amshortcharlie - Tumblr blog

amshortcharlie · 2 years ago

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summary - smut, heavy comfort, FLUFF, when divorced dad/pro hero bakugou’s aquarium trip is ruined by intrusive fans, you offer to let them come back after hours so his daughter can see the belugas.

a/n: daddy and daddy kink(I couldn’t help myself), bakugou’s daughter is an adorable menace, single dad bakugou has basically no idea how to flirt, reader is insecure a touch, TW for the song baby beluga, reader wasn’t close with her father, Bakugou is in his early thirties, reader in mid twenties. Bakugou’s still kinda mean in bed. Oldest sibling!reader so she got the mom instinct, and unpainted nails because of the touch tank at her job.

minors dni

Bakugou silences his phone in his pocket, trying to ignore it’s incessant buzzing. He only had this evening with his daughter before he’d have to bring her back to his ex, the last thing he wanted to do was answer some bullshit questions from his agent. It doesn’t help that everyone at the aquarium is staring, people taking the occasional not-so-subtle photograph. His daughter runs ahead of him, and he catches up in a few strides.

“Sana,” He calls, “C’mere, sweetheart,” He takes her tiny hand in his, swallowing it completely as she turns to look at him, oblivious to the eyes on the two of them, but jumping at the soft camera clicks.

“Dad,” She gasps, “Look at the BELUGAS!” She giggles with delight when one swims past and his heart swells painfully, watching the joy spark in her face then travel through her body as she does a little dance. She turns to him, “Did you SEE that?” He nods. “Where do they LIVE?” She screams the last word, attracting even more attention. Someone comes up behind him, nervously holding a notebook.

“Um,” the young woman smiles at him, “Could you sign this for me, Dynamight?” He grunts, scribbling something on her paper. It’s like a dam breaks in the room, and suddenly there are three, five, ten, more people crowding him and Sana, and his first instinct is to tell them all to go to hell, but he remembers the clips of him losing his shit that they played at the custody hearing, and so instead he takes a deep breath and nods, acquiescing. Sana clings to his leg for a moment.

“What do they want daddy,” She whines, and a few of them have the grace to look chagrined, “I wanna show you the whales!”

“One second sweetheart,” He growls, forcing himself to keep his face neutral as these fucking extras shove pieces of paper into his hands. They move in closer, until his broad shoulders are flush against the cool glass, and he doesn’t immediately notice the lack of the tugging on his pants, the silence where usually a barrage of questions would be, but after about sixty seconds he looks down, and Sana is gone. All neutrality melts from his face, he whirls around, looking desperately. “Fuck off,” He snaps, jogging away from the people moving down the hallway. “Sana,” He calls, running down the tunnel where Manta rays float above your head, and past bright tropical fish, his heart pounds, could it have been a villain, how could he have let his fucking guard down like that-

-and there she is, bright giggles spilling from her lips, facing an aquarium employee who’s squatting in front of her in khaki shorts and a bright green polo.

“Don’t cry,” You coo, making huge bubbles with your hand that spill into the empty room, opalescent spheres that catch the light and pop when they brush anything solid. Bakugou spots the tear tracks on his daughter’s face and moves towards her but you slot your body between him and the little girl.

“Can I help you sir?” He blinks a couple times, so angry his hands are shaking, counting slowly in his head, down from ten, just like his therapist taught him.

“That’s my daughter.” he barely manages to get the words out and Sana leaps from behind you, climbing right up his leg like the worlds cutest spider monkey.

“All those people were scary,” She hiccups, “I didn’t like it.” Bakugou sighs, rubbing a comforting circle on her back.

“My fault.” He mutters, “All daddy’s fault, alright, let’s uh, let’s go home.” Sana starts to kick and scream in his arms.

“NO!” She yells. “I WANTED TO SEE MORE OF THE BELUGAS?” She bursts into tears. “They were rude, so now WE have to leave? That’s not f-f-fair.” Bakugou sighs, bouncing her a little, searching for the right words, when you take a step forward, and speak.

“Um, sorry, Mr. Um, Mr. Dynamight.” He regards you coolly, you look a little sheepish, perhaps, he thinks, for not recognizing him sooner. “If um, you’d like,” You glance down the manta ray tunnel, “I’m closing up tonight. If you come by at 7 I can give you a tour after closing, in exchange for you posting something about kids not throwing garbage in the ocean or something on Instagram.” He swallows. “It’s um,” you look so genuinely concerned that he softens a little, heart rate slowing, “She’s right, it’s not fair.”

“PLEASE DADDY!” Sana screams in his ear, leaning back, begging, grabbing one of his cheeks.” The huge man shifts his weight a little, considering, as Sana runs her hands down a huge scar, running down from the side of his face down under his thin t shirt. Sana turns back to you, “Sing the song pleeeeeeeeeeeeasseeee,” she begs, bending her back, trying to squirm out of the pro hero’s arms. You face burns with subtle embarrassment, your eyes flicking to Bakugou’s face, he was unbelievably, ridiculously handsome, and you were about to ruin any chance you had with him, even in the worlds ugliest work uniform.

“Baby beluga,” you sing softly, “Baby beluga,” Sana wipes her tears, away, totally focused on you, “Is the water warm, is your daddy home, with you, so happy, baby, beluga,” Bakugou watches Sana soften and reach for you, singing along.

“Baby, beluga, in the deep blue sea,” she sings, “Swim so wild and and you swim so free.” She turns back to Bakugou, “Your turn daddy!”

“Alright, Sana,” he rasps, “Let the lady do her job.”

“Can we come back later? Please?” She begs. He looks at you carefully.

“You won’t get into trouble?” He asks, eyes narrowing and you laugh.

“Of course not.” You smile warmly, “Besides, you risk your life every day for us. I think I can risk a talking to from my boss if you forget to post about being here.” He nods.

“I’ll have my manager take care of it,” He shifts Sana’s weight in muscled arms, looking even larger somehow with his daughter in them. “Seven?” You nod, and there’s a noise as more people start coming down the manta ray hallway in search of the number two pro hero.

“There’s a backdoor.” You say quickly, and he nods gratefully. You lead him around a corner into the empty gift shop, moving briskly through the racks of multi colored t-shirts and stuffed animals. Sana grabs a beluga whale plushie just as people start to filter into the gift shop, so you pick up the pace, pushing the metal door to the exit open.

“Put that back,” Bakugou hisses, as the crowd of people moves closer.

“It’s fine.” you say quickly, looking at the people taking pictures. “I’ll pay for it.”

“I can’t let you-” He growls.

“Get out,” you say pointedly, customer service smile never leaving your face, “Seriously, she doesn’t like the cameras.” He looks sharply down at Sana, who’s cowering against his chest. “She told me.” You say urgently and he nods,

“Thank you.” He darts out the exit into the mid afternoon sun.

“Why do people do that?” Sana sniffs, taking a fistful of his t-shirt. “I hate going places with you daddy.” There’s a silence, Bakugou holds her tightly enough so that she can’t look up and see the wetness in his eyes.

“I dunno, sweetheart.” he says after a long moment. “We’ll come back okay? Tonight.” She nods slowly. “Hey,” he coos, as she snuggles her new stuffed animal, “That fella got a name?” She nods.

“If it had teeth I’d name it after Uncle Kirishima,” She considers, “But it’s so soft,” She squeezes it tightly. “What do you think of ummmm,” she pauses, “SOFIA, like SOFIA THE FIRST!” He laughs lightly.

“We’ll have fun tonight, okay, no people, just you and me and uh,”

“Y/n.” She finishes happily. “With the bubble quirk.” Bakugou nods, the image of your soft smile, and how embarrassed you’d looked singing in front of him tattooed on the back of his eyelids. He thinks now, of the way you’d just shoved yourself in front of Sana when you thought he was a strange man barreling towards a lost girl.

“Y/n.” He repeats. “Yeah, and the belugas.”

“Of course,” She rolls her eyes, “Daddy the belugas will be there because that’s where they live!” He nods and lets her squirm out of his arms, leading her back to his car. At 6:15 Bakugou’s in the bathroom, shaving, while Sana plays with her toys. He listens to the way she gives each stuffed animal their own voice, and hears her words from earlier echo in his head. I hate going places with you daddy. He swallows, examining his face in the mirror, his scars, the dark circles under his eyes, the white hairs mixed in with the blonde. He warms some hair wax on his hands, styling his undercut carefully, unsure of who he’s doing it for.

He arrives 15 minutes early, according to the website, you close at 6:30 and he’s relieved to see only a couple cars in the parking lot. Sana bounces excitedly next to him as you push the heavy door open.

“I’m early.” He says, and you smile brightly.

“I had a feeling you might be,” you wave them inside, “Sana are you ready for the exclusive tour?”

“Yes!” She squeals, dancing in her little plastic jelly shoes, the ones with glitter that she’d begged for for Christmas. Bakugou follows easily as you lead them into the huge entrance hallway. “Wait!” She says, her little voice bouncing off the marble columns and high ceilings. “Why do we get the special tour?” Bakugou is about to jump in when you speak

“Your daddy’s a special guy.” She nods sagely.

“I know.” She whispers conspiratorially. “He saves people.” You laugh, it coruscates across the empty space, the sound sweet and pure, stirring something in Bakugou’s chest that he’d considered long dead. It reminded him of sweaty palms in classrooms, of thumping music at a party he didn’t want to be at, of the sound of a chair scraping against the restaurant floor on a first date. It felt like that, but better. Warmer.

“Let’s keep going,” you point to the huge replica of a killer whale hanging from the ceiling, “Can you tell me what that is?”

“That’s SHAMUU!” She says, and you smile.

“That’s right!” You take them through the main room, stopping and explaining, Bakugou watches silently, when you talk you gesture wildly, as if you’re spelling the words out with your hands. You’re in the Manta ray tunnel, the lights lower than earlier, creating an odd blue ambiance.

“What do you know about manta rays Sana?” You ask and she thinks about it.

“Manta Ray’s are gentle giants,” She says, like a scientific authority. “They like to make friends with divers and snorkelers, they’re very curious.” You beam at her.

“That’s right!” One swims right above your head and a shadow passes over the three of you, Sana jumps and curls herself around your bare leg, Bakugou takes a step forward to remove her, to apologize, but you reach down and ruffle her hair. “It’s okay, gentle giants, remember,” she nods and you squat down to her level, “It’s okay to be afraid, but take a step closer for me, he just wants to get to know you.” Sana nods, chewing her lip, releasing you and moving towards the glass in the tunnel. She presses her hand to the glass, and the manta ray comes closer, examining her. She laughs nervously and you look up at Bakugou meaningfully. He swallows, remembering himself, getting down on his daughter’s level.

“What uh,” he asks, “What else do you know about Manta Rays?”

“They can swim up to 22 miles per hour,” She breathes, as the brown creature comes closer to her, inquisitive. “They have huge brains, and they probably talk to each other somehow, but we haven’t figured out how they communicate.” You stand back up, inching away from this intimate moment. She squeals loudly when the animal comes right up to glass, resting its belly on it, right above her hand. Bakugou reaches out, covering his daughter’s hand with his own, as the manta ray flutters it’s huge wings. “Wow,” She says quietly. “Have you ever seen anything like this?” Bakugou opens his mouth, looking for words.

“No.” He says eventually. Sana’s attention snaps to you, waiting quietly in the low light, a few steps ahead of them in the tunnel.

“You too,” Sana orders, “You touch too, please.” She juts her chin out and Bakugou swallows.

“Sana, she doesn’t have to-”

“It’s okay.” You say quickly. You press your hand on the glass next to his.

“No,” Sana whines, “Under daddy’s so that the sizes make sense.” You laugh lightly, Bakugou withdraws his hand,

“You don’t have to do what she says.” He growls, and you shake your head.

“That’s just not true.” You put your hand on top of hers, the Manta Ray centers itself on that point and stays there. Bakugou reaches out, and covers your hand with his own. Your skin is soft, nails unpainted and short, he imagined for touch tank related reasons. “Your hands are huge.” The words fall from your mouth before you can stop them, and Bakugou smirks. “I mean,” you flush, “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” He shrugs. The Manta Ray loses interest then and so does Sana, ripping her hand away and tearing off down the hallway.

“It’s BELUGA TIME,” She yells, and you jog to keep up with her, Bakugou close behind. The whale room looks different at night, most of the light coming from the tanks, the huge white belugas more active, zipping around the tank. She takes off running, doing laps in front of the huge tank, dancing and twirling. “Sing the song!” She begs, without looking at you.

“Oh Ah,” You look over at Bakugou,

“She doesn’t have to, Sana,” Bakugou calls.

“But YOOOOOUUUU DO!!!” Sana calls, turning around, a familiar wicked smile on her face.

“She looks so much like you.” You murmur, turning to the pro hero, whol looks down at you, a hint of desperation on his face.

“What are the fuckin’ words?” He hisses. Your face burns.

“It’s um,” you start to sing, “Baby beluga in the deep blue sea,” She giggles happily, “You swim so wild, and you swim so free, heaven above and the sea below, and a little white whale on the go,” you turn to Bakugou, prompting him to join you on the chorus. “Baby, beluga,” you sing and to your shock, he joins you in a tone deaf rasp.

“Baby, beluga,” He sings, “Is the water warm, is your daddy home,” a lump forms in his throat as his daughters laughs spiral towards the ceiling, “With you, so happy,” You see his eyes get misty, and quickly move to distract Sana.

“Hey Sana,” You call, waving your hand in a wide arc, making a huge long bubble, “Does this look like a beluga to you?” She screams loudly, running back over to where you’re standing with Bakugou. He watches his daughter lean up to pop the bubble you made, and then she takes off down the hallway towards the penguins. You follow her, Bakugou matching your strides.

“You got a license for that shit?” He asks quietly and you laugh.

“Gonna report me?” He shakes his head.

“Thank you.” He stares off at Sana, jumping around. “I didn’t uh, plan on having kids.” You nod, listening. “I wish I could give her, more normal things, like this.”

“Are you kidding?” You turn to him, eyes wide and sad, “I would have killed to have my father take me to the aquarium at all.” You smooth your hair, modulating your tone. “You’re trying, I mean. That matters.”

“Huh.” He says, and you shrug then follow Sana to the penguins, pointing out the different species of them, all while wringing his favorite sound from his daughter, bright explosive laughter.

The rest of the tour is uneventful beyond Sana’s dramatic gasps, and the way she cowers behind her father at the hammerhead sharks. She’s tearing through the gift shop with a fervor when you turn to Bakugou again, speaking very quietly as she digs through a big bin of polished shells.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” He looks at you sharply, inspecting your face, your inquisitive eyes, perfect lips, the way your hair framed your face, surely he’d remember you if he’d met you before. “You actually,” you laugh nervously, “You saved my life.” He blinks at you. “It must have been your first or second year out of school but um, there was a villain robbing a bank, and I was inside.” You shrug, “I maybe, sixteen, and you came in, all confidence and power and the whole thing was over in a few minutes.” He searches his memory for that day, remembering the bank, and the tentacled villain, and, oh yes,

“You were hiding behind the couch.” He rasps, the scene vivid in his mind, it was one of the first times he’d been on the front of every paper, back then, it had felt like the ultimate victory.

“I was so afraid.” You say, “M-mr. Dynamight,” He scoffs.

“Bakugou.”

“Right, um,” Bakugou,” you look up at him, “You know when she’s memorizing those facts and spouting them, she’s not showing off for me,” he crosses his arms, looking away, “She wants you to be impressed with her.” There’s a silence. “Not to overstep.”

“‘S fine.” He grunts, remembering the stuffed animal, fumbling for his wallet, “How much for the stupid plushie whale?”

“That’s not necessary.”

“I’ll rephrase. Tell me how much the fuckin’ toy was.” He says, staring down at you. You jump a little at his coarse language, but Sana’s not in earshot.

“F-fifteen dollars.” You get out, immediately embarrassed by your stutter. He peels a twenty from his wallet. “And the post.”

“I emailed my manager, she’s taking care of it.” Bakugou responds. He eyes the sinking sun. “Is one of those cars out front yours?” You shake your head.

“I take the bus.”

“Today you don’t.” He says, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’ll give you a ride.”

“That’s so kind of you.” You fidget a little. “I live pretty far though.” He shrugs.

“She sleeps in the car. You’d be doin’ me a favor.” You let out a long breath.

“Ah, alright.” Sana is dancing around the exit while the two of them wait for you to get your things.

“She’s nice daddy.” Sana says. “And she said I could come back and see the beluga’s anytime.” Bakugou nods. “And maybe, if she came around more, mommy wouldn’t worry about you being so lonely.” Her words hit him like a sucker punch.

“Mommy uh, Mommy worries about me?”

“Yeah,” Sana says, nodding, “I do too.” He swallows, plucking her off her feet.

“You never need to worry about me,” He rumbles, “Remember, daddy’s the strongest,” he tickles her and she giggles, kicking her little legs, “And the smartest,” she laughs harder as he lifts her up and blows a raspberry into her soft stomach, “And?” He waits for her to finish.

“The best hero ever!” She squeals loudly, reaching her little hands out for him, he nestles her against his broad chest. You come out, in a sweet little sundress that fits at your waist and then floats down around your thighs. He does some math at light speed, if you were sixteen when he’d ended that bank heist then you were, five years younger than him? So when he’d had his first kiss, you’d been in middle school, when he’d gotten married you’d been in high school, when he’d-”

“Ah, Mr. um,” you catch yourself at his scowl, “Bakugou, I’m ready, if you want to go.” He nods, leading you out to his car, a sleek black luxury model that flew just underneath the radar.

“What neighborhood are you in?”

“Uh, downtown, by the bridge?” He unlocks the car and it beeps softly, he waits until Sana is clipped into her seatbelt and the car door is closed before turning to you.

“That’s a shitty area.” You shrug.

“We’re not all pro heroes.” He walks around the car and for a moment you’re confused, but then you realize he’s opened your door for you. “Oh, um,” your face warms, “Thanks.”

“You look shocked.” He says dryly, as you swing into the seat. He moves around the car quickly, settling into the driver’s seat.

“Yeah,” You laugh lightly, “Guys my age don’t do things like that.” He nods, at the press of a button, the engine hums to life.

“Mind if I drop her off first?” Bakugou palms the steering wheel, expertly navigating out of the nearly empty parking lot, “My ex loses it if she’s late.”

“Of course, that’s fine.” You say, as smoothly as you’re able, palms slick as you think of the idea of being alone, in the car, with the handsomest man you’d ever seen. Even the way he drove was attractive, the subtle scent of whatever cologne he was wearing wafting through the small space, changing lanes decisively, the engine letting out a low roar when he accelerated. One hand rests on the console, inches from your thigh.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Sana inquires from the backseat, the wicked smile you recognized from early posters of Dynamight on her face again.

“Sana,” Bakugou cautions, looking over his shoulder before merging onto the highway. “We don’t ask people that.” You laugh.

“It’s alright, Sana, I don’t.”

“Did you EVER have a boyfriend?” She pushes, and Bakugou glares at her in the rearview mirror while she ignores him.

“Yeah,” Bakugou’s eyes move to your hands, doing a nervous little dance in your lap. “He wasn’t my prince charming,” You say, twisting in your seat to face the little girl, reaching for words she’ll understand.

“What was wrong with him?” Sana asks, fascinated.

“Sana,” Bakugou says again, “You don’t have to answer that.” He turns to you. “You’ve indulged her plenty.”

“That’s ok!” You coo, making a big distracting bubble. “Some people, you know, are not so nice,” You explain, as the bubble floats through the back of the car, and she watches it.

“Like the villains daddy fights!”

“Yes,” You agree, “Like that.”

“Did you know my daddy is a hero?” She asks, sitting up in her seat a little. “The best one ever.” Bakugou grins despite himself.

“I did know that!” You respond, and she yawns loudly.

“I am, SO tired.” She announces to the car, “Daddy I’m gonna go RIGHT to sleep.” He chuckles deeply.

“Yeah, I’m sure mommy will be thrilled to hear that.”

“Gonna sleep so fast there won’t be ANY time for vegetables,” She explains, winking at you.

“Ahh,” You nod, “I understand.”

“Vegetables are delicious,” Bakugou counters, “And Sana always finishes them when she’s with daddy.”

“Daddy, your food is better!” Sana complains, yawning again, “Daddy’s the best cook.” She closes her eyes, the hum of the car and the excitement of the day too much for her. There are a few minutes of silence, you turn back around and watch the city flash by.

“You in school?” He asks, and you nod.

“I’m doing my masters in Marine Biology, so I work at the aquarium a few days a week when I’m not studying.” Bakugou searches his mind for topics, for maybe the first time in his life he’s desperate to make conversation, to draw you out a little before he lets you go. He reaches down and turns the radio on low. To his delight you let out a soft coo,

“I love this song.” He nods, he’s never heard the soft strumming of the guitar, but your face warms like a candle.

“Bad breakup?” He asks, and then kicks himself, was there such thing as a good breakup? Fuck he was so-

“Yeah.” You pause. “He um, he had a drinking problem.” Sana’s snoring softly in the back. “And some other problems.” Bakugou shakes his head, a shadow moving over your face as he turns onto his ex wife’s street.

“Mommy had some problems too.” He says, eyes flicking to Sana in the backseat. “But I wouldn’t change it.” Your jaw sets.

“I don’t think about the past like that.” You mumble, “I mean, I like to analyze, or maybe over analyze, but I, I mean, I’m who I am, right, because of it. I don’t know any other version of myself.” He nods, but you continue. “I think, I’m so terrified of making a mistake and screwing up my whole life.”

“It’s harder than you think,” He rasps quietly, “To ruin your own life, most things, start as mistakes, but end up feeling like choices.” He parallel parks in front of the stately marble building he pays rent for but seldom steps foot in.

“Can you park here?” You wonder out loud, and Bakugou smirks.

“I park wherever the fuck I want.” He gets out, scooping Sana out of her seat and closing the door with his hip. You’re only alone for a few minutes but it’s enough time for you to completely lose your grip on reality, to wonder, what the fuck you were doing in Dynamight’s car, what you were doing telling his daughter about your shitty ex, why you’d offered to stay late just on instinct, why he’d even come? Your pulse races, he wasn’t flirting with you, not a nobody, not someone who looked like you, who had barely bothered to do their makeup, men like him, they dated models, and famous philanthropists. He was just being nice. He had to be.

In the elevator coming down from dropping his daughter off, Bakugou doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He tries shoving them in the pockets of his jeans, but that feels wrong, and crossing them feels strange, but he’s too keyed up to let them hang at his side. He sees you before you see him, you look so genuinely nervous, eyes huge and unfocused, he almost gives up right there. His feet however, still carry him to the front seat of his car.

“Downtown, you said?” He asks.

“Yep.” There’s a brief pause before you speak quickly. “I shouldn’t have, you know, talked about my ex, that was weird.”

“I asked.”

“I mean, yes you did, but I still feel like it was weird, I mean I’m some random Aquarium employee who you met a few hours ago, I shouldn’t be just, like, sharing-”

“I asked.” He says again, looking over at you. “Because I wanted to know.”

“Oh.” There’s another pause. “You’re different now, than you seemed, I guess, when you were younger.”

“I’m older now.” He says, and then kicks himself again, he shouldn’t be drawing attention to the age gap, and what the fuck kind of a response was that, I’m older now? What were you supposed to say? Instead of speaking, you turn the radio up. “I know this song,” he blurts out, and you laugh.

“Because it’s old,” and he swats at you on instinct, you giggle and avoid his halfhearted attempt, “It is!” You protest, leaning on the console. “Won’t you, take me by the hand, take me somewhere new, don’t know who you are, but I, I’m with you,” you sing along, and he shakes his head.

“At least it’s good Avril Lavigne.” He mutters. “Not whatever the shit girlfriend was.” You nod, looking out the window again, and he wracks his brain for something to draw you back to him.

“Do you uh, have any siblings?” Lame.

“Yeah,” You say, turning back to him. “A younger brother.”

“So you’re the oldest?”

“Yep,” You confirm, “The pseudo parent.” You scoot a little closer to him as he looks down to turn his signal on. “Do you want more kids?”

“I didn’t even want one.” Bakugou says honestly, “But now that I’ve got her I want a million of those little fuckers, she just,” He laughs, “She’s got me wrapped around her damn finger. Best thing that ever happened to me.”

“That’s so lovely,” You sigh happily, “I think I want a bunch too, and a house somewhere quiet by the ocean, maybe.”

“With someone who opens car doors?” He rips his eyes from the road and allows himself one second of looking at your legs before focusing again.

“Well gentlemen are an endangered species.” You take your phone out, “Do you want to hear what’s waiting for me on this dating app?” He grins.

“Yeah, let’s hear what the extra’s think is gonna win you over.” You hold up one finger and read.

“Hey baby,” You say, “How do you like your eggs in the morning?” Bakugou snorts and catches a wicked glint in your eye, “Should I say, unfertilized.”

“He’s not worth the caloric energy you’d burn typing that response.” He says, making a wide left turn. “What makes a guy, a gentleman, to you?” He rasps, keeping his voice casual. “Ya lookin’ for someone who’ll bring ya flowers and write ya poetry?” You giggle.

“No,” you take a deep breath and let it out through your nose, “This is so lame, you can’t make fun of me.”

“I do not promise that.” He says. “Don’t say somethin’ stupid and I won’t mock ya for it.”

“Okay, okay,” You speak again, gesturing like you did earlier when you were giving the tour, “I’m the oldest sibling, I’m responsible, and smart, and I would like for once in my life, to be the person being taken care of rather than the other way around. I want,” you pause, thinking, “I want to be with someone who is always thinking like, what can I do to make her smile, to make her life better, because that’s how I am, and I just, never found someone who matches me there.”

“Huh.” He says.

“Go ahead.” You stick your chin out. “Mock me.”

“Can’t.” He says, frowning. “Too sincere.”

“I also hope he’s tall.” You quip, and Bakugou laughs harshly,

“Think one of those two things is gonna be easier to find than the other.” You flip through the dating app. “Those are shit, by the way.”

“I work too much to meet people any other way.” You sigh. “Sorry, this isn’t what you signed up for, when you offered to drive me home, I’d give myself 0 stars on uber for oversharing.”

“You edit a lot.” he says gruffly.

“Yeah, I’m um,” You touch the back of your neck, “Maybe the most nervous I’ve ever been.”

“Because of me?” He asks, looking over at you, measuring the warmth of your cheeks, your soft smile, the slight tremor of your hands. “Are you cold?”

“Um, yes, and no.”

“Your hands are shaking.”

“I’m nervous!” He pulls up to a red light, bathing both of your faces in crimson.

“Why?” He asks, “Because I’m a hero?” You swallow, close your eyes and throw caution to the wind.

“Because I was gonna maybe ask you inside for a drink, but um, if you’re gonna say no, then I didn’t ask.” His heart thrums in his chest.

“If I’m gonna say no you didn’t ask?” He repeats, just to watch you crumple with embarrassment, adorable. “Relax, princess, I’m comin’ up.” You lift your head.

“You’re terrible.” You say with a warm smile, and he matches it. “I mean it.” He reaches over and pats your knee, unsure what possessed him to touch you, but unable to stop.

“You ain’t seen nothin’.”

“I’m a little messy, heads up,” you confess, and he shrugs. “And I only have whiskey.”

“Tryna get me drunk?” He asks, slowing down as he enters your neighborhood.

“No!” You protest, “No I promise I’m not-”

“Relax,” He says again, “I’m just pushin’ your buttons.” You cross your arms and huff. “You really just jumped in front of Sana today,” He says after a moment.

“I didn’t think about it.” You say honestly. “Now I feel silly, if you did want to take her, I’m fairly certain there’s nothing I could do about it. You look at his defined biceps and thick forearms. “Oh, here.” You point and he frowns. This isn’t just a crappy neighborhood, it’s a dangerous one. Your building is in disrepair, bricks crumbling down into the ally , the air condition unit drips on the dirty sidewalk. He parks quickly and gets out of the car, and gets do your door so quickly that he’s able to shut it on you when you try to open it yourself.

“What did I tell you?” He grins, “I open the doors around here.” Your stomach does a backflip.

“R-right.” He offers you a hand, lifting you out of his car, and not releasing it as you move towards the building. He watches you fumble with your keys, and where you would have struggled to open the sticking door in the humidity he’s able to wrench it open with one firm yank. “Thank you.” You murmur, and you lead him up the dark stairway, the building smells like cigarettes, your footsteps are muffled on the filthy brown carpet. There’s a faint buzzing from fluorescent light in the hallway. and it flickers a little. You wince when you finally get to the door, “I know the building’s depressing but,” You open your door, “I think my place is nice.” He ducks his head to get through the door, the ceilings here are low, clearly in violation of some building code. Your apartment is messy, strewn with books and papers, a couple plants on the window sill, he recognizes fresh basil, the rest must be herbs. The light is soft and yellow when you flick it on, and the colors are warm and inviting. You slip your bag off your shoulder and it’s hard to focus on anything else when you bend down in front of him, he heard the clang of glass and you pop back up with a bottle of whiskey.

“That’s shit.” He says, shaking his head, but you just giggle.

“More for me.”

“Get me a glass.” He orders, and to his surprise you nod, padding into your kitchen and taking two mugs from the cabinet. “Don’t you have glasses?” He asks and you shrug.

“Nope.” You pour each of you a hearty serving then gesture to the couch, handing him his mug. “Sorry to make the number two hero rough it.”

“I can handle it.” He takes a sip of the whiskey, and manages not to wince. “I’m more worried about you, princess,” He says lowly, watching you sip the liquor like it’s water.

“I’ll be fine.” You mumble. “Sorry, really, that my place isn’t so nice.”

“I like it.” He says, scooting closer to you on the couch, and willing his hands not to sweat as he reaches for you. He slips an arm around your shoulders, you’re sitting with your knees tucked into your chest.

“Do you um,” he’s so close to you, you can count every freckle on the bridge of his nose, “Want to watch tv?” He snorts, setting his mug on the table.

“Fuck no,” He breathes, before reaching out and cupping your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “Can I, uh,” he feels so stupid, in his youth, he’d have just pinned you down, he’d have one hand around your neck by now, “Can I kiss you?” You nod, lifting your head to his.

“Please,” you breathe, and presses his lips to yours and then sucks gently on your lower lip, his hold on your face gentle but firm, guiding you. With his free hand, he takes your drink and sets it on the coffee table, then his hands drop to your waist, lifting you with a soft grunt, so that you’re facing him in his lap, straddling him on your knees. His hands drop to squeeze your ass, your thighs, letting out a soft groan at the give in them, before bringing one of them to the small of your back to move your hips against his.

Your head is spinning, mind swimming, as your face gets warmer and your need grows, you gasp softly into his mouth, and he slips his hands under your shirt, palming your breasts, first through your bra, but quickly losing patience with it, taking it in two hands and tearing the fabric like paper.

“Bakugou,” You gasp, more surprised than annoyed, but he just grins.

“I’ll get ya somethin’ nicer.” He flicks his calloused hands over your nipples and watches your delicious reaction, your pupils dilating, your soft lips parting, he could watch this for hours. You suck on your pouty lower lip for a second when he pinches them softly, it’s like you’ve never been touched before, you’re so sensitive. “Fuck,” He growls, when you mewl for him, “Get this shit off.” You nod emphatically, flopping on your back to take your t-shirt off while he pulls your leggings off and yanks your plain cotton panties to your ankles. You go to sit up but he snaps, “Don’t move,” and tugs his own shirt off, revealing layers of scarred, tanned muscle. You must show your desire on your face because he smirks.

“Like what ya see?” You look away, embarrassed he caught you staring, but he climbs on top of you, catching your chin in one hand, “You look so cute when you’re embarrassed,” he says, “Do’ya do this often,” and you squirm more underneath him, “Pick up dads at the playground?”

“No-ohhh,” you sigh through your denial when he buries his face in your neck, his rough tongue on your soft skin, kissing and biting, bringing pleasure with just the edge of pain, “I didn’t think you’d,” you cut yourself off with another moan when he slots a thigh between yours, and presses it firmly against your sex, “Fuck, I didn’t, think you’d-”

“You didn’t think,” he laughs, trailing his lower lip across your skin, taking your nipple in his mouth, sucking hard enough to make you breathe in sharply and arch your back, “That I started thinkin’ about how much you’d cream on my cock while you were squirmin’ in my front seat?” You whimper and grind your hips against his thigh, “Needy little slut,” he growls, sticking two fingers in your mouth, “Suck.”

You hollow out your cheeks and he watches in awe as he pushes them further between your perfect lips, flicking your tongue over his digits, eyes wide and opium blown.

“That’s it,” He grunts, “Get ‘em nice and wet for me.” He pushes a little farther, and finally gets what he wants, triggering your gag reflex, making your hips buck underneath him, your throat convulse, and tears well in your eyes. “Good girl,” He says, in the softest tone of voice he’s capable of taking his soaked fingers and trailing them up your slit, he notices you soften a little at the words. “You like that?” You blink at him and he slaps your thigh, “I asked you a fuckin’ question, you like it when I tell you you’re my good girl?” Your mouth drops open as he choses that moment to part your folds, stealing the air from your lungs by way of dipping his middle finger into your burning core.

“Fuck,” you chirp, “Yes, yes I like it.” He pumps his fingers in and out of you a couple times, and you roll your hips against his hand, he curls them inside of you and you moan loudly, “Daddy please,” you squeal as he grinds the heel of his palm against your clit.

“Daddy,” he repeats in a low growl, “You filthy fuckin’ thing,” He leans down and speaks directly in your ear, wedging himself between the body and the couch, “Spent the day with me and my daughter and now that I’m knuckle deep in your cunt you wanna call me daddy?” Tears burn in your eyes, you whimper, he’s pressing against that bundle of nerves with every thrust now, your thighs are trembling, “Go on then, cum all over daddy’s fingers, you dirty,” his teeth graze your earlobe, “fuckin’ slut.” Your orgasm rips through you, and you cry the loveliest half choked sobs, curling into his body. He rubs your back, trailing his fingertips over your skin, making you shiver.

You look up at him, with soft, wet eyes, and take his hand, bringing it to your lips. He watches, transfixed as you gently lick his fingers clean.

“Holy fuckin’ shit,” he breathes, when he can speak again, “You wanna be daddy’s good girl?” You squirm underneath him and he chuckles. “Nah, you’re not gettin’ away that easy.” He sits up, moving you with him, sitting you gently on his lap. He unzips his dark jeans, and hooks his thumbs in his boxers, pulling them down, letting them fall to his ankles. His cock springs loose, thick and heavy, slapping against his abs.

“Oh, my god,” The words fall from your lips before you can stop them.

“Think ya can take it?” He asks, sitting up and pressing his forehead to yours. “Think you can handle daddy’s fat fuckin’ cock?” You roll your eyes and he chuckles dangerously, catching your face roughly in a calloused hand. “Now was that a good idea?”

“N-no, probably,” you get out, his hand squishing your cheeks, muffling your words.

“Good guess,” he snarls, releasing you and rubbing the head of his cock against your softness, pressing it directly against your clit which is still throbbing from your orgasm. You feel just the head of it at first, and you hiss as eases into you, pressing down on your hips as you sink down on his length.

“Fuck,” you choke out, “You’re s’big,” he guides your hips, lifting you an inch up and and slamming you back down so hard you cry out, burying your face in his neck.

“Too much?” He asks lowly,

“Don’t stop,” You beg, breathless, “Please,”

“Squeezin’ me so tight,” He groans, “Relax a little,” he moves his hips, bouncing you experimentally, delighting in the soft broken gasps spilling from your lips into his neck. “That’s it,” He growls, “Atta girl,” He picks up the pace a little, grabbing a fistful of your ass and then slapping it hard, “Atta fuckin’ girl.” You lean back a little, lifting your head and kissing him as he fucks you hard, hips slapping against yours with every thrust. Your hands tangle in his straw hair, and he lets out a low rumble when you pull, “Harder,” he orders, bouncing you faster, until your breath is coming in short little gasps between moans, completely undone in front of him.

“D-daddy,” You warble, giving in, collapsing against him, “Need to cum again.”

“Now that she needs to cum I’m daddy again, huh?” He lets out a sharp breath, “Fuck, though you’ve got a tight little pussy,” he moves you, pressing his forehead to yours again, so that he can look directly into your eyes. “Gonna let daddy take care of you?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” You chant, nodding emphatically, “Please,”

“Gonna be daddy’s sweet little cocksleeve?”

“Mhm, yes, please, daddy,” You mewl.

“Fuck,” He snarls, thrusts getting sporadic as he nears his own high, leaning forward and biting down on your neck, “Cum for me.” He snaps, and you clench down on him, cunt fluttering around him as you cry, and as he rakes his nails down your back, letting you milk him dry. For a few minutes there’s only breathing, he draws patterns on your soft skin. “Good girl.” He whispers, breaking the silence. You wrap your arms around his neck, clinging to him. You stay like that, resting, breathing until Bakugou feels you shiver, and moves a little, waking you up.

“Oi,” He murmurs, “Time to put some clothes on, huh princess?” You swallow. Of course, you think, he got what he came for. You nod, climbing off of him, legs shaking as you pull your panties back on, and step into your leggings. You pick up your ruined bra. “Toss it,” he orders, “I’ll get you somethin’ nicer.”

“You don’t have to.” You say, and he bristles at the edge in your voice.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing.” You say, disappearing down the hallway to find clothes.

“Uh, uh,” He follows you, pulling up his pants and boxers, leaning against your door frame as you dig in your dresser. “What’s goin’ on?”

“You just um,” You speak without turning around, “You can go if that’s what you want.” He laughs harshly.

“Is that what this is about?” You’re wiggling into another bra and he frowns.

“I don’t like that one either.”

“Could it be you just like my tits out?” He steps into your bedroom, wrapping his thick scarred arms around you.

“Are ya poutin’ because you thought I don’t wanna stay the night?” He says in a low rasp.

“I would understand-”

“Oh, I’m not sleeping here.” He says meanly, and your shoulders droop so immediately that he can’t tease you for another second, “Because we’re going back to my place, you fuckin’ moron.” He flicks your forehead then shudders, “I don’t wanna find out what your cheap ass mattress is gonna do to my old man back.” He picks you up, holding you by the thighs while you avoid eye contact, “And in the mornin’ I’ll make you the best damn breakfast you’ve ever eaten, so smile for me or somethin’ dumbass?”

“I don’t eat breakfast.” You mumble and he shakes his head.

“You do now princess.” He tosses you roughly onto your bed. “So get your shit, because we’re leaving.”

“You seriously don’t have to pretend you want-”

“If you say that again,” Bakugou scowls, annoyed, “I swear to god I’ll take you right over my fuckin’ knee.” You blanch. “Or would ya like that too much? Gonna soak right through your panties for me? Tch.”

“Well I mean technically speaking, my panties are wet, because,” Something hits him.

“You’re on birth control, yeah?” You snort.

“Yeah, Bakugou.”

“No need to look so relieved.” He puts you down. “Betcha’d like it if I locked you down, huh?” You swat at him halfheartedly searching your closet for some pajamas resembling lingerie. “Also uh,” He pauses, “‘S Katsuki.” You shove some clothes into a beg, and he waits for you while you grab your things from the bathroom. He leads you down the stairs, out of your crappy apartment, into his sports car. He speeds through the city, taking tight turns and running yellow lights, one hand on the wheel and one hand on your thigh.

He pulls up in front of his building, and you reach for the car door but think better of it.

“Good girl,” He coos condescendingly, “She’s learning.” He takes his time walking around the car, opening the door for you and helping you to your feet before tossing the keys to his building’s valet, draping an arm around your neck. Your sneakers look out of place on the shining marble floors, and when you see your reflection in the closing elevator doors it’s distorted. He runs his wallet over a sensor, and it beeps, flying you up to the penthouse floor. You step into his apartment, and gasp at the view of the city from his floor to ceiling windows, but you only have a second to marvel in the darkness because he’s snatching you up, and carrying you down the hall to his bedroom, with soft grey sheets and the blinds closed.

“You can drool at the view in the mornin’.” He growls and you reach for your bag.

“I brought stuff to um, sleep in.” You mumble and he relents, stepping out of his jeans, and putting on a clean pair of boxers before flopping on his bed, watching you strip, body glowing in the low light. You slip on a pink satin tank top and high waisted shorts, and turn to him, unconsciously asking for his approval.

“C’mere,” he says, lifting his arm, and you dive under the covers, shivering. “He tucks your chin under his head. “Meant it by the way earlier, no take backs.” Your eyelids are drooping and you’re so warm and comfortable that you almost don’t question it. He hooks a leg around yours trapping your thigh between his.

“What?”

“Said you’d let me take care of you.” He mutters.

“Oh.” You tighten your grip on his arm. “You were serious, about that?” You can practically feel his eyeroll as he tightens his grip on you.

“’Course I was. Now go the fuck to sleep.”

3K notes · View notes

amshortcharlie · 2 years ago

Text

My heart literally melted at the end

BAKUGOU x FEM!READER

♫ ⏯︎ Innerbloom (What So Not Remix) - RÜFÜS DU SOUL

☆IT’S A PARTY! REQUEST EVENT | MASTERLIST

BAKUGOU (BNHA) x WORK PARTY ☆NYE EDITION☆

REQUESTED BY ☆ @i-hate-your-guts-babydoll

LENGTH ☆ 3.2k

CONTAINS ☆ NSFW! Fuck buddy Bkg, mutual pining, office sex, creampie, alcohol mention, dubcon (alcohol), a single ass smack, fingering, light degradation, use of “slut” and “brat”, slightly rough sex into more meaningful sex, bkg puts his hand over your mouth to shut you up lol, it gets hot and heavy (and sappy) at the end, reader and bkg are both idiots who are bad at feelings (:

AN ☆ Happy New Year’s! Let’s pretend I didn’t finish this a week after actual NYE lol. Katsuki held me hostage and made me write him just a little softer — it was completely against my will and not indicative at all of how much I really do love him. Anyways, thank you so much for sending in this request and I hope you enjoy! <3

“If you want me, if you need me, I’m yours…”

You don’t really like fireworks.

That’s what you’re thinking to yourself as you lean against the side of the building, head tilted upwards. Soon the sky above will be filled with sparks of color, faraway specks of firelight that burst and dance through the air before making their descent down to earth. But for now, there is only darkness; There are no stars in the vast ocean of black, every little twinkling light chased away by the cruel brilliance of the city. You miss the stars, but you much prefer the empty sky to one filled with fireworks. You’re savoring the silence for now — well, the closest thing you can get to silence in the city on a night like this.

Milky white wisps and curls around your face as you take another drag of your cigarette, cherry tip sizzling in agreeance. Excited squeals and boisterous laughter leaks out from the office building behind you, a reminder of the work party you’re trying to escape for a moment. The smoke in your lungs blows out on a long sigh.

New Year’s is not your favorite holiday. It’s not even your second favorite, or your third. You’d hardly even count it as a “holiday” in your mind. Really, it’s more of a marker, a white line painted on the cement that somehow signals both the finish and the start all at once. Feet step over the thick strip of paint and cheers ripple through the air – and then you blink, and the pop of a gun startles you. You’ve finished the race, made it through the year, but the race simply begins again. And in that maddening loop you are forever caught. Forever running the same circular stretch of pavement. Over and over, year after year.

And the waving flag just up ahead also reminds you of all of the loose ends you’ve left to flutter in the wind behind you. Some have called you cynical, many have called you negative, but the truth of the matter is that you don’t really see New Year’s as sweet opportunity. The New Year is sour, stale. Another year, another rotting pile of the unfinished, the unfulfilled, the unanswered.

And then one of those unanswered questions saunters right out into the courtyard with you, heavy footsteps reverberating in the night.

“Y’really shouldn’t smoke those.” The voice is deep, gruff. From that, and the annoyed click of his tongue when you take another drag, you know exactly who it is.

“Oh really?” You look down at the cigarette between your fingers, and feel a warm body settle in next to you. “Why’s that?”

“‘s’bad for yer health.”

You swivel your head, eyes finding your nag. Sharp features, piercing crimson, and ash blonde hair that, despite the clean-cut dress shirt and slacks he’s wearing, is still undeniably wild.

“So is picking fights with violent criminals,” you quip, tilting your face up towards his defiantly, “but you don’t see me telling you how to live your life.”

Amusement spreads slowly across his face, a smile pulling up at the corners of his mouth. He turns his head and snorts a small laugh, trying his best not to give you the satisfaction. Noticing the pink dusting his cheeks and the drink in his hand, you realize — he’s drunk. It’s a rare occasion to see Dynamight drunk.

Dynamight is the most successful sidekick at the agency. Fresh out of college, he’s made a name for himself quickly. As the agency’s head dispatcher, you work closely with the team of sidekicks, serving as their coordinator and reliable point of contact when they’re out in the field. Surprisingly to many, you and Dynamight work well together. He’s a hard worker and a quick thinker, which makes your job easier. And you have thick skin and a sharp tongue, which comes in handy when dealing with him. Ultimately, a mutual respect had eventually settled between you.

Among other things.

Flicking the butt of the cigarette to the floor, you extend your foot to stamp it out under your heel. You can feel his eyes on you, his gaze always so damn heavy.

“I like that dress,” he tells you, tipping his glass to his lips, regarding you over the edge of it.

“I’d offer to let you borrow it,” a small smile to accompany the playful lilt in your voice, “but I don’t really think it’s your color.”

He rolls his eyes. “Stop bein’ a smartass, you know what I mean.”

Turning to him, you cross your arms loosely over your chest. This is your favorite game to play with him, especially when he’s in a good mood — like after a successful capture, or when alcohol has loosened his usually tight demeanor.

“I don’t think I do know what you mean.”

He pushes himself off the wall and is in your space in a moment, eyes narrowing, a smirk on his lips. “I like that dress on you,” he says, a low growl that makes your heart flutter in your throat, “But I think I’d like it better on the floor. Or ripped to shreds. I’ll let you choose how I take it off you, just this once.”

“Mighty generous of you, Dynamight.”

A sneer, and his eyes bounce down below your nose. “Keep up that little attitude and I’ll ruin more than just your dress.”

The unanswered question that hangs heaviest between you was born from the fact that you and Bakugou have been regularly hooking up for four months now, and you haven’t the faintest idea what the fuck he really wants from you.

It had started a lot like this – a night warmed by alcohol and a budding sexual tension. You had been surprised when your coworkers told you Bakugou would be tagging along to happy hour after work, and you were even more surprised when he’d drunkenly insisted on walking you home after. (“‘s’not safe,” he’d drawled, hands stuffed stiffly in his pockets.) A slightly awkward kiss in front of your door had turned into many heated kisses through the doorway, and down the hall, and into your bedroom, and tangled in each other until the sun peeked through your curtains.

But he was gone when you woke up. The only evidence that he had been there at all was a plate of food set neatly on the counter with a scrawled note that told you to “go buy some real groceries”. When you next saw him in the office, it was like nothing had happened. He strapped on his hero uniform, and you perched yourself in front of your web of monitors, and neither of you even so much as stole a knowing glance. But when his voice crackled through your headset, deep and rough and spitting curses, you could feel the heat simmer beneath your skin. What you didn’t know was that he felt the same – until he confronted you weeks later at another office outing about ‘avoiding him’. He fucked you hard in an alleyway near the bar that night, a leg hiked up roughly around his hip after you both realized you couldn’t keep your hands off of each other long enough to make it to your apartment.

The hookups became regular after that, the flirting more brazen. But the nature of your relationship remained a mystery. One that became more and more perplexing with each note left on your counter, each lunch that appeared on your desk, each cigarette snatched from your grasp and stomped into the pavement.

Those questions itch at the back of your neck but, when Bakugou brings his lips closer to your ear, the warmth of his breath and the rumble of his voice always has a way of soothing them. “The conference room is unlocked. Go in there and wait for me.”

And when he has you turned around with your hands braced against the long conference desk, his chest pressed to your back and his hard cock rubbing against the curve of your ass, any doubts that may have plagued your mind suddenly fizzle out completely. Each kiss sucked into your neck, each curse breathed into your hair, each spark of frustration squeezed into your hips – it all empties your mind of any logical thoughts and leaves behind nothing but a burning stretch of need.

His palms are rough but his touch is tender as he feels you, explores your dips and swells with equal parts care and hunger. It’s like they can’t choose a spot to settle on, running over your arms, kneading at your tits, digging into your waist. You push back into him, reveling in the feel of his thick cock trapped between your body and his. And his hands finally find purpose, one coaxing your face to turn and meet with his for a sloppy kiss, the other snaking under the hem of your dress to grip at the fat of your ass.

“I like this dress,” he breathes against your mouth.

You chuckle, “You told me that already.”

“Well I’m tellin’ ya again,” he grumbles, “fuckin’ brat.”

He grips your hip hard, forcing you to grind back on him. You peer at him over your shoulder, rolling your hips against him, grinding harder, and watch his lids droop and his jaw slacken at the pressure. There’s an inky darkness cast over the empty conference room, but the glitter of the city is spilling through the high windows just so, highlighting the mist of lust in his eyes.

He’s perfectly disheveled in his formal attire, suit jacket abandoned, sleeves rolled up on his muscular forearms, tie loosened and slightly askew. It makes your chest ache to see him like this, makes something bubble up in you that you’re inclined to swallow back down. And you think you see something on his face that mirrors your thoughts, something in the way his gaze softens when he’s looking you over in the dim light.

You gasp when you feel his fingers against your clothed pussy, and he snickers, a cocky expression back on his face in an instant. “You’re soaked already,” he notes with a laugh, “I can feel it through your panties.”

Matching his energy, you reach back to palm at his cock through his slacks, smiling when you hear his sharp inhale. “You gonna keep talking shit all night, or are you gonna fuck me?”

The heavy weight of his hand between your shoulder blades forces you down, bending you over the desk until your chest is smooshed against the cold surface. He yanks your dress up, pushing the slinky fabric until it’s gathered around your waist, exposing your ass to the cool air. Blunt nails dig into your flesh, then a harsh swat to your cheek makes you yelp and snicker.

He’s grumbling under his breath as he fiddles with his zipper, complaining about your smart fuckin’ mouth and telling you how he’ll shut you the fuck up. You peek back and bite down on your lip when you catch a glimpse of his cock being pulled through the open zipper of his slacks, so hard that a vein bulges along the side and a glistening bead of pre drips from the tip.

And then his finger is hooking under the thin fabric of your thong, knuckle brushing against your pussy as he pulls it to the side. An anticipatory shiver rolls down your spine as you watch his neck crane down, and then you feel a warm drop of spit hit the tight ring of your ass. It drips through your folds, until two fingers catch it at your clit, running back up and gathering wetness to push back into your dripping cunt.

“Fuck, you’re so fuckin’ wet,” he says as he works his fingers into you, a domineering hand on your back keeping you bent over the desk, “This how wet you get thinkin’ about me railing you in the middle of the office?”

His fingers curl into you, the pad of his thumb coming to rub at your clit, and your back arches, a whine escaping you. “Got nothin’ to say now, huh?”

You grit your teeth, shooting a glare back at him. “Bakugou, if you don’t just fuck me already I swear to—“

His hand clasps firmly around your mouth, fingers digging into your cheeks as he turns your face forward. The tie around his neck tickles at your back when he arches his hulking form over you.

“Shut. The fuck. Up.” His growl sends a shiver down your spine, and you can hear the smirk in his voice when he continues, “Or else the whole office is gonna hear what a slut you are for me.”

He withdraws his fingers from your cunt to grasp his cock at the base. He swipes it along your folds, gets the head coated in your juices. You’re holding your breath, feeling the familiar push of his tip against your entrance, and then he’s finally sinking into you, groaning along with your muffled exhale.

He fucks you hard and deep, pulling on your hip to force you back and meet his sharp thrusts. The moans he punches out of you are caught in the shell of his palm, your muted cries and snorts of breath sounding downright animalistic mixed with his grunts of pleasure. It’s so good, the way he’s manhandling you, the way his cock drills into you, the way his hand feels hot and dominant wrapped around your face – you can feel your core tightening, ready to burst and spill all over him.

But then you hear excited yells coming from down the hall, and your eyes widen.

Your hand slaps frantically against his arm, and he quickly releases you, hips stalling as his mouth opens to ask if he’d hurt you.

“They’re about to start the countdown!” You exclaim, breathless.

A pause. “So?”

“So…” The end of your thought hangs heavy between you.

Why does that matter to you suddenly? You don’t even care for New Year’s, would go so far as to say you dislike it. So why does the symbolism of counting down the hour suddenly feel so important to you?

Bakugou is perceptive, and the answer comes to him before it does you.

“What, ya worried about a New Year’s kiss? I’m literally fucking you in the office, I think we’re a little further along than that.”

He snorts, expecting you to find the thought funny. But you don’t laugh. Crimson bores into the back of your head, willing his gaze to penetrate and unveil what you’re thinking. He takes a deep breath, and then softens a bit.

“Fine, c’mere.”

And then you’re being whipped around to face him. Fingers splay across the base of your neck, his hand strong and sure as it cradles you there, and he steps forward into you until the backs of your thighs are pressed against the side of the desk. His other hand helps you settle yourself on top of the surface, and then he’s slotted between your thighs, sticky cock resting against your mound. Your noses nestle together, so close his warm breath ghosts against your mouth when he parts his lips to speak.

“Three…” He murmurs against your mouth, joining the raucous counting just outside the door. His voice vibrates your lips, and when his tongue flicks out to wet his own you feel it graze you. You can smell the alcohol on his breath, can practically taste it.

“Two…” Your gaze flits up from his mouth, and you find that deep carmine is already waiting there for you. Burning hot, piercing right into you like a blade from a fire. His hand slips to the small of your back, pressing you even closer against him, and your bodies mold together like well warmed clay.

“One…” And as the world erupts around you, his lips find their place pressed against yours. It’s soft, but full of an intensity that rings so much louder than the cheers that bleed through the walls. The boom of a firework echoes through the city, then another, but you don’t notice. Everything around you is muffled, the celebration light years away. In your world it’s almost silent – save for the soft sounds you swap between you, and the deafening beat of your heart.

You kiss again, and again, lips and tongues chasing after each other in a rhythmic dance. It’s different, the way you’re clinging to each other and losing yourselves on each other’s breath. The change is palpable, the tension so thick that it seems to dunk you both beneath it until you’re gasping for air. The question is there again, but this time it’s more than just an itch, not something you can swallow down. It’s trembling, shooting up towards the heavens, on the verge of bursting into a million flaming pieces.

In the heat of it all, you find yourself angling yourself on the edge of the desk, him grabbing hold of his cock to line it back up with your entrance. He presses forward, sinking into you again with a sigh that you eagerly swallow. He fucks you deeply, kisses you deeply, never fully leaving you as he rocks into you and tangles his mouth with yours over and over again.

There’s no room for words between you, no air to form them with, until your head finally falls back and your legs wrap themselves around his hips. Only then does he press his forehead to yours, holding you firmly by the back of your neck, and speaks to you with a hungry rasp you’ve never heard before.

“You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous,” he tells you, brows knitted together, pupils bleeding into the deep sea of red, “Look so fuckin’ gorgeous tonight – fuck, I wanna see you cum – ngh-need you to cum with me.”

He’s not fucking you hard, or fast, but he’s massaging into you with a different kind of intensity, carving a meaningful space for himself inside of you that your body welcomes with equal parts desperation and passion. The heat of it all is so strong, so bright, that it ignites you in an instant. Your orgasm rips through you, separates every tiny piece of you and sets it ablaze. Bakugou holds you tightly against him the whole time, head damp where it’s connected to yours, talking you through it in a pleading voice, “So fuckin’ gorgeous — god, look at me, keep your eyes on me, baby fuck gonna cum with you, gonna—“

And then his hips stutter, and he’s spilling over inside you, panting and swearing as he follows you over the edge. He unloads himself completely into you, and a heady warmth radiates deep in your gut as you both breathe deep, ragged breaths together.

The pop of a firework startles you both, and your heads turn together just as a supernova of color fills the darkness. It dances across your face and glitters in your eyes, and you don’t notice the way Bakugou watches you, don’t see the way you’ve eclipsed everything else in sight.

“Y’know, I didn’t think I liked fireworks, but now I’m not so sure,” you hum thoughtfully as you watch another pretty one explode in the distance. And Bakugou laughs, small and dry. Because he’s always been sure. He’s always loved fireworks.

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