and that word felt so nice, like stepping into a hot spring for the first time, “Do what we say. We’ll reward you if you do.”

It’s not even the idea of a reward that makes you relent. His voice, his calming presence – Katsuki, standing behind him and looking down at you, it all just makes you want to melt into them both.

With a gulp, because you can feel tears springing at the back of your eyes, you nod.

“Come here,” Katsuki groans, pulling you into his chest roughly – but gentler than he usually would’ve.

Your arms swing around his neck, enveloping him in an embrace. He carries you in a princess type one – one arm underneath your bent knees, the other around your upper back.

Katsuki and Izuku had peppered you with affection and praise, allowing you to fall asleep in their penthouse, the bed large enough for your cuddle puddle to fit.

–

It should’ve been a one time thing.

It should’ve stayed a valued moment that none of you spoke of. Not even to yourselves.

So when you started getting gifts, and subtle remarks of ‘good job’, and ‘just like that’ from the two men… you were surprised.

You had known them for so long, and for them to start treating you like… like they would a sugar baby, it was frightening.

But not as much as it was rewarding.

Maybe they had realised your need for validation and appreciation. Now, it had been months since that night, and you were working better than ever. A subtle pat on the head and a ‘you’re doing so well’ from Izuku had you speeding up and perfecting your work more than ever before. A ‘that’s pretty fuckin’ pathetic, thought you could do better than that, princess’ from Katsuki had you buckling down to make him smile proudly at you.

And it was going well.

Until.

It was early morning, work traffic bustling along the busy city streets. Your boots slammed down against the pavement as you walked to the agency, smiling happily. It had been a good morning of rested sleep and bakery goodies.

Looking ahead, you can’t help but wonder why everyone was crowding around a certain vendor. Tilting your head and going on your tippy toes, you manage to find the object that had captivated the audience’s attention.

A tabloid. You yourself had been featured in multiple of them, mostly interviews on your job and your position in the public eye. People viewed you as a kind, incredibly intelligent and attractive woman.

Throat constricting, your eyes zero in on the cover.

‘Number One and Two Pro Heroes Dynamight and Deku found sharing a passionate night!’

Underneath the bold heading, you see a quick, well-timed photo of the duo. Izuku’s hand clenched in Katsuki’s hair as the two share what looks to be a heated but adoring kiss.

“Don’t stop in the middle of the road,” someone grumbles, pushing you out of the foot traffic.

Oh. Oh, why did your stomach curl in on itself? Why did the image hurt so much? Why? Why? Why?

“Sorry,” you mutter under your breath, turning abruptly and heading towards the agency. Tears threaten to spill down our cheeks, but that would ruin your mascara and eyeliner that you had been practicing for them. The eyeliner that Katsuki had taught you how to do, the eyeliner that Izuku said ‘suits you two so well’.

Gulping, the movement dry against your throat, you hurry to your office.

“Sorry,” you say again, rushing into the elevator before it closes. You were always saying sorry – you really ought to stop its overuse.

“Princess? Why are you so outta’ breath?” The words are like someone tipping ice water down your back – abrupt and painful. Of course. Of – fucking – course you’d get stuck on the three minute elevator journey with Katsuki Bakugou.

“It’s nothing,” you say quickly, both hands clenched tight on your bag straps.

A familiar, quirk-heated hand is placed on the back of your neck, and you can’t help but harshly jerk away from the contact. Your mind was flooding with too many emotions at one time.

Why wouldn’t they tell you? Why the hell did you have to find out something so important through a magazine? Weren’t you friends? Really close friends? Even…

You had thought for a while now that they had been coming onto you. That they liked you half as much as you liked them.

“Whoa, hey,” Katsuki says gently, and the difference between that and his usually brash, loud voice is brutal. It’s patronizing and wrong and you just wanted to melt down and cry.

The straps of your bag crumple under the grip you have on them, shaking along with your body. You were trembling so viciously, you knew that you looked like an idiot.

“Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you?” Katsuki asks, but it’s not malicious or joking, it’s concerned and worried.

“It’s nothing, let it go.” Mumbling, trembling and lip quivering, you knew that your argument wouldn’t hold. Hell, it didn’t even fool yourself. You sniffle, just a bit, because you really didn’t want to cry in front of one of the reasons for it.

“Like hell!” Katsuki yells, the bump of the elevator going up not deterring either of you in the slightest. “I haven’t seen you this upset since the U.A. days, so what’s got you this worked up? Or who? I’ll beat their ass, princess, you know that.”

Looking down at your boots, trying so hard to distract yourself before you said something incredibly stupid –

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Stupid. You were fucking stupid.

“Hah?” Raising your eyes, tears pricking your vision, you meet the fiery man’s gaze head-on.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you and Izuku were dating? I thought we were best friends; but no, I found out something so important through a magazine. A fricking tabloid, Katsuki!”

The tears finally travel down your cheeks, and you don‘t even care about your appearance anymore.

“And I thought the two of you liked me or something – the gifts, the praise – everything! I would’ve been fine if you guys had just told me before, but now I feel like a goddamn idiot because I didn’t notice the signs and you two didn’t give me any warning – or – or maybe you did, and I just…”

Trailing off, you can’t help the small hiccups as you try to breathe normally again.

Maybe you don’t need to, because your breath gets taken away again when lips crash into yours, passionate and strong. Shakily bringing your hands up to do something, anything, you instead melt under the arm that grabs at your waist, and the other that takes both of your wrists and pins them above your head. Back hitting the elevator wall, you can’t help but gasp into the mouth attached to yours.

“So,” Katsuki breathes between kisses, “Stupid.” Another kiss. “Never wanna make you cry” – another – “Princess, we want to spoil you so bad, we like you too.”

Finally gaining the strength to rip your hands from out of his grip, you push at his hard chest. Reluctantly, he breaks away, crimson eyes imploring your own.

“What? What are you saying?” Your lips brush his as you speak, your foreheads pressed together as you try and wrap your head around the situation.

The man chuckles, breathy and pleased. “I’m sayin’, princess, that we want to take care of you. Wanna treat you so good, give you the fuckin’ world.”

Shaking your head lightly, you try again. “I – what are you even asking of me?”

“We want to –.”

“Level Seventy-nine.” The elevator calls, doors opening. Embarrassment and fear shoot up your spine, eyes widening. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. You couldn’t be caught!

“Kacchan? Y/N?” Izuku’s voice calls out, and no. No, you weren’t a homewrecker, none of this could possibly be real. “What were you two…” Footsteps stop, then, along with the hero’s questioning voice.

“Oh.” It comes out small, almost hurt – but not quite.

Moving away from Katsuki, as if he were hot as a flame, you turn your frantic gaze to Izuku. “‘Zuku, I’m so sorry – I don’t –.”

You’re interrupted by Izuku, again, whose hands are now on his hips as he glares at Katsuki viciously. “Kacchan! I told you to not do this without me! You’re telling me I missed out on all that? You are such a jerk, you know that?”

What?

Honestly, screw it all, everything was much too complicated right now.

“What the hell was I supposed to do? She was cryin’ because a tabloid caught us at the restaurant!” Katsuki responds, arms spread wide at his side.

“Doors closing,” the elevator calls, and you and Katsuki quickly get out before you accidentally get moved to another floor.

Izuku turns to you, then, once an angry expression now empathetic and concerned. “Why – why were you crying about that?”

Curling in on yourself (an old habit you took apart of when you felt vulnerable or confused), you try to avoid the gazes of both men. But it’s hard, when villains have been known to give up from one look from the two alone.

“Hey, it’s okay, but we need to talk it out.” Izuku outstretches an arm, almost to comfort you telepathically.

“I’m sorry,” you say again, wincing as you do. “I’m just really confused, I guess.”

The whole area is empty, apart from you three. You had the second-highest floor all to yourself, per the Wonder Duo’s request. You sit down on top of the desk that sits off to the side, Katsuki and Izuku coming to stand by you.

“Did you like us treating you with small gifts?” Katsuki asks, but his face shows that his ego is already well aware of the answer.

“Yeah,” you whisper, head looking down in embarrassment.

The duo share a look that you don’t notice, before Izuku moves just a bit further forward, hand grabbing ahold of your chin and tilting your face up to look at them both.

“Did you like us praising you for all your hard work? For being such a good girl for us?” Izuku’s voice sends shivers down your spine, goosebumps trailing down your arms as you gulp and nod shakily in his grip.

Katsuki chokes a laugh, looking down at you with an arrogant expression. “Hah? I’m pretty sure you loved it whenever I told you that you could do so much better.”

Izuku turns, eyebrows raised. “Really? She liked that?” His fingers tighten around you ever so slightly, forcing you to let out a little squeak. This was almost straight out of your dreams.

“She loved it. And seeing how she’s reacting right now,” his eyes look you over, sinfully so, “I’d say she’s just a filthy fuckin’ slut.”

The whimper you let out would be – should be embarrassing, but with the heated gazes the two give you, it doesn’t feel so.

Leaning closer, Izuku’s lips graze your ear as he speaks, “But you’ll be good for us, won’t you? A good little whore?”

-- will continue soon. i just wanted to post something!! --

PLEASE REBLOG, LIKE, COMMENT AND FOLLOW IF YOU ENJOYED! FEEDBACK AND INTERACTION IS WHAT FUELS ME TO WRITE!!! THANKS FOR READING, LOVELIES! <3

[thranif]

Collab: Omegaverse Collab by @katsupeach

Tags: Alpha Sero! X Omega! Reader, Binaural, ABO, Masturbation, Breeding Kink

Synopsis: Sero having phone sex with you: ABO edition

Word Count: 1301

Heats away from Sero Hanta was never easy.

The ever-growing desire to feel your mate’s warmth is so easy to give in to – so much so you would cry out his name every minute you could, hoping by some miracle he’d listen and run to you like he usually does.

The want to feel his rough hands pressing against your exposed skin as he presses your back onto the soft cushions consumed you whole.

But you couldn’t.

Cellophane was needed in I-Land to take on a villain along with his former classmates. He has already left for days, but he tried to call you every moment he could to check up on you.

“Hanta…” you cried to yourself as heat surged within you.

You closed your eyes as you pulled your nest closer to you, pressing your head into his unwashed sweater. You moaned softly as you smelt the faint pheromones of your alpha, taking a deep breath in to smell the scent you ached for. Wetness pooled between your legs, your core preparing for him.

Closing your eyes, your hands treaded down to your core. You slowly increased the digits that rubbed the soaking entrance, fingers slowly entering and prodding the aching hole.

It didn’t work – your fingers were not as thick as his.

It didn’t have the roughness you ached for.

It didn’t have the urgency to see how much of a wreck you were – to devour you as you screamed incomprehensible sounds.

“Sero… please,” you cried loudly, wondering when your lover would pull into his embrace once more.

Your fingers moved with more urgency, ravaging as much as it could. It searched every nook and cranny to find a way to satisfy you – for you to melt like you would if Sero was here.

Sero would have pressed your back against the bed as he kissed your forehead, his hands wrapping around your waist. His hands would thread along the sides of your body as if they had a mind of their own. His lips would slowly leave your lips to your jaw, pressing kisses along the way.

Tension built within you, aching for release.

He would stop at the crook of your neck where his mark is. He'd eye it, enjoying the fact that you've let him become your significant other and intertwined your lifeline with his. He would press long, long kisses on it, allowing sparks to erupt throughout your body.

A small hum of satisfaction would leave his lips the moment you would softly moan thanks to that small, small thing. You would feel his smirk against your skin - after all, you showed how much you are his and how much he was yours.

The tension began to grow bigger and bigger, making you moan louder than before. You didn't care if anyone heard - if anything, you wanted others to hear you cry out his name just to show how much he owned you.

Sero would've pushed all of himself within you, not letting a single spot of you be left untouched by him. It was his duty to satisfy his omega - to give them pleasures beyond belief with each caress, each kiss, each stroke, each push...

With a final brush, you released against the cotton sheets but euphoria was long from found.

You needed him in any way you could. The nest you made no longer felt comfortable – it was sullied by your scent, his scent long gone.

“W-where are you?” you sobbed, hugging yourself.

He was nowhere near from you, and that made you hurt even more.

Suddenly, your phone rang. You wiped the tears that stained your cheeks and rushed to pick up the phone.

“Hey, mi amor. We just finished handling the villain, so we’re heading back to our hotel and leaving first thing in the morning. How are you?”

“Sero…” you whimpered, warmth rushing within you once again.

“I am so sorry I can’t be there, love – if I could, I would,” he softly whispered, sadness lacing his words.

You couldn’t care less – his voice rang so clear in your ears the desire you had for him multiplied ten-fold.

Your hands rummaged the cupboard beside you in search of a phallic object.

“Han... ta…” you huffed, “W-where are you…?”

“I’m in my room, why?”

“Talk to me.”

“What do you mean, mi amor? I am right now, aren’t I?”

You pressed the item at the entrance of your core. Your eyes shot open to the sudden change in temperature. The cold feeling of the object against your warm entrance felt so good – too good.

“Talk… to me…” you cried, the object slowly entering your core.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting off right now?” his voice rang low, desire very clear in his tone.

“I… I miss you… dumbass…” you sobbed, “It… it hurts so bad, Hanta...”

You pressed the item deeper into your hole, the base of it meeting your skin. You let a loud moan out, your back arched. Head pressed against the soft pillow while your hand gripped against the bedhead.

You moved it slowly, each stroke slowly going deeper and deeper into you. You moved parted open, saliva slowly dripping from the sides of your lips as you began to moan his name. His name slowly became loud, intelligible moans that only made Hanta want the exact thing you want.

He wanted to be the one pushing you to your limits – to make you the moaning mess you were.

“Moan for me, mi amor – imagine me being the one pushing my cock so deep into your warm hole. Imagine me placing kisses all across your neck, nibbling your soft skin as you moan under my touch. Imagine me trying to satiate your insatiable desires as you grip onto my back, begging for more and more and more.”

You closed your eyes, listening to each word that left his lips.

“Is any of your hands free?” he asked, soft grunts leaving his lips.

“Y-yes…” you mumbled, trying to focus on his erotic huffs.

“Play with your chest for me, love. Keep softly pinching your rubs – play with it. Imagine my teeth biting it softly. Imagine me licking, sucking, and biting that soft skin of yours. Imagine me not stopping until you beg me to move to your lips, only to do the exact same thing.”

“Sero…”

“You don’t know how badly I want to be there, my love. I want to be the one giving you the pleasure you oh so deserve – to hear those heavenly moans I can only here from this fucking phone. I want to push you to the limit, to tie those naughty hands that are supposed to be mine while I fill you up – every inch and every corner,” he spoke, roughness in his voice evident.

“Come home!” you cried, stopping entirely.

“Love…”

“This isn’t enough, Sero! I- I need you…” you whimpered.

“I need to feel your warmth – your scent as you hug me so tightly as if I was a feather. I need to feel you gripping onto me as if I was going to run away – to cherish me as much as I cherish you. I need to feel your lips on mine as your hands ravage my skin, aching to leave some part of you. I need to feel your hands gripping mine as you force every single moan out of me – I need to hear those soft grunts as you mumble my name against my shoulder. This,” you pause, “This isn’t enough…”

With that, all of Sero’s restraint left him.

“I’m coming home, don’t worry. Until then, be a good lover and wait for me, yeah?”

Sero rushed home, leaving the rest of the heroes to wonder why.

Tagging: @anime-central​

[thranif]

I've been knew -_-

Here's the link if u wanna do it :3

[thranif]

PLS URGH THE GOJO AND NANAMIN ONE GOT ME SCREECHING INTERNALLY 😃💦🖤

NSFW ALPHABET WITH JJK MEN (Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Choso, Sukuna & Toji)

C is for C*nnilingus, C*ckwarming & C*m 

JJK Men x F!Reader

TAGS:  oral sex front & back (f!receiving), cockwarming, pussy spanking, sukuna splitting his tongue in two lol, oral sex (male receiving),  cheating/infidelity, somnophilia (ish, consensual), overstimulation, dacryphilia, unprotected sex, slight breeding kink?

A/N: (18+ / Minors & Ageless Blogs DNI) So, I know this isn’t technically one prompt but it felt super repetitive just sticking to one of the three topics so I thought I would broaden the “C” category because why not hahaha. I’m writing each character based on the series/one shotsI am working on. I’m writing an AU! version of Geto & Choso & Sukuna but still trying to keep true to their characters & Sukuna is written in human-ish form . I hope you enjoy it! As always comments are appreciated 😊 (ps. I don’t have a beta and am so sorry for any mistakes lol)

Keep reading

[thranif]

Collab: I Love You by @touyaji

Congrats on reaching 500 followers, hun!

Tags: Oikawa x Female Bodied! Reader, NSFW, Marking, Stimulation

Synopsis: Oikawa, after months of not seeing you, saw you in his shirt whilst waiting for him. Temptress, aren't you?

WC: 0.5k (Sorry-)

“I’m here, I’m here,” Oikawa whispered in your ear, the soft tones in his voice sending you to another level of ecstasy.

His hands gingerly touched your bare skin as you laid against his front, the body of water surrounding the two of you giving you both warm and cold sensations. You could care less about the temperature of the water - it didn’t compare to the setter’s rough fingers finding your sides, pressing against your skin. It didn’t reach the level of pleasure his lips had as they pressed small kisses along the nape of your neck, a trail of flower petals painted black and blue painted against the colour of your skin.

“How brave of you to wear my shirt like a dress while waiting for me. Do you even know how badly I needed to keep myself from taking you against the counter? I don’t see you for months, and you tempt me into giving in to the warmth you so generously give to me,” he whispered in your ear.

His hands slowly moved under the now partially wet t-shirt, resting right below your chest. His thumb slowly played with the lower half of your chest as he eyed how they looked from above. He saw the goosebumps on your skin rising slowly, your eyes fluttering closed to savour the feeling of him wrapping you in his arms.

It brought him a sense of pleasure he even couldn’t explain.

“God, love - you’re making it a bit too hard to not take you here now, too,” he whispered in your ear.

His hands raised to play with your chest, his thumb softly pressing against its nubs. You rolled your head back, drunk off of his touch and hums of approval. Each flick of his pointer fingers, each soft press of his thumbs, and each little groan that left his lips as you pressed yourself against him filled you with numbness that resulted in a cacophony of sounds from the two of you.

It inexplicably left you breathless, yet you had enough air in your lungs to moan out his name as one of his hands travelled to your core, playing with its flaps.

“That’s it, love - sink deeper and deeper into my embrace, feel all the pleasure that I willingly give to you. Each little moan you give, each soft hum and each little huff makes me want you even more - crave your little body even more, and kiss each little scar on your skin.”

You felt Oikawa’s finger curl within you, trying to find that spot to send you over. His eyes glossed over your neck, making him chuckle.

“Look at all these blue petals, love - they look amazing on you. Do you want more?” he whispered in your ear.

You turned to face him, eyes clouded by lust and hunger.

He stared at your expression - how your lips parted and the string of saliva dripping from the side of them. He noticed how heavy your breathing was as you stared at his slightly red lips.

It looked like you were melting in pleasure - so much so you couldn’t say a word but could only speak with your expressions alone.

“More blue petals, it is.”

Tagging: @anime-central

[thranif]

Holy shit this was good

last years victor!bakugou x this years victor!f!reader

summary: no one expected you to win the hunger games, least of all yourself. you navigate an extremely fragile political situation with bakugou and keigo takami at your side. katniss!style ish reader, and peeta!ish shouto. reader is 20, Bakugou is 21. Keigo is 27.

a/n: after winning the games in what some might consider a fluke, you have to navigate the complex political web of the capitol of panem. this is the same tone as the book(i havent seen the movies) so expect violence, romance, political intrigue, and it's me, so a fair amount of dom!bakugou smut. bakugou falls hard for you, dad!keigo kinda, protective!bakugou, bakugou's smarter than he looks, if i got something about the world wrong I don't care, also bakugou's bigger than you, v ague capitol given anti anxiety meds that reader tries to OD on, if youre 6ft he's 7ft. exhibitionism, during the games there's a sui cid e, extre mely dub!con(through no fault of bakugou or reader), spoilers for the hunger games but winners get pimped out) reader is not a virgin but not experienced. impact play, bondage, performance, use of a collar and leash but not rlly pet play. major character death(not reader or bakugou but the SAME tone as the books pls dont say i didn't warn you) part one. networks(this could be considered dc, but it's not really traditional dc it's like, dystopia dark lol) - @anime-central @http-404-error-unknown

This isn’t such a terrible place to die, you think as you stagger forward, mindful of your footing on the craggy ground, moving around rocks on the bleak mountainside. You climb a little higher before leaning against a pine tree, clinging to the side of a cliff. It’s cold, but not unbearable, and the mist is thick and low, coming up to about your waist. You wonder if it’s been engineered not to obscure the faces of competitors from the camera. You keep climbing, unsure why you’re hiking this high, other than the need to keep moving, the fear that staying in one place would mean the end of things, the end of you.

You’ve already survived longer than you were supposed to, already outlived expectations for a coal miner's daughter. There are two men left, however, and you. Two tributes, out of twenty four, left alive in the arena. This year it was one huge mountain, surrounded by a pine forest, winding rivers of clear glacial melt cutting through the valley. You hum a little tune, trying to avoid focusing on the way your head aches from dehydration. You’d avoided eating the snow out of suspicion at first, but now you’d seen the way it lowered the bodily temperature of others, watched them tremble and shake, and freeze. You knew if you wanted water you had to find another river, another little brook.

“If all is fair,” you sing, “In love and war, I haven’t seen the score.” Your voice carries across the valley, and you keep limping forward, knowing you’re drawing them to you, knowing you’re too tired to keep fighting. “But it can’t be either of those,” your soft soprano’s bell toned is only amplified by all the hard rock around you, “And all this time, thought I was in control,” You touch your shoulder, the stab wound there was bleeding again, and you wonder how you looked, with your hair down around your shoulders and dirty, scratches and bruises littering your skin, would your family get to see your body?

“But fate she held her own,” you remember, tears burning in your eyes, your mother singing this to you, holding you in bed when you were taken ill, “Even when I thought I chose,” You lift your head to the sky, taking a deep breath, despite the way the chill makes your lungs ache. “Now the coldest day in winter, has made a home in my heart,” you wail, the sound only getting louder, you hold out the last note long and slow, hoping they’ll show this, hoping your family will get to see your goodbye.

“It burns the cold right through me, tearing me apart,” You look behind you, the vast expanse of green and white and grey behind you, “When did I lose you, it feels like such a crime, so many questions burning in this heart of mine, in this heart of-” you round a corner of stone and the words are robbed from your lips at the sight before you. A short flat plane of stone, the edge of a large cliff, and two bodies, one alive, and moving, the other, drawing it’s last breath. The boy standing over the limp form, with red and white hair, and a scar over one eye doesn’t spare you a glance before plunging a knife into the chest of other final competitor, a cannon firing in the distance. You watch, still somehow sickened to the point of dizziness at the sight of blood.

Todoroki Shouto stands, turning to face you, completely unreadable. His hands are covered with blood, and you think, he looks so different now than he did when you were in school together back in district 12. The quiet, kind, golden boy, the object of every girl’s affections, the boy who’d slipped you an extra roll when you didn’t have any food at lunch, the boy who’d stiffly sat through interviews at the capitol, barely speaking to you. He seemed, bigger now, somehow, more real, with his hair wild, 5’oclock shadow on his face.

“You stopped singing.” He says. You lean against the rock.

“I did.”

“Aren’t you going to run?” He asks, frowning, and you gesture towards your ankle, swollen so large and purple you can barely walk, and shake your head.

“Shouto,” you ask, and he blinks at you, you've never called him by his first name, and it makes his heart flutter uncomfortably. “Shouto, will you, will you make it quick, for me?” An emotion crosses his face, one you can’t read.

“If you’ll sing for me, I will.” You sigh with relief and you’re surprised when he walks to you, lifting you easily off of your feet gently and cradling you in thick arms, before laying you down on the snow.

“What would you like to hear?” you shiver on the ground, blinking up at him. “Before I die?” He swallows, thinking hard, the hand holding his knife trembles even as he’s crouched over you.

“The traveling song, please.” He says, after only thinking about it for a moment, remembering hearing it through the windows of his family's bakery when you would walk home from a long day.

You sigh deeply, the cold was sinking deep into your bones, but what did that matter now?

“I’m a long time travelin’ here below,” you start, and you feel him take your hand, lacing his fingers between yours, “I’m a long time travelin’ away from home, I’m a long time travelin’ here below, to lay this body down.” You tighten your grip on his hand as fear of the unknown, of pain, of the end, wraps around your heart.

“Keep going.” He whispers, “Close your eyes.” You obey, agreeing it would be better not to see death coming, better not to look at your killers face while he did it.

“Farewell, kind friends, whose tender care,” something wet hits you, it could be rain or snow, but if you’d opened your eyes you’d have seen Shouto’s shaking shoulders, the wetness coming from his eyes, “Has long engaged my love, your fond embrace, I now exchange, for better friends, above,” you stop for even a second, and feel the strangest sensation before you realize he’s kissing you, cupping your face with bloody hands.

Desperate for warmth, for human contact, for kindness, you kiss back, it’s almost involuntary that you wrap your arms around him, that he pulls you up into his body, standing while holding you, hands on your waist, hands in your hair, crushing your body to his. He pulls away, finally, and you open your eyes, staring up at him. He strokes your cheek.

“I didn’t want to die a coward.” He says simply, and before you can say anything else, before you can move, he leans you against the rocky wall, and takes a running leap off of the cliff. There’s a piercing scream as a cannon fires, that it takes a second to recognize as your own voice. You fall to your knees, the pain in your foot keeping you from walking, and you scramble to the edge of the cliff, desperate to see him alive at the bottom, but the fall is so long you can’t even see his body.

“No,” you whisper, “No no no no,” you close your eyes, sobbing violently, a million little moments suddenly making sense, the times he’d walked you home from school in silence, the time you’d brought over one of your mother’s cold remedies for his sick sister, and he’d invited you to spend the afternoon sitting in the warmth of his family's bakery, rather than the cold of your own thin walled home.

That afternoon, the soft golden light from his windows on snow is the last thing you think of before your world goes black. The next few days are a buzz of doctors in the hospital, of fighting them angrily, of being sedated, of being talked off a ledge by your mentor, at least twice, before given a prescription that makes your head light and floaty. The pills are taken away from you, however, when you’re found swallowing as many of them as possible.

“I don’t know what to tell ya, kid.” Keigo Takami’s eyes flick to the new scars on your body. “I knew how he felt, but I didn’t think he was gonna, do that.” You sniff, you’re sitting across from him at a table somewhere in the capitol, the day after you're officially released from the hospital.

“Can I have a drink?” You whisper, and he shakes his head.

“No substances. They gave you some elasticity, considering the circumstances, but you gotta do your interviews, and after, there’s the gala tonight.” He musters a grin at your grimace. “Just stick by me if you can.” He downs his own glass of whiskey. “You uh, you’re holdin’ up great, honestly, considering.”

You nod, the peaceful look in Shouto’s eyes as he’d toppled off the cliff still tattooed on the back of your eyelids. “But now, if you wanna see your little brother again, you gotta play their game. Go out there, and grieve real pretty for ‘em.” He stares at his empty glass. “I on the other hand, am gonna get blasted, which we can do plenty together when we get home.” You swallow, home, home to your Victor's mansion, to food when you’re hungry, to your new life.

“How am I going to face his family?” You whisper, hot, new tears burning your eyes. Keigo sighs again.

“Let’s deal with that tomorrow. Can you shove that down until tomorrow?” You take a shaky breath in and then nod. Your team comes in, chattering around you about what a good job they did, while they burn the natural texture out of your hair, and paint a youthful, happy glow back on your face, a sparkling champagne pink on your cheeks.

“They’re calling you the ice princess,” One of them sighs delightedly, “Because of all the snow in the arena, and the heart you stole.” You swallow some bile and force a neutral face as your designer keeps talking. “So we made you this.” He pulls a silver gown from the closet and whirls it around, sparkles of energy roll off the end, white little lights scattered in the air. “There are little crystal prisms in the nanofiber of the fabric,” he gushes, “You’re going to shine, tonight.” They mean well. You remind yourself. They mean well.

“It’s beautiful.” You say, and realize it’s the first time you’ve spoken in hours.

“And,” he raises a finger, “Due to your healing injury, we have permission to only put you in low heels, 4 inches or under.” You sigh with relief, a near genuine smile on your face for the first time in days. They dress you, and you’re shepherded to the soundstage, Cesar Flickerman dressed all in green, greets you happily. The crowd screams for you, and you see your own face on all the screens, even under the makeup, you can see the fear in your eyes.

“Why don’t you take a seat,” he says kindly, a suggestion, before turning back to the cameras. “In a moment, we’ll be joined by last years Victor, Bakugou Katsuki, before we watch the best parts of this years games!” He winks at the camera, “So stay tuned.” The cameras go dead and you exhale, hands dancing in your lap. You make eye contact with a very buzzed Keigo behind the cameras at the back of the studio audience, who gestures for you to stop fidgeting. You nod and draw yourself up to your full height, trying not to look directly at any of the lights.

“Hey,” Cesar says quietly. “Don’t forget to breathe.” You swallow and nod. He gives you a brilliant, ghastly smile, his lips as green as his suit and his hair. “You’re going to be great.” You don’t have a chance to respond, because the lights come back up and the camera’s turn back towards you.

“Now,” he says, back in his normal presenter voice, “I want to ask the question on everyone’s lips tonight,” you feel the tension, feel that the crowd is waiting for something, “Who made that dress, baby, give us a twirl,” you feel the tension released, the crowd claps as you stand and spin, nearly losing your balance on your still healing foot, the crystals in your dress sending bright lights sparkling across the room.

The crowd loses it, screaming and cheering as you smile pleasantly, laughing a little to release the tension before sitting again. “Absolutely stunning,” he says which rouses another cheer from the audience.

“Now you’re from district 12, right?” He says, and you nod. “What would you like to say to your family, right now?” Your heart breaks in real time as your mother and little brother, obviously in their best, cleanest clothes, appear on a screen projected in front of you.

“Hi,” you breathe, your voice emotional and desperate, “I can’t wait to see you!” You wave at them, the smallest smile tight on your face, and they wave back, you try not to imagine the armed peacekeepers who are likely just off camera.

“Your brother is so tall!” Cesar says, and you nod.

“He’s younger than me,” you turn to him, “I’m twenty, and he’s, he’s sixteen. It’s altogether unfair.” Cesar gives you a huge belly laugh, as if it’s the funniest thing anyone’s ever said, and the audience follows.

“You did pretty well for yourself anyway, but we’ll be able to take a look at that later. How’s life been, since winning the games?” You nod, this is one of the questions Keigo prepared you for.

“I’ve never seen the capitol before,” you say honestly, “And I feel proud to have represented my district at the games.” He nods, and someone off camera signals to him. “And now, before we start our recap, we’d like to invite last year's Victor to the stage!” There’s a roar of applause, “Give it up for Bakugou Katsuki,” he gestures to the curtain you’d walked through, “Representing District 3!”

You turn to look along with the rest of the crowd and a tall hulking man steps out onto the stage. Like you, he’d been twenty when he won the games, meaning he was a year older than you but he could have been five, ten years your senior with the imposing shape his shadow cut. His shoulders were broad and muscled, his red eyes burn intensely, and he stands well over six feet tall.

His blonde hair is carefully mussed up, and he’s wearing what could charitably be called a shirt, a rich green button down that’s open down his tanned chest. You can follow his black intricate tattoos up under his rolled up sleeve and see the way they curl onto the left side of his chest under his shirt. He’s handsome, blindingly, classically handsome, and you remember just how he won.

He’d come off in interviews as surly, angry, and impulsive, all brawn and no brains. In the arena, no one had been expecting his intricate traps, and his ruthless nature. He’d been calculated and efficient, occasionally losing his temper with other contestants who tried to team up with him. He’d fought with a club, heavy and metal tipped, his burly arms needing only one strike to make the cannon fire, when his victims were struggling in the bonds or hole that they’d tripped and fallen into.

It was one of the shortest games in the history of Panem, and he’d been just as grumpy and withholding in interviews after he’d won. You eye his long, confident strides, the thin gold chain around his neck catching the light, the little gold bangles on his wrist standing out against the tattoos. He gives the crowd a predatory smile and you catch the only modification to his body, slightly longer, just a touch more menacing canine teeth.

He doesn’t wave to them, only nods, before turning to you and sitting down on the couch, stretching one long arm out behind you, spreading his legs comfortably.

“Bakugou Katsuki,” Cesar says, “You look absolutely fantastic.” Bakugou smirks.

“Nice to see ya.” He looks over at you. “Congratulations.” You nod, lips pressed together. “Thank you.” Cesar starts to talk, introducing the games this year and the player ahead of the recap, but Bakugou is watching you. You keep your eyes ahead, but he studies you, the way you flatten your trembling hands against your thighs, the way the dress you’re wearing pushes your cleavage up and out, the light dusting of silver on your cheeks, and shoulders, and collarbones.

“Let’s take a look at our first clip,” Cesar says, and the screens in the room all have your face on them, it’s you, in the first few seconds of the games, snatching a backpack and a long serrated knife and taking off into the woods, running at full speed, before the camera cuts back to the fighting, and then pauses. “Let’s talk a little bit about your strategy here,” he says, turning to you, “You chose not to go for any of the high value items at the cornucopia. Why was that?” You clear your throat lightly, and fold your hands in your lap.

“Well um, I don’t know if you can tell, from me um, sitting next to Bakugou but there aren’t many people I can beat in a fistfight.” There are a few chuckles from the crowd and Bakugou grins. “But um,” you continue earnestly, “I knew that, and I knew that a high value weapon would make me a high value target, and I wanted to be forgettable, so forgettable people wouldn’t come looking for me. And it worked, for the most part.” Cesar nods.

“One person in particular had a hard time forgetting you.” You blink at him unsure of how to respond, but thank god he continues. “Let’s take a look at Todoroki Shouto, one half of our star crossed lovers from District 12.” You keep your face neutral, as a compilation of clips play, Shouto, seeing you hiding and turning to leave you where you were fast asleep, Shouto, leading other tributes away from you, Shouto, getting into an argument with one of the career tributes, and pinning him to a thick tree trunk after he’d threatened you in particular.

It cuts after that, and you can’t keep the surprise from your face, every time, when the cameras cut to you your eyes are like saucers, lips slightly parted. Everyone looks to you to speak, but you can’t find your voice, and for some reason, mercifully, Bakugou cuts in.

“If he wasn’t dead I’d say he was forcin’ a storyline.” It’s a sharp quip but the audience has a field day with it, and Cesar chuckles, before turning to you.

“You had no idea he was in love with you?”

“None,” you whisper, all breath and honesty. “I didn’t, um, I never knew.” There’s a pause, and your words hang in the silence, every citizen of the capitol melting at your innocence. Cesar takes back the reins quickly and the three of you make your way through the major battles of the games, your stomach turning at the clips. At one point, you actively shy away from the screen, hiding your face while the videos are playing, and you feel Bakugou’s hand brush your shoulder. You look at him and he gives you a nearly imperceptible head shake. Right. You have to watch. You interject, when asked, occasionally dropping strategic notes in things, pointing out vulnerabilities you exploited, but for the most part Bakugou and Cesar carry the conversation. It goes on for almost forty five minutes, until Cesar turns to you, and you can see in his eyes the clip they’re about to play.

“Now,” he says, “I have to say, I’ve seen a lot of things in the arena in my life, but singing?” Your fingers lace together in your lap.

“I was trying to stay calm,” you say softly, “I realize now, that um, it probably gave my location away, not that it ended up mattering.” Cesar nods.

“Let’s take a look.” You watch yourself limp up the mountain, dirty and bleeding. Your voice sounds sweeter than you remember, maybe the capitol altered it in the recording, but it carries more than you’d meant it, as you sing of a long winter, a lost love, like Cassandra, screaming from her hilltop, trudging through the snow you see the light hit the high points of your face, the determination in the set of your jaw. You see your own face when you watch Shouto kill the last tribute, the way you lean against the mountain casually.

“You stopped singing,” witnessing it now, you can almost appreciate the cinematic way the icy wind ruffles his hair, and you can see the care with which he lifts you off your injured foot, the look in his eyes when you ask him to kill you quickly.

You watch him put his knife away the second your eyes are shut, him listening to you sing for a minute before he kisses you passionately, the way he takes care to leave you with the rock to lean on, the peaceful smile as he soars through the air, and then disappears. Then you see yourself fall apart, you drop to your knees, hear your scream, and your sobs. Your hand flies to your mouth, because you see it.

You see the crystalline tears in your own eyes, the way you mourn so beautifully for them, and you hate it, hate that the camera angles have reduced a legitimate tragedy to end a neat narrative. When the clip ends, no one is speaking, no one dares breathe as every camera in the building trains itself on you.

Your quiet, agonized sobs are the only sound, you try to bite them back but you can’t, tears slipping from your eyes down your cheeks as you hunch forward, willing yourself to stop, to perform your victory. You can’t find it within yourself, after everything you’ve been through, you can’t stop crying. Backstage, Keigo is holding his breath.

“Hey,” you hear, and feel a warm hand curl around your shoulder. Bakugou pulls you over to his side of the couch, and at this small comfort you draw your first whole breath in a full minute and lift your face to the cameras, hating how you can see that even this didn’t ruin your makeup.

“It’s just,” in this moment you have one shot at spinning this, “It was so noble of him,” Next to you, Bakugou relaxes and behind the curtains, Keigo finally starts to breathe again, “To sacrifice himself like that,” you look at Cesar, “For the honor of the games, I-”

“S’alright,” Bakugou says, roughly, rubbing your shoulder. “Look at her,” he says to the crowd, really meaning fucking look at her, look at what you do, what you’ve done to people, an instead he crows, knowing he's likely saving your life, “Your support moved her to tears.” The crowd releases a chorus of aws, and you take the out, nodding, leaning into his touch. He gives you a little squeeze before releasing you, taking a handkerchief out of his pocket and handing it to you.

“Thank you,” You choke out, wiping your eyes delicately. You take a couple deep breaths and laugh self consciously. “Oh gosh,” you sigh, “Cesar am I the first Victor to cry in an interview?” Next to you, Bakugou snickers.

“Definitely.”

“Yes I think he’s correct about that,” Cesar laughs. “But I have to say, I hate to ask you this, but ah, before you go.” The audience boos the idea of you leaving, and you smile at them self consciously, “I know, I know, but before you go, we’d love to hear you sing for us.”

“Oh,” you say quickly, “Oh I couldn’t, I um,”

“Please,” Cesar says, and you know he’s not asking, you know it’s an order, but you continue to look anywhere but his eyes. “Please,” he says again, and you smile softly.

“Something short, I,” you look out at the crowd, “I’m really quite average.” You wait for Cesar to protest but Bakugou beats him to it.

“Nah you ain’t,” He shakes his head, “Just too modest for your own good.” That gets a genuine laugh out of the crowd. You sigh deeply, looking sheepish.

“I um, there’s a song we sing for the dead,” you fidget, then catch yourself. “If um,” you swallow, “If we can honor Shouto with it, then I’ll sing. For him.” Your heart is nearly in your throat when Cesar nods solemnly.

“Bring the lights down,” he calls, and the stage lights dim, the room goes silent. You take a deep breath, and close your eyes, pretending you’re at home, pretending you’re singing for your mother, and you brother, and not hundreds of bloodthirsty capitol citizens.

“Oh all the comrades that ever I've had, are sorry for my going away,” You breathe, “And all the sweethearts that ever I've had,” you open your eyes, “Would wish me one more day to stay. But since it falls, unto my lot,” you hit the t softly, your voice is crystal clear, bright as the toll of a bell, “That I should rise, and you should not.” You feel Bakugou’s hand on your shoulder again, and tears sparkle in Cesar’s eyes. “I’ll gently rise and I’ll softly call, goodnight and joy, be with you all.” You lift your eyes to the crowd, “Goodnight, and joy, be with you all.”

The crowd erupts in applause, standing unanimously, cheering your name. You nearly instinctively shrink from it, but Bakugou stands and guides you to join him, hand on the small of your back, pushing you forward. You give them a shy wave, and they cheer even louder. You look up to Bakugou, who gives you a tiny crooked smile.

“That’s our show everybody,” Cesar cries, “Goodnight! And Happy Hunger Games!” The camera’s cut and you let out a heavy breath, letting Bakugou guide you offstage. Keigo throws his arms around you, yanking you away from the other victor.

“So good,” he slurs, “You did such a good job, sweetheart.” Bakugou scowls at your mentor, and Keigo ignores him, drunkenly twirling you around the back of the soundstage. “You look beautiful.” You laugh a little, and glance at Bakugou before patting Keigo on the arm. You don’t thank him, can’t, not here, not now, maybe not ever, maybe you’ll never be alone with him. But he knows, just nods, and disappears into the crowd, in search of his own entourage.

You spend an hour getting your makeup and hair refreshed, and they put you in another gown, instead of silver, this one is powder blue and slinky. It’s tight on your waist and bust, and when you try and tug on it to hide your form more you’re met with disapproving looks. When you sweep into the ballroom, you’re greeted with thunderous applause.

You make your way through the crowd, trying to get to the food, chasing down an avox with a tray, clumsily thanking him before remembering you’re not supposed to speak to them. You stumble quickly away from them, finding a tower of champagne, taking a flute with trembling hands and downing it quickly. You take another and you’re quickly swept into conversation with two much older men. You pretend not to notice the way their eyes wander all over your body.

“Do you dance,” one of them leers, hooking an arm around your waist.

“Ah, no sir.” You say. “I’ve never danced.”

“Of course you haven’t,” He clucks his tongue, “Poor little thing,” You hear someone clear their throat behind you and the two men move to allow Bakugou to join their circle.

“Traditionally, her first dance is mine.” He says and the two men fall over themselves apologizing to the blonde, but you catch them scowling at his back when he leads you away.

“Where’s your fuckin’ mentor?” Bakugou leans down and says in your ear. “Shouldn’t he be watchin’ you?” You swallow.

“He passed out early, I think,” you look up at the blonde, dressed in a dark green tuxedo, and a crisp white shirt. Bakugou shakes his head, sweeping you onto the dance floor, holding your body close to his own.

“Shit, sweetheart.” He rumbles, and you take little fistfuls of his jacket, holding him close to you. “S’alright,” he says gruffly, “C’mere.” You tremble against him, and his heart swells a bit in his chest. You were filled with this bright burning earnestness, and he knew these people would leech it slowly out of you.

“You gotta chill,” he says quietly, “You gotta breathe, more.”

“If I say the wrong thing, they’ll kill my family.” You whisper.

“Yeah, and if you don’t chill, same outcome.” He gives you a little squeeze. “You almost blew it tonight.” He’s leaning down to speak directly in your ear, and he feels you stiffen against him. “Cryin’ like that. But we can’t talk here, alright?” You nod, and relax against him.

“Don’t let me go,” you whisper, the words falling from your lips before you can stop them, and something burns in his chest. He remembers doing this alone, drowning his pain in liqour and drugs, falling into a hole it took him months to climb out of.

“Tonight,” he says, an odd warmth spreading across his chest, “I won’t.” Bakugou keeps his word, the two of you dance until you’re starving, and he accompanies you to your dinner table, sitting next to you as is his right as the previous years winner.

He watches you stumble your way through conversation, and congratulations, your natural stutter getting worse as the night goes on. You snatch another champagne flute off of a passing waiter and sip it, your brow furrowing. The man from earlier, who towers even over Bakugou, with a shock of bright blue hair, comes over to you, edging himself between the blond and yourself.

“Excuse me,” He says, his deep voice barely carrying over the sparkling conversation. “You owe me a dance.” You take another gulp of champagne and read the room, this is not an offer you can refuse.

“Thank you sir,” You reach out a hand and allow him to pull you away, not looking over your shoulder. Good girl. Bakugou thinks. Learn to do as you’re told. The man’s hands settle on your waist, arranging you against his chest, his hands hovering an inch, maybe less above your ass.

“You seem tired,” he says, as the two of you sway, your feet aching in your heels.

“Yes, sir.” You look up at him, his eyes are a startling blue, matching his hair perfectly.

“I won’t require your services until later tonight,” he says, and it takes your mind a full three seconds to understand. “But perhaps, you should go back to your room and freshen up,” he reaches down and caresses your cheek, “I’ll find out how innocent you really are.”

“Y-yes sir.” You respond and he grins, his teeth sharp and pointed, not like Bakugou’s canines, these are far more obviously artificial.

“You’re so meek, for a victor” He says, “Perfect little thing hm?” You nod, assessing your options, choosing survival.

“Yes, sir.” He growls lowly at your response.

“Absolutely perfect.” He waves Bakugou over. “Can you see her to her room, it appears her mentor has,” he eyes Keigo, who is passed out drunk on a table, “Fallen ill.” Bakugou snakes an arm around your waist and guides you smoothly out of the room. Neither of you speak until you’re in an elevator.

“Can we-”

“No.” He cuts you off, tightening his grip on your waist. You press your lips together, and to his surprise you curl into him, clutching his arm with trembling hands. There’s an odd protective tugging he feels towards you, and it’s the first selfless urge he’s felt in a long time. He doesn’t question the instinct, rubbing a comforting circle into your waist. “Which one of these is yours?” You look at the signs,

“Room 1412.” He leads you down the hallway, and yanks the door open, it doesn’t have a lock, because why would it, of course it doesn’t. It’s been cleaned since your team left, and there are new clothes hanging in the closet. He rips his bowtie off, following you inside and stepping into the bathroom. He beckons you inside after him and he turns on the water, the shower immediately fills with steam. He leans down and speaks directly in your ear.

“Do you trust me?” His voice is low, and the rasp sends shivers up your spine. You nod, and he starts stepping out of his clothes, ripping the bow tie from his tux, and he gestures for you to do the same. You slip out of your dress with trembling hands, your breasts falling a little without the support of the boning, your underwear next, slipping to the floor. You can’t help but feel your face warm, covering yourself with your hands. He chuckles, stepping out of his briefs. “You a virgin?” He asks and you bite your lip.

“No but um, it was just the one time.” You fidget. “And we weren’t, we didn’t get naked so I-”

“In here,” he says, cutting you off impatiently, stepping into the water. You follow, dropping your hands from your body, willing yourself not to look lower, to what you assumed would be hanging between his legs. He nearly laughs again, at how intensely you work to maintain eye contact. “We can talk here,” he says, gesturing to the showerhead, and that’s when you remember. Bakugou’s from district 3, he would know exactly the listening technology the capitol has, and where it was located.

“Did I do okay,” you blurt out, immediately. “Is my family going to be okay?” He sidesteps, allowing some of the warm water to hit you, and for a moment he’s distracted by your dramatic reaction to the heat. You shiver with pleasure, an involuntary smile on your face.

“You did okay.” He says. “That’s exactly how you did.” You nod, screwing your face up. “They’re safe for now.” You cross your arms over your chest again, hiding. “That stunt, uh, the kid pulled-”

“Shouto,” you interrupt him.

“Yeah, it’s uh, it’s not been good out there.” He jerks his head out of the room and you blink for a minute, then understands. “There’s been whispers,” he says, “Of unrest, of people plannin’ to riot, to fight.” Your eyes widen.

“I didn’t mean-”

“You saw yourself.” He cuts you off. “The first games winner to cry about bein’ alive, to cry when they won, out of sadness.” He shakes his head, “You fuckin’ screamed in agony, you said no, it didn’t look like victory, and it didn’t make people feel good.” Your eyes flick to his tattoos, intricate, covering half his body, down one arm and onto his back.

“S-so what happens now?” You look up at him. “What do I need to do to convince them, that I, I just want to live,” you take his hand impulsively, but he doesn’t recoil, “I had, I had more food tonight than I ate in a week, sometimes-”

“Jesus christ,” he furrows his brow, “How poor is your family?”

“Lots of people are that poor,” you snip, “In district 12. Most of us are like that.” Your teeth close on your lip. “The man tonight, he want’s um, he wants-”

“Half the country wants you.” He says, cutting you off again, it’s starting to get on your nerves. “We all got to see you through that kid’s eyes.”

“I can’t sleep with that man,” you lift your eyes to Bakugou’s, and he feels your intense desperation, “I have nightmares, I scream, he’ll, he’ll kill me if-”

“You’re worried about stayin’ over after?” Bakugou says.

“That and I don’t really know how to do it.” You whisper. “It was just the one time, and um, it was, it was really quick.” He cups your face in huge calloused hands. “Do they make you, I mean, do you have to do that?” He nods.

“When we’re done here I gotta go.” You look so genuinely crushed that he pats you on the head, “He’s not gonna make you stay over, princess. They’ll have the peacekeepers take ya back to your room.” You shake your head.

“The first time,” you whisper, “It hurt.”

“You gotta warm yourself up then,” he says gruffly, and fuck, if he wasn’t hard as a goddamn rock, watching the warm water stream over your body, waiting though, waiting for you to ask-

“Show me.” You whisper. “Please.” He softens.

“Against the wall.” He orders softly, and you obey, closing your eyes. “It’s gonna just feel like pressure, at first.” He warns, blocking the stream of water with his back. You nod, but you still gasp when he slips a single calloused finger inside of you. The tile is cool against your back, but your face gets even hotter somehow when it starts to move inside you,

“Like this,” he says, pumping it in and out of you, curling it gently, “You do this before, and it loosens the muscle.” You take in another sharp breath, and fuck it, his thumb brushes your clit, he wants to see you fall apart for him, just once. He lets out a self satisfied grunt when your knees buckle, and you grab onto his muscled shoulders.

“That’s it,” he says, “That’s it, just lean on me,” He���s holding you up in the shower, your whole body trembling as he hooks his fingers inside you, pressing up against that bundle of nerves with alarming frequency, as you feel something build inside you, a hot coil in your stomach, “You’re gonna have to ask permission to cum,” he warns, “So ask me, use your words.”

“Please, Bakugou,” you gasp, “Need, it hurts, I need it.” He’s so hard it’s painful at this point, your innocent eyes closing as he leans down to speak in your ear.

“Cum for me.” He orders, and shudder, he claps a hand over your mouth, muffling your cries, carrying you carefully through your high. You tremble against him and reach for him, but he takes your wrists,

“As much as I wanna fuck that tight little hole into the shape of my cock,” he growls, and you whimper again , “I got a long night ahead of me.” You find your footing again and he steps out of the shower, pressing a finger to his lips before grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his waist. He leans in, one last time, and says,

“Be careful for me, alright?” You nod, and he towel dries his hair, and steps back into his dress pants, throwing the rest of his clothes over his shoulder. “Get dressed. They’ll come for you soon-” You reach a hand out, your reflexes much quicker than he could have imagined, and grab his wrist.

“What um, what about if he wants,” your voice is barely audible above the water, “What if he wants me to use my mouth?” Bakugou blinks at you, you innocent thing, of course he’s going to. He takes pity on you, ignoring the part of himself that’s baring its teeth at the idea of another man's hands on your body.

“No teeth, alright?” He says, and you nod. “If you want it to be over quickly, don’t waste too much time at the tip, focus on swallowin’ around it and uh,” he guides your hand down to his own pants, “On closin’ your lips around this part,” he wraps your hand around the last quarter of his length. “He won’t be as big as me, lucky for you.” Bakugou can’t keep the smugness from his voice, but you only look up at him in fear.

“How do you know?”

“Trust me, princess.” he leers. “I know.” He steps back. “Fuck, for the record, I’ve got the worlds best fuckin’ self control.” He shakes his head, snatching his clothes. “Just be sweet for him, I’m sure that’s what he wants anyway.” You nod, and he gives you one last look before leaving you in the bathroom, your body glistening, hands trembling, and closes the door behind him.

You towel your hair dry and dress quickly, experimenting with the makeup left on your vanity, finding a slight tint of pink for your lips and cheeks, and the little sooty brush that made your eyelashes darker and longer.

They’d been altered already, you suspected, while you were sedated. They looked thicker, and longer than they’d been before. Hair had stopped growing on your body below your neck, even in your most intimate areas, and you wonder whether it was even considered to ask you if you wanted that, or if now, as property of the capitol, you were theirs to sculpt. You think about Bakugou’s canines, his tattoos, were they part of his marketing package? Or something he wanted?

Hanging in the closet is a complex piece of pale blue lingerie, and you struggle to get into it, imagining this was put there specifically for you to wear. You wriggle into the delicate thigh high socks, and adjust the straps on the bra. You blow dry your own hair, realizing that you can control the texture of it by using the heated tools, and luxuriate in the hot air, wondering if you’ll have one of these in your winners mansion, what your brother will say when he sees it.

You take your gown from the floor and hang it in the closet, finding a pair of light blue shoes, towering heels. Your foot throbs just looking at them, but you slip them on, feeling the odd, painful stretch. The doctor said you’d snapped three tendons on the outside of your ankle that they hadn’t been able to reattach. That you’d never really run again, like Shouto had asked you to do in the arena.

You close your eyes, leaning back on the bed. What had his plan been, if you’d have run away? He could easily have caught you, lean and strong, tall and athletic, he’d made quick, gruesome work of anyone in his way throughout the games. And you, you thought you’d been smart, and strategic, but you see, now there were times you’d been clumsy, and he’d protected you. You remember his kiss, his lips soft against yours, the feeling of his hands on your waist, clumsy and desperate, so different from Bakugou’s guiding firmness.

After all this, after fighting and killing, of course, your body wasn’t your own. Of course, someone above you, had the power to sell your physical form to someone else. Even Bakugou, with his sharp teeth, and mean tongue, didn’t own himself. Not really.

You flop on the bed, legs still weak from the shower. There’s a knock at the door, and you open it, not able to look the peacekeepers in the eyes as you stand in the lingerie, your most intimate parts nearly bare, or poorly concealed behind a layer of mesh. You walk in between them, eyes downcast, when one of their communication devices beeps. The peacekeeper looks down at it, and turns to the other men.

“Change of location.” You get in an elevator, and are led to a car, all without being spoken to. It’s about a 15 minute drive before you end up at a mansion, it’s huge white brick walls and warm yellow windows alight with the sounds of a party. You hesitate for only a second stepping out of the car, and feel cold steel on your back. You move more quickly then, nearly tripping in your heels on the cobblestones before righting yourself.

You take a deep breath, before they lead you through a heavy wooden door. Immediately, you’re greeted with cheers. You hold your head high, not speaking, but keeping your eyes on the floor. It's marble, a complex pattern that warm yellow light glints off of. You pass many rooms, some of them with loud music thumping inside, some of them raucous with conversation.

The man from the party earlier sweeps in, you only recognize him by his bright cerulean locks. He steps through the peacekeepers, who part for him. He along with nearly every other party guest, is wearing a highly decorated mask.

“You look beautiful,” he crows, taking your arm and leading you forward, “Come right this way.” He takes you into another room, and everywhere you go you feel the eyes on you, hating that you’re so naked, while all of them are fully clothed. The waiters are wearing smaller, plain masks, and you realize there’s only one or two other people bare faced, and that they’re dressed as scantily as you are.

There’s another woman, with long light purple hair, on a couch with two men, giggling as one of them feeds her a piece of fruit you don’t recognize. Neijire, you realize, had won the games five or so years ago. There are others, some game winners, some, you assume must just be prostitutes, because you don’t recognize them at all, but eventually you make it to the large great ballroom. A hush falls over the crowd as you enter, despite the other winners you still haven’t seen Bakugou, and for a second you worry he was too kind to you, that he was in trouble, maybe in some peacekeepers torture room. The ceiling is vaulted, and chandeliers hang heavy, casting the room in a soft golden glow. For a moment, you're distracted by their swaying, but then, you see him.

He’s standing on the edge of a stage, shirtless and glistening, like he’d been dusted with gold, and you realize that’s entirely a possibility. His pants are black, and simple, hanging low on his hips, the tuft of blonde hair visible at his v line nearly peeking out. He sees you, and scowls deeply, setting something leather onto a table, crossing his arms. You can see more of his tattoos now, that it's one animal with multiple heads intricately depicted on his chest and arms.

“I, what am I doing here?” Your eyes are round and wide as he leads you up onto the platform.

“Normally,” he says, “I take the winner first, every year,” you glance at Bakugou and see a muscle in his jaw twitch. “And normally, I do it in the privacy of my own home, but as I was leaving, Ankonnita here,” he gestures to a tall, broad woman, with blue dyed skin, and intricate golden tattoos, “Reminded me how, cozy, the two of you were on television!” He turns to the crowd of people in the ballroom, “And I thought, how interesting it would be, to give our sweet little lamb,” he coos down to you, “To the wild wolf.”

Bakugou’s eyes narrow, but he doesn’t betray any emotion. You swallow, and lift your head to face him. There’s a small cushioned table on the raised platform. “Nothing to say?” The man turns to you, and you visibly tremble.

“No sir.” You whisper.

“You’re scared,” he cries, “Bakugou, should she be afraid?” Bakugou slips back into his public persona with ease, after shaking off the surprise of seeing you here.

“She ain’t got nothin’ to worry about,” He protests, lips curling into a half sneer, half smile, “I’m a nice guy,” the crowd roars with laughter, “Sweet,” he says, pointing to his bare chest, “Gentle, even.” The man next to you snorts out a laugh, before pointing at the table.

“Take a seat.” You obey immediately and he chuckles. “Ladies and gentleman, isn’t she an adorable little thing,” he calls, and the partygoers cheer. Your thighs are closed tightly, and you can’t help but wrap your arm around your ribcage, feeling everyone’s eyes on your body. Bakugou stalks towards you, his boots heavy on the hollow platform, it must have been constructed for the party. You realize he’s wearing black rubber gloves, when he reaches down and parts your legs with them, they sink into the plush your skin before he wrenches them apart, holding them open. You fight against his iron grip for a moment before his huge hand closes on your jaw, forcing your gaze up to his.

“Don’t be like that sweetheart,” he crows, “Unless you wanna give people a real fuckin’ show?” You set your jaw, and scowl at him. Laughter ripples through the crowd. “Uh, uh,” he says, “Lemme fix that attitude before we get started then, huh,” he shoves you back on the table with one huge hand to your clavicle.

You yelp as he yanks you up on it, quickly clipping your wrists to each side, your head dangling off the end. He snatches something from a table and ties it over your eyes. He hopes you know, that this, like many things tonight, was a mercy he was attempting to grant you. He pushes two fingers into your mouth experimentally, to see if you’re angry enough to bite him. He feels teeth but you don’t clench down.

“You ready baby,” he coos as much as he’s capable of, “Ready to suck a real Victor’s cock?” You press your lips together, and for a moment he’s worried he’ll have to really try to break you, but you part your lips a second later. “That’s a good girl,” he rasps, tossing a smirk to the crowd. “You ever done this before?” He asks, and you shake your head.

“No.”

“Awww,” He turns to the guests unzipping the fly from his pants, “Ain’t that cute?” You open your mouth again to respond but find it filled, you force your jaw open wide and he slides down your throat. Immediately you want to gag, but fight it, tears watering in your eyes. “Shit,” Bakugou breathes, unable to stop himself, watching your throat bulge. “What a good girl, huh?” Something about his praise is warming and comforting, despite the act, despite the atmosphere, there’s a part of you that deeply wants to trust him.

“Nnngh,” you finally gag after two full minutes, he pulls out and you sputter and gasp for breath, he drops to his knees and wipes the tears from your face tenderly. He speaks so lowly that you’re nearly the only one who can hear.

“Just hold on for me, okay? I got you.” He doesn’t wait for an acknowledgement or a response, just goes back to fucking your throat, swearing loudly. He reaches down and grabs your breasts, using them as leverage to fuck your face harder rubbing then pinching at your nipples as you begin to squirm. He hadn’t secured your thighs or legs, and hadn't thought he’d need to. You don’t kick at him though, you’re clenching them together as if, as if you’re getting off on this. Oh, he thinks, what a spectacularly bad idea. He pulls out of your mouth, letting you gasp again, sucking in sharp breaths as he walks around the table. He wrenches your thighs apart, slipping your panties to the side, and you whine, a soft, delicious sound that sends a ripple through the party guests.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, parting your folds with a single finger, “You’re fuckin’ soaked, huh, you like this?” You don’t respond, immolating. “It’s okay, baby,” he rubs your thigh softly, “You can tell me you like it, it’s okay.”

“I,” you choke out, your throat sore from being used to roughly. “I um, I,” he slaps your thigh, just lightly enough to sting, but he’s forgotten for a moment that you are a victor, and how recently you won, the pain barely registers to you so he does it again, harder and you suck in a breath sharply.

“Use your words.” He coos, condescension dripping from his tone. “Tell everyone you’re havin’ a good time.”

“I,” you swallow, lifting your head a little, “I like it.”

“Good girl,” he says, slipping a finger inside you, grateful that he prepped you earlier because with the way you’re squeezing your walls around his finger he can’t tell if you’re turned on or terrified. He adds a second one and you roll your hips against him unconsciously, “Look at you,” he says, remembering again that you have an audience,

“If I didn’t know better I’d say ya like me, sweetheart.” You whimper again, feeling his fingers pumping inside you and then huffing at the loss of sensation when they’re withdrawn. Bakugou walks back around the table and pulls you back onto it all the way, so that your head is supported. “You all wanna see her lose her shit?” He asks, and there’s a round of cheers before he climbs between your trembling thighs and dives between your thighs.

He nudges your clit out of its hood with his nose before starting to lap at it, and the sensation is unlike anything you’ve ever felt. A million volts of electricity travel through your body and you keen, back arching off the table, Bakugou anchors you down though, strong arms hooked around your thighs. You yank hard against the leather straps, crying out,

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh, oh oh, Bakugou,” you struggle against the bonds, “Bakugou too much, it, feels too much,” the cheers grow as your cries reach the ceiling, pleasure wracking your body, making your mind float away as he eats you out messily, ferociously, fingers digging into the plush of your thighs. He groans into your warmth, losing himself in this as much as he’s able, ignoring the crowd to try and push louder noises from your mouth, slipping two fingers inside of you and curling them, so dizzy at your taste, so pussy drunk that he almost doesn’t hear it when you start to beg.

“Please,” you’re almost screaming, “Please, please, can I cum, please oh, oh my god,”

“Is that what I am,” he lifts his face from you and keeps fucking you hard with his fingers, “Am I your fuckin’ god?”

“Yes!” You cry, then sob, “Yes, yes, Bakugou, you’re my, AH, you’re my god.” he feels you clench down hard around his fingers.

“Cum for me, then.” He snarls, losing himself in the intimacy of the moment, as if he had the power to mark you, to keep you safe, to own you for himself. You scream again, your orgasm over taking you, your cries turning to the softest, prettiest hiccuping sobs, your blindfold is soaked through, and he stands, wiping his face on the back of his hand, before gently unbuckling your wrists, one by one, rubbing the raised red mark from how hard you’d pulled on the straps, noting you’d half ripped one of the seams, you must be much, much stronger than you look.

When you’re freed you curl in on yourself, feeling the stickiness between your thighs and the embarrassment. He grabs something from the table, skipping over various devices meant to inflict pain, and selecting something soft and black. You don’t remove the blindfold even while you’re free, still coming down from the bliss of your high, still shivering. He takes you gently, and sits you up, legs dangling off the table, towards the guests, hands curled around the edge. He slips off your blindfold, and caresses the side of your teary face. “Ever felt anything like that?” He asks, smugness radiating off of him.

“No,” you say, quietly, earnestly. He strokes your cheek and holds your gaze for maybe one second too long before taking the black collar and fastening it around your neck, stark against your light, frilly lingerie. It connects to a leash that he holds in his fist, and he gestures wordlessly to the floor. You slide to the ground, imagining what he wants.

He brushes your hair from your face, and you realize so far he’s gone out of his way to keep you from having to look at the audience, first blindfolding you and now arranging you carefully on your knees in front of him. Bakugou is praying you remember what he said before leaving as he takes his cock out in front of you, pumping it once before letting it dangle in front of your face. It’s long and thick, hanging heavy in the air, and there’s a moment where he thinks you’ve forgotten what you’re supposed to do, and he’s ready to get rough, to yank on the leash and pull your hair, but you lean forward, past his cock, and start licking sloppily at his balls. A choked moan falls from his lips, and for a second he thinks he sees a spark of mischief in your eyes.

So you’d been someone, once, someone capable of more than stuttering and fear. He wonders, if he could ever make you comfortable enough to truly draw that person out.

“Easy,” he says, taking you by the hair, but not stopping you, guiding your movements, swearing violently, “Shit, shit, princess, fuck,” He leans back against the table, eyes closing, “Don’t fuckin’ stop that,” he tightens his grip on your hair as drool drips down your chin. He holds the leash tightly, using it to pull you off of him, groaning at the loss of sensation but knowing he had a show to put on. “Get that shit nice and wet,” he takes you by the back of the head and fucks your face roughly, interesting, at this angle you can barely take it, gagging violently and fighting him when he holds you all the way at his base, You push off of him, but he barely has to work to hold you, letting you burst off of him, gasping.

He doesn’t give you a second to think, lifts you up onto the table on all fours, climbing up behind you. He shoves you roughly down so that your face is pressed to the side of the mattress, and you have to look out into the clownish faces of the capitol party guests, skin all different colors of the rainbow, hair defying gravity, and for a moment you wonder why he stopped protecting you when you feel himself ease himself inside you and you lose all ability to focus on their faces.

You barely feel the harsh slap to your ass as he pounds into you, raking his nails down your back, snarling. Every drag of his cock against your walls, every time it hits the spongy soft spot inside you, and you see stars, your eyes rolling back in your head with each roll of his hips. Blood pools in your cheeks and you lose yourself in bliss, this blew your previous cold roll in the literal hay out of the water. Tears well in your eyes and fall down your cheeks.

“Don’t you dare cum,” he pulls your attention with a sharp tug of the leash, “Your orgasms belong to me,” you look up at him, sharp teeth glinting in the champagne light of the party, and he looks every inch like the monster who won the games, who roared in victory when the last body hit the ground and the cannon fired. The two of you couldn’t have had more different reactions to winning, it hits you, as you try your hardest to obey, tears spilling over, as you choke out sobs.

“Please,” you beg, “Please,” and he shakes his head, only thinking of drawing this out as long as possible.

“Fuck,” he groans, throwing his head back, “What a tight fuckin’ cunt,” he slaps your ass again and to his pleasure you yelp, he digs his nails into your skin, the sound of your pain bringing him closer to his high, “Want you to come with me,” he orders, and you whimper, you’re barely holding on, teetering on the edge of pleasure.

He turns to the audience, realizing in the throes of the best, warmest, softest hole he’d ever fucked he’d neglected them a little, “Whaddya think, should I breed my cunt?” He jeers, and the crowd lights up with cheers and opinions, suggestions of where he should cum. He spanks you one last time before he can’t hold back any longer, collapsing on top of you, choking out a loud, strangled moan as he cums and as you keen, feeling him get impossibly hard inside of you, painting your walls white. It’s a few seconds before he hears your sobs, realizes everyone’s still watching, and you’re crying, so prettily, so sweetly, and this time it’s for him.

He climbs down off the table and gathers your limp form into his chest, kissing your head softly, murmuring praise. He’s so large, he can fit your whole body against him. You lift your head to him unexpectedly, and press your trembling, swollen lips to his. He cups your face with one hand guiding you, but you wrap your arms around his neck, unmistakably deepening the kiss of your own willpower. A hush falls over the crowd, and Bakugou’s heart breaks into a sprint, was this too much, too real for them-

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you say, softly, sweetly, and the guests break into a chorus of aws, and Bakugou internally thanks god that you’ve got some ability to play this game.

“Anytime, princess,” he quips, crushing you against him, rubbing your back. He stands quickly, tossing you over his broad shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “If none of ya mind, I’m gonna get this girl a drink,” he slaps your ass, “Think she earned it.” The crowd urges him out and he carries you through the mansion, not stopping until he’s slipped down a corridor he knows is by the kitchen. The music from the party isn’t deafening here, and he sets you on the ground and stands a respectful distance away, unclipping the collar and shoving it in his pocket. “You, uh,” he pauses, “I’m sure you’re not okay.” You take a deep breath, and lift your eyes from the ground.

“This may come as a surprise, but being fucked by you isn’t the worst thing that happened to me this week.” He breaks into a wide smile.

“Nice to hear you still got some fight in ya.” You laugh bitterly, and he raps his knuckles on the kitchen door. Upon getting no response he gestures for you to stay put, hidden in this small corridor and he steps inside. He comes back with a bottle of an amber liquid, something you’ve never seen before and what looks like a sandwich. He watches the way you devour it, eating messily and sucking the taste of it off of your fingers. “You know you’re gonna get fed when you go back.” he says dryly, and you nod, but you can’t even hear him, can’t even comprehend the idea that this food will always be available to you. He takes a long swig from the bottle and offers it to you. You take it and after a tiny little sip you wince, it burns down your throat, a kind of vanilla laced singe.

“I um,” you take another sip, “I think I like it.”

“Careful.” he says, “Can’t have ya endin’ up like Takami.” You frown.

“He means well,” you protest and Bakugou shakes his head.

“He oughtta be here, makin’ sure that guy pays both of us. Then Snow. He oughtta be here makin’ sure no one puts drugs in your food or drinks for fun.” You eye him warily. “Dontcha worry that pretty little head of yours,” he says, “What did I say out there, I’m a nice guy.”

“Can I stick by you?” You ask quietly, and he takes you in, so earnest in your request. “I know it’s probably annoying.” He shrugs.

“S’fine. Wouldn’t wanna see ya get eaten alive anyway. They’re gonna ask you to sing though, so just uh, prep for that. Mentally.” You close your eyes and take another sip of the drink, your interview already seemed like it was days ago. He gestures to a clock. “Party’s over at 3AM. That’s when we’re free to go.” You nod.

“And until then?”

“We’ll try and be a useful spectacle.” He says gruffly, offering you an arm. You wind yourself around it. He leads you through the party and you fight exhaustion, refusing drinks and food under the pretense of being too full already, and Bakugou’s grip on your waist only tightens with the hungry stares of the capitol partygoers.

“You two would make the most beautiful children.” One woman says, her lips a bright, bloody red. Bakugou laughs harshly, winking.

“Dunno if you missed it earlier but I gave it my best shot,” he pulls you into him, “She’ll havta let me know, though.” You laugh lightly, looking up at him as a waiter hands you a drink.

“I’m alright,” You say, attempting to put it back on the tray. The avox refuses, tipping the tray on its side and disappearing into the crowd. You look out across the dimly lit room, couples canoodling on couches.

“Excuse me,” You hear, “But I absolutely promise you you don’t want to refuse that drink.” It’s a new voice, and a man with greasy purple hair, maybe only a few years older than you, steps into the circle. He takes your hand and brings it to his lips. “Mineta Minoru.” He slips an arm around your waist and to your alarm, at his touch, Bakugou releases you. “Why don’t we find a place to get to know each other, hm?” His grip tightens as he leads you away from the group, down a hallway and up a flight of stairs. You don’t dare glance over your shoulder at the blonde, assuming he’d let you go for a reason.

“Nice to meet you,” you whisper, remembering the manners your mother taught you at the last possible second. He doesn’t respond until he pushes you through a door and closes it.

“You,” he traces your jawline with a single finger, “Were quite expensive.” You swallow. “Finish your drink.” You’d nearly forgotten you were holding it. You take a sip, it’s fruity and sweet, and you remember Bakugou’s warning about drugs, but don’t feel like you’re in a place to refuse. There are flowers floating in the bottom of it as you suck it down, trying to gulp daintily in front of the tall, lean man. His skin is undyed, but half of it is covered with golden tattoos. You place the glass on a table, conscious of the fact that you’re in a bedroom. It’s not unlike your room, or you supposed your cell, if you were feeling cynical, back at the government building. “That boy,” he says, and your head starts to turn, you take a big sip of your drink. “The one who killed himself.”

“Yes, sir.” You chirp, used to the honorifics at this point.

“Did you sleep with him?” He asks, eyes on your breasts, which you know are visible through the unlined lace of your bra.

“No, sir.” You stare up at him wide eyed.

“Fool.” Mineta says, moving swiftly, pressing your body against the wall, capturing your lips in a clumsy, wet kiss, “Can imagine dying for pussy without even tasting it first.” Your stomach turns, and you swallow the bile that rises in your throat. If you closed your eyes could you imagine Shouto, pretend he was the one touching you? Pretend it was his hands on your chest, and between your legs, pretend he was the one roughly throwing your body onto the bed, and climbing on top of you. Did you want to? You feel Mineta’s lips on your neck, yanking you from your daydreams as an alarm blares. He scrambles off of you, and the lights in the room go out. “Shit,” He stands and goes to open the door, to peer into the hallway, but it won’t open.

“Is it locked?” You sit up on the bed.

“Yeah,” he turns back to you, and you see it then, gleaming in his dyed purple irises. “You can’t hurt me,” he says, the fear dripping into his tone, “You can’t, President Snow is my uncle.” Your blood boils, images flash in your mind, the bloody bodies at the cornucopia, the feeling of plunging a knife into another childs chest, the look in Shouto’s eyes as he disappeared over the cliff.

“What makes you think I’d hurt you?” You say, trying to maintain your facade, hoping one day you’d be able to slip in and out of a public persona the way Bakugou did.

“They,” he glances out the window into the darkness of the grounds. “Usually, a lockdown means unrest. From your people.”

“My people?” You repeat. He scowls, gesturing vaguely.

“You know what I’m talking about.” You glance around, this isn’t an arbitrary room he’d brought you to to use, this is personalized, there are bookshelves, and a closet full of clothes. You hop off the bed, kicking your heels off. “What are you doing?” He snaps as you make your way to his closet. You take a deep breath, considering strategy before responding.

“I can’t protect you in lingerie.” You glance over your shoulder. “Unless you’re suggesting that you’d be the one to protect me?” His scowl deepens.

“I’m important.” He grumbles, gesturing to his closet. “Help yourself.” You dig through the mostly purple clothes, and find a heavy wool coat, an inky black. His shoulders are broad and you swim in it, sleeves far down past your wrists. There are a couple shouts and the lights in the rest of the building go out.

“No chance you have anything sharp in here?” You ask.

“No one will come for us here,” he says, but he doesn’t sound sure. “This doesn’t, it’s been happening more but it still doesn’t happen often.”

“How often?” You push, and he shrugs.

“Maybe, twice since the end of the games?” He shrugs. “Before that it happened like, once a year.” You keep your face neutral, Bakugou had mentioned unrest in the shower, people being unhappy with the outcome of the games this year, but did it really have anything to do with you? You hear someone thunder down the hallway followed by shouts, and Mineta cowers, jumping away from the wall.

“Can I ask what you’re so afraid of?” You say softly, cocking your head to one side.

“People outside of the capitol are uncivilized,” he shivers, “Who knows, maybe you’d eat me.” His words hang in the silence, and then there’s another shout. The door is wrenched open by Peacekeepers in uniform. They grab Mineta and you find yourself similarly yanked forward. Someone holds you roughly by the upper arm and drags you forward, you feel the barrel of a gun through the back of the coat you’d taken, and you twist in the arms of the person holding you tightly, before someone swings their fist into the top of your cheek.

Your perspective swims, the impact of a punch was always worse than the pain, and someone covers your head with a dark hood. Is this it, you wonder, heart racing, is this the end, after all the killing, all the performing, is this how you die? You hear Shouto’s voice in your ear, his vague warning about dying a coward, and you wonder if given a chance if he’d do it again, if he’d die for you a second time. You’re half dragged half carried out onto the cobblestones in the cool of the evening, it seeps through your open coat, and for some reason, your mind goes to Bakugou. Had he broken some rule, giving you the whiskey?

There’s some muffled speaking into communication devices, the buzz of radios. You hear some of the party guests complaining, but they’re evidently not being shoved and restrained like you are, rough hands secure your arms behind your back at an uncomfortable angle and despite everything you find yourself wishing for your shoes as the temperature drops, and you don’t dare move or speak. Your knees begin to ache from holding the position, but you don’t complain, not even as you begin to tremble in the cold.

You’ve felt colder, you remind yourself, of the winters in the shack you shared with your mother and brother. If you died here, that meant no winners mansion for them, no lifetime of warm dinners, even if your brother's name would still end up in the glass bowl, it would only be one small scrap of paper at the reaping. Thinking of your family is almost physically warming and you close your eyes in the hood, picturing them. You imagine them sleeping soundly, deeply, the way your brother’s chest rises and falls, the way he twitches when he’s dreaming.

There’s a soft grunt in a rasp you recognize and you realize Bakugou must have just joined you on the ground. You have a soft girlish thought, wondering if he was worried about you, before you remember you’re about to die. There’s more protests from guests, complaining about being dragged into the cold and someone lifts your body up, shoving a gun at your back.

“Walk.” You hear, and you stumble blindly forward, gasping as you lose your balance, strong hands catching you and righting you. Your body is pushed into the backseat of a van, and you find yourself between two warm bodies. Your hood is yanked off and you hear a gunshot behind you, followed by screams. Bakugou and Neijire look out the rearview mirror, but you keep your eyes straight ahead, chin lifted, at the road in front of you. Neijire speaks first.

“Excuse me,” She says, to the man driving the van, visible only through a panel that has holes punched in it, giving the black leather backseat the feeling of the crates you’d seen wealthy people carry their pets in. “Is everything alright?” She oozes innocence.

“Miss,” The driver says, speaking into a microphone that plays over speakers in the backseat, “No talking.” You take a deep breath in, and glance at Bakugou, who doesn’t look at you. Neijire takes your hand, reaching behind your back, giving it three small squeezes. You return the gesture, and she starts to hum, so quietly that you’re not even sure Bakugou can hear it.

You recognize it, it’s an old mining song from District 12. She’s not particularly gifted but the tune is tattooed on your brain, the song that the workers would sing at the end of a long day, it would float past your house, closest to the mines entrance. You look at her sharply, trying to remember, was she from District 8? District 9? How would she know that song?

TO BE CONTINUED - join the taglist here

[thranif]

Day 1: Dabi x female!reader

Warnings: temperature play, wax play, branding, creampie, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, aftercare at the end, slight descriptions of burns, Dabi calls himself daddy, MANGA SPOILERS. I WILL BLOCK MINORS 17 AND UNDER AND AGELESS BLOGS IF YOU LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG, AND/OR FOLLOW.

Thank you to @anxiousbabybirdb, @nocturnalazura @thewheezingwyvern for beta reading!

The clink of the metal bowl being placed on your nightstand reaches your ears and you jump as fingers trace your bare back. Dabi presses a kiss to your shoulder blade and picks up an ice cube, your eyes watching his fingers as they come closer to you. Flames from the various red candles burning around the room dance in your eyes.

“You okay, doll?”

“Y-yeah, I’m fine, just. . .nervous.”

“You know you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to? I may be a big, bad, terrifying villain, but I’d never make you do something you’re uncomfortable with.”

“I know, Touya,” you turn and press a kiss to his lips, “I trust you. And I want to.”

“Well, okay, then,” he presses another kiss to your back and grabs an ice cube, running it along your spine.

You rub your thighs together at the sensation, goosebumps forming on your skin as he runs the ice cube along your back. A hand makes its way under your stomach, raising your hips until they are propped up on your knees. Dabi hooks an arm around your waist until he can press the ice to your sensitive skin. You feel it leave a wet, frigid trail all the way down to your belly button before he slips down to trace along your folds. You gasp.

“Touya. . . feels – feels so good,” your body relaxes.

He traces his lips down your spine as his fingers enter your hot walls, contrasting the cold of the ice cube and his fingers. You squirm and he presses his weight on you slightly, his hard cock resting between your thighs. He pulls his fingers out and shoves them in his mouth, letting out a groan.

“Damn, doll, you taste so fucking good.”

He flips you over and moves down your body until he’s right in front of your pussy. Intense blue eyes peering up at you, he swipes his tongue along your slit, savoring the moans that fall from your mouth. His tongue laps up your juices before he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking harshly. Adding two fingers, he scissors them inside you as your hand flies to his hair, gripping tightly. His groan reverberates against you, adding to the sensation, breathless pants falling from your lips. Adding a third finger, chest heaving, you let out a gasp at the stretch.

The hard metal rings rubbing against your walls, making you squirm beneath him. Sharp edges rubbing along your sweet spot, you whine at the insufficient feeling, the stimulation not enough to relieve the ache. The metal runs along your walls, making you shiver in pleasure. You push your hips back as his fingers move faster.

Despite the feeling of three thick fingers buried inside you to the hilt, you whimper out, “Touya. . . not enough, need more.”

Ignoring your whimpers and your hips grinding against his face, he curls them inside you and sucks on your clit harder, savoring the taste of you on his tongue. Your hands let go of his hair to fist the cool silk as you writhe in pleasure. His fingers trace up your thigh as he pulls his mouth from you, moving up to press his lips against yours. He licks your lips, begging for entrance, and you comply, the taste of you on his tongue as it connects with yours.

He pulls his mouth away from yours as his fingers move faster. You clench tightly around him when hot wax drips onto your stomach, pain and pleasure mixing in a cocktail of senses. Letting out a quiet gasp at the sensation of the scarlet wax running down to your belly button, you cum around his fingers and he licks your juices off them again before swirling the wax around your stomach.

“Red looks good on you, doll,” he brings the candle up and drops some on your breasts, the color decorating your skin. He grabs an ice cube and rubs it on the wax, making it harden, before tracing it along your nipples. Flipping you over to be on all fours again, he puts the candle back on the nightstand and grips your hips, entering you in a strong thrust. Letting out a scream at the sudden intrusion, he stills to let you adjust.

“Sorry, doll, but I couldn’t wait any longer.”

“’S okay. Can you just. . . move please?” You whimper and shove your hips back, rocking yourself on his cock.

Feeling his piercings rub deliciously against your walls, you let out a moan as he pulls out until just the tip remains before he shoves it back in harshly.

“Fuck, doll, you’re taking me so well,” he moves a hand to rub your nipple between his fingers, heat from his quirk melting the wax some. His fingers move from your breast to your belly button, coating his fingers in red wax, until they reach your clit. He picks up the pace and you scream out his name as his fingers rub harsh circles against your clit.

His fingers moving in tandem with his thrusts, balls slapping against your ass, making you clench tightly around him. You rock your hips back against him

“Come on, doll. Be a good girl for daddy. Cum for me,” you squirm against him as he angles his hips, piercings rubbing against you deliciously. The coil snaps and you coat his dick in your juices, moaning out his name again. Red hot and red coated fingers grip your hips harshly and he gives one, two, three harsh thrusts before he empties himself inside you and you let out a scream of pain.

The smell of singed skin reaches your scrunched up nose as he collapses on your back. He kisses your shoulder blade again. Despite his hands having dropped from your hips, the feeling of heat lingers.

“Touya, I think. . . I think you burned me,” you look down to your hips where you see the beginnings of a hand print blistering into your skin.

“What?”

Pressing a hand to the beginnings of a swollen scar, you let out a hiss, “when you came, I think you burned me.”

Pulling out of you, you let out a whimper at the loss and he drops his hands to see them branded onto your hips. He runs to the bathroom to grab the burn gel kept for emergencies. He opens the cap as he enters the room again, squeezing some onto his fingers as he kneels on the bed.

“Come on. Let daddy see.”

You raise up on your knees to let him inspect the burns before gently massaging the gel into your hips, making you hiss again at the sensitive skin.

“Sorry, doll, I know it hurts.”

“‘S okay. Gotta make sure it doesn’t scar, right?”

Finishing up with the gel, he wraps your burns in the bandages he also brought. He helps you rest the bed and goes to wash the gel off his hands, coming back with a washcloth to clean the wax off you as best he can.

Blowing out the candles, he lays down beside you, pulling you tight against his chest, fingertips tracing shapes on your shoulder blade. He presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“You okay, doll?”

“Mmmm,” you nuzzle closer to him, arm resting on his chest. “Yeah, I’m perfect. It’s actually kinda hot, having your handprints burned into me.”

You feel the curve of his lips against the crown of your head as he smiles, “I don’t know what I did to deserve you. I love you, doll.”

“I love you, too, Touya,” you tilt your head up to kiss his lips quickly then rest your head on his chest, the movement of his fingers on your soft skin and the hum falling from his lips lulling you to sleep.

© 2021 to tetsurousharlot. Do not re-upload to wattpad, ao3, or tiktok. Do not recommend on tiktok.

[thranif]

i wanna sit on megumi’s face and use it to make myself cum. and he lets me. i wanna tug at his spiked hair, bump my clit against his sharp nose, and buck my hips as i ride his face until he’s a moaning and intoxicated mess from me; groaning when i finally gush all over his pretty face and wet his long lashes :/

[ #CONTAINS ] gn!reader, afab!reader, implied overstimulation, face sitting

꒰ ☾ ꒱ THIS BLOG CONTAINS DARK AND NSFW CONTENT. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

megumi loves eating you out. any time he comes home to you stressed or exhausted after missions, the first thing he'll ask from you is to sit on his face. he'll fall back on the bed, making himself comfortable before beckoning you over and patting on his chest. he will always murmur a very quiet "thank you." when he kisses your clit before sliding your underwear to the side.

he gets messy when he eats you out, your slick staining the tip of his nose, his rosy lips, and his chin. he doesn't mind the mess. he loves the mess. he loves being able to lose himself into your hot cunt, lapping at your juices so feverishly. he will always hold you down onto his mouth, not even letting you move away from him. he encourages you to ride his tongue, to grip on his hair, to do anything that you want to so that you can get off on his face.

when you finally cum, thighs quivering and burning from holding yourself up, he moans into your sweet cunt and lets you ride out your high. but the second you start to lift your hips off of his face, he'll force you back down on him.

"'m not done yet," he murmurs quietly, kissing your throbbing clit. he wraps his lips around it, suckling gently while he looks up at you through his thick lashes. "wanna make you squirt on my face."

[thranif]

The world is a vast, mysterious place filled with questions to find and answers to discover. The question is; are you willing to search for your answers?

Hello! This is a small event I'm hosting for spooky month :3 What I'll be doing is I will write a small drabble (500 words max) about your relationship with your significant other, but with a supernatural twist :)) You get to decide who's the spooky one in this relationship >:3

There is a few things I would like to address before I continue with this;

¹ This is a SFW blog - any NSFW requests will be deleted immediately.

² I will take time to write your drabbles. Luckily, my sem break is starting soon, but I like to take time when writing anything. Rushing it usually ends with me not liking what I post, so let me take my time with writing it. I will definitely post it by Nov 1, though!

³ This is a very impromptu event, so if something isn't clearly mentioned here, you can either send me a DM or send me an ask. I'll reply ASAP.

⁴ I will be only accepting asks from the 6th of October until the 28th of October.

How does the event work?

Pretty simple, actually. What you've got to do is

¹ Do the quiz linked below.

Quiz link: < What Creature of Lore Are You? >

You get to deicide if you or your significant other is the supernatural being :)) just make sure to tell me. If you don't, I will just assume you wanted to be the supernatural one XD

² Pick one anime character from the animes below;

Haikyū!!

Boku No Hero Academia

Attack on Titan

Jujutsu Kaisen

Hunter x Hunter

Tokyo Revengers

Kuroko's Basketball

Toilet Bound Hanako Kun

Moriarty the Patriot

Noragami

Kamisama Hajimemashita

³ Finally, send me an ask with your choices and

Your preferred pronouns

Your MBTI

Your Star Sign (Sun, Moon, Rising if you know them)

A random fact about yourself (I might add it in :33 )

I'll have a masterlist of all the asks I've received once I begin posting them! I'll link it here, too.

Thanks for all the support you've given this blog - it sincerely means a lot to me <3

[thranif]

LESGO :333

hi everyone <3 I'm hosting an omegaverse au collab. other people have probably done this. i'm doing it too <3

rules:

- have your age in your bio.

- all characters must be over 18 or aged up

- only one character per slot in this collab, first come first serve, get in my ask box and ask. in your ask please state the character your writing for and their gender. for instance, "alpha matsukawa issei"

- posting: your fic must be AT LEAST 1K words, all content, dark, angst, fluff whatever, is allowed if there are proper warnings, please link to the masterlist, you must use a read more. please post on Nov 13th. If you're late or have to drop, know I'm not mad at all know im kissing you on the head. you MUST dm me the link tags sometimes get drowned out in my notifs.

- open to my hero academia, tokyo revengers, food wars, attack on titan, and haikyuu!!

- all people who join my collabs and post are guaranteed a rb from me w love and feedback during a high traffic hour on my dash. I MADE A DISCORD SERVER

my hero academia

alpha!midoriya - @katspooki alpha!shouto - @em-plosion alpha!tamaki - @mikaaberry kirishima - @self-indulgentwriting bakugou - @cupcake-rogue alpha!shinsou - @shinander omega!shigaraki - @erenscockslut alpha!sero - @thranif

tokyo revengers alpha!manjiro sano - @lovebykai alpha!draken - @thecrowcern omega!inui - @sanophiliac alpha!baji - @dodjo alpha!smiley - @txixy mitsuya - @httptamaki alpha!hanma - @pupchiro alpha!taiju - @jthebeauty shinchiro - @delirieum

haikyuu!

alpha!bokuto - @bakumi alpha!sakusa - @lovekiyoomi alpha!iwaizumi - @anubai alpha!ushijima - @spicysoftsweet alpha!atsumu - @streimiv alpha!asahi - @tawnyafterhours alpha!yamaguchi - @kou-taro omega!oikawa - @prettyiwa alpha!tendou - @myheelsdontmatchmysweatpants

food wars

attack on titan

alpha!erwin smith - @sinnerofthewalls alpha!eren jaeger - @saccharine-darling alpha!levi ackerman - @erwinslut

[thranif]

For Writers:

Reblog if it’s okay for your followers to leave you an ask telling you what the one thing is they remember you for as a writer.  Is it a scene or a detail or a specific line? Is it something like style or characterization?  Is it that one weird kink they never thought they’d be into, but oh my god wow self-discovery time?

[thranif]

LETS GOOO~

— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐈 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 —

kyovtani presents:

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐁𝐁𝐘 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐁

𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: the chub. write your character of choice with a big reader!

✘ open collaboration for 18+ writers; applications begin September 20th and end October 10th

✘ inclusion of characters from HAIKYUU!!, JJK, AOT, BNHA and TOKYO REV

✘ no repeats of characters

✘ free choice of genre; nsfw and dark/taboo content is sincerely welcomed

✘ minimum word count is 1.5k; no headcanons, blurbs and drabbles, full length fics o n l y

✘ the deadline is set to be December 31st, 2021 (still flexible)

✘ readers of all gender identities and sexual orientations as well as characters are absolutely okay

𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐃𝐎 𝐈 𝐉𝐎𝐈𝐍?

— private messages or text me on discord (zade#7325) which character you would like to write for as well as an age verification!

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐒:

𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐊𝐘𝐔𝐔!!:

— 𝐔𝐤𝐚𝐢 𝐊𝐞𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧 — @quaranweeb

— 𝐒𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐚 𝐃𝐚𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢 — @daichidaichidaichi

— 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐊𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢 — @bokutodotgov

— 𝐀𝐳𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐞 𝐀𝐬𝐚𝐡𝐢 — @murdereddaydreams

— 𝐇𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐚 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐲𝐨 — @cuddlesslut

— 𝐊𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐢 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮 — @kyovtani

— 𝐈𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐳𝐮𝐦𝐢 𝐇𝐚𝐣𝐢𝐦𝐞 — @tsumuluver

— 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚 𝐈𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐢 — @nanikoreeeh

— 𝐒𝐞𝐦𝐢 𝐄𝐢𝐭𝐚 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐮 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢 — @/writing blog has yet to be set up

— 𝐔𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐣𝐢𝐦𝐚 𝐖𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐀𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐛𝐮 — @shannonplease

— 𝐊𝐢𝐭𝐚 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐞: Reverence in Intimacy (SFW)— @tyga-lily

— 𝐌𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐀𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐮 — @straykeeks

— 𝐌𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐎𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐮 — @thranif

— 𝐒𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐬𝐚 𝐊𝐢𝐲𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐢 — @s-ugas

— 𝐁𝐨𝐤𝐮𝐭𝐨 𝐊𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮 — @curls-and-crosses

𝐁𝐍𝐇𝐀:

— 𝐌𝐢𝐫𝐤𝐨 — @katsukichu

— 𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐨𝐮 𝐊𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢 — @dilf-uc

— 𝐓𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐨 — @karasuqueen

— 𝐀𝐦𝐚𝐣𝐢𝐤𝐢 𝐓𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢 — @streimiv

— 𝐊𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐚 𝐄𝐢𝐣𝐢𝐫𝐨𝐮 — @norkswriting

— 𝐀𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐰𝐚 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐚 — @writewithmarites

— 𝐃𝐚𝐛𝐢/𝐓𝐨𝐮𝐲𝐚 𝐓𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐢 — @hajimeiwaswife

𝐀𝐎𝐓:

— 𝐊𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐢𝐧 𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐧 — @thecrowcern

𝐉𝐉𝐊:

— 𝐅𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐨 𝐌𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐦𝐢 — @kissingchoso

— 𝐈𝐭𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐢 𝐘𝐮𝐮𝐣𝐢 — @imaginationteashop

— 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 — @littlemisskeigo

— 𝐍𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨 — @plush-journal

— 𝐒𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚 — @aztecbrujeria

𝐓𝐎𝐊𝐘𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐕:

— 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐲𝐮 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐨 — @angelfuyu

— 𝐌𝐢𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐲𝐚 𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢 — @kentimestwo

— 𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐨𝐦𝐢 𝐀𝐤𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢 — @fic-dumpster

— 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐫𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐨 — @raeyn-muir

— 𝐑𝐲𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐣𝐢 𝐊𝐞𝐧 — @rosesandtoshi

— 𝐑𝐲𝐨𝐡𝐞𝐢 𝐇𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢 — @propertyoftoman

— big babes need more representation in fandoms and i'm really excited and happy to use the opportunities that ive got to make that happen. xx zade