Dragon's Gambit: Demon Unleashed Into the Multiverse!

For the sake of "good taste" (yeah, sure), everyone's aged up to 18 or whatever the legal age is where you are.

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It was early morning. Birds were chirping, flowers were blooming, and the suburbs of Tokyo were bathed in soft sunlight. 

None of that mattered to Zaiko, though. His hands were locked onto Violet's tits as she drove a stolen motorcycle through a street-fill of fancy-looking houses.

Her violet hair peeked out from under her helmet, and she shifted on the seat, pressing her back against his chest. 

The curve of her body fit perfectly against him, and his hands squeezed her boobs, filling his palms completely.

"It took you five damn days to learn this taka-taka language," Violet grumbled, trying to keep her focus on the road. She squirmed a little, her voice catching as Zaiko's fingers gave her nipples a subtle pinch. "Meanwhile, I can't figure out a single word."

Zaiko was too busy enjoying the feel of her soft, warm tits to answer right away. 

He finally snapped out of it, smirking. "Yeah… I'm just really good at remembering stuff," he said, his hands still teasing her.

Violet coughed, trying to play it cool as they rolled into the driveway of a massive, modern house. 

She killed the engine, kicked down the stand, and yanked off her helmet. Her short violet hair fell messily around her face, but she didn't seem to care.

She turned to Zaiko, her blue eyes narrowing. "Alright, smartass. What are we doing here? Don't tell me you made friends in this universe already."

In the five days they'd been here, Zaiko had ditched his lame Red Ribbon uniform. 

Now, he wore a red sleeveless tank top that hugged his ripped torso, a black jacket over it, and black work pants held up by a black belt.

The outfit showed off his muscles and made his face tattoos stand out even more. 

He looked ready to fight or fuck—in that order.

Violet, on the other hand, hadn't changed much. She'd swiped a sleek black bike, not wanting to mess up her Capsule Corp one. 

Her look was still badass: a stolen leather jacket, tight jeans, and combat boots. Simple, hot, and practical.

Zaiko hopped off the bike, stretched his arms, and grinned as his muscles flexed under his shirt. He turned to Violet, his red eyes telling her he was already doing something shady and immoral—as always.

"I've got my reasons," he said, his tone cocky. "Trust me, you're gonna like this."

She scoffed, lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag. Her eyes swept over his body, lingering just a second too long on his crotch.

"You better not be wasting my time," she muttered, but there was a smirk on her lips.

Zaiko chuckled, his eyes dropping to her chest. "When have I ever wasted time when it comes to you?"

Her cheeks flushed slightly, but she rolled her eyes. "Cocky bastard."

Zaiko just laughed, heading toward the front door with confident steps; once at the entrance, Zaiko knocked on the hardwood of the door.

After a few minutes, the door creaked open, and inside was Mitsuki Bakugo in all her glory. Zaiko's eyes were drawn immediately to her chest, 'Damn, her tits are HUGE. Each one's bigger than my head.' He thought as he quickly raised his eyes to meet Mitsuki's stare.

Mitsuki offered a warm smile, her tone far gentler than he imagined from someone related to Bakugo. "Can I help you?" she asked, leaning casually against the doorframe.

Zaiko quickly composed himself, putting on a charming smile. "Hi, my name is Akagi Diavolo," he lied smoothly. "I was one of Bakugo's friends from high school. I was in the area and thought I'd drop by. Mind if I come in?"

Mitsuki's face brightened, and her smile widened. "Oh, of course! Seeing one of Kacchan's friends stopping by is so nice. Come in, come in!"

Zaiko stepped into the house, his eyes quickly scanning the interior. 

It was exactly what he expected: modern, pristine, and full of the little touches that screamed money. 'Perfect,' he thought. 'She's loaded not only in breasts.'

Mitsuki gestured towards a black couch in the living room, where Zaiko sat. "You're a little late, though," Mitsuki said as she brought over a tray with tea. 

"Kacchan got into U.A.! He's already started classes. Can you believe it?" Her tone was full of the pride of a mother.

Zaiko took the cup she offered, giving her a practiced smile. "That's amazing," he said, feigning excitement. "He always talked about how much he wanted to get in. I'm glad he made it."

Mitsuki chuckled, sitting across from him. "Oh, you know how he is. Always loud, always determined. It's no wonder he got in."

Zaiko nodded along, but his mind was elsewhere. 'Rich family, pampered son, and a golden spoon to the hero world. No wonder Bakugo turned out like an asshole.' 

For the past five days, Zaiko had been digging into Bakugo's past, compiling every bit of dirt he could find. The bullying, the intimidation, the way he pushed multiple classmates to the brink of suicide—he had it all.

'The bastard deserves to get knocked down a peg,' Zaiko thought, sipping his tea. 'And if it gets me a payout and a blowjob, even better.'

The conversation drifted from pleasantries to light banter. Mitsuki was surprisingly easy to talk to—more laid-back and kind than her son, though her personality still had a sharp edge. 

Zaiko let the chat flow naturally, steering it just enough to keep her comfortable.

Then, as the minutes passed by, his smile faded, and his expression grew serious. 

He set the cup down on the table with a soft clink, leaning forward slightly. "Mitsuki," he began, his voice turning serious instantly. "I didn't just come here for tea and chit-chat."

Mitsuki tilted her head, her smile faltering. "Oh?"

Zaiko reached into the inner pockets of his jacket and pulled out a thick folder. 

He tossed it onto the table in front of her, the papers spilling out slightly. Mitsuki's eyes narrowed as she picked up the folder, flipping through the pages.

Her face turned pale as she scanned the documents—detailed reports of Bakugo's bullying, testimonies from classmates, and even a psychologist's notes about the students who had nearly taken their own lives because of him. Every page was damning.

"What... what is this?" Mitsuki's voice trembled slightly, her cheerful demeanor cracking.

Zaiko leaned back, crossing his arms. "Evidence," he said plainly. "Your son might be U.A. material, but if this gets out, he won't even be able to get a sidekick internship, let alone a hero license."

Mitsuki's hands clenched the papers tightly, her breathing uneven. "You came here to blackmail me," she said, her tone a mix of anger and disbelief.

"Exactly," Zaiko replied without hesitation. "You're rich, Mitsuki. Loaded. And I'm not asking for much—just your cooperation. Follow my orders, and this stays between us." 

"Don't, and I'll make sure Bakugo's name is dragged through the mud so deep he won't even be able to sell bootleg hero merch."

Mitsuki's glare was icy, but Zaiko didn't flinch. He knew he had the upper hand.

"Think about it," he said, his voice calm but firm. "You have everything to lose. And your son? He won't even see it coming. So what's it gonna be, Mitsuki?"

As the words left my mouth, that obnoxious blue screen popped up in my vision.

==Mission Board==

Mission #2.1: MILF

Category: Secondary Mission

Objective: Fuck the brains out of Bakugo's mom so bad she follows you blindly.

Status: To start.

Reward: You expect a reward? Fuck you… Nah, just kiddin'. You'll get some clothes that can appear on during erased time.

===

The window flickered out of existence, and my focus snapped back to Mitsuki's face. 

Her gaze was fixed on the floor, her knuckles white from gripping the couch cushion. Her entire body trembled, caught between anger, despair, and reluctant acceptance.

Then she looked up.

Her eyes shimmered with the tears she refused to let fall. The vulnerability in her expression was almost worth a painting. 'Damn, she looks beautiful on the edge of falling apart.'

Her voice came out as a whisper. "Okay... Just... don't tell my poor Kacchan..."

I stood up, the leather of the couch creaking softly. Without another word, I walked to the entrance and opened the door. 

Violet leaned casually against the bike outside, a cigarette dangling from her lips. "Come in," I said, jerking my head toward the house.

Violet arched an eyebrow, exhaling a stream of smoke before flicking the cigarette away. She followed me inside, her boots clunking against the wooden floor as we returned to the living room.

Mitsuki's eyes widened slightly when she saw Violet, but she didn't say a word. Her shoulders sagged, resignation clear on her face.

I didn't waste time. "Here's how this is going to work," I said, my voice as I explained her situation. "From now on, you're forbidden from wearing anything but lingerie in this house. Bras, panties, garter belts—I don't care, as long as it's slutty."

Mitsuki swallowed hard, her cheeks flushing with humiliation. She nodded slightly.

"Your husband and Kacchan?" I continued, smirking. "They're not allowed to step foot in this house anymore. Consider it off-limits to them."

Her eyes darted up to meet mine, shock flickering across her face. "But—"

I held up a hand, cutting her off. "If either of them finds out about this or tries to fight back, my friends will make sure the whole world knows what Bakugo really is—a bully who drove his classmates to the brink. His dreams of being a top hero? Gone."

Mitsuki's lips trembled, and she clenched her fists tighter, her nails digging into her palms.

"Do you understand?" I asked, my tone leaving no room for argument.

She closed her eyes, a single tear escaping down her cheek. "Yes," she whispered.

I leaned in closer, my voice dropping to a husky murmur. "Good girl."

Violet chuckled beside me, a wicked grin on her face. "You are an asshole," she said, eyeing Mitsuki like a predator sizing up prey.

"So, whats next?" Violet asked as she threw herself into the couch we were sitting before.

I turned from Mitsuki to Violet, "Well," I thought for a while, "I need a meeting with Shigaraki, So I think about just the right incident for the meeting to occur."