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groovyfanbagelbakery · 3 days ago

Note

Sooo about that Jason smut I asked about in the comment 🫣 I am a sucker for the fake dating trope, and I am very curious about your take on this. Unfortunately I haven't found many fics like it. I usually am a lurker on tumblr, but I feel confident asking you to write one per my request. 💗

I don't have a lot in mind for the request itself, I really just want to see what you can come up with for this trope. I love your writing and Do I know you? became one of my favourites, I am so excited every saturday for it to come out!

Thank you and wishing you the best! 💗💗

I love a fake dating trope but I don't think I did it justice in this fic. It starts out a little angsty. I have no Idea why. then its a little kinky but softens up towards the end. Honestly I feel like I kept losing my footing on this one but I have been working on it a lot. I hope it works for what you want!

Warnings: Smut! Mentions of gore(super vague), choking(kind of, more just hand on throat action), little bit of a brat kink, blowjob, P in V, Let me know if there's more that I missed (I probably did)

****

“It shouldn't have happened.” Jason's harsh voice makes you flinch. The silence on the rooftop had been blissful. Especially when compared to ear ringing bass at the club you had been undercover at.

A backfired mission. Kind of. It should've been easy. Go in, scope out the place, plant a few bugs in some strategic places. Except you got caught, dragged into one of the back offices and interrogated.

They thought you belonged to some foreign gang and wouldn't believe that you weren't. The worst you got was a hard back hand to your cheek before Jason was breaking the door down.

He hauled you out of there before you could even think about getting involved in anything else.

Which brings you to now, sat on a rooftop In a skimpy club dress and Jason's jacket over your shoulders to keep out the cold air. Your cheek still stung. You could feel the tightness of a scrap no doubt from the gaudy ring the man was wearing on his hand, or had been before Jason cut it off with the man's own knife.

You knew Jason was extreme, that he could do some serious damage when he wanted to. You had seen it with your own eyes before but every time, it was a shock to your system.

Jason was sweet on you. Albeit for show, a fake boyfriend-girlfriend scenario so everyone would leave you two alone. But to watch him gently coax you across the roof only for the flip to switch threw you off.

He was shouting at Batman, a deep anger behind It. You had heard from the other bat members what he had been like when he first came back to Gotham. You heard about the pure rage that rolled off of him during that time. You think this is what it was like.

“She shouldn't have been in there,” he repeats.

“Just because your dating doesn't change the mission. She knew the risks. We all do.” Bruce says. There's a tenseness in Bruce's shoulder that you're not accustomed to. Sure, Bruce was tense, it was like his default but this was different.

“Same shit, different kid. You always want the good soldier bullshit. I'm not going to let her get killed too.” Bruce flinches at his words.

Your brows pinch, unsure about the argument and where you stand in it. It turns out you don't have the time to figure your place in it because Jason is done.

He stalks over to you and you tense, sure you're about to get your own lashing. Instead Jason's hand is on your arm, gently tugging you to the edge of the building.

“I'm taking you home,” his voice is still tight but it's much softer than when he had been talking to Bruce.

“Okay,” you mumble and let him wrap an arm around you as he pulls out his grapple. Your arms instinctually wrap around his neck and you get a glance of the Batman slumped with regret.

You don't blame Bruce. Everything He said was true. You knew the risks of the job. You just couldn't understand why Jason was so agitated about the matter. You were hardly even hurt.

It doesn't take long to get to your apartment building. Jason lets you shimmy the window open and slip in before he follows, closing and locking it behind him. He tugs his mask from his face and lets it drop to the ground.

You're about to ask him what the issue was but he's pulling you to the bathroom. A squeak escapes you when he picks you up and sets you on the bathroom counter. He doesn't even react beyond his jaw ticking as he pulls out your first aid kit.

“Jason, I'm fine,” you say gently. He pauses but ultimately ignores your words. You wince at the antiseptic against the cut on your cheek and you watch his jaw clench again.

“What's wrong?” You finally ask rather than try to placate whatever mood he was in.

Jason scoffs, “what's wrong? What's wrong? You're hurt and you could've died all under Batman's divine code.”

“It's a scrap, Jason,” you huff, “trust me, I've had a lot worse.”

Jason's hands settle on the counter on either side of your hips. You can tell he's biting his tongue and you wish he would just yell at you about being reckless. At least you'd know what he was upset about.

Instead he goes back to your cut, rubbing a healing ointment across it. You wait, thinking he'll say something, anything but you should know better than to expect that much.

“Jason,” your stern now and his angry eyes meet yours, “you cut that man's hand off.” It's a statement but the question lingers in the air. Why?

“He touched you,” he starts and you jump in.

“He didn't do anything.”

“He hit you,” he adds and you open your mouth but he talks over you, “he hurt you and he shouldn't have. He deserved to lose that hand.”

“You can drop the act,” you tell him, “you don't have to play at protective boyfriend anymore. No one's around.” You say it like a reminder in case he forgot.

“That's not what this is about,” he grumbles, pushing off the counter to lean against the wall across from you.

“Then what else could it be about?”

“He shouldn't have touched you,” he reiterated and you want to rip your hair out.

“So what? That shouldn't matter to you. It was part of the job. Shit happens and you make do.” you retort

“You don't get it do you?” Jason's voice suddenly sounds small and it tamps down your brewing anger though not entirely.

“Don’t do this, Jason,” you press a hand to your injury free cheek.

“Do what?” He sounds nearly as defeated as you feel.

“This.” You gesture between you two, “like what we have going on is reason for you to act out brashly. You didn’t have to cut off his hand, don’t use me as your reason to get violent. Our relationship is contractual. It isn’t real.”

“You really are a piece of work, aren’t you?” He scoffs at you before stepping back into your space, cornering you where you're sitting on the counter.

You're about to bite back but then he’s kissing you. Your eyes widen at the suddenness of it. It wasn’t new, you two had kissed before, all for show of course. This was different. He pulls back and looks you in the eye, hand cradling your jaw.

“Tell me if that wasn’t real.” His voice sits between a goad and a plea. It nearly makes you sick. You shake your head and pull his hand from your face.

“Don't do this, Jason,” you push him away from you and slide off the counter, “I don’t know what's wrong with you but I don’t want any part of it.” You complain as you leave the bathroom and head for your bedroom. Jason follows close behind and you can still feel the residual anger lingering off of him.

“Nothing’s wrong. Maybe I just want to be honest with you.” You outwardly scoff at the notion while you pull more comfortable clothes out for yourself.

“Just because what we have started as a deal doesn’t mean it’s not real,” he continues to argues.

“Bullshit,” you mutter under your breath.

You feel agitated with the conversation, with what he's trying to do. It hurts more than anything. He corners you against the dresser when you turn around. You glare up at him.

“Maybe,” he shrugs, “don't you want to find out.”

There's a beat of silence as you stare at each other, you in agitation and him in cocky question.

He was right, part of you wondered what it would be like if what you had was real, if you could easily cross an intimate barrier without it messing up your life.

You grab at the collar of his kevlar vest and pull him forward, pressing your lips to his.

“I'm upset,” you pull back to say before pressing back into him with heat. He takes what you give him and returns it, kissing you back hard.

His hand returns to its early spot on your jaw, tipping your head to deepen the kiss. His other hand curls around your waist to tug you against his body. He pulls back panting against your lips.

“And I'm angry. What about it?”

“What?” You forgot what you said, what had even happened. All you could think about was Jason kissing you the way he was and how he stopped.

He grins down at you and tugs softly at a strand of hair, “going dumb on me already, babe?”

“No,” you blink at him and remember that you were upset with him, “you shouldn’t call people dumb, Jason. It's mean.”

“Mean? I think you like it when I get mean,” his head dips into the crook of your neck and you're thankful for it or else he would've seen the flush on your cheeks at the way he clocked you.

Your gratitude is short lived as he starts pressing soft, sweet kisses to your neck. A hard contrast for the way you two had been kissing previously.

“Think you like it when I tell people off, tell them they can't touch what's mine. You like when I hurt them for doing it anyways.”

You shiver at the words pressed into your skin and your body slumps slightly. You can feel the hard press of his armor against you and you feel him slowly hardening up in his pants.

His knee works its way between your legs, prying them apart and he presses up. The hem of your short dress rises with it, revealing more of your thighs. His hand moves from your waist to the meat of your hip, pressing you down on his leg.

Your breath catches and your head tips back. His kissing moves down the column of your throat. When he meets the junction of your neck, he starts sucking a bruise, teething lightly at the area. A quiet sigh leaves you at the pressure.

“You're not upset with me. Right, sweetheart?” He mumbles against your skin.

You try to blink away the haze that was starting to cover your mind. You could not be this easy.

“Just because I like it doesn't make you my boyfriend.” Your words tip into a gasp as his canine digs more into your skin.

He finally pulls back to give you a predator-like grin, “no, of course not. But you want me to fuck you like I am?”

“I don't want you to do anything like your my boyfriend.” You scoff, “cause you're not actually my boyfriend.”

“Semantics,” he shakes his head at you, “So what? You want me to fuck you like a stranger then? Use you the way I want, yeah?”

You gap at his crude way he speaks but your thighs press against his and your hips shift on their own. He openly laughs at you, a dark thing that makes your body want to grind down on the thigh neutrally placed between your legs.

“Oh, I should've known,” he says lowly as his hand moves from your jaw to press against your collar, thumb swiping across your throat like a threat, or a promise, “pretty little thing like you would be a slut.”

You flush in an instant, body warming and you can feel yourself clench around nothing.

“You're such a jerk,” you say weakly before tugging him back to kiss you. It's soft like the kisses to your neck and his hands are no longer pushing or pressing. You feel confused about it.

“On your knees,” he says when he pulls back and you're startled by the demand. He must sense your surprise because his hands leave you to hover instead and his voice neutralizes, “unless you don't want to.”

You squint at him over the remark, over his actions. You were so confused. Was he angry or just horny? was he trying make this real relationship or did he want to fuck and be done?

“Jason,” you steady yourself as you say his name and his leg slips from between yours. You keep a hand on him so he doesn't bolt.

“What do you want? And please be honest with me. If you're angry with Bruce, the universe or whatever and you're trying to blow off steam, that's fine but I need you to tell me if that's what this is.”

“It's not and it is,” he starts.

“Jason,” you say his name in scold. His hands come up to hold at your arms, bordering the line between gentle and harsh.

“Let me finish, okay?” You nod in concession and he continues, “I am angry and I do wanna blow off steam but I don't actually want to just use you, sweetheart. I care about you, you hear me?”

You can hear the vulnerability in his voice, the way he wants you to understand, and you can hear the residual anger on the edge of it. You want to ask about it because you still don't know what he’s upset about. But he’s got you all worked up now.

“Don’t leave,” you tell him, “in the morning or when we're done. We have to talk about this, us. Okay?”

He hesitates and a look of surprise crosses his face, like he didn't think you would okay any of this. He nods, “Okay.”

“Promise me, Jason Todd.”

“I promise I won’t disappear,” he confirms.

“Good,” you murmur. Your hands grab his and you drag them back to where they had been before, “I like when you touch me and I like when you're a little mean. It’s okay.”

“Yeah?” He steps back close, his hands pressing firmly. You nod as he leans back in and kisses you again. It starts soft, a thank you without words but it doesn't take long for it to amp back up, tongues sliding against each other. His hand at your hips slips down to palm at your ass, pressing you against him and dragging your dress up slightly. He groans, teeth nipping at your bottom lip as he pulls away from you. He gives you a meaningful look and you tilt your head at it in question.

“On your knees,” he repeats his earlier words. He watches you instead of asking if you were okay with it this time. You smile at him and watch him visibly relax.

You nod and slowly sink down, back dragging slightly against the dresser, until you're face to face with the swelling bulge in his pants. You look up and, boy, is that a sight.

Jason stares down at you, eyes previously filled with anger slowly being filled with lust. His hands grip at the top of the dresser like he's trying to stabilize himself.

You stare at him and stare at him. He doesn't say anything, no further instruction beyond, getting on your knees. You know there's an implication of what he wants you to do, your eye level with the thing, but really he should be clearer.

You spread your knees wider and wider til they hit the edge of his boots. He finally blinks, eyes dropping to your spread legs but he still doesn't say anything.

You press your hands into your thighs, slowly dragging up. One hand moves up to your stomach and then to your boob. You squeeze at it lightly.

Your other hand slips between your legs. You palm at your own cunt and then let your fingers find your clit over the fabric of your panties.

You make a show of it, head tipping back against the dress, back arching and your hips shifting forward against your hand. You let out a sigh and close your eyes, hoping that'll goad him. You lose yourself in it for a moment, enjoying the feeling.

You freeze at the hand wrapping around your throat, nothing tight but enough that you notice. You open your eyes to find Jason squatting in front of you.

“You're such a brat,” he murmurs and it has you pressing down on your clit, another sigh leaving you.

“Am not,” you complain as his free hand pulls your hand from between your legs. He squeezes a little more at your throat and you pout at him instead of saying more.

With no more commentary from you he lets go of you and stands. He starts undoing his pants. As you watch, you let your hand. slip back between your legs.

“Don’t,” he snaps sternly and your hand pauses before it can make a landing anywhere, “hands behind your back, sweetheart. Can't trust you not to touch when you're not supposed to.”

“But-”

“Come on, be a good little brat for me and listen. If I need to punish you, I'm going to make it hurt." His words are dark and heavy and you remind yourself that he was angry. It makes your tummy flutter anyway. You listen to him, arms moving behind your back. You still pout though.

He finishes undoing his pants and then tugs them done enough for him to pull his cock out. He squeezes at the base of it and strokes up, a spurt of precum leaking out. He was thick and you could already feel the ache in your jaw.

He steps forward, trapping you back against the dresser again, towering over you. He lightly taps the pink tip of him against your lips.

“You know what I want. Be good for me, yeah?”

You slip your tongue out slightly from your lips to lick at the tip of him, the salty taste spreading there. You hear him take a shaky breath, hips shifting forward slightly.

You let him push in past your lips, mouth opening wide. You close your eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of him in your mouth. A hand combs through your hair gently and he slowly uses it to pin your head against the dresser. You open your eyes and look up at him, mouth full of him.

“There she is. Enjoying yourself?” He asks. You hum at the question. He moans quietly and slips more into your mouth. You can feel him just on the edge of your throat and you fight the urge to gag.

“Then suck. You're wet and warm but I need a little something more than that.” He tells you, hand tightening your hair before releasing entirely. He pulls back until only the tip of his cock sits in your mouth.

You tighten your lips around him and do as he asked , sucking and hollowing your cheeks. You bob your head slightly with the motion.

“Shit, that's it,” he mumbles and you're not too sure he's talking to you. You peek up to watch him. His hand holds the dresser tightly again. His other hand, you realize, hovers by your head. Your eyes track his face as you sink more of him into your mouth.

You watch him bite down on his lips, feel the twitch of his hips. Everything held back. You’d pout about it if you could. You hum around him again and his hips jump forward.

You can't fight the suddenness of it and you gag as he presses into your mouth. Your hands leave your back to clamp down on his thighs. He pulls out of your mouth and you gasp, swallowing down the gag sensation.

“Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to.” Jason rushes out his hand slips to cradle your jaw tipping your head up, “you okay?”

You wipe at the drool on your chin and blink back the wetness in your tear line, “I'm okay, just startled me.”

“I'm really sorry,” Jason repeats and you laugh because only Jason Todd would apologize after you willingly sucked him off.

“Jason, I'm okay, really. I kind of liked it, I think.” His thumb that was stroking at your cheek stops and you flush at your own admittance. It was true. You had felt it low in your belly, cunt clenching at the intrusion to your throat.

“You're insane,” he mutters under his breath and you would've believed he felt that way if you didn't watch his dick twitch at your words.

“I'm being vulnerable with you and you call me insane. I can't believe you,” you playfully scoff.

He rolls his eyes, “still a brat.”

“I'm not a -” a startled noise leaves you as he suddenly picks you up off the ground and over his shoulder. You yelp when he smacks a firm hand against your ass.

“You are a brat,” he drops you on the bed with a bounce. He leans toward your face, noses nearly touching, “a cute one though.”

You lean the slightest bit forward waiting for a kiss but then he pulls away. You press forward more, trying to follow him and he pushes you back with a hand to your shoulder. He grins at you as he does so, a salacious thing that makes you squirm.

“Do me a favor, sweetheart, take your clothes off.” He tells you. He pauses for a moment and you nod. He moves to finally take off all of his gear. Instead of listening, you watch as piece by piece, the Red Hood disappears and you stare at Jason Todd.

It's as he pushes down his pants, now entirely naked for your viewing pleasure that he turns to you, still fully clothed.

“I know you're a bad listener sometimes but this is starting to get excessive.” He chides.

“You didn't kiss me and I just wanted to watch. You're so hot, Jason.” It's Jason's turn to blush. The sensual red on his cheeks turns to an embarrassed flush creeping up his ears and down his chest.

Instead of saying anything, he steps forward to kiss you where you sit on the bed. A pleased hum leaves you as you kiss him back in spite of the odd arch of your neck.

His hands land on your shoulders and slide down your arms. He pauses the kiss to tug you to stand. You let one hand press against his scarred chest and the other slips up and into his hair, pulling him back in for a kiss.

The kiss warms you as does his wandering hands, down you body, squeezing at your waist and you ass again. Then they move down to the hem of your dress. He smooths up, hands pressing intentional at the skin underneath. He breaks the kiss to pull the slip like fabric off of you and then he takes a step back.

“Lace?” he asks as he eyes you. You shift on your feet suddenly understanding the way his skin flushed when you stared.

“It was a nightclub dress, so I wore nightclub underwear.” You mumble.

“Nightclub underwear? What does that mean?” He laughs under his breath and makes you reach to smack at his arm.

He grabs your hand before it makes an impact and uses it to spin you around and press you against him. You can feel his cock pressing against the lace on your bum.

“Is it because you wore a slutty dress so you have to wear slutty underwear too?” He breaths into your ear as he presses a firm hand to your belly to make it easier for him to grind against you. His other hand presses against your ribs just under your bra.

“It's not slutty underwear, Jay.” You try to complain but the mass of his arms and hands around you make it hard for the words to be stable.

“Not slutty,” he scoffs. His hand from your rib moves up and pinches at the lace and the skin underneath, “I can see right through it.”

Your breath hitches at the pinch, chest arching just slightly. Your head tips back to lay against his shoulder. He takes the opportunity to mouth at the skin of your neck. His fingers halt their pinching and his entire hand squeezes at your boob.

“It's okay, sweetheart. Makes it easy to sneak a peek.” He breathes against your skin. His hand on your low belly slips down under the waistband Of you underwear.

You wrap your hand around his wrist, not pushing or pulling, just holding onto something. His hand slips lower, skimming over your clit to press his finger into your folds.

“Baby, I haven't even touched you and you’re already wet. Choking on dick really got you going, huh?” he chuckles against your ear.

“Shut up,” you whine out as his finger gather slick and presses it against your clit. He moves in slow circles. His hand that was groping at your tit slips under the lace to pinch at your nipple and you twitch in his hold.

“Oh, that was threatening,” he condescendingly coos at you. His foot slips between your legs and kicks them wider.

“What're you-” you cut your self off as he slips his finger down and up into your cunt, you clench around it.

“Gotta get you ready, sweetheart,” he kisses at your cheek and you jaw a gently thing that doesn't match the way his finger fucks up into you, “don't want to hurt you when I finally sink into you.”

Your hand tightens around his wrist as he presses a second thick finger in with his other and the rest of you sags against his chest at the stretch.

“You'd probably be into that, though,” his hand moves to your other boob, pinching hard at the nipple hidden under the lace and you wished he would just take your bra off.

“Why do- do you think that?” You manage out, breath panting.

“Wouldn't you like to know.” The teasing tone makes you giggle in spite of the way he has you and you can feel him smile against your neck. His hands slow, no longer pinching at your nipple, hand gently pressing against your chest instead.

“I like the way you laugh,” he murmurs and presses a gentle kiss to your neck and you think he's not so angry anymore.

“You literally have your fingers stuffed inside of me.” You say lightly and you grind down slightly against his hand and inadvertently against his cock pressed against you. He whimpers and presses his nose to your neck where he had previously kissed.

“Can't I just compliment you?” He mumbles as his fingers slip from your cunt. You clench at the emptiness.

“Thought you were fucking me like a stranger cause a pretty little thing like me would be a slut,” you repeat his earlier words using quotation marks with one hand.

“Jesus, what did I get into with you?” He mutters and you go to laugh again. It dies in your throat when he pushes your top half forward. you catch yourself with your hands before you face plant into the bed.

He tugs down your underwear and you press your thighs together at the sudden exposure of your sex. Jason clicks his tongue. His hands press into the skin of your ass and he uses his thumbs to spread your lower lips.

“Don't get shy now, sweetheart.” he tells you darkly.

You wish you could see him but the low lighting in the room makes it hard no matter how you crane your neck. A gasp leaves you suddenly at drip of warm wetness slipping down your cunt.

One of his hand leaves your ass and you feel his head of his cock press into you. He swipes across your cunt and to your clit, spreading your slick around. Your fingers tightening into the comforter and you attempt to wiggle your hips back against him. His other hand finally leaves your ass to hold at your hip, stalling your shifting.

“Easy, babe. I'm getting there.” You open your mouth to tell him off because now he's just teasing you.

A choked gasp leaves your parted lips instead as he presses just the head of him into your cunt. A groan leaves him as he pushes in more only to pull all the way back out again. the thumb of the hand holding your hip presses soothing circles into your skin.

He presses his chest against your back when he leans into your ear, “gotta relax, sweetheart. Let me in.” He kisses at your shoulder as he stands back up again.

He notches his cock at your entrance and pushes the slightest bit in again. His free hand slips under your hip and presses light circles into your clit. You sigh at the touch and the stretch as he pushes more and more into you.

“That's it. Your doing good,” he mumbles, “my sweet girl doing such a good job.” His praises have you squeezing your eyes shut .

It’s when he gives your clit a particularly harsh swipe and he slides in completely, his hips pressed to your ass, that your arms give and you face plant entirely. A hiss escapes you and your body tenses at the sudden pain from your injured cheek hitting fabric. Jason stops all of his movement.

“What's wrong?” He asks as he pulls back and you gather in your mind that he thinks he’s hurt you, pressed into you too quickly. You manage to turn your head to your uninjured cheek and bring a hand up to his at your hip.

“I'm fine!” your words come out in a mewling sound due to the feeling of him sliding out of you. You puff out a breath of air, “please don't pull out, Jason. It was just my cheek. I laid on the wrong one.” You manage to explain and he stills his moving, nearly completely out of you.

“Shit, I thought I hurt you sweetheart.” He breathes out and you can hear the worry in his tone.

“No, it's just- well your so fucking thick. arms gave out.” You admit. His hands tighten again and he pushes all the back into you, splitting you open. You claw at the blanket and whimper at the fullness of him.

He leans back over you again and you swear you can feel him even deeper. Your body can't decide if it wants to press back against him more or crawl away, hips twitching at the pressure.

“Sorry, baby,” he kisses your neck and shoulder, “I should've accommodated for you.”

You only have the wits to mumble out, “huh?” before he’s pulling back up and taking you with him. His hand presses at your chest below your throat like he had before, back arching from how he holds you. His other hand stays at your clit, rubbing at it lightly. The new arch of your back, the stretch of him and the press of his fingers has you moaning quietly.

He pulls out of you barely and uses the leverage he has on you to fuck back into you. You cry out and, with nothing to hold on to, your hands latch on to his forearms. He repeats it over and over, strokes pressed into you harder and harder.

The air smells of sex, your bodies sweaty and you feel slick making a mess of your thighs. You can hear Jason, quiet against the back of your shoulder, moaning and mumbling things you can’t make out.

A broiling heat grows low in your belly. You press your hand down Jason's forearm to meet his fingers pressing against your clit. You feel him hum against your skin as you move his fingers the way you want them.

“Stuffed full of cock and still a brat about getting what you want,” he says weakly pressing his forehead against the back of your neck. You can tell he's trying to keep up his facade of anger and possessiveness but falls flat.

His hand slides, intentional or not, you're unsure, up from your chest to your throat holding you there. Your cunt clenches around him and you feel his thrusts stutter.

“Fuck,” he drags his nose up the back of your neck, “need you to touch yourself, please. Touch those pretty tit's for me.” You can’t tell if it's a request or a demand but how were you supposed to argue with that, especially when his hand tightens lightly around your throat in a way that makes you keen.

You keep your hand pressed to his at you clit but drop the other to your breast, dragging the lace cup down and squeezing at it. As you move to pinch at your nipple, Jason sinks his teeth into the meat of your shoulder, harder enough to bruise your skin. It stings but it tips you over the edge you hadn’t realized you were teetering on.

A gasped moan escapes you at the suddenness of it. Your entire body tightens, your cunt, your hands, and your knees give out . You're sure if Jason hadn’t already had his hands on you, you would have collapsed. Jason doesn’t stop thrusting into you, doesn't stop stroking your clit despite the way you claw at his hand. It’s only when you start twitching, body jerk against his touch that he lets up.

He stills to a stop inside you, still thick and pulsing. His hands ease from sensitive areas to gently lower you down on the bed. It’s only once he's pulled out and is gently manhandling onto your back that you hear him speaking to you.

“You're okay, sweetheart. Did so good. Came so pretty. Could listen to your sounds all the time…” and he keeps going, sweet nothings whispered against your skin as you settle onto the bed, bra quickly discarded.

His hands massage your body, mostly at your hips where you can still the imprint of his hand gripping you. It's when he sits back on his knees, to apparently inspect you based on how he’s looking, that you notice that he’s still hard.

“Jason?” You say, reaching a hand for him, even though you feel like a wet noodle. He takes your hand and playfully swings your hand back and forth. You barely have the energy to laugh at childish motion.

“You’re still- you can keep going,” you breathe out because while you can barely feel your legs you'd happily let him sink back into you just to feel the stretch, “if you want to, of course.” You add quietly, splaying your legs slightly. His eyes dropped to your heated center between your legs and you think he gets distracted though you don't have to be a mind reader when his cock does the talking for him.

He shifts, hands gently pushing your legs wider before meeting your eye, “You're sure?”

You nod at his concern, pressing yourself more into the bed and closing your eyes. You feel him move again to hover over you, the heat of his skin radiating into yours. You feel him guide himself back in and push in slowly. A weak sound leaves you and your hips twitch but your body eases into the stretch much easier the second time around.

Hips pressed together, you wait for him to move, to get himself off so you two can go to sleep. He surprises you instead, pressing tender kisses to your cheek. He stays there, soft and slow, pulling away just a breath to move lower to the edge of your lips. One of his hands gently drags your knee to sit on his hip and he caresses your thigh from there.

His hips finally move and instead of a dragging thrust like you expected he just grinds against you, his pelvic bone pressing against your clit. Your back arches at the sensation, hands grappling for his shoulders. His kisses move to the junction of your jaw and your neck, still soft.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he murmurs against your ear before he continues kissing your skin like you're something precious. You twitch with each grind his hips, cunt fluttering at sensation as he presses his weight atop, burying his face into your neck.

“So close, baby, so good .” You barely hear as his grinds turn into short thrusts. Your nails digging into his shoulders while his kisses against your skin turn wet and sloppy.

He gives one finally thrust back into you and moans, his hands dimpling into your skin. You feel the warmth of him seeping into you as he settles atop you, a steady weight.

You slump as he stops moving the stimulation ceasing. You feel hazy but not lost. You can feel Jason, warm and heavy on top of you. It grounds you in a way you hadn't anticipated.

The hands that you had scratched at his back and shoulders with slides into his hair, twirling the sweaty locks between your fingers while you listen to his breath, slow and steady.

Your mind drops at the warm soft atmosphere, a sleepiness creeping into your mind. You would probably fall asleep if Jason wasn't starting to become uncomfortably heavy in his position atop you and still inside of you.

“Jason?” You voice weakly as you card your hands through his hair. You feel more than hear his hum against the skin of your collar.

“Too much?” You say it like a statement and a question rolled into one, unsure if that's the phrase you're looking for. Your hips ached from where they were pinned open by him and you feel a seated stickiness where you two meet.

He shifts up in his forearms to look down at you. You wish this was yours all the time. That Jason wouldn't get so lost in his own turmoil and just say what he wanted to say to you.

“Did I go too far?” He asks, “I didn't hurt you, did i?”

You lazily smile at his worried tone, “I feel great. Just couldn't breath and sticky.”

He blinks down at you and you wait for the salacious comment you're sure he's going to make. You wait for his crooked smirk and ego that you hate to admit your into sometimes.

He surprises you, leaning down and pressing the softest, sweetest kiss you think you've ever received to your lips. Once, twice, three times before he's moving backwards, cock sliding out of you.

You whine, thighs twitching at the emptiness that follows. You can feel yourself clenching at the feeling, can feel the ooze of his cum leaving you. It makes you fluster despite the way he had you a few minutes prior.

Jason kisses at the skin of your rib, lower than you thought he'd be with your eyes closed and then kisses at your hip. Your thighs twitching closed at his southward movement.

“Easy, babe,” he says, keeping your knees apart. You feel his fingers slip through your folds collecting the leaking fluid only to bring them up to your clit. Your whole body jerks at the sensation, too much and not enough all at once.

“Jason,” you whimper in complaint and he just coos at you, rubbing circles into your clit til your panting again. An edge of warmth works its way up your spin and you dig your hands into the sheets.

You make the mistake of opening your eyes to look at him again expecting a cocky grin at how easily he's working you back up.

It's not there. No, instead you find something near reverent as he stares at you and it makes you squirm more than his hands on you. You close your eyes again and throw your arm over them for good measure to hide from his affectionate gaze.

He takes it as a challenge, wiping up more cum to press against your clit. It has you keening, hips pressing up against his hand. His lips return to your skin moving back up to your breasts. He breathes across your nipple and your back arches, chasing him.

“Jay, please,” you beg as you feel your orgasm creep closer and closer. You feel it then, the barest hint of that stupid smirk against your skin. He envelops your nipple with his mouth, free hand coming to grasp at your other breast.

He sucks lightly and you feel your legs begin to shake. He presses harder against your clit and his teeth make an appearance, skimming your nipple. You gasp a choked cry from your throat as your body curls in on itself and away from the stimulation as you cum, stars shining in your eyes.

Jason eases his touching, pressing kisses to your skin wherever he could reach, “sorry, just need another from you. Did so good, you sound so pretty.”

You shiver at his affection, a harsh change from the way the evening had started but you don't hate it. The warmth of him leaves and you don't have it in you to open your eyes or move your arm.

It's after a minute of silence and finally coming back down from your high that you gather yourself. Your body aches as you sit up to look around the dark room.

“Jason?” Your voice sounds a little hoarse and entirely too weak for your liking.

“Jason?” You try again, stronger, as you pull your sheets to cover your rapidly cooling body.

A heaviness settles over your body. Maybe Jason hadn't meant what he said. Maybe he just wanted sex to cool his anger and be done. Maybe he didn't keep his promises.

Your thoughts pause when you hear movement through the open doorway. Your eyes make out the shape of Jason In the dim, a hunched over look that you knew he got when he felt out of place. Something you were used to seeing when the bats gather as civilians.

He pauses at the edge of your bed once he sees you. His flickered down to your now covered body.

“I, uh, i got a bath running for you, unless you want to just sleep or you know it's whatever.” He stumbles over his words and the sudden nervousness of Jason Todd makes you laugh. Like he hadn't just dicked you down ten minutes ago.

“A bath would be nice,” you say after you watch his features droop a little from your laughing, “I don't think I can walk though. Need a big strong man to carry me.” You flop back on the bed, wincing at the pressure of your thighs.

“That's pretty anti feminist of you,” he playfully chides as he pulls the sheet from your body and tucks his arms under you.

You gawk at him as he lifts you up. A startled laugh leaves you, “what?”

He laughs at your reaction, fingers digging playfully at your ribs where he holds you.

“I'm kidding, sweetheart,” he noses at your hair and presses a kiss there. You're starting to like this quiet affection from Jason. Not a show for anyone else but the both of you.

It's only once he's eased you into the still filling tub and stepped back that you realize he's found his boxers.

“You're not going to join me?” you ask timidly, eyeing him. He smiles at you and squats down, pushing your sweaty hair from your face and tucking it behind your ear.

“Bathtubs a little small, don't you think?” Your eyes close at the touch of his hand but you pout at his words.

“You really gonna let that stop you?” You goad and slide an eye open to see if you've tempted him enough. He catches you and grins, cheeks dimpling.

“Well when you put it like that.” He rolls his eyes but complies with your request.

You slide forward in the tub as he steps out of his boxers and sits in the water behind you. You promptly turn off the water spout, not needing more with Jason's added body mass.

Jason's wet hand creeps up your spin and you take it as a sign to settle back against his chest between his thighs. His knees sit above the water on either side of you and you use them as an armrest as you settle your head against his clavicle.

One of his hands settles on the edge of the tub and the other, against your belly, massaging the skin lightly. You close your eyes enjoying the warmth, the steam and Jason.

“Are you still angry?” You ask, remembering the drastic change from the beginning of the evening versus now. His hand pauses on your skin but his fingers tap like he's thinking.

“I wasn't angry,” he admits quietly, “I was scared.” He stops there and you don't push. You'd have to talk about it either now or in the morning.

After a moment of silence, he continues, “I was scared you'd get hurt or worse and you'd never know…” he trails off and you take his hand at your stomach squeezing at his fingers.

“It's okay, I know. You don't fake the way you look at me, Jason.” You tell him, you tip your head to the side trying to meet his eye. He squeezes your fingers back and brings his other hand up to cradle your jaw.

“That's a cheap shot.”

You snort at the comment, “I don't fake the way I look at you either.” You press up to kiss where you can at his jaw.

“Oh really? You like me or something?” He teases hands shifting to hug you. He tips his head to kiss your forehead.

“Don't be mean to me,” you breathe and it makes his arms tighten.

“I thought you liked that.” He coos against your skin.

“Not right now, handsome. Be sweet to me” you murmur, eyes sliding shut.

His thumb presses into your shoulder, rubbing soothingly, “okay, sweetheart, I can do that too.”

****

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groovyfanbagelbakery · 8 days ago

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؛ ଓ ⸼ ࣪ ✿◌ ۪ ࣪ INKED SENSATIONS ┈┈ j. todd ִ ᭡ 🗯‌

　　﹒　　 †　　　 𓈒　　　୧　　　₎

𐔌 ˖ ࣪ ꉂ🗯˙🫐⃟.꩜‹　𝓹airing𓈒　j. todd　tattooed ! reader𓈒 　　†

؛ ଓ ✶ your boyfriend reacts to your new tramp stamp tattoo　 𝜗 ། 　suggestive﹐1.3k wc　 𝜗 ། 　𝓵inks𓈒　　mlist　　rules𓈒

A simple tattoo. That’s all it was supposed to be. Ink— detailed swirling patterns and striking shapes all coming into one beautiful design— settled right above your tailbone. It was a decision that had been simmering in your mind for some time. Tattoos could be painful— and this one was no less painful than any other tattoo, but there was something alluring about it. Something like a siren’s call. The reaction of your sweet boyfriend proved that.

It was only a few days after you had gotten the tattoo that Jason noticed something different about you. Maybe the tattoo adorning your lower back had given you a different aura, or made you more confident, because he was like a hound who had just picked up a different scent.

His eyes stared at you with more intensity. Simple moments spent with each other— cooking in the kitchen while his head rested on your shoulder, cuddling on the couch on lazy week-days and so on— had changed with one minor detail.

His stare.

Maybe not so minor. You don’t think Jason knows how much power he holds with his gaze— the sea-green that mirrors a violent ocean turns into something softer when looking at you.

Even now, in your shared bedroom, at the early hours of the morning, he’s watching you as if you’re some puzzle he’s trying to solve. You can feel his gaze deep in your bones.

“Jay?”

You question, slowly turning around to face him. Your head instinctively settles on his outstretched arm. The corners of his lips curl upwards instinctively.

“Good morning, Pretty.”

His voice is like honey in the morning. The soft touch of his fingers caressing your cheek is actually sweeter than honey.

“Why are you staring at me?”

“I can’t look at you?”

You snort, for a moment hiding your smile by nuzzling into his arm.

“Yes, you can. But you’ve got a different look to you.”

He grins— the action almost dangerous as he shuffles closer and his arms cage you in his hold.

“You’re the one who’s been different.”

He answers while pressing a soft kiss on your forehead.

“Maybe because I did do something a little bit different a few days ago.”

That catches his attention. His fingers tip your chin a bit higher so he can look at you. There’s a confused glint in his eye and a small pout on his lips, as if to complain about him not knowing about this change.

“Show me, please.”

There’s soft desperation to his voice. You’ve long discovered that Jason takes pride in you showing yourself to him— inside and out. You shuffle from the sheets, sitting up. He reluctantly lets go of you, but his hands still settle on your hips.

His eyes widen a bit when your hands find the hem of your sleep-shirt. Bringing the fabric up, you switch to your shorts, tugging it down slightly.

He gulps, eyes fluttering and mouth slightly open.

“Baby?—”

“Hush.” You stop him before he can question you. “Just look.”

You turn around, giving him a view of your exposed lower back. The tattoo is still healing, but the ink swirls on your skin beautifully. You lick your lips, anticipating his reaction.

Jason eyes truly widen at the sight. His hands that were settled on your hips ball up into fists— the knuckles turning slightly white. He instinctively licks his lips before his eyes find yours— a bit of a panicked glint in them. He sits up and you can only contain your giggles seeing his flustered reaction.

“Who did it? Was the place clean? Did it hurt? Did they make you uncomfortable?”

Of course his first concern was your well being— you can’t fault him for that. Though you want to push him a bit— tease him about it.

“You wanna touch it?”

You shuffle closer. The fabric is dangerously low— the entire tattoo is on display. You notice his hands flex, as if they desperately want to touch the inked skin. His eyes are ripped away from the tattoo as you offer him to touch the tattoo, as if to ask if you’re being serious.

“You’re such a—”

“Don’t act like you don’t want to.”

It’s a game at this point. Who will give in first? You decide to push his buttons a little more.

“I mean— I thought you’d wanna touch me after seeing the tattoo. Consider the fact I let some stranger stare and touch my back for hours.”

Jason scoffs, rolling his eyes. The annoyed click of his tongue only makes you want to try harder. You can tell your getting closer when his fingers push firmly into the skin of your hips.

Just a little more.

“I wanted to give you a surprise. Something nice to look at for next time we have—”

You don’t get to finish that sentence. He’s already on you. You can’t even comprehend how fast he pushes you on the bed, settled on your stomach and face in the soft pillows. His thighs keep you in place as his fingers trace down your exposed spine delicately before reaching your lower back and stopping at the tattoo.

“You wanted to give me an excuse to stare, huh?”

Even when talking, you can tell how focused he is on your tattoo. There’s concentration in his voice as he traces the ink. His touch falters sometimes, as if the sight of it is too much.

“Oh shut up. You like it.”

You quip back, turning your head around get a better look at him. You almost lose your breath.

His eyes are locked on the tattoo. His fingers trace the design. There is something completely different in the way he’s handling you right now. He’s acting as if he’s got a priceless art piece in his hands.

“Jason.” You sound breathless. “Stop staring at me like that.”

“Didn’t you ask me to look?”

“You’re not just looking. You’ve literally straddled me to just stare at it—”

You don’t get to finish, he has a knack for stealing the words straight out of your mouth.

Speaking of mouths— his is currently on your back, leaving small kisses down your spine.

“Jason!”

Your whimpers are muffled by the pillow under you. Your hands grip the sheets. You instinctively arch into the sheets as his kisses go lower and lower until he reaches the tattoo. You can feel how his kisses because even more attentive and slower. You can even feel his tongue graze the inked skin.

You let out a small, pitched moan at the sensations of his lips on you. The skin is still sensitive, making the sensations even more downright sinful as he kisses all over your lower back. He even smiles against it. A stupid fucking grin appears on his lips and you can feel it.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

You ask, voice shaking. You try and muffle any sounds coming out of your mouth by digging your face even deeper in the pillow. That only seems to excite him even more.

“I think you’re the one enjoying this more that I am, Pretty.”

“You’re such an ass.”

“Sure.”

He hums as he snatches the pillow from under your head. You yelp, caught of guard by his sudden action. His hand cradles your cheek to let you lay your head on the bed softly.

“Hey! Give that back!”

“Shut up. I need better access. Can you raise your hips for a second?”

He asks as if that’s just normal.

“I’m not— Jason, oh my god.”

You hide your flushed face in your hands. You can feel him shuffle right above you. He probably has a satisfied grin on his face. Curse him. Curse him and curse that stupid handsome smirk on his even stupider beautiful lips.

“What? You started it. Now, raise your hips for me, Pretty.”

﹒ ♪ ┊ INBOX OPEN.⠀⠀feel free to send me asks and suggestions in my inbox. ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

˖ `· . 𓏵 © 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐁𝐂𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐒 don’t use my work without my consent. ... ⏤ㅤ Ⳋ ⊹

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groovyfanbagelbakery · 1 year ago

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RUINED REPUTATION — k. bkg x assistant reader

sum. katsuki bakugo is the #1 professional hero. because of this, he built an agency, and wound up hiring an assistant to help him with publicity and to do majority of his paperwork for him... something he didn’t expect was for that assistant to be so damn attractive.

warnings. smut, mdni! power imbalance (implied), slight degration, risky / quickie, scandal, sort of slowburn, reader had a small quirk (can manipulate small doses of water), intoxication, smut in later parts.

part 1 | part 2 (wip)

a/n. ty to @cafekitsune for the borders / dividers!

“YOU do know the risks, right?” my room-mate, mina, says, “i mean, i went to school with bakugo. he’s not a very.. nice person, and publicly placing yourself as his assistant could make you a target.”

i nod. “i know that.” i say, stuffing some things into my purse, “but i need this job. i love you, mina, but right now we kind of need the extra income. we’re not getting much with your job.”

she groans in frustration, “i know! but, all the villains lately just aren’t compatible with my quirk, so i’ve been leaving it to the others..” she sighs, rubbing her face.

“yeah, i know.” i say, slinging my purse over my shoulder, “it’ll just be temporary until you get back on your roll.”

“more like temporary because dynamight’ll kill you before that.” she snorts.

picking up my keys, i scoff, “i’m sure he’s not that bad. maybe he’s just a stressed out person!”

“sure. just come home in one piece, alright?” she chuckles, taking a sip of her cold coffee.

i roll my eyes and step out the door, finding my car and opening my phone for the directions to the agency.

the agency was easy enough to find — right in the middle of town with a sign in bright, orange colours: “the dynamight agency”.

i guess when you’re the #1 hero you don’t have to be scared to be found. in fact, looking at the giant building, i suspect he wants to be found; to be challenged, and to show them why he has the title of number one hero.

..and i also suspect this guy needs a serious ego check.

but i couldn’t lie and say i didn’t feel nervous. anxiety rushed through me, daring to glue me to this spot and not enter the building.

despite this, i walk through the front doors accidentally pushing a pull door and make my way to the front-desk where a pretty woman sits with two body guards beside her.

“hi,” i whisper, “i’m uh, here for the interview.. for the assistant?”

“oh! yes, you’re right on time.” she smiles, clicking a few buttons on her keyboard, “you’ll have to take the elevator up to the fiftieth floor, and in room A3.

“you’ll find a few of dynamight’s personnel as well as himself. he insisted on being there.. considering if you’re accepted you’ll be seeing a lot of eachother for a long while.”

my heart skips a beat.

“dynamight’s.. gonna be there?” i say, my eyes widening.

the lady hums, nodding her head like it was something normal to sit and have a talk with the number one hero.

i gulp, but mutter a, “thank you,” walking toward the elevators while clutching my purse with clammy hands.

pressing the button to the fiftieth floor, i feel anxiety rush through me. who was i thinking, applying for this job? i can’t handle being the assistant to dynamight!

i groaned, slapping my forehead as the reality finally set in.

i should’ve just listened to mina, and applied for some desk job or something. i figured, why not go above and beyond?

i’m so stupid!

ding!

the elevator doors open, and about a gazillion people rush into the elevator muttering nonsense to eachother or into their phones. majority held a briefcase — some are just holding loose papers, clutching onto them like their life depends on it.

i’m suddenly pushed to the back, and i try to mutter a few “excuse me”s, but to no avail — none of them could hear me, too zoned out in their own realities to care.

i was trapped.

suddenly i hear an explosion. a minor one, but undeniable.

my heart skips out of my chest. was there a villian? i’m in an elevator with fifteen people! i’m so dead. what was i thinking?!

“WHERE IS THAT DAMN ASSISTANT?” a voice screams, becoming louder by the second. “she’s late!”

“i’m sorry, dynamight, but it’s only been two minut-“

“SHUT UP! i didn’t ask you.” dynamight’s voice is now clearly in-front of us.

and then, i see him.

he’s tall, menacing — still in his hero costume that i recognize seeing on television when i was a teenager, just a little changed up.

the look on his face was undeniable. red, hot anger spilled from his aura as his eyes scanned the group of frightened workers, all frozen in place and have halted their calls and conversations.

i feel myself freeze when his eyes glaze over me, before halting. his eyes narrow, before he lifts a hand and points.

“you.” he says. “‘cmere, will ya?”

everyone’s eyes flick to me. i gulp, before nodding and slowly trying to make my way through the crowd.

“well, move out her damn way then!” dynamight hisses, and suddenly i see a path in front of me where there used to be people.

i take a deep breath, and with newfound confidence i walk forward, never breaking my eyes from his as i find myself beside him.

he snorts.

turning on his heel, he begins walking. hesitantly, i start walking beside him. he gives me a quick glare, expecting me to dip behind him but i don’t.

like i said before: he needs an ego check, and this is it.

he scoffs. “so, you’re my new assistant, or whatever?” he says, looking ahead again.

“well, i haven’t done the interview yet. so, maybe?” i say, masking my nervousness by remaining cold still except for my legs that are struggling to keep up with the hero’s pace.

he tuts. “fuck that. you’re hired, from here on out.”

then, he stops. he stands in-front of me, and it suddenly hits me how much taller he is, as he towers over me quite easily.

“which means you’ll do as i say when i say it. you work seven days a week, doing all my boring work i don’t want to do. got it?”

“seven?” my brows furrowed, “the agency said five—“

“yeah, well i say seven.” he spits, before pushing open a door. “this is your office. i’m across the hall.

“you’ll come when i call you. you’ll be dealing with all of my publicity shit as well.”

i shift on my feet. “yes, uh… sir?” i test, cringing at my own words.

his brows furrow, and his chin tips up. “good.” he says, before turning on his heel, “my manager will send you a list of things to do. get working on it.”

with that, he walks away.

my first interaction with my new boss, dynamight, couldn’t have gone any worse.

after the first few weeks, i was spent. i’d never run around so much and dealt with such work since my first year in college.

after a long day in the office, dealing with one of dynamight’s scandals—he had hooked up with another pro hero—i finally was able to go home. it was 5:30, which meant i was already in overtime.

packing up my stuff, i push open the glass door that is my office. music played through my earphones, just a simple playlist that consisted of my favourite songs i grew up on.

“y/n.”

i hum along to the tune, scrolling on my phone as i walked toward the elevator.

“y/n?”

a notification popped up; mina had texted me asking to swing by a grocery store to pick up something for dinner.

as i begun typing a reply, i was quickly stopped when i felt a hand roughly grab my shoulder and turn me around.

my heart stops in my chest as dynamight glares over me, before ripping out my earphone and scoffing.

“i called you fifty times. next time, you’ll listen, alright?” he spits.

“you were— huh?” my brows furrow.

“fuck, are you deaf, or something?!” he stops himself, rubbing his eyes before inhaling a deep breath, “a word. in my office.”

he starts walking to his office, before i speak. “sir, i— i’m already in overtime as it is. respectfully, with your recent.. scandal, i haven’t gotten much time to rest. this is my one time to.”

his steps slowly halt. he turns, glaring with those ruby eyes straight into my soul.

“in my office, y/n. now.” he seethes, “the amount of rest you get isn’t my concern.”

maybe i would’ve gotten more rest if you learned to just keep it in your pants, i think but i do not say.

“you got a problem with my orders?” he stares, testing me, trying to provoke me.

i stare back. with a sharp inhale, i mutter a—“no, sir.” while beginning on my already aching feet.

i hear another notification on my phone.

mina

girl, where are you!! foods gonna get cold

taking a quick look to dynamight, i try to quickly type back.

i know, sorry, will be there shortly

mr. explosion murder is mad at me 😬

mina

oh damn

praying 4 u girl

“texting your boyfriend?” dynamight scoffs, to which i quickly put my phone away.

“oh uh— no, sir.” i clear my throat.

he looks ahead and murmurs a, “good.”

“what?”

he opens the door to his office with such force i jump, the door nearly grazing my nose. he stands in-front of it, gesturing for me to enter.

when he does, he closes the door behind him.

i try to mask my nervousness, but it’s nearly impossible—who wouldn’t be nervous to be alone in a room with dynamight?

“what’d you want to talk to me about, sir?” i ask, fixing the glasses on my nose— just a small prescription, mostly for looks since i thought they were cute.

he stalks toward the chair tucked neatly into the desk in the middle of the room. sitting on it, he gestures for me to sit as well.

hesitantly, i do, folding my hands neatly in my lap.

“the board wanted me to discuss something with you,” dynamight states, leaning back in his chair and resting his hands on his open thighs.

oh gods. what is so big that the board wanted dynamight himself to talk to me alone about? was i being fired? was my work not good enough? was —

“your clothing.” he states, “you need to dress more formally.” he looks me over, eyes gesturing to the jeans and tank-top i had on.

i blink. “you.. you pulled me in here just to talk about what i wear?”

he runs a hand over his chin, inhaling. he has a slight stubble along his jaw and neck; the result of overworking himself the past few days.

lately, i’ve noticed a spike in his working hours, working longer than he usually does and longer than he needs to.

the biggest question is: why do i feel like i need to care for dynamight?

“not necessarily.” he states, leaning forward, “i’m going across tokyo for a mission. i want you to come with me.”

“what?” my brows furrow, “why?”

he sighs, “because.. i haven’t been out outside of work since my scandal, let alone talked to the press. i need you there to handle that shit for me so i can do my job.”

i ponder with his words, “..okay. well, i’d have to check with—“

“it’s not a question. it’s your job,” dynamight’s voice suddenly turns harsh, “we’re leaving tomorrow morning. i’ll pick you up by seven.”

“but you don’t know where i—“

“i know where you live.” he says, standing, peering me over when he sees i’m confused, “it’s in your work file.” he adds.

“oh. right.” i sigh in relief, thankful he wasn’t some stalker who found out where i lived by following me home.

wait, why would he even do that in the first place? whatever..

the door opens, and i turn to see dynamight standing irritably beside it. catching up on context clues, i grab my things and rush out the room.

that is, before i’m stopped by a hand on my shoulder. he leans closer, glaring ahead of him. i can feel the heat emitting from his hand, his body, and i freeze beneath his aura.

“and y/n?” he says, “if you’re going to wear that shirt.. wear a fucking bra next time.” he seethes.

practically pushing me out the room, i feel the door slam behind me.

i feel my face flush as i peer down to my shirt — i thought i could get away without wearing one today but i guess i was wrong.

fuck. how embarrassing was that?!

mina:

u alive?

me:

FML!!!

after i had gotten home, i told mina everything. needless to say, she was shocked — “seriously? travelling across the country with bakugo?”

“yeah. and for a week!”

“oh, you’re so done for.” she snorts, “i could barely handle a few hours with that kid back in highschool, let alone be with him all day long.”

i sigh, taking a sip of my water, placing it on the counter as i jump up to sit on it.

“he’s not.. that bad.” i cringe at my own words, “just a little misunderstood.”

“oh, please.”

“serious!” i cry, taking a bite of my donut, “i mean, he is an asshole, but working alongside him isn’t so bad.

“plus, majority of time he’ll just be ripping up some villains. all i get is some sweet vacation.” i shrug.

mina spares me a look, “are you sure you don’t have some sort of crush on him, or something?”

i gasp. a harsh blush finds my cheeks, and i want to crumble in on myself. “what? no!” my voice cracks as i am quick to defend myself.

she snorts. “you’re only ever like this when you have a crush!”

“am not.” i say, hiding my face from her.

“you’re blushinggg..” she teases, “you so have a crush on him!

groaning, i jump off the counter and make my way to the couch instead of the kitchen.

“don’t try and hide it!” mina calls from the kitchen. i roll my eyes and ignore her, flicking on the television.

the news was on.

the lady on the screen speaks, “number one hero, dynamight, was seen only two days ago with a top-ten hero. rumours have speculated about the two — are they dating, or was it just a fling? here’s what we think…”

i groan. another mention of this stupid scandal was gonna make my head explode.

the press didn’t know who it was he had slept with, but i did — it was double trouble, a hero with a doubled voice quirk that could control others bodies.

i always thought she was cool. standing at fourth place, she was a well known pro-hero in the area.

and also known to be happily married with two kids.

so why, on earth, did dynamight have to sleep with her? he had to be stupid to, she was pretty, but he really needed to get better with his publicity skills.

being the cause of an affair wasn’t getting better at it.

and if any information got out of it being double trouble, he’d not only have ruined his reputation but ruined double troubles life.

so, i spent the last week making sure every last bit of this scandal was wrapped up and sealed away. everything on the internet, security cameras, was wiped out of the world.

turning on one of my favourite shows, i set down my phone and get comfortable on the couch.

finally, i could relax.

and slowly, but surely, i fall into a slumber.

nearly an hour later, i hear a knock at the door. i groan, annoyed my sleep was disrupted and even more annoyed someone decided to knock on my door at midnight.

“can’t i just get one night of peace?” i mumble to myself as i push myself off the couch, fixing the tank-top strap on my shoulder.

walking to the door, i run a hand through my hair to attempt to tame the wild mess caused by sleep.

i open it, the door creaking as i did, peeking my head out the door. and…

i see no other thank katsuki bakugo, better known as dynamight.

he’s clutching the side of his torso, clutching the doorframe as he attempts to keep himself up.

he looks up, cheeks flushed, wearing casual wear — well, casual until you see the giant blood stain ruining his white tee shirt.

“i.. i didn’t know where else to go.”

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