#bakugo katsuki smut

[k-atsukibakugou]

happy birthday to the man!! — katsuki sees your sex toys once and is haunted by what you look like using them

pairing: bakugou x f!reader w/c: 1.5k warning/s: nsfw 18+, m! & f!masturbation; sex toys, i think that's everything notes: this is a bit short BUT i had to get something out for the man, this took me like 2 weeks to write but hopefully now i'll be out of my slump a little bit! pls enjoy c:

crossposted to ao3 • masterlist • wip updates & voting • kofi • askbox

18+ MINORS & BLANK BLOGS DNI

fuck… he really doesn’t know when the lines started to blur between friend and fantasy, from wanting to hang out with you to wanting you, from talking to you about your day to being bricked up hearing your voice. yet, here he was, hot water streaming down his neck, plastering damp hair to his forehead; the water pouring over his head nowhere near enough to wash his mind of you.

he’d been plagued by you, morning to night, even in his damn dreams since he tried to find a phone charger at your place.

it’s not like he was snooping, he wasn’t trying to find that sort of thing, bakugou was only trying to find your spare charger, he’d seen you put it in one of these drawers before, how was he meant to know you left your spare chargers right below all of that?

he’d slammed the drawer shut the absolute second he realised exactly what he was staring at; the bedside drawer stuffed to the brim with bright, phallic toys, a collection of smaller, rounder vibrators, something that looked awfully similar to a gag, and he heard the telltale metal clinking of at least one pair of handcuffs against the wood when he slammed it closed. embarrassing heat crawled up his neck, burning his cheeks and setting the very tips of his ears alight. stuck in the same spot, mouth half opened dumbly, his eyebrows creased in the centre of his face, all blood rushing from his brain down to his half-hard cock already straining against his pants, the need making him ache.

every hour since that, he’d spent thinking of what your wet cunt looked like swallowing the toys; so pretty and drippy, how it looked tensing around nothing when you came from the buzzing of your vibrator, how you’d look writhing and moaning handcuffed with that gag in your mouth, how your drool would stain your shirt, sticking the fabric to your skin. god, it was just so lewd, even under the purifying water, he felt dizzy, sticky, hot, sweaty, the image of your toys burnt into his retinas, no matter what he tried to distract himself with, he always saw your toys at the forefront of his mind, the perverted imagery refusing to budge from its newfound home.

bakugou groans, a deep, rough sound drowned out by the even buzzing echoing in his ears, the sound slowly building, kicking to a new level when your whine drowns it out. you always start nearly silent in his dreams, just tiny gasps escaping your parted lips when you’d nestle the toy right against your clit. you only get louder from there, your eyebrows scrunching together like his own were, marking two little tallies in the middle, tilting upwards at the centre as you pulled your lip up between your teeth. the motion did absolutely nothing to muffle your sounds, your whimpers and moans only growing louder with every heave of your chest, every passing moment with the vibrator pressed to your pulsing clit making your hips jolt into it.

you reach between your thighs with a whine that sounds all too similar to his name torn from your lips, dipping your fingertips in your slick cunt, collecting all the cum gathering at your trembling hole without even taking a breather from humping your vibrator like your life depended on it. your movements grew jerkier and jerkier the longer the intense vibrations were held to your drooling pussy, your eyes fluttering closed with a breathless shout of his name, shaky, wet thighs squeezing around your hand, even as the vibrator slipped from your grip, falling forgotten onto the sheets beneath you, the constant stimulation growing too much for you—

“fuck.” he really couldn’t help it, his hand travelling lower down his abdomen, trailing behind droplets of water still running down his torso to his hard cock, the tip already leaking from the thought of you. wrapping his fist around the base of his cock, he squeezed once before twisting his wrist, slowly jerking his cock, wondering if you were in your shower doing the same, fucking yourself on one of your toys imagining him in its place just as he wished it was your warm cunt squeezing around his dick instead of his hand.

“katsukiii—” bakugou can feel you beside him, your figure displacing the dense steam surrounding him, a heavy, thick silicone dildo hanging from the glass wall of the shower, your figure slick and soapy from the shower, damp hair sticking to the soft skin of your neck and face when you bent at the waist, lining the tip of the plastic cock up with your drooling hole. the head of the cock would slide into your cunt all too easily in his fantasies, always greedy to watch you take more and more, inch by inch sinking onto it. your mouth falls further open the more you take of the toy, the pleasure too much for you to even hold your head up by the time your ass was pressed against the cool glass, your back arching with the tip of the dildo nestled deep inside your cunt. he wonders if the curve of it would rub on your g-spot at this angle, if it would drive you crazy grinding against the glass, whining when you can’t take it anymore.

bakugou’s head falls back thinking of you reaching for the shower head, his cock pulsing in his hand when he grips the base, his muscles tensing and relaxing while he tried desperately not to cum; the image of you playing behind his eyelids making that a near impossible task. even with his eyes squeezed shut, there you are at the forefront of his mind, switching the settings of the shower head to a concentrated stream, aimed directly at your aching clit, your broken moan jolting his hips forward into his hand, stroking the length languidly. your voice wavered, repeating his name again, the stimulation inside and outside your cunt just so overwhelming.

bracing against the tile with your spare hand, you lift yourself back off the toy, the base suctioned to the glass remaining stuck as you grew quicker in your movements, starting to bounce and roll your hips in a smooth tempo. he matches the pace of your hips with his fist, his breath coming out in nothing but deep huffs. his uneven groans were nothing compared to your sweet chorus of moans and whines, an endless symphony playing in his head of “ah-ah-ah”’s and “mmmng”’s the closer you got, your cum coating the toy just like his pre was smearing all over his fist.

he can’t help the guttural sound that escapes him next, a garbled, broken version of your name when your thighs tremble, your knees only moments away from buckling from the pure bliss; the water is still aimed at your clit, even when you can’t bounce on the dildo anymore, wave after wave of pleasure drowning you until your eyes rolled into your skull and your cum gathered in a creamy ring at the base of the toy, your ass flattening against the glass as you greedily took more of the toy, intensifying the euphoria wracking through your body. he knows your toy fills your cunt so perfectly, knows how you’d hump the air to get more and more of the water aimed at your clit, unrelenting in chasing your orgasm, jolting and jerking until your knuckles turned white against the tile wall, until your voice was so high and loud it didn’t even sound like you anymore.

he wonders if you’d ever screamed taking the fake cock, if you’d ever been so overwhelmed you squealed, your pretty cunt clenching around the toy, milking the poor plastic for everything it can’t give you, or if he’d be the first to make you cum so intensely.

“ka-aa-ki—” you can’t even spit his name out, your name the same mess on his plump lips, caught so hard between sharp teeth he worries he’ll split the thin skin. all his muscles tense, his abdomen clenching low on his stomach, the veins stretching along the underside of his cock throbbing with the need to join you in the throes of pleasure, to cover your cunt in milk white cum you desperately tried to squeeze from the silicone.

your name is a choked mantra tumbling from his lips, over and over again, dark crimson eyes rolling into the back of his skull the longer you bounced on the toy, pinching sensitive nipples between your slippery, soapy fingers, dragging your orgasm out as long as you could, as long as he would, until your knees were weak and your couldn't even manage to dumbly spit out his name anymore.

“fuck.” he damn near whines, a mess of cum covering his fingers, coating his knuckles as he kept fucking his fist through the waves of his own orgasm, shivering even with the hot water running down his body, cleaning his hand even as he continued to stroke his cock, relaxing his muscles as his toes still curled, his knuckles stark white against the tile.

his head fell forward onto the cooling tile, a temporary relief for the haziness swirling around in the steam.

shit, how was he meant to look you in the eyes after this?

© all works belong to @k-atsukibakugou, @gwen0m, and dlirious on archive of our own, do not plagiarise, translate, repost or recommend my work on other platforms or translate my works, i do not give permission for my works to be bound and sold. 18+ minors and ageless blogs do not interact.

[ihadlife]

Achilles' Heel

pairing: (aged up) pro hero!Bakugo Katsuki x fem!reader

word count: 10.2k

synopsis: You and Bakugo aren't dating, so you can't be really mad when he's toying with you. What you can be, though, is miserable. Especially when you get laid off from work. And to whose else's arms can you run into other than the person's who's hurting you the most. 

tags: 18+, adult content, fem!reader, fem gendered pronouns and pet names, angst, so much fucking angst, baby trapping, unprotected sex, dumbification, masturbation, dom/sub dynamics, dirty talking, oral sex (male and female receiving), praise kink, degradation kink, impact play, unrequited love, reader and other people smoke, reader has crippling mommy issues and self-isolates, the worst possible decisions ever made at all times, toxicity contest between reader and Bakugo i guess

an: crossposted on ao3. reader makes decisions so bad i wanted to smack her head against concrete all the time. if you're reading this for the smut i suggest you skip this one, it's not centered around it. it was pain in the ass to write bakugo’s direct speech but if it doesn’t make sense from an accent standpoint i’m begging you let me know and i’ll adjust it. and as always, english is my second language so if you spot any mistakes or even typos pls let me know.

“I get that he was like… busy, and probably exhausted after, but he could’ve sent me a message at least, you know?” 

“Yeah, I’ve been telling you he’s a dick.” 

Your best friend inhaled the cold autumn air through the tobacco and filter in their cigarette, filling their lungs with smoke before exhaling it, letting it mix with the breeze. 

“He’s not a dick… there’s just a lot on his plate.” You tried defending him, but even to your own ears, the words that had left your mouth sounded pathetic and feeble. “God knows how I would’ve acted if I had his job.” 

You were looking down at your own hands, playing with the handle of the mug that was now empty, the coffee in it long gone. You didn’t even have to look up to know that your friend was giving you a dirty look. 

To be fair, they weren't completely wrong. You still couldn’t get behind their words – a dick – but you more or less agreed with their general idea: he wasn’t treating you right and you deserved better. 

Knowing and realising all that, you still couldn't bring yourself to do anything about it. 

“You would’ve been honest and communicated.” They took another drag through their cigarette. “And he should be too. If he wants to keep a relationship.” 

The truth was, he had a demanding job. Being a pro hero and saving people’s lives almost every single day was taxing. Not only physically, but also mentally. You understood that. You had let him know that you understood. 

Still, as your friend said, and even as your own head was telling you, wanting him to communicate his needs and intentions beforehand was the bare minimum. Not even letting a problem arise and preventing it. Because he should have cared. 

The thing that hurt you the most was that it hadn’t always been like that. 

At the start, when you two met, he was attentive. Funny. Kind. Charming. You were sure he was still the same person, only not towards you. Not anymore, at least.

You entertained your friend and they tried to distract you from your own thoughts for about another hour before you both got up and went separate ways, counting on seeing each other sometime in the next two weeks again. Not that any of you could make it longer without seeing each other. 

You decided to take the longer walk home, hop to a small market on your way and buy some necessities you needed. Maybe pick up something small to treat yourself. 

Your heels were clapping on the sidewalk loudly, your tempo moderate. Your feet hurt after spending the entire day in your heels and once again you cursed yourself for choosing this type of footwear when you had known you would have to spend an entire day in them. There was a huge blister forming on your right Achilles, you were sure. 

You fished your phone from your purse without even thinking about it, your thumbs moving on the screen as if they’d had a mind of their own. Or maybe it was a muscle memory at this point. 

You opened the messages app on your phone and stared at the screen. Maybe hoping that if you stared long and hard enough, you would somehow manifest his response. Or maybe he would even open and read the message instead of leaving you on delivered. 

I’m sorry to hear that! You really should take a few days off, you deserve it :( 

Pathetic. 

Scoffing at yourself you put your phone back into your purse and entered the small market. After greeting the lady who owned the shop you grabbed a basket and started browsing the isles. 

You liked this market. The owner was aloof, she never asked you personal questions. You had been going here for long enough for the lady to remember you, you were one of the regular customers, yet she treated you like a stranger every time. 

You appreciated that. This kind of curtness. 

You began your usual route around the small store – a route you’d walked so many times you would be able to walk it with a scarf around your eyes without bumping into a single thing. 

You idly strolled through the shop, picking up the stuff you needed. 

Toast bread. 

A premade sandwich with cheese, ham, and cucumber. 

Spam ham. 

Canned fish. 

A few packets of instant ramen. 

Cheap coffee. 

Two single rolls of toilet paper. 

Two bottles of soju. 

Your feet stopped once you were in front of the register. You put the basket on the counter with a tiny smile and waited for the owner to scan the items. 

Your eyes slid from the small woman to the stand next to the register, where the magazines were, all kinds together. The serious ones and the ones that just wrote about celebrity gossip. Living and lifestyle ones. Ones for teenagers. Weekly sudokus and crossword puzzles. 

You weren’t the same scared, shy, uncertain intern as you were a few years ago. You’ve earned your place in the publishing company; you were a proper columnist at that point. So when your boss had assigned you the interview with the pro hero that would be the main feature of the next issue, you had been elated and had readily accepted the task. You had been sure this would help further your career. Maybe help you get a raise. 

As you had soon learned, you might have been a good columnist, but you were still very much naive. You hadn’t gotten a raise. Nor had the feature helped the career. 

What you’ve gotten out of the interview, however, was your phone number in Dynamight’s phone. 

“Thanks for the interview, it was great.” You smiled and closed your laptop right after saving the file. 

“No, ya were great.” 

You laughed a little, bashful, a quiet ‘thank you’ leaving your lips as you put your laptop into its case and into your faux leather bag that was resting against the chair you were sitting in. 

“I mean it,” he leaned back in his luxurious office chair, his elbows resting on the arms of the seat. “Most of the interviews I do are real uncomfortable. People love bein’ nosy and invadin’ my  fuckin’ privacy.” 

“You can’t blame them,” you grinned. “Of course, they wanna know everything about one of the most popular heroes.” 

“And ya?” He asked after a slight pause and butted his chin in your direction. 

“Me?” 

“D’ya wanna know everythin’ ‘bout the most popular hero?” 

You didn’t miss the way he changed ‘one of the most popular’ to ‘most popular’. Shameless. 

“Uhm,” you bit your lower lip, not really sure what to answer. 

“Lemme take ya out.”

You couldn’t deny his attractiveness. His cockiness and the roughness around the edges were more alluring than you would like to admit. 

“Okay.” You breathed out and gave him a nervous smile. 

Were you ready to go on a date with a pro hero though? 

“Sorry?” You apologised to the woman when you realised she had said something. 

She repeated the total price to you. 

Oh, right. 

You fumbled with your purse a little and fished out your wallet. 

“Could you please add a bag to that?” 

The woman grabbed one plastic bag from under the counter and put it on top of the things you purchased, not bothering to bag them. 

“Actually… I would also like some cigarettes. And a lighter.” You put your wallet on the counter and started bagging the groceries yourself. 

“What kind?” Was all she said, but you didn’t miss the judgy look she gave you. 

“Gold Marlboro.” 

She turned around to retrieve the cigarette box and basic, plastic lighter in a bright blue colour and handed them to you. 

You finished bagging your stuff quickly, paid for it and with a goodbye exited the market. 

A silent groan left your lips when you felt the rocky cement underneath your feet again, the back of your shoe digging into your Achilles more than before. The blister was going to be a big one. 

The rest of the route to your home was uneventful. Thankfully. Once you opened the front door of the crappy building where you lived, you stood in front of the elevator. 

It was old, unreliable, and just barely held together. This is why you usually took the stairs, but the painful cushion filled with fluid made you reconsider your actions. You looked from the elevator to your feet. It was either the stairs which would abuse your blister even more, or the risky elevator. 

You sighed as you carefully stepped out of the heels. 

“Shit.” 

The blister that formed on your Achilles during the day must have popped and was now bleeding. Your entire heel and the inside of your shoe were stained with red that was slowly turning brown; the edges were crusty and flaking.  

“Great.” 

You bent down to pick up the bloody shoes in your free hand and started walking up the stairs. The stone and occasional tiles of the floor were just a tad too cool on your soles but you didn’t necessarily mind the sensation. It felt nice on your slightly swollen feet after the entire day. 

Once you made it to the seventh floor – your floor – you stopped in front of the door to your apartment, and with a loud bang let the shoes fall from your hand to the floor. The bag with your groceries followed suit and soon you were trying to fish out your keys from your faux leather shoulder bag. 

Your phone started vibrating, set on silent mode. Scrambling to quickly pick it up, you found your phone in record time and checked the caller’s ID, hoping to find a certain hero’s name on the display. 

Your eyebrows furrowed a little when you found out it was your mother calling you. Inhaling deeply and breathing out through your nose, you slid your finger over the screen and put the phone against your ear. 

“Hi, mom!” Your voice was too high-pitched as you greeted her. You leaned your head heavily to the side and squished the phone between your ear and your shoulder to keep your hand empty. 

“Hi, sweetheart.” 

You pulled a face at the pet name. You hated loving it. 

“Mom, I’m sorry, but I’m really busy right now. Is it important?” You slightly fumbled with your bag as you kept trying to find your keys. 

“Oh, no, I just wanted to call and ask how you’re doing,” you could hear the smile in her voice. 

“I’m doing fine! Listen, would it be alright if I call you tomorrow? I’ve got a lot of things I still gotta do today.” You were lying through your teeth. 

It took only a few more seconds of conversation with her, and you both agreed on a call the next day when you ‘have more time’. You tossed the phone in your bag and rummaged through all the things once again before you found your keys in the bottom corner of your bag and unlocked the door. 

 First, you walked into the small and cramped hall of your apartment and put down your purse, then just halfway stepped out of your flat to retrieve your shoes and finally the bag with groceries. 

Eventually, you closed and locked the door behind you, the grocery bag in your arms as you stepped into the apartment that was way too small to even fit a single person. Not even two steps later you were in your living room and bedroom and after three more steps and turning the corner twice you were standing in the ‘kitchen’. ‘Kitchen’ with quotation marks, because the very few cabinets with a sink and without a proper oven could hardly count as a regular kitchen. 

The apartment was horrible. It was in a worse part of town – not necessarily the worst, but bad enough. The prefabricated block of flats was old and in desperate need of renovation; the plaster on the outside of the building was slowly crumbling, the insolation was thinner than the walls between apartments, the pipes were rusty, and you heard that several neighbours of yours from lower levels had complained about mould. 

Most of the people here, except for a few old grandmas and young women around your age, were unfriendly. The neighbours, with whom you shared one of the living room walls, were too loud. 

Oftentimes, there were strange smells, ones you could not identify or describe. Whether they were lingering in the hall of the building or, for some godforsaken reason, in your own flat, they always lasted only a couple of hours. 

During your walks up and down the stairs to get to or from work, you’d meet people who’d make you cross the street if you met them in the city at night. They were mostly younger men with pronounced eyebags and a strut that was either overconfident or not confident enough. 

The only reason you stayed there was because it was cheap and the commute to your work from here was alright. Even with a salary that was too low for the job you did, you were able to afford it and even save a little bit of money on the side for any possible emergencies. 

You set the grocery bag on the counter and went back into the hall to take your probably ruined shoes, bringing them to your minuscule bathroom and setting them on the floor in your shower, deciding on trying to salvage them later. 

On your way back to the living room you took your work bag with you. Opening the window first and letting the cold autumn breeze in, you sat down on the couch and fished around in your bag once again, looking for the cigarettes and lighter that you put separately into your purse. Once you found it, you chucked the bag without any care on the floor and leaned back on the couch, putting your bare feet up on the coffee table. 

You hissed as the raw meat on the back of your heel came into contact with the old glass top of the table that needed some proper cleaning, but ultimately did nothing to alleviate the pain. Instead, you took a single cigarette out of the package and rested it between your lips, inhaling at the same time as your fingers brought the fire from the lighter to life. 

You left the cigarette hung from your mouth, held by your dry lips, and leaned your head back, your hands splayed on the sides of your body. 

The fact was, you were exhausted. 

And you didn’t even have a good reason for it. 

Sure, work sucked. You worked like a dog only to be constantly overlooked and not earn enough. You were lying to your own mother every time you talked, pretending you were much more successful than you actually were, trying to get on her good side and receive any bit of praise. You hated living in your apartment. You were seeing a man who probably didn’t feel the same about you as you did about him. 

The only good thing was your high school friend, always by your side and ready to lend a shoulder to cry on or an ear to listen. 

Maybe you should go see a therapist. 

You closed your eyes and deeply breathed in the stale air that refused to move even with the window opened through the tobacco and filter. You wondered what Bakugo was doing right now. Maybe he was working on the paperwork in his office, sitting behind the big, wooden table that you’d once seen. Or maybe he was out, patrolling with one of his sidekicks, walking in the streets. Maybe he was covered with fake sweat, flexing his muscles for a shoot for another men's magazine. 

Your mind lingered on the image of that. 

His healthily tanned skin taut over his herculean muscles, the drops of water rolling down and creating a web of moisture, leaving goosebumps behind. 

You pressed your thighs together, putting a small amount of pressure on the nether part of your body. 

You thought back to all the passionate moments you’d spent with the pro hero. Bakugo might have been getting on your nerves lately due to his behaviour but he was an exceptional lover. He was the best you’d ever had, not that you would admit it out loud. That fiery personality of his projected itself well in the bedroom. 

You brought your hand to the cigarette between your lips, took it away from the dry skin and shook off the stack of ash that was growing bigger and bigger at the end of the tobacco. Even though the hot ash landed on the floor covered by very cheap linoleum that was slowly peeling in some corners, you didn’t care. 

“Fuck, you’re squeezin’ me so tight, princess,” Bakugo was panting above you, the drops of sweat rolling down his forehead, neck, and chest and occasionally landing on your damp skin. 

Your pussy was drooling on his dick, your juices wet on your inner thighs as well as his entire crotch and lower abdomen. He was bullying your body with his cock, repeatedly slamming it in and out of you at a fast pace. 

“Katsuki,” you pleaded. You didn’t even know what you were asking him — to slow down? To change the angle? To fuck you harder? Your brain was a mush at that point and all you could think about was him, him, him. 

“Not my name, sweetheart,” he grinned and slapped the top of your cunt with his hand, successfully hitting your clit. 

You winced and tried to comprehend what he just said to you. Once the words registered, you corrected your mistake. 

“Dyna- Dynamight!” His hero name on your lips was cut in half by your gasp. 

“There we go.” He praised you. He didn’t move his hands from your hips when he angled them more, making your back arch and your pussy more open for him. “Your pussy fits me like a fuckin’ glove.” 

Your head was swimming from all the sensations. Bakugo’s dirty talking, his hot breath hitting your calves while your legs were propped up on his shoulders, the blunt nails on his fingers digging into the skin of your hips, the tip of his dick dragging along your warm walls while he made sure you could feel him for several days to come. 

“Look at ya,” he continued. “My dick feels so good’ya can’t even think, huh? Did I fuck ya dumb, princess?” There was a mocking tone to his voice while he talked. 

In a normal situation, if you were having sex with anybody else, you would’ve been embarrassed. Both about the mocking and also about the fact that he was right. To be fair, none of your exes were able to fuck you good enough to get you into this state. But with Bakugo you couldn’t even manage to form thoughts coherent enough to feel the embarrassment at the moment. 

“Dynamight,” was all you managed to let slip from your lips. 

With the cigarette still between your lips, you unbuttoned your trousers and pushed your dominant hand under the fabric of your panties, the tight cotton sandwiching your fingers between the textile and your cunt. 

You circled your entrance to gather some moisture, your pussy just starting to get wet. With the now slick pad of your finger, you moved it upward, tucking it a little underneath the hood to touch your clit directly. 

Breathing out cigarette smoke from your nostrils, you leaned your head back, resting it against the headrest of your couch. With your eyes closed and a gentle sigh leaving your lips, you started moving the finger in circular motions. 

“That’s right, princess.” 

Your eyes were watering as you tried to swallow around the thickness of his cock in your throat. 

“Fuck yeah, just like that.” His grip on your hair tightened. You were running out of air and fighting your gag reflex when you put your palms on his strong thighs, ready to tap out at the last second in case you needed to. “Choke on my dick.” 

Your nose scrunched up against the neatly trimmed pubes as you gagged hard and you quickly tapped his thigh. Bakugo didn’t release your hair, instead, he tugged your head backwards so you would get him out of your mouth quickly. Your lips were red and swollen, covered in your own spit and as well as his precum, parted as you panted for air. Two tears rolled down both of your cheeks as you looked up at the man standing in front of you. 

“Good girl,” he sadistically grunted through his gritted teeth. “You’re such a good slut for me, aren’t ya?” 

You closed your eyes as he gently, almost affectionately, slapped your cheek a few times. 

“Open,” was all he said as he pushed two fingers into your mouth, reaching so far into your throat it made you gag again. 

You grabbed the butt of the cigarette with your hand that wasn’t down your pants and leaned over to your coffee table to put it out against the glass. Leaving the butt there, you reclined against the couch once again, moving your finger from your clit back to your entrance, adding a second one to cover them both in your wetness and pushing them inside of you, immediately targeting your g-spot. 

“Don’t stop.” 

Bakugo’s hand on your hip helped with guiding your movements, effectively pushing you up and down on his cock as you rode him. You were so close to him your nipples were rubbing against his chest with every motion and you were practically breathing each other’s air. The tip of him was deep inside of you and rubbed against your g-spot each time you moved. Your arms were resting on his shoulders. One hand was leaning your weight against his trapezius and the other one against the god-awfully expensive leather sofa of his which you were probably staining now. 

“Fuck,” he groaned so quietly you were only able to hear him thanks to the proximity. “You’re mine, do you understand?” His other hand, which wasn’t holding your hip but was snaked around your waist and pushing in between your shoulder blades so that you would be close to him, moved upwards and firmly, but not forcefully, squeezed the back of your neck. The gesture only made you feel that much closer to him. You nodded your head as fast as you could, but that was not enough of an answer for him. 

“Say it. Say you’re mine.” 

There was a certain desperation in his voice. Desperation that you heard for the first time with him. 

“I’m yours.” 

The words silently left your lips with a puff of air following suit. Bakugo wasted no time and kissed your lips passionately, seemingly putting all his feelings into it. 

But you knew better. 

“Say it again.” 

“I’m yours.” 

The buzz of your phone vibrating in your bag next to the sofa disrupted you. 

“Jesus fucking Christ.” You let out an angry grunt. 

You debated not picking it up and calling whoever it was that interrupted you later, but decided against it when you felt a considerable amount of guilt in your throat. What if it was important? 

You quickly pulled your hand out of your trousers and wiped your wet fingers on your blouse, leaving shiny, sticky splotches behind. Fumbling with the bag a little, you managed to find your phone just in time, not even looking at the caller ID as you swiped your finger against the screen and put it against your ear. 

“Hey.” 

Your body froze a little at the sound of the unusually cheery voice on the other end. He must have had a pretty good day, judging by his tone. 

“Uh, hi.” 

“Ya busy?” 

You straightened on the sofa and tried to clear your throat as discreetly as possible. 

“No, I was just cooking, sorry.” Lie. 

“Cool. Listen, we haven’t seen each other for a while so I wanted to call ya.” 

“That’s nice of you.” Bare. Fucking. Minimum. 

“Yeah. I can’t really talk now, I’m ‘bout to go grab a few beers with my mates. I’ll call ya later, so we can talk properly, yeah?” 

“Oh, sure.” You turned your head to look at the clock on the wall in your kitchen. It was already nearing eight o’clock, just how late did he mean to call? 

“Alright. I’ll talk to ya later.” 

He ended the call sooner than you could say goodbye. 

Your hand that was holding the phone to your ear fell limply against the couch with the device still between your fingers. You didn’t know if his call made you feel happy or even more pathetic. 

It was good that he called you, right? He obviously wanted to check up on you. And also promised to call you again later. 

So why were you feeling like this? Where did this feeling come from? 

You gulped the saliva that gathered between your teeth and the flesh of your cheek, accidentally swallowing a bit of air as well. 

No, you thought to yourself. He was trying. That was good enough for you. For now. 

You raised your hand with your phone again and unlocked it, opening a food delivery app. You debated between classic pizza and maybe something healthier, but your finger ultimately landed on the pizza picture on your screen, successfully tapping it into the cart. You chose the address for delivery and type of payment and locked your phone.  

Releasing a deep breath, you stood up and with your phone still in your hand walked the few steps to your bed. The pizza was supposed to be delivered in 30-60 minutes. Might as well masturbate properly with your vibrator in the meantime. 

»»————-　　————-«« 

After giving yourself two orgasms, eating the entire pizza and drinking several shots of soju, you fell asleep on your sofa just a few minutes after midnight. Bakugo didn’t call. 

»»————-　　————-««

It was several days later that you heard from him again. This time, he didn’t even bother with calling you; he decided that two texts would suffice. 

hey, sorry for not calling you the other day, i got wasted 

you wanna see each other sometime again? ;) 

‘That’s not a proper apology. Send him to hell.’ your friend replied when you sent them a screenshot of said messages. 

You were sitting behind the desk you were assigned at work, your hands idly resting on the keyboard of your computer, but your eyes were glued to your phone that lay locked next to your cup of coffee. You should send him a reply. 

“Do you have a minute?” 

You jerked in your seat involuntarily, the sudden proximity of the voice effectively scaring you. Your blood rushed to your cheeks, heating your face, when you realised you were caught slacking off. 

“Uh, yeah, sure.” You replied to your boss, not exactly enthusiastically. 

“Great.” He gave you a fake smile that didn’t reach his eyes and quickly left his lips and tapped the side of your cubicle a few times before he turned around and started walking towards his office, obviously expecting you to follow. 

You cleared your throat and got up from your seat, tugged your pencil skirt down a little and followed him as quickly as you could in the garment that was sexy and elegant, but also restrictive. 

You closed the door once you stepped into the personal office that was separated by glass walls from the rest of the cubicles where you and your colleagues worked. 

“Sit down.” Your boss moved his hand in the general direction of the seat that was positioned in front of his desk. 

The table was made of a grey and white particle board, as well as all the desks you and others worked on. The carpet in his office was originally the same shade of dark blue as the rest of the entire floor, but was less walked on and therefore managed to retain its colour better than the carpet in the rest of the space. 

The window behind his back that you were facing and that he liked to stare out of so often was as bleak as it always is this time of the year. The strange shift between autumn and winter when the weather gets even colder and the days even shorter, when you usually reach for your second-hand wool coat before leaving your apartment. 

“We need to talk.” 

You were fucked. 

»»————-　　————-««

Tears were rolling down your cheeks as you held the phone in your hand. 

When are you free? We need to talk. 

A small part of you wished Bakugo cared about you enough to actually get stressed after reading your message. But the more rational part of you knew that that wasn’t the case. The pro-hero with a super-inflated ego wouldn’t get anxious due to a mildly threatening message from an average journalist who had had his balls in her mouth not so long ago. 

Unemployed journalist. 

You debated calling your mother but ultimately decided against it. You weren’t in the headspace to deal with that kind of phone call. 

You also considered calling your friend. 

You didn’t, though. 

You knew they would pity you. You didn’t want people to pity you. You just needed somebody to listen. And maybe a hug. But none of the people you were in contact with or that were in your life would ever just listen. 

So you were left all alone with all these feelings that felt just too heavy on your chest. A lead that made it hard to breathe, a lead that your muscles had to actively fight against to fill your lungs with much-needed air. A lead that made you drag your feet against the pavement. 

Your phone buzzed in your hand. 

this thursday at 5pm, come to my apartment

You didn’t even open the message to properly read it, your eyes just skimmed over the message in the notification on your lock screen before you stuffed the electronic device in your bag once again. 

Good, you thought for yourself. You had three days to somewhat get your shit together before visiting him. As much as you had feelings for a certain pro-hero, you were not about to let him see you like this. 

Especially not since you were determined to end whatever the weird situationship between the two of you was. 

»»————-　　————-«« 

You rested the back of your head against the cool mirror behind you. The extra thick layer of concealer underneath your eyes to hide the dark circles was slowly creasing even though you’d used enough powder to set it… you could almost feel it. 

The Visine in your eyes to make them appear whiter and not like you cried just this morning felt unnatural – too watery and a tiny bit stingy when you closed your eyes for long enough. 

Your thought process? Don’t let him see your weakness. Don’t look like you actually care about this ‘relationship’. Could you even call it that? Could you call this situationship a relationship when he kept you secret from the public and his friends as well? When all he ever wanted to do with you lately was to fuck you? 

The odd smell of the hairspray that you had used deliberately to keep your hair bouncy was almost palpable in the air, even though you used quite a lot of perfume. Those two smells as well as the lingering stench of a cigarette you smoked earlier combined were almost suffocating you, pressing down on your person, making you feel smaller and smaller. 

The supposedly calming music that was playing in the elevator was paradoxically making you even more nervous. 

The trousers you decided to wear that day made your ass look extra good, but cut into your stomach every time you sat down – a decision you, again, made on purpose. To get it over with quicker. You can’t even really sit down with these on. Plus, obviously, it wouldn’t be bad to remind him what he was going to lose, right? One last look at your ass was all you were going to grant him. 

Saying that you were uncomfortable was an understatement. 

You lost your job just a few days ago. It was clear to you you’d have to consider moving soon; the shitty apartment you lived in was cheap, but not cheap enough to keep while unemployed. And now, on top of your job and an apartment, you were about to lose him. 

Maybe it was a good thing, though. Even though he made you feel like you were on cloud nine in the beginning, showering you with affection and spending most of his free time with you, lately all you’d been getting from whatever was happening between you two was stress and anxiety. Self-doubt. More insecurities. 

Besides, were you really going to lose him? Could a person lose something they’ve never had in the first place? 

Your mind wandered on its own to your favourite memory with him. It was still quite fresh, you could remember it as if it had happened a few days ago, even though in reality it had been weeks. 

Your head resting on Bakugo’s thigh, the sound of the television and the feeling of his fingers playing with your hair inevitably lulling you to sleep. Your belly was comfortably full thanks to the amazing dinner Bakugo had cooked for you. 

“You’re sleepin’.” 

“Am not.” You replied, but you could hear it in your own voice, the tiredness and how you slightly slurred your words, your eyes still closed. His smell and proximity was just making you feel so, so safe.

A sigh left your lips as your hand moved on its own and started rummaging in the small purse that you’d brought with you. The fluorescent light in the elevator did nothing to flatter your appearance, quite the opposite, actually. You found the lip gloss you were wearing that day in the depths of your bag and reapplied it generously. You gave yourself another look in the mirror as you stuffed the small thing back into the bag. 

God, it looked like you’d tried too hard. 

Quickly, with only a few stories left, you tried to card your fingers through your hair to make them messier and ruin your appearance a little. Your hand flew to your lips to wipe off all the gloss you’d just put on as the door of the elevator opened to Bakugo’s floor. 

You hesitantly stepped inside of the apartment and took off your shoes, the elevator door closing behind you. Leaving your coat and scarf on the hanger that was situated in the dead end of the hallway, you then stepped in the other direction to actually get further into the flat. 

Your feet were quiet on the overpriced Persian runner rug, so you called his name to announce your arrival. 

“Hey.” 

You were looking directly at his back as you walked into the more open space and the centre of the floor. With his back to you and broad shoulders covered by a simple oversized black hoodie, he was standing right in front of a kitchen counter, probably mixing something judging by the sound of it. 

“Hi.” You replied, your voice lacking the usual enthusiasm that laced it whenever you were with him. You put your purse on the couch in the living area and walked closer to where Bakugo was standing. 

“Hope you’re hungry.” He said without raising his head or really looking at you. 

When you came close enough, you were actually able to see what he was cooking – tamagoyaki. 

“Not really.” You’d kill for some tamagoyaki at that moment, to be honest. “I'm not planning on staying long, actually.” You crossed your arms over your chest and leaned your weight against the kitchen counter, resting your hip against it. 

“Hm.” Was all he said. 

You watched as he poured another part of the egg mixture into the pan, helping it spread by tilting the metal and sort of pushing the liquid with chopsticks. 

Bakugo was an amazing chef. You’d asked him about it when you were eating curry rice during one of the occasions that you’d visited his flat and his response was a grunt and cookin’s not that hard. 

“You know why I’m here, right?” You asked. 

You hoped that he would say it first. Yer leavin’ me. You had prayed that he would say it, make it easier for you. Spare you from having to force air over your vocal cords and formulate the sounds with your tongue and lips. 

He didn’t. 

The silence stretched on as he seemingly minded his business, rolling the tamagoyaki into a perfect little roll and adding more egg mixture. 

“I can’t…” You started but cut yourself off. You gave it another thought before you started again. “This has to end.” 

Bakugo didn’t move a single muscle to indicate any sort of reaction he might’ve had. You watched him finally move as he took two bowls out of his kitchen cabinet and nodded his head in the direction of the kitchen aisle. 

“Siddown, food’s almost ready.” 

He started filling the bowls with steaming rice straight from the rice cooker while the egg was frying on the pan. 

“I said I’m not hungry. I’m not here to eat.” 

“And I didn’ ask.” 

“Stop treating me like a child.” Anger was gathering in the pit of your stomach, twisting it more than it already was. 

“Then stop actin’ like one.” 

A moment of silence. 

You were speechless. 

A lump formed in your throat, successfully gagging you and preventing you from defending yourself. You could feel them, the tears forming in your eyes, threatening to fall over your lower lash line and roll down your cheeks. 

“Please, siddown so ya can eat your food.” 

You swallowed around the tightness in your throat and just nodded your head, not trusting your voice to keep steady. Without another word, you walked around the kitchen aisle and sat down on one of the tall bar stools, resting your forearms on the cold granite countertop. The stone was cold enough to sting your already cold skin, goosebumps forming on your arms. 

After not even two minutes the meal appeared in front of you – a bowl of rice, another bowl of miso soup with tofu, a plate filled with cut tamagoyaki and a small bowl of steamed spinach with garlic. 

“Eat up,” Bakugo said as he put his own bowls and plate on the countertop, sitting next to you. 

The food was warm, filling your tummy with a nice feeling. 

“It’s delicious.” You complimented after a few careful bites. You meant it. 

“It’s alright.” 

Ever the critic. Even when it comes to himself. 

The two of you were eating in silence, only the sounds of chewing and slurping filling the air. 

Bakugo raised his eyes from his meal when he noticed your reluctance to continue eating about halfway through the meal. 

“Why aren’ ya eatin’?” 

You could hear the disapproval in his voice. Not worry, not even concern. Just disapproval. 

“Uhm,” you started, but couldn’t finish your sentence. 

The godforsaken jeans you’d decided to wear were digging into your stomach painfully, to a point where a sharp pain was shooting up your chest. And you filling your belly more wasn’t helping it. 

“D’ya not like it?” 

“No! No, that’s not it.” You moved a piece of the omelette with your chopsticks around on the plate. “It really is delicious.” 

Hmph. 

You chewed on your lower lip. Bakugo was obviously unhappy with your answer. He was still staring you down. 

“I’m wearing my standing jeans.” You admitted after a few seconds. 

“Standin’ jeans.” He repeated, obviously not understanding the term. 

“Yeah. Standing jeans. Jeans that look great when you stand up, but you can't really sit down in them because they’re too tight.” 

Your laughable reason was met with silence, he was obviously letting you stew in the ridiculousness of it all. 

“They’re too tight when I sit down, they dig into my stomach.” 

Bakugo blinked at you once before he rolled his eyes and without a word got up and left the kitchen, disappearing in the direction of his bedroom. 

You heard some sounds coming from the other side of the flat before he reappeared with grey sweatpants in his hand, handing them to you. 

“Change.” 

“I’m not going to change into your sweatpants.” You protested, looking at the fabric in his extended hand. “I didn’t even want to stay here. Nor eat your food. Can we just get this over with?” 

You were this close to begging him. This close. Begging him to say the final words, those ones you had no guts to really say. Even though they were long overdue. 

“Ya look like shit.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Ya heard me. Ya look like a’mess. Change'nto those damn sweatpants and finish your food.” 

You looked from his face to the sweatpants he was still holding out for you. Reluctantly, you took them and stood up, immediately feeling the relief in your midsection. You walked back into the hallway where you came from and disappeared in the door on the left – Bakugo’s bathroom. 

You peeked a look at yourself in the mirror immediately after closing the door behind you. He was right. You looked like shit. The concealer was cakey under your eyes; the foundation was sitting on your skin almost unnaturally, making you look like you were wearing some sort of a mask. The mascara formed spider legs on your lower lash line – where some stray tears had gathered. The Visine you had used obviously wasn’t working.

You could just leave the apartment. Just leave and not look back. Obviously, he would get the hint, right? 

Leave and not say a word. Save yourself from the uncomfortable conversation, the uncomfortable feelings that would inevitably bubble up your chest and settle in your throat. 

You sighed and put some liquid hand soap in your palm, turning on the water with your other hand. Smearing the soap across your face, you rubbed hard enough to get the mask off your face, so you could feel the inevitable tears on your skin without any barrier between the two. The soap was slightly stinging as it got into your eyes, but it didn’t stop you from rubbing your face with your nails until your skin was all red and the makeup was now underneath your fingernails. 

It didn’t matter if you wore your mask or not. Not anymore. He had seen right through it. Might as well bare yourself to him. 

Looking up at yourself in the mirror, you saw the black streaks of mascara all over your face, which made you dunk your face into the watery, soapy concoction for longer, until it was running down your forearms and to your elbows, dripping down onto the grey rug on the floor. It didn’t bother you at this point. 

You only opened your eyes again when you ran out of breath, now looking at beet-red skin with two bloodshot eyes that were staring back at you in the mirror. 

That would do for now. 

Opening the drawer underneath the bathroom sink, you knew exactly where to look to find the hair accessories Bakugo kept for all his hookups. Grabbing the ones you needed, you pinned your slightly damp hair out of your face. Stripping off your standing jeans, you folded them neatly into a nice square before you put on the grey sweatpants that were ill-fitting on you. 

It didn’t matter now. 

Didn’t matter what you looked like. 

You sniffled a little and opened the door, emerging into the hallway and letting only the slight taps of your feet announce your entry to the kitchen. 

Bakugo looked up from his meal, unphased, and nodded his head to himself. 

“Thanks for the sweats.” You put your jeans on the counter to your right, where there was empty space. 

“No problem.” 

That was actually kind of nice of him. 

Your brain whined in your head. 

He wasn’t supposed to be nice to you. Not now. Not when you needed a final push to end this. Like a coward. 

“Is al’this just ‘cause of me, or did somethin’ else happen?” 

You stayed silent for a while, instead putting in your mouth a spoonful of miso soup with a piece of tofu. 

Should you be honest with him, or lie? 

…It didn’t matter anymore, did it? 

“I got fired.” 

You stuffed your face with the fried egg. 

It was really nice to eat a warm meal after some time. Only now that you were wearing his sweatpants and your entire stomach wasn’t hurting from those damn jeans did you realise how much you actually relished the feeling of warmth filling you up. 

“Sorry t’hear that.” 

All you replied was a low hum from the back of your throat, continuing to fill the dark, empty space inside of you with the home-cooked meal. 

“Ya wanna talk ‘bout it?” He asked after a minute. 

You could see in your peripheral that he was looking at you now, pausing his eating. 

“Not really.” 

After that, the two of you finished eating in silence. Once you accepted that Bakugo knew you weren’t alright, the silence actually turned comfortable. 

You couldn’t stop yourself from thinking things over while the two of you were eating. Was this really the last time you’d ever see him? He deserved to get dumped for how badly he had treated you, right? 

Maybe he had his reasons. Maybe something in his life happened the same way you got fired just recently? 

You shook your head from side to side discreetly as you swallowed down another mouthful. It was too late. You came here for a reason, and that reason was exactly what you were mulling over now. 

Don’t be a fucking coward. 

It was the right thing to do. 

Bakugo treated you as disposable. If that was what you were to him, there was no reason for you to stay. 

Were you ready to prove to yourself that you truly were disposable to him, though? 

You realised you had been staring at now empty plates and bowls in front of you only when Bakugo’s hand appeared in the picture to collect the dishes. 

“Thank you for the food, it was really nice.” 

“Hm.” 

You stayed seated at the kitchen island as you watched him neatly put the bowls and plates into the dishwasher. It was obvious that he followed a certain system. You didn’t even consider getting up and offering any help. You knew him well enough to know that he would scold you and tell you to sit down again. 

Your eyes drifted over his body while he was bending down to put the porcelain away. The way his back muscles moved underneath the fabric, the way the dirty blonde hair at the nape of his neck brushed against the skin. 

You could almost feel it. Feel his muscles move under your fingers, taste his skin on the tip of your tongue. 

Your eyes followed his movement as he finally turned around once he was done, resting his backside against the kitchen counter and crossing his arms over his chest. Your eyes met and your look didn’t falter. It didn’t. 

“So ya wanna break up?” 

You let him win and looked down at your lap. All you saw was the grey fabric that belonged to him. 

“Is it really a break-up if we haven’t even properly dated?” You dared to raise your eyes again. 

“Fair enough.” 

It was him now that looked down. You won this round. 

You were sitting on the bar stool in silence while he was just standing there, in the kitchen, the kitchen island creating sort of a safe barrier between you two. Your fingers were fidgeting in your lap, trying to make your mind focus on anything else than what was really going on in your head. 

Don’t say it. 

Don’t. 

“What happened?” 

You winced. You said it. 

“Whaddya mean?” 

This was a mistake. 

You abruptly got up and grabbed your jeans from the countertop. You were leaving in his sweatpants. You’ll send them back to him sometime later. 

“Wait.” 

You could hear his hurried footsteps following you to the living room area where you collected your purse from the couch. 

“Wait, god dammit,” he grabbed your arm and spun you around so you could face him. “What didya mean by that?” 

You were staring at the neckline of his hoodie, tears smudging your vision. There was not enough of them to roll over the notional barrier, but enough of them for you to fear that they would. 

“What didya mean by that?” He repeated the question. Now that he was so close to you, his voice got much softer. Much quieter. 

That along with the smell of his cologne and deodorant made you realise just how much you’d missed him. The emotion filled your body with a strange feeling of sorrow and grief. 

His hand left your arm and you craved for his touch to return. 

“What happened?” Your voice sounded broken. It felt like it was another person talking rather than you, you couldn’t recognise it. “It was so nice at the start.” 

You dared to look up at him, which turned out to be a mistake. The movement sent the drops of salty water over the edge of your waterline. You felt them rolling down your cheeks to your chin where they connected into one and dripped down. 

Bakugo’s vermillion eyes followed the movement of the liquid on your face. He almost looked guilty. 

“I don’ know whaddya want me t’say.” 

“The truth.” 

He looked away from you for a few seconds while he put his hands in his pockets. It was clear he was debating it. Whether or not he should really be honest with you. 

“You owe me that much.” You encouraged him to talk even though you didn’t want to hear it. You wanted to be anywhere else with anybody else than in his apartment with him. Maybe you were a masochist. 

“I used ya.” 

Fresh tears started streaming down your face as soon as his words registered in your brain. His saying it out loud made it all too real. If he hadn’t admitted it, you could still pretend it was something else. You could pretend and make yourself feel better about it. When he admitted it you lost the possibility and comfort of gaslighting yourself into thinking he had a good reason. 

He had enough sense to look at the floor almost shamefully when he carried on. 

“I had a lottov things goin’ on ada time. Ya distracted me from it.” 

You blinked harshly to force the water from your eyes out. The gentle gasp for air left your lips even though you tried to fight it, to conceal it from him. 

“’M sorry. I thought I could give ya more, ‘cause you’re really nice.” 

“Yeah, well… really nice doesn’t seem to cut it, does it?”  

You both stood there in silence for a few more beats before you felt his hand on your cheek, his thumb smearing the tear away from underneath your eye. 

“Don’t.” 

It was a quiet plea, a quiet plea that sounded too much like a whimper, leaving your lips parted after rolling off them. 

“I meant what I said.” He pulled his hand away from your cheek, moving it to the other and wiping your tears there as well with the upper side of his index finger. “Ya are nice.” 

“Whatever.” You removed your face from his touch, eyes glued to the floor. 

“Spend the night.” 

Was it an order, or a request? You didn’t know, but the sentence froze your feet to the floor before you could turn and make your exit. 

“What?” 

“Listen, listen. No funny business. Just, spend the night. Ya can sleep inda guest room.” He added the last sentence almost as an afterthought. 

Your eyebrows were furrowed above your eyes that were moving from right to left, going from one red eye to the other, trying to gauge the sincerity of his statement. 

“Spend the night.” He repeated once more, his voice just barely above a whisper. 

Your mind was screaming at you to get the hell out of that apartment, but you felt yourself nod. 

A masochist. 

“Yeah?” He was making sure. 

“Yeah,” you whispered, not even looking him in the eye. The lump in your throat was making you feel like you could choke on it and you already felt bad for betraying yourself like this and agreeing to his outrageous request. You couldn’t bear the way he was definitely looking at you on top of all of that. 

Bakugo gently put his hand on your shoulder and guided you back into the heart of his apartment. 

“D’ya wanna watch some movie?” He led you to the couch so you sat down on it without any protest. 

“Sure.” 

He sat down next to you, not really close, but not far away from you either, turning the TV on and switching to the streaming service on it immediately. 

You kept biting the inside of your cheek and looking everywhere else than at the TV or him. Hearing the opening of a movie, you raised your eyes to the big screen mounted on the wall. Your throat went dry as soon as you realised what was playing. 

“No, something else.” You demanded quickly. “I wanna watch something new.” 

Bakugo looked at you for a few seconds and then nodded his head, taking the TV remote in his hand once again and switching the movie to a different one. 

The movie that he initially pressed play on was a movie you talked about with him. You could still remember how you gushed about it, mentioning how it was your favourite movie growing up and saying the words we should watch it together sometime. Of course, that 'sometime' never really came. So, now you wouldn’t let him do this. You wouldn’t let him taint your movie. This was yours. He had no right to claim this thing as well. 

You wouldn’t let him have this because that would mean that at some point he actually listened to you. It would mean that at some point he might’ve tried if he cared enough.  

The sound of a different movie playing commanded your attention then and so you tried to tune in as much as possible. Just from the music, you could tell that it was an action movie. 

“Real’ like this one.” 

You wished he didn’t say those words. 

»»————-　　————-««

You were probably in the middle of the movie and lucky for you, you were already able to say that you hated it. Loud explosions, ridiculous situations, plot with holes. Surprisingly, Bakugo liked a Hollywood action movie with too big of a budget. 

Your eyes drifted from the TV screen to the window. Living this high up definitely had its perks. The view being one of the main ones. You remembered how naïve you had been when this situationship started. How you had thought maybe if this goes well, I’ll be looking at the same view every morning. 

“Ya don’t like it?” 

Ever the observant. 

You turned your head to the other side, looking at Bakugo who was looking right back at you. You bit your lip and shrugged your shoulders. 

“It’s fine.” 

You didn’t want to be mean but you also didn’t want to lie about liking it. 

“Fine?” 

Wrong answer, apparently. 

“I guess I just wasn’t in the mood for an action movie.” You tried to calm him down a little. Lying it was then. 

“Shoulda told me that hour and a'half ago. Dammit.” 

You watched him as he grabbed the remote and exited the movie. 

“What are ya inda mood for, then?” 

You watched his profile illuminated by the light from the TV screen for a few seconds. He was so beautiful it almost pained you. The constantly furrowed brows you almost couldn’t see because of his hair covering his entire forehead, his perfect nose, the shape of his lips. His skin without blemishes, apart from a few small scars, even though he didn’t really have a skincare routine. 

You remembered how you imagined what your possible babies would look like. They’d be perfect. 

“So?” He asked impatiently when you hadn’t answered immediately. 

His eyes met yours when you decided what to do. 

Moving closer to him, you leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. Just as you remembered. He still tasted the same. It was Bakugo who leaned back, looking at you. Making sure you knew what you were doing. You leaned in more, kissing him again. Gently, almost tenderly. What if this was the last time you ever got to taste him? You relished the feeling, trying to commit to your memory as much as you could. His taste, his smell, the way his lips felt against you. The kiss got interrupted when he pressed his forehead against yours. 

“Are ya sure ya can handle it?”

You knew what he meant. Are you sure you can handle that, emotionally? Are you sure it won’t ruin you even more?  You couldn't help yourself. Bakugo was like a scab you couldn't stop picking at. An open wound that just wouldn't heal. He was your weak spot.

“No.” You said with your voice all breathy, kissing him once again, this time more passionately. Bakugo reciprocated without missing a beat, one of his hands grabbing the side of your face and the other one going straight to your waist. Not even a few seconds in, you swung one of your legs over his thighs, straddling him without breaking the kiss. 

You were eager. 

And Bakugo was just as eager as you. 

Part of your brain hated this. Hated how good his touch felt, hated how familiar all of this was. How safe you felt right in that moment and just how vulnerable and exposed it was all at the same time. You felt weak. 

Bakugo’s hand that was on your waist moved to your hip and gripped it tightly, pushing you back and forth, guiding your movements so you would grind against him. There was impatience in the movements from both of you. You knew where it was coming from on your end but the implications of it coming from him made your heart drop in your chest. 

“Need you.” You half whined against his lips before you quickly stood up and took off the sweatpants he had lent you. Bakugo followed suit – he took off his trousers hastily and welcomed you back in his lap with open arms, immediately grabbing at your flesh and squeezing what he could. 

“Couldn’t leave ‘thout one last fuck, could ya?” He growled against your skin when he moved his lips to your neck and started kissing and nibbling it. 

You let out a quiet moan and grabbed his growing bulge through his boxers, the thin fabric the only thing separating you from him. He was almost fully hard already, huffing against your neck as you stroked him. 

“Fuck, okay, lemme go grab a condom.” The hero parted from your neck momentarily and was about to get you off of him and get up when you stopped him. 

“No!” 

You surprised yourself with how quickly you objected to that. Bakugo stopped himself and gave you a look. 

“No,” you said calmer this time. “I wanna feel you.” 

You deserved it. You deserved this. You deserved at least one good thing in your life. And he would be the one to give it to you. You didn't need his love or affection. All you needed was a piece of him.

You pushed his underwear down just enough so his balls and dick, now fully hard, were free and stroked it, eliciting an almost painfully sounding groan from the man. 

“I wanna feel you tonight.” You repeated, pushing your own panties to the side and lining him up with your entrance. 

You definitely needed more prep than this, you knew that it would be an uncomfortable stretch and that you weren’t wet nearly enough to help with it, but you couldn’t wait any longer. 

You groaned from the slight sting, it was a bit worse than you expected it to be. 

“Shit, easy.” Bakugo put his hand on your hip to slow you down a bit. “No need’da hurry. We got all night, princess.” 

»»————-　　————-«« 

You sat on the bathroom floor in your mother’s flat, having to temporarily move in with her due to your unemployment. The phone you kept pressed against your ear kept ringing and ringing. To be honest, you were expecting it to go straight to a voicemail right away. 

“Yeah?” He picked it up probably at the last possible ring. 

“Hey.” You greeted him. “Listen, could we talk?” You bit your lip as you looked at the positive pregnancy test in your hand. 

[ayustuff]

ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ʙᴀʙʏ? | bakugou katsuki x fem!reader, suggestive, baby thingz

katsuki had really been missing the moment you two had when you were pregnant. Both of you taking care of your twins had been fun and sweet however his heart is longing for another baby, to see you all round again so he gotta ask for it.

"i miss your baby bump, can i touch it?" katsuki asked wrapping his arms around you.

he's been thinking for this a while, in reality he'll suffer having to wake up in the middle of the night because of the babies crying, having to endure the smell of a babies poop but he's been craving a lot for quite a while now besides that he deeply loves the twins and the future babies too… unless you refuse to.

"no?" you raised a brow, you're sure that there's no baby inside you that's for sure. "katsuki, i'm not pregnant."

"i'll impregnate you again." he tries to convince you.

you looked at katsuki for a good minute before saying, "i'm not so sure about that."

your husband scowled, "we are having another baby."

shocked, you needed to really know if this was real, "excuse you, sir?"

"i want you. yes or no?" katsuki avoids your shocked expression.

smiling then scoffing, you can't believe that this man once 'supposedly' hated babies. you began to get closer to him and wrap your arms around him while he waits for you to say 'yes' he just knows you'll agree to it by the way your hand brushes against his skin it's definitely a…

"no." your smile fades as you glare up at him.

he freezed, 'no'?!

"no?" he questioned confused. "why…?"

"last time i got pregnant and i'm lactating, you sucked my tits dry."

"was i supposed to let your milk be wasted and staining the bedsheets and everything else?!"

[tired-teacher-blog]

Husband Bakugou who couldn't stop his streaming tears and proud smile while gazing at you walking down the isle, and even now, he still gets flustered and whiney whenever you teasingly remind him of it.

Husband Bakugou who has one of your wedding photos framed and sitting beautifully on his office desk, it's a constant reassurance that you belong to him, and the reminder is enough to bring a smile to his face.

Husband Bakugou who bombards you with calls and texts throughout the day, especially if away on a mission, asking about your day and how you're doing without him, scolding you if you've missed a meal or haven't gotten enough sleep, and then, - and with a tinge of bashfulness- uttering the softest I love you's and promising to come back to you soon.

Husband Bakugou who likes the closeness you share with his parents, he sees the affection in their behavior towards you and it warms his heart.

Husband Bakugou who is "your personal chef" as he calls himself, enjoys making your favorite dishes and loves the squeals of excitement you let out after every bite.

Husband Bakugou who showers you with expensive gifts with or without an occasion, he can't help it either, you're always on his mind so whenever something pretty catches his attention, he buys it for you without hesitation.

Husband Bakugou who boasts about you in front of everyone, arms crossed over his chest and a smug expression plastered across his face as he goes on and on about you.

Husband Bakugou who hates going to bed alone, whines and grumbles because it's cold and uncomfortable without you, and forces you to adapt to his sleeping schedule so you can be wrapped in his arms and ready to slumber by ten at most.

Husband Bakugou who usually wakes up before you do and spends God-knows-how-long admiring your peaceful features with love filled eyes and a gentle smile on his lips before finally tracing your soft skin with even softer caresses and kisses, and a husky "good morning beautiful".

Husband Bakugou who can hardly keep his hands and lips to himself when you're around, biting, kissing, groping, touching, and you've gotten so used to it that your body now craves his attention even in public.

Husband Bakugou who likes when you use his shower products because then you'll be carrying his scent wherever you go, it's "an assholes' repellent" as he describes it.

Husband Bakugou who gets painfully hard whenever you waltz around the house wearing one of his shirts and acting all innocent and nonchalant, he accuses you of doing it on purpose while pounding your pussy on the nearest surface he can find, but you'll never admit he's right.

Husband Bakugou who always fucks you with the intention of getting you pregnant, and loses his mind when you happily announce that you are.

Husband Bakugou who is now also your bodyguard, watches over you like a hawk and tends to your every need as warmth fills his heart while lovingly observing your belly grow, and counting the days until your delivery.

Husband Bakugou whose tears and chuckles mix in a mess as he gently picks up his baby for the first time and leans in to kiss you deeply, vowing to be forever by your side, and voicing his undying love for you, yet again.

Divider by @/cafekitsune

[katsukiizmoon]

╰┈➤ ꒰🕸🍒┊Explaining | Katsuki Bakugou꒱

Can’t stop thinking about this post by @tired-biscuit and thinking even harder about catching Katsuki one night.

Will this turn into a thing? Maybe— (update from future! me: This is somehow 2.7k. I don’t know if it even makes any sense, mush brain. It’s midnight. Christ. Edited and added a little read more thing)

『♡』 f! reader, best friends to lovers, m masturbation, piv sex, arguing, anxious katsuki for a bit, some praise, fingering, idk guys sex stuff, unedited bc I wrote it half asleep

Katsuki fucks his fist sloppy, chewing on the end of his shirt. Slippery beads of precum well up and spill down the shaft and he circles his thumb over the head.

He chokes back a moan and squeezes harder, slamming his hips forward desperately in need of release. The tension in his body has been pulling like a rubber band for hours. It stretches farther and farther every time.

Tonight was torture for him. You’d worn those stupid shorts and a loose crop top. You never wear a bra under your crop tops, let alone around him.

Every time you’d lift your arms too high he’d get a peek of your pretty tits and jerk his head to the side. Your shorts were no different— showing off the underside of your ass cheeks and tight enough he could just make out the outline of your pussy. Normally both would be fine but, fuck.

His strokes get faster while his mind fuzzes. Lust clouds his thought process as he shoves the guilt to the back of his mind to deal with later. His face feels numb, his lips tingle, the metaphorical rubber band pulls tighter.

Tighter. Like his fist is while it squeezes down on his cock and spreads the precum all over him.

Tighter. Like he’s sure your pussy would be as it was wrapping around him and sucking him with each thrust.

The end of his t shirt is wet and slobbery. A thin sheen of sweat coats his body and the slapping wet noises of his thrusts is getting louder. His brows furrow as he closes overwhelmed eyes. With the sound of the water running in the background he doesn’t even hear you coming.

You’re usually a little loud when you’re sleepy and heading to the bathroom. Your feet amble beneath you without too much sense, body heavy, mind foggy— you’re a sweet little thing when you’re sleepy. One too many times has he woken to you running into walls while trying to get into the bathroom.

But he doesn’t hear you this time.

He pants and whines a little in the back of his throat, sloppily fucking his hand. He’s focused on the thought of you up under him. Sliding your shorts to the side and letting him eat your pussy. Bouncing on his cock in that big shirt you stole from him a year or two ago.

He’s a goddamn mess. The tension and heat in his tummy gets tighter, tighter, until he feels like he might pass out. The world is about to allow him the grace of relief.

And then you sleepily open your bathroom door. You’re still half awake with drool on your face and your eyes hardly open. You’d changed into comfier shorts and kept the crop top, which was now riding up on one side so that your tit was on display.

“Gotsta’ pee,” You blink hazily trying to figure out why your bathroom smells like fresh salted caramel.

He forgot to lock it.

Katsuki is frozen in place. He doesn’t know what to do, say, think— you just walked in on him jacking off in your bathroom. Precum is still dribbling out and all over his hand. He opens his mouth with a red face and lets his shirt drop to cover his abs, quickly shoving his cock into his pajama pants.

And you’re just standing there like you hardly even register what’s going on. Your eyes widen when two and two come together, making four. Watery carmine eyes meet yours as his lips tremble before he’s shoving past you with sparking palms.

He tries to rush out and makes a mad dash to your bedroom to grab his things. Embarrassment and guilt makes him panic, filling his being with a nauseous feeling. And he’s not sure what to do or say.

Does he say sorry? Does he confess? Does he block you and run?

For once, Katsuki doesn’t want to be brave. He is scared and he is tired of being the hero who has no fear. Anxiety makes his fingers shake while tears threaten to spill over his pretty tanned cheeks.

You come rushing around the corner with flushed cheeks and determined hands. Your fingers twist into his shirt and pull him back, spinning him around to face you. It’s a miracle you managed it with how much bigger and stronger he is.

Katsuki’s terrified gaze holds yours with a trembling lower lip. He might be much bigger but right now he feels small.

“Wait, wait, wait. Hey— hey what’s goin’ on?” You coo, pulling him toward your bed to sit. His feet move on their own accord and do as you please. “Why are you leaving?” Fingers twist tighter in his shirt.

The blonde gawks and scrambles for words. Quick breaths leave his lips with little to no time between. Katsuki wants to cry, scream, and just die. You caught him beating his fuckin meat in your bathroom and now you’re comforting him.

“What else m’ I supposed to fuckin do?” He grunts, putting his brave face and frown right back on.

“Get in bed and go back to sleep?” Your head tilts and you say it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Katsuki confusedly jerks back with a frown and snort. Thick hands grip his sweatpants for dear life.

“You want me to get in bed with you and go back to sleep after—after that?” The AC kicks on in the background and whirrs to life, sending cool air through the room.

“Yeah? Unless you wanna talk about it now at,” you glance at the clock on the nightstand “, two fourty five in the fucking morning.” You rub your face with your palm.

“I don’t think me jacking off in your bathroom needs explaining.” He spits, flustered and annoyed. His face scrunches up all sour and huffs, the tips of his ears still red.

You sigh and frustration bubbles in his chest.

“What? You can’t seriously want me—“

Your hand presses to his mouth and you shoot him a glare. Exhaustion spreads your features with a huff to shut him up.

“What’s going on? And don’t give me some bullshit. Just tell me what’s going on.” Your tone leaves no room for an argument.

“You and your stupid fuckin— stupid shorts and whiny voice and shit. That’s what’s going on!” He leans in so that his nose is only a few inches from yours and snaps.

“Me?” You mumble, obviously confused.

“Yes, you.” His fingers press near your sternum and poke with a growl.

You squeak and narrow your eyes, moving closer to him yourself and pushing his chest lightly.

“What about you?” You guffaw. You’re not quite wrapping your mind around the situation yet, still tired and not understanding what the big deal is.

And Katsuki nearly loses it. The tension so thick you could cut it with a knife, his mind racing and chest heaving. He’s been dealing with you practically torturing him day in and day out for years— and now you’re asking about him. But before he can speak you start rambling on.

“You run around in these goddamn sweatpants-“ you tug at the grey fabric a little “and you say I’M what’s going on? You still haven’t explained shit!”

Katsuki turns a shade of red you’ve never seen before. He starts noticing your close proximity, the way your breath still smells like toothpaste, your pout. Your lips are an inch away from his and it is taking every little bit of willpower he has to not kiss you.

“Yes.” A puff of air ghosts over your lips and you take in the sight in front of you. Feelings you tried to shove down bubble in your tummy and spread.

The rubber band that’s been winding in his gut and mind for far too long grows tighter. Stretched to the point of which it’ll never be the same.

Heat in your stomach starts to flow and consume your being as things begin to click into place. He was getting off in your bathroom, he said you’re what’s going on.

“Oh..” you breathlessly whisper. Something in you burns. If he feels the same way then.. it couldn’t hurt, could it?

Katsuki jerks his head away from yours and looks to the side. His shoulders tight, grey t shirt with a damp area at the bottoms wrinkling as he fidgets with it. It’s like he’s waiting for the sting of rejection.

You grab his jaw with unsure hands and guide him back to look at you. His big, misty and wide eyes peering into your own.

And then you kiss him.

Snap

All tongue and soft lips, teeth clashing against his from the awkward position. You dig your nails into his chest like he’s gonna float away if you don’t.

And katsuki just might. Because you taste just like he thought you would, your mouth moves against his like he was just fantasizing about before. He soaks in the kiss like it will be his last until you break for air while panting.

“Don’t you ever try to run from me like that again.” You whine and dive back in.

His body acts before he can think enough to stop himself. You fall back against the mattress, plushie beside your head. His thick heavy body presses you into it and weighs you down while big hands travel up and down you. He explores your body like it’s something to be worshipped.

Your own hands push and pull at him. They slide under his shirt and drag nails down his toned, tan back. Your legs open up so he can slot between them with a particularly good suck on his bottom lip.

A breathy moan leaves your lips and it sends fire down his body.

“Fuck— god.” He whines between kisses. The line of his cock presses against you through your thin pajama shorts and makes you antsy. Your fingers grip at Wheaty blond roots and tug.

“Is this— oh,” You can feel him drag against you through his sweats. “ is this what you were thinking about?”

Katsuki shakes his head.

“Close enough.” He gasps, guttural and needy as your teeth nip under his jaw. Your tongue slides down the column of his throat as his clothed cock does against your heat.

“Wanna know what I think about?”

His mind stills and he nods feverishly before diving into the crook of your neck to suck. Pink marks are left in his wake and his fingers slide under the fabric of your shorts to rub little circles on your clit.

It makes you stutter and forget what you’re doing for a moment, your legs shake and squeeze around him.

“Been thinkin’ bout your cock in me—“ your pussy drools all over his fingers and the breath gets punched out of him all at once.

“God you fuckin minx.” He growls and slips a finger into your already soaked core. He feels a little more sure of himself, a little better about it.

Your head throws back when he adds the second finger and curls them up. The pad of his thumb works in little circles and flicking motions rhythmically. You keep making these little noises that send jolts to his cock and make it twitch.

For the second time that night, his cock drools precum. It smears against the inside of his pajama pants and dribbles even more when your eyes go wide.

“Katsuki— god, like that, like that!” You babble until a particular stroke of his thumb has your body tightening and then shaking. Release covers his fingers and he yanks your pajama shorts off your body and throws them to the side.

“Good girl, that’s a good girl.” Thick fingers rub soothing circles over your pussy while he slides his shirt and pants off.

You feel his cock press against your folds and then his face is right above yours. He licks lazily into your mouth, hand coming up under your thighs to guide them around his back where your ankles cross over.

“Shit— y’so wet for me.” He mumbles between kisses and then links a hand with yours, pressing it into the mattress. “You want it? Want my cock?”

“Quit being a tease! Just give me your ohhh” You whimper and gasp, head throwing back and free hand coming to clutch at anything you can get your hands on.

He’s girthy and hot as he fills you up to the brim. There’s not a space untouched by his cock, making you feel so stuffed and out of breath you can hardly move.

“That’s it, you can take it.” He breathes into your mouth.

You slowly adjust to him and as soon as you relax, he pulls his hips back and thrusts. It makes you hiccup and lose your mind. The sheets are much too sweaty, AC be damned, and he looks like a literal god over you.

All tanned muscle and flushed cheeks. His pretty focused face scrunched up in determination not to cum immediately. You’re not sure how much you can take before you tear the sheets apart and scream.

He sets an even pace with his hips before propping your hips up a little and slowing down. It’s slow but it’s deep. His cock head touches something in you that has expletives leaving both your mouths as your nails dig into his shoulders.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-“ he desperately tries to keep hold of sanity. But you taste good, you smell good- better than any of his fantasies. Your pussy wraps around him in ways he couldn’t imagine. You’re really sprawled under him and moaning.

His cock is frothing near the base because of how wet you are, pussy juice and precum sliding between your ass cheeks and onto the bed. Your pink bedsheets are damp and one of your plushies has been thrown off the bed in the midst of your feverish mess.

It doesn’t last long. His face crumples as he cums and he rubs your clit and pussy until you squeeze down on him right after.

His jaw drops into a low “o” when he cums. You thank every lucky star for birth control while you both come down off a high. The two of you lay there and pant for a while before his cock slides out of you and he collapses onto your bed.

“Holy fuck.” Katsuki mutters to no one but himself. Half of him can’t believe it. He feels like icy hot with his back and forth his thoughts are, reeling and trying to take in what happened and what is happening.

“Yeah—“ you roll and press your chest against him. A kiss to his jaw makes his heart throb. “God that was good.”

A thick, beefy arm wraps around you and he hides his face in your neck. He sighs and pulls you in closer.

“I better not be readin’ this shit wrong but..” He mumbles, yanking up the blankets over the two of you. “We’re a thing now right?”

You snort and laugh for a minute.

“Yeah, duh, dummy” You smack his chest and roll your eyes.

The AC finally does it’s job at cooling the two of you off and he grumbles and gets a towel to clean you off. It only takes a few minutes before the two of you are back in pajamas and laying on top of a throw blanket. The massive comforter pulled over the two of you.

You flick on the TV and scroll through some of the go to shows before curling against him with a sigh. When you glance up, you notice a deep frown on his face and grumble.

“What are you looking so pissy for?” You place a peck on his jaw and turn your attention back to the screen.

His big hands run up and down your body, thumbs dragging over your hips. With a look of defeat and a pout, he admits, “Eiji’ bet me a hundred bucks you liked me back.”

That earns him a smack on the chest. “Don’t you dare tell him it’s cause I caught you beating off in my bathroom, Katsuki.”

[katsukisxslut]

katsuki bakugo secretly loves it when you act like a complete brat. he already has that gruff personality that makes him seem angry all the time, but that’s all a facade when it comes to your bratty tendencies, oh no, he’s not mad at all. there’s nothing this man loves more than putting you in your place. he’ll have you folded into the mattress, knees to your chest, legs resting on his shoulders and he cannot help but feel his balls tighten every time he looks down at your face. so sweet, tears rolling down your fat cheeks as his cock just bullies your pussy. “awe, what’s a matter, crybaby? where’d all that attitude go?” and he is enjoying this, oh so much. he’ll lean down to press a heavy kiss to your lips, hips never once faltering, moving his hand to cup your cheek, all before using his thumb to guide your mouth open. he allows his spit to gather up before letting it go to roll past his lips & he didn’t even see you, patiently waiting, tongue lolled out, catching it right on your tongue and swallowing it so fast, as if that was the last things you’d ever get from him. the last time you’d ever taste him. the scene enough for him to completely fill you to the brim then and there. “no, no more ‘suki” you’d whine trying to push him off, to no avail, too cock drunk and overstimulated, “‘s too much. i can’t,” you’d pout and he’d grab your hand, pinning it above your head. “but this what you wanted, you begged for this crybaby. i think that you have a couple more in ya,” as he’d pepper kisses along your jaw line, nibbling at your neck before stuffing his cock back inside, and oh how he wishes that you would just brat out a little more. ♡

[shotoh]

all mine

SYNOPSIS: Bakugou decides to put his delusional secretary in their place.

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

word count: 9.6k+

genre: fluff, SMUT, maybe a smidgen of angst

tags/warnings: 18+! minors dni! reader is not the secretary, basically this other lady is trying to seduce your man but katsuki isn’t falling for it! marking, exhibitionism, oral (f!receiving), riding, soft!bakugou but also mean!bakugou, humiliation (not really at reader), a couple spanks, office sex, praise, degradation, pet names (baby, princess, angel), crude language

author’s notes: this is very overdue, like incredibly overdue LOL i started this wip last year but could only continue writing during random bouts of inspiration. so i apologize if the smut is a little half-assed and if the characterization is questionable. but enjoy my late kinktober 2022 present to y’all 

The sound of Dynamight’s heavy boots hitting the floor resonate throughout the wide hallways of his agency, drowning out the heels clicking behind him. A woman quickens her pace in an attempt to catch up to the impatient blond hero, rushing into his peripheral vision.

“Sir? Oh Bakugou sir~” The dulcet chime calling him is sickly sweet, enough to make him grimace. “I need you to look over these reports before I file them away.” She whips out one of the thick packets of papers clutch to her chest, bringing his steps to a halt which makes the hero point a glare at her.

“How many times do I have to fucking tell you that you’re suppose to call me by my hero name.” Malice coats his words, dripping off his tongue as he swipes the reports from her fingers. The woman, to the hero’s annoyance, indulges in his feisty attitude.

“Aw, but ‘Bakugou’ is more fitting given how closely we work together!” She waves off his displeasure, hoping her excessively cheerful personality can tone him down. “I am your secretary, after all.” She leans into his space, too damn close for his liking by how he could get a whiff of her pungent perfume. The overbearing scent has him side-stepping to create more distance between them.

The blond rolls his eyes before giving the papers in his hand a once-over, not even granting her the satisfaction of eye contact. “You work at a Pro-Hero agency, not some ordinary office job.”

Normally, he isn’t one to admonish any of his employees unless they’re his sidekicks. He’s always out and about on missions, never dawdling around the office long enough to find anything to scold them about. So long as they were competent at their job, he never had to give them any earfuls. But this woman here has been testing that resolve.

A month into her new position, his secretary has been greeting him every morning with far more energy than should be considered possible at such an hour. Her regular tasks shouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary. She was mostly tasked with filing villain reports and contacting other Pro-Hero agencies, but her enthusiasm warrants him to think otherwise.

She deliberately shares elevator rides with him, droning on and on about god knows what before getting off at her floor, ending their dull conversations with winks and wide-eyed smiles that make him want to gag. It’s one thing to be genuinely excited about your job, but it’s another thing to be attached to your boss at the hip. She’s at his beck and call when he doesn’t even ask for her.

One can chalk this up to her simply gunning for a promotion, buttering up her boss to garner his favor. However, Bakugou isn’t an idiot. He can read the air, deciphering the meaning behind her words and advances. Her deceptive guise of a hardworking secretary beneath those batting eyelashes is easily uncovered by him.

If she was really trying so hard for a promotion she’d approach him with more important topics in mind. Statistics, analysis, updates on villain activity and hero work. Y’know, discussions that would actually benefit his agency rather than waste his time.

Instead, Bakugou stands there listening to… this.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” her voice drifts off as she taps a finger against her bottom lip pensively, “we should consider holding a party to get to know all our co-workers better!” she proposes. The blond narrows his brows incredulously at her suggestion.

Oblivious to his lack of interest, she moves closer to him, caressing a hand along his hard bicep. She tip-toes her fingers up his arm before flattening her digits next to his ear to whisper, “Company members only, of course. But I’m sure we’d still have a fun time even if it was just the two of us, right?”

Recognizing the suggestive lilt in her tone, he shoves her off of him without even touching her, abruptly tossing his shoulder back. The secretary freezes and comes across the peeved expression on the explosion hero’s rough features.

“We’re here to beat villains and protect civilians, not throw dumb parties.”

“But–”

“Shut it,” he retorts harshly, not letting the bewildered look on the secretary’s face demur him. He shoves the reports back in her arms. “Just do your damn job.” With his brows taut behind his mask, the blond glares hard at her, watching her fumble with the papers before he resumes the rhythm of his combat boots stepping down the hallway. The hero gives her one last glance over his shoulder.

“And remember, it’s Dynamight to you.”

.

.

Man, what an annoying woman.

Is the thought that plagues Bakugou’s mind as he stands beneath the running water in his shower, washing away the sweat and grime accumulated from another busy day of heroics. Yet he still can’t get the irritating thoughts in his head to do the same.

His fingers weave the shampoo through his spikey locks, the pads of his digits massaging his scalp. Glancing at his reflection in the foggy, glass screen door, he meets his scowling mug.

“Tryna get in my pants and shit… Worry about keeping your damn job,” he grumbles to himself exasperatedly. What he finds especially annoying is knowing his secretary will start the day again tomorrow as if nothing happened. Even with Bakugou’s firm stance at wanting to keep things strictly professional, she’s going to continue getting up in his space, trying to caress her nails up his arm, and stink up the place with what he swore was five different kinds of perfume sprayed on her clothes.

But Bakugou’s not some oblivious fool. He can recognize from a mile away what her goal is and he absolutely wants no part in it.

Besides...

“Katsuki! Dinner will be ready when you’re done showering!”

His head swivels toward the door of the bathroom. “Yeah I heard ya!”

He’s already got someone deserving of his time and affection.

You.

“’Kay!” you reply, voice gradually growing louder. Bakugou hears your feet plodding toward the bathroom door just as the door creaks open slightly. “I’ll leave you a new towel to use after you’re done showering, too.” Even through the steam, he can recognize your silhouette peeking inside to drop the towel off. Unbeknownst to you, behind the cloudy glass door of the shower there’s a smile that finds his lips.

After washing the lather off his hair and body, he shuts the water. The last streams falling from the showerhead glide down his skin, joining the suds on the floor before they all disappear down the drain. As the thick steam surrounding him dissipates, he covers his toned body in the towel you left for him.

While patting down the excess droplets cascading his blond locks, Bakugou puts on some sweatpants, but forgoes his t-shirt for now, leaving it hanging over his shoulder. He continues rubbing the towel around his torso as he exits the bathroom.

The savory aroma of thick cheeses and tomato sauces hits Bakugou’s nose the moment he enters the kitchen. He stops in his tracks to take in the pleasant smells, along with the sight in front of his eyes that effortlessly forms a grin on his face.

Your soft hums accompany the harmonious atmosphere of the kitchen. Bakugou’s ruby eyes rove over you shimmying your way around an array of pans and plates like you own the place (which you essentially do), watching you finish piecing your dinner together with a generous sprinkle of garnish and spices.

Eyes never leaving you, an expression of admiration and fondness paints his usually hardened face. With arms crossed over his chest, he could just stand there, admire you, and be more than wholly content. You could do the most mundane things and still have him wrapped around your finger—not that he’d ever mention that to you out loud of course. Occasionally, Bakugou wonders how he ever got so lucky with you in the first place.

You’re so blissfully unaware of your hotheaded boyfriend lurking nearby. It’s all the more apparent by how you abruptly pause as soon as you discover him idling in the kitchen doorway in all of his half-naked glory.

The blond doesn’t let the fact that you’re practically ogling his hard muscle slip past him, and definitely doesn’t miss your moment of hesitation before you avert your gaze, your cheeks growing hot. It brings a smirk to his face and his ego through the roof.

Bakugou tosses his towel and t-shirt somewhere off the side before coming to you. “What? Getting flustered or something, babe?” he taunts. His deep tone hovers next to your ear as his chest touches your back. His hands are on either side of you, trapping you against the counter.

“That fuckin’ hot that I got you this speechless?” His breath is so close to you, he just knows you have goosebumps trailing down your spine. He can tell by the heat swirling in your cheeks just how much he has an effect on you and he absolutely loves how easily he can get you flustered.

Though he can’t say he’s all but immune to your charms, either. He trails a calloused hand up your bare thigh and hips, giving your ass a firm squeeze through your booty shorts which causes a yelp to flee your lips.

Fuckin’ hell.

The way you were dancing around in these things, tip-toeing to reach high cabinets that caused the shorts to ride up slightly and give him a glimpse of the plushness peeking past the fabric already had Bakugou half-hard simply standing behind you. But being able to touch what was essentially his started to make the material of his sweatpants absolutely suffocating.

In a single motion, he spins you around. Your back is pinned against the counter as you’re forced to face him. The cocky grin plastered on his lips greets you.

Finally grasping your composure, you raise an eyebrow at him. “For someone who wanted to take a shower as soon as their stinky-self got home, you sure are eager to get dirty again,” you retort, tracing your hands up his arms to place them on his broad shoulders. “Work didn’t get you sweaty enough?”

The blond chuckles lowly at your cheekiness. His face inches closer, mere centimeters away from your lips. “I could go for an extra workout,” he says huskily, voice dissipating with the shortening distance between you.

His eyes are lidded as he targets your lips, hands leaving the edge of the counter in favor of wrapping his arms around your waist. To his surprise, when he darts forward he meets nothing but air.

Hearing your giggles beside him breaks the tension between you. He opens his eyes and discovers that you’ve tilted your head out of the way. Before he can open his mouth to spit a retort, you rest your head against his shoulder, arms winding at his neck.

“Food’s gonna get cold, big boy,” you hum.

The noise that leaves his gritted teeth is practically a growl. “Dun care about the food–” His hands at your sides play with the waistband of your shorts. “Would rather eat you out on this counter.”

He watches you gulp down the lump in your throat, finding the idea tempting as a dull throb aches between your legs. But to his dismay, you don’t want to let him indulge in you just yet.

You lean forward to kiss his cheek to prepare him for your next words, “First and foremost, dinner. And then I'll let you do whatever you want with me. How’s that?” You tiptoe to peck his nose one more time for good measure before wriggling free from his clutches. You shuffle away to the steaming hot food you left on the other end of the counter.

Pink swathes his cheeks as Bakugou stands there dumbfounded. He rubs the back of his head, his brows furrowing in frustration.

“You’re killing me here, dammit.”

You let out another dulcet giggle. The urge to sneak up on you again to try to get you all hot and bothered lingers until it’s interrupted by a piece of fabric thrown in his face. “Also, shirt on we please.” You turn back at him with two plates of stuffed ravioli perched on each hand. “No shirt, no service.”

He yanks the white t-shirt off his face, grimacing as he begrudgingly pulls it over his head. “Yeah, yeah. You love it though.” Nonetheless, he follows behind you while the savory aroma of your food creates a path toward the dining table. The scent alone makes his stomach growl, the effects of a long day at work making themselves apparent.

Despite the antics he has to put up with, he can’t help but soften around you. It’s as if you possess an innate ability to effortlessly get him to shed his notoriously rough exterior.

He takes a seat on his side of the table, his stomach now growling loud enough for you to hear. You tease a wry grin before placing the ravioli dishes on the table, letting the delicious aromas waft around him, his mouth watering.

“I know it’s been a long day for you so you better eat up, hero.”

The blond’s eyes flicker for a second, chest enveloped with pride as he meets the look on your face that awaits for him in anticipation to dig in. “Yeah… Thanks for the meal,” he murmurs, mild gratitude woven in his words as he picks up the fork and finally chows down.

Again, what did he ever do to deserve you? He knows how hard you work each and every day. The fact that you’re still willing to love and take care of him is enough for him to want to cherish you for an eternity. Coming home to the person he loves and sharing meals with them is a blessing to him as it is and he absolutely wouldn’t trade this for anything else.

Which just makes the matter of his secretary all the more annoying to him.

The damn woman has walked in his office plenty of times to see the framed picture of you two on his desk, even occasionally interrupting his phone calls with you that would end with him mouthing low “love yous” before he’d have to turn around to acknowledge the petty expression resting on her face. He’d watch as her demeanor quickly shifted into a full 180—from a bitter frown to a forced grin to keep up her facade. She definitely knows he’s in a happy, committed relationship. The real question is whether or not she cares enough to acknowledge the fact.

He could just fire her for unprofessionalism. That seems like an obvious solution, but knowing her, she’d probably feed the media some false rumors about alleged abuse towards his employees. Of course, that wouldn’t at all be true. Far from it, but the news loved to twist the truth so long as it got them clicks. Given Bakugou’s naturally rugged demeanor, it wouldn’t be hard for the public to buy their shit and for his ranking on the hero chart to plummet. Which Bakugou could not afford right now considering how close he was to the top.

“’Tsuki, stop playing with your food.” He hears you chide, tugging him from his contemplation.

Bakugou huffs, jamming his fork onto the plate. “I’m not a damn kid.”

“Right, tell that to the ravioli you’re mangling with your fork.” You raise your brow and point at his stabbed and defeated pasta, the filling oozing out from the punctured holes. He keeps his gaze suspiciously fixed on the ravioli.

Does it taste bad? You wonder warily. “If you don’t like it then you don’t have to eat it, y’know.”

“What? No– The food’s fine.” He stuffs three pastas in his mouth one after the other. “Fucking delicious,” he mutters through ungracious chewing, cheeks puffed profusely, bringing a grin to your face.

“What’s wrong then? Bad day at work?”

He swallows his food. “Could say that,” he answers, resting his head against his propped arm. “Just some employee causing trouble.”

“Hopefully it’s not one of your sidekicks,” you pick at the raviolis while stuck in your musing, “I remember your first batch of recruits when you just started your own agency. You nearly scared half of them away by the end of the week.”

“How else was I supposed to whip those newbies into shape?” He lounges in his seat. “If they can’t take some yelling from a Pro, then they’re definitely not ready for the real hero world. Besides, they were the ones that came to my agency knowing that I’m the best,” he boasts with confidence, shoving more pasta in his mouth, and munching at his leisure.

“Also, it’s not a sidekick. Just some lady who can’t do her fuckin’ job.”

“Aw, cut her some slack, I’m sure she’s trying her best.”

Bakugou almost scoffs. If you knew the real reason for her lack of work ethic, you’d be on the same page as him.

Either way, he really needs to get this secretary off his back before shit blows out of proportion. If pictures, phone calls—hell—even lunch dates can’t get her to wake up, then what?

To his surprise, the idea actually comes to him quicker than he anticipated, red eyes perking up at a scheme forming in his head.

Of course. Heh, why didn’t I think of that sooner?

This is how he’s going to do it, he thinks. His lips barely resist the urge to quiver into a smirk that will no doubt have you questioning whatever was riling him up. Swallowing his final piece of pasta, Bakugou pushes his plate away but aims his fork in your direction.

“You free tomorrow?”

“I just have to drop off some papers at work in the morning. Why?”

“Good. Come by the agency for lunch.”

Your brows furrow at how sudden the request is, however, you go along with it. “Okay, should I make lunch for us?”

“Nah, don’t. I’ll order something,” he assures, but in his head he’s sure lunch would be the last thing on your mind tomorrow afternoon with what he has planned for you, him, and his secretary.

Bakugou scoots his seat back, leaning over on your side of the table. “Now, I remember a certain brat made a promise to me after dinner was done.”

“Hold it, I still have a piece–”

“Nuh-uh, c’mere–” He lightly pushes your hand away, and with effortless strength, pulls you out of your chair and over his shoulder. “Already waited too damn long.”

“Whoa..!” Your last piece of pasta falls back on the plate, forgotten. You watch as the distance between you and the dining table diminishes, the impatient blond leading you two into the hallway. At your fidgeting, he swats your thigh, warning you to stay fucking still unless you want to accidentally fall on your face.

With a squeal escaping your lips, you comply. As a reward, he presses his lips against the side of your ass as you’re still hanging over him, nipping at your curves. Your yelps are replaced by laughter. The ticklish sensation nearly makes you squirm again if not for Bakugou dropping you unceremoniously onto your bed.

“You better make it up to me for having to make me wait, Princess.” His emphasis on what is supposed to be your endearing little pet name comes out as a snarl as you’re cornered against the sheets. Expecting this kind of intense reaction from him after your meal, you grin slyly.

“I mean the ravioli was good, wasn’t it?”

Well that he can’t deny. Still, the blond smirks, showing his pearly canines. “Yeah, but,” he moves away from you, kneeling while grabbing at the hem of his shirt to pull it off,

“I’m still fuckin’ hungry.”

.

.

There is no doubt that the next day, you woke up incredibly sore. Sore yet also just as happy.

The tension in your muscles had dissipated as a result of being repeatedly fucked into your own mattress last night, allowing you to sleep soundly. So soundly that you don’t even notice your boyfriend leaving for work that morning. But it can’t be helped given how ungodly early his hero work starts every day.

Some hours after Bakugou has already left, your alarm goes off to remind you that it’s about time to begin your day. Even after a spent night, you can’t bear the thought of lying in bed anymore, especially with how cold the sheets had become, devoid of the blond’s natural warmth. Plus you had something to look forward to this afternoon—your lunch date.

Once you get washed and dressed, you grab your business files from your desk and dash out the door to drop off your papers at work.

Before you know it, it’s noon and you’re standing in front of the receptionist’s desk at Dynamight’s agency.

While you wait for the receptionist to finish their business call, you think back on the employee Bakugou mentioned yesterday. You note in the foreground how busy the entire place looks, which doesn't surprise you. The agency runs like a well-oiled machine. With all the hustle and bustle going on, it seems like everyone is doing their job with peak efficiency. Honestly, you can’t imagine anyone wanting to test the wrath of the explosive Number Two Hero, but you assume such people existed.

“Thank you for waiting! Here to see Mister Dynamight?” The receptionist greets you after hanging up their call, immediately recognizing you from your prior visits.

“Yeah, just coming by for lunch.”

“He’s in his office right now so I’ll let him know you’re here then.”

You mouth a thank you, followed by a farewell wave as you make your way to the elevator.

“’Suki’s office should be on… this floor…” you murmur, pressing the corresponding button on the panel. While you wait for the doors to close, you spot a figure approaching from a distance. You can see the person’s wrinkled professional attire, disheveled hair, and slightly smeared makeup as she approaches the elevator clumsily.

“H… Hold the door!” she pants.

Hearing her frantic request, your mind catches up with you. You jam your index finger on another button on the panel, keeping the doors open just long enough for the woman to slip inside and catch her breath.

You watch her ungraciously drop to the floor, lungs gasping for air. “That was a close one.” You bend down to extend a helping hand.

She sputters as she reaches out to you, “Yeah, thanks, I– Wait, you’re...” When she looks up, her eyes squint to get a better look at your face, brows knitting together as she recognizes your features. Dismissing your help, she abruptly retracts her hand before getting up on her own. You cock your head suspiciously when you notice her change in demeanor.

“Oh, I’m just stopping by to have lunch with my boyfriend. He’s your, uh,” you piece your words as eloquently as you can, “boss.”

It’s always difficult for you to tell any of Bakugou’s staff that you’re his girlfriend. You’d done it before in front of his group of sidekicks while waiting outside his office and as a result they all flipped, bombarding you with questions about your relationship before falling dead silent when his door suddenly swung open.

You’re expecting the same, if not, a similar reaction here, but you’re surprised to see a deadpan look in the woman’s eyes. She averts her gaze. You glance over at her, taking note of her fists shaking at her sides and how she bites the inside of her cheek which forms a pout on her lips.

You’re beginning to wonder if you shouldn’t have disclosed that information. “Are you okay?” you inquire, your voice filled with genuine concern. She eventually turns to look at you straight on, her expression teetering between a smile and a scowl. In any case, she tries to steer you away from the elephant in the room.

“Yep! Just peachy!” she assures through a strained grin that makes you all the more suspicious of her. Even if you want to question it, she has no intention of continuing the conversation. Her lips press together in an effort to maintain her smile, or else risk blurting something that should’ve stayed in her mouth. You keep to yourself in the elevator so as not to bother her, but the prolonged silence, combined with the elevator’s incessant dinging throughout each ascending floor, creates a suffocating atmosphere.

With every floor you pass you soon realize that despite keeping your distance, she’s still looking in your general direction. You notice her sneaking glances at you and your neck grows hot as you follow where her eyes wander. You press your palm against your jugular, the spot you recall Bakugou laying his teeth on last night.

I thought I covered that…

You want to chastise yourself for not spending enough time this  morning to conceal the blemishes on your neck. Your coworker had even commented on them before you left for Dynamight’s agency, to your embarrassment.

You settle for letting out an uneasy chuckle while adjusting the collar of your shirt. Though the majority of Bakugou’s staff are already aware of your relationship, you’d rather hide any detail of your sex life if possible. You’d prefer not being the hot talk amongst the whole faculty.

You expect to be the brunt of the woman’s teasing next, anticipating her wiggling her brows or whistling, but she keeps her mouth shut and her expression even appears offended.

Fortunately, the elevator saves both of you from any more uncomfortable silences. Right on cue, the doors slide open for the woman to exit on her floor. She doesn’t spare you a glance on her way out, but you overhear her mutter under her breath, “Enjoy your lunch or whatever.”

She stomps in the opposite direction until her figure disappears behind closing doors. Your face scrunches. “What’s her deal?”

You’ve gotten used to the bitter reactions some people would give over the fact you and Bakugou are in a relationship. You kind of have to, considering who Bakugou is and the hoards of fans he’s accumulated over the years as a Pro-Hero. But any of the backlash you receive is mostly posted online by petty netizens. No one has the guts to confront you in person. Mostly because if they do, Bakugou has no qualms about retaliating with equal venom and more. This lady, on the other hand, works for Bakugou. When it comes to greeting her boss’s girlfriend, she should be professional, right?

You brush those thoughts away, recalling that no one should ever have to suck up to you simply because you're a Pro’s significant other. “She’s probably on the PR team.” You laugh off, remembering how much trouble it is to manage Bakugou’s public image and how she must be tired from working overtime.

The elevator dings one last time to indicate that you’ve arrived at your destination. When the doors part, the entrance to Dynamight’s office is directly across from you, passing a short corridor. Normally, sidekicks and employees had to press the button on the side of the door, or page him ahead of time before entering. However, you have the luxury of just swinging those doors open whenever you like.

“Heya, Katsu–”

“For the last fuckin’ time, there’s no way I’m going on that mission as his fucking standby.” The voice booming at the other end of the room behind a wide, wooden desk drowns out your voice. “Tell Grand that if he can’t find another B-rate hero agency like his to do his damn dirty work, then he can just fuck himself,” he spits into the receiver. He slams the phone down and hangs up the call without a second thought.

You announce your presence once more with a low whistle. Another one for the PR team. “Vulgar as usual,” you joke.

He sighs loudly, “The only way to get the message across their thick skulls is to beat it into their heads at this point,” he says, leaning against the large glass windows behind him. “That Shindou needs to get off my back. I thought I told everyone I wasn’t taking anymore calls from that asswipe.”

“I’m sure Grand will finally get the idea after he receives your message from his manager.” Slipping in next to him, you wrap your arms around his neck. Your fingers delicately crawl up to his chin, tilting his head to face your smile. Bakugou reciprocates the gesture, his gloved hands gripping your waist and pulling you in as your lips briefly meet. When you part, you rest your forehead against his.

“How was patrol this morning, hero?” you whisper, playing with the tufts of hair above his neck.

“Same old shit,” he tells you quietly as you hum at his response, an amused grin tugging at the seam of your lips. Just as you’re about to separate, his hold at your sides tightens, locking your body against his.

“Bet you missed me, didn’t you, princess?” He leans in to nibble your jawline, causing laughter to tumble from your lips. “Bed got cold without me?”

Your answer is interrupted by a hand brushing up against the waistband of your pants, ruffling your tucked-in blouse. The man growls in the crook of your neck. “Didn’t have my cock to keep you nice and warm?”

Your nose scrunches at his unfiltered tongue. “Katsuki, I came here for lunch, remember?” You push at his chest, attempting to get him off you, but his teeth lock onto your clavicle.

“Food’s on the way,” he assures. Fingers play with the loops of your pants, dragging your shirt out slowly. “Might as well kill time–” His lips suddenly collide with yours, stealing your breath and drowning out any protests. He scuffs his teeth against your bottom lip, looking for a way in. You whimper in response at his persistence, stumbling backwards against the edge of his desk as he finally pries through your lips.

After an intense moment of kissing, his attention shifts to your jugular, nipping at the tender skin again. Every time his canines make contact with the broken skin, you wince. “Still got my marks all over ya,” he boasts, but the more skin he tries to unveil, the more he has to pull at your shirt’s collar which quickly annoys him. “Though I don’t understand what the hell you’re covering them up for.”

“D-Don’t want people to see…” you fumble with your excuses yet tilt your head to grant him better access. He scoffs at how your actions betray your words.

“Why does it matter when I want them to see? Let those fuckers look and know we’re together.” He licks one of the patches of broken skin. His harsh words make you shiver in his hold, but beneath his rough exterior, you sense a tender possessiveness in the amount of attention he pays to your body.

Your fingers brush through his hair, gently pulling him off of you so you can look him in the eyes, “You’re so damn insufferable, you know that?”

“Heh, you like it though,” Bakugou counters. You click your tongue, feigning ignorance. With his hand wrapped at the nape of your neck, he thumbs at your blemishes. His ruby eyes take their time to admire every inch of his claim on you. “You were clenching whenever I marked you. Screaming nice and loud too.”

“I bet the neighbors hate us now…” You sigh quietly.

“Took them that long?” He grins, almost proud of being a menace to those extras next door despite being a heroic figure. “Besides, not my fault you let me do whatever I wanted to you.” You pout, but accept it’s a fact you very well can’t deny.

As his deft hands unfasten each button of your blouse, he switches your positions. He yanks your shirt, dragging the fabric down your shoulders to reveal your skin and the bra hugging your chest. Licking his lips, he removes his thick gloves before hoisting you up to sit on the desk with him, making you straddle his thighs. Another pause of appreciation for the blossoms adorning your chest makes him blurt out, “Maybe I should let you mark me up just as much.”

You look at him precariously. He doesn’t take back the grin on his face. Seeing your wide-eyed expression, he cups your jaw, pulling you toward him. “What’s the look for? I know you’ve thought about it, princess.” Bakugou reads you like a book. He revels in your flustered face, telling him how right he is.

The image of his scarred, toned skin covered in hickeys has crossed your mind more times than you can count, but you’ve always been too engrossed in the intoxicating sensation of his teeth grazing every stretch of your skin to ever have an opportunity to bring the thought to light. Bakugou never gives you an inch when it comes to taking the reins in the bedroom. But now he’s practically granting you the opportunity on a silver platter.

You point a dubious look at him. “Are you serious, or did you bump your head somewhere earlier on patrol?” Anticipating your skeptical response, a chuckle rumbles low in his throat. He scoots back to remove his tank top, letting your hands lay over his chiseled physique. Your fingers immediately trace the scars and cuts lining his muscles, each one standing as a testament to every one of his battles. The idea of your own marks joining his adonis of a canvas has your eyes fluttering.

“’s no joke, babe,” he clarifies, a wicked grin plastered on his face. He then remembers why he made this whole arrangement in the first place. “Aren’t you tired of those fuckin’ extras always ogling me—looking at me up and down like they even have a damn chance to touch all of this?” He grabs your wrist and guides your hands above his chest, your fingertips brushing his collarbones.

You bite your lower lip. “Well…”

Hearing your voice linger, he snarls, “Are you seriously hesitating?”

It’s not like you hadn’t ever clenched your fists in front of the TV whenever your boyfriend was being interviewed by some mischievous news reporter or journalist. They never make it subtle when casting one too many glances at the Pro’s sweaty, skintight attire, staring into his red eyes for so long that they started looking dumb. Though as much as dark green jealousy occasionally takes root in your subconsciousness, you never act on your displeasure.

In the back of your mind, you always saw it as a sign of clinginess. But Bakugou sees it differently. To him, he’d want nothing more than his girl staking their claim on him. For you to get needy, jealous, possessive. Let the entire world know that you both belong to each other and no one else.

You fix your gaze at his cynical expression that eggs you on. Before you know it, you lunge forward. Your mouth latches onto his neck, arms curling around his shoulders. Bakugou draws you skin-to-skin, his low chuckle reverberating in the depths of his chest.

“Ooh, that’s it,” he encourages, rubbing your back. His other hand palms your ass, rocking you both back and forth, grinding his bulge against the crotch of your jeans. Your teeth cling to him, sinking into his skin. Your lips vibrate against his collarbones while you whimper at the delicious friction on your clit.

“Harder. I wanna see nice ol’ purple marks here,” he orders, relentlessly rolling his hips. You want to slap him on the wrist, your concentration waning as heat quickly pools in your abdomen. As if the grinding isn’t enough, Bakugou effortlessly undos the button of your jeans. He pulls down the zipper before reaching inside and touching you through your underwear.

“Fuck, already this wet from a little grinding? Nasty girl,” he hisses, running his index and middle finger across the ruined crotch of your panties. “Or maybe marking me is getting you all riled up?”

“Shut up–” you mutter half-heartedly. With a pop, your lips leave him. You lean back to evaluate your work. They’re not as noticeable as the marks Bakugou usually gives you, but they’re visible, and they’re purple as requested.

A small trail of violet hickeys adorns the crook of the blond’s neck and collarbones. Your finger traces the path, eyes capturing the sheen of your saliva over the marks. His skin gleams in the sunlight streaming in through the windows.

Reaching inside the pocket of his baggy pants, Bakugou pulls out his phone to turn on the front-facing camera. He gets a clear view of your work on the screen, and his smirk appears on the display. “My girl did that, huh?” He cranes his neck to examine the blemishes from different angles. Soon after, you hear his camera’s shutter release, capturing the image and adding it to his gallery. He should really consider making an album out of these.

Tossing his phone to the side, those piercing red eyes return to you, and your assertiveness fades. He grabs your wrists and leans in to kiss your temple.

“You did well, princess.”

His hushed voice makes your cunt clench and your ears warm. “I'll be sure to show these off later,” he promises, his tone dripping with smugness.

God, you realize how little his hero costume does to hide any of those hickeys. Given that he has to go on patrol again soon, you can expect his neck to be a hot topic in the media. Regardless, you can’t deny the satisfaction that wells up in your chest at the thought.

Katsuki was right. You really are possessive over him. And of course, it goes both ways.

While you’re distracted by your epiphany, he uses this opportunity to unhook your bra, happily discarding the garment. You exhale as he roughly cups the underside of your breast. His breath tickles your perky nipple, strong arm hooking you into him.

The pattern of his breaths are erratic, excitement coursing through his veins. His carmine eyes are lidded as he flattens a tongue against the hardened nub. As Bakugou fully wraps his lips around the stiffening bud, sucking and biting to his heart’s content, mewls part your mouth.

“Your tits still taste fucking amazing,” he mutters, mouth caught between sucking and spewing obscenities. “These tits gonna give me some milk too, princess?”

“Don’t push your luck, mister,” you quip before biting your bottom lip. You concentrate on moving your hips back and forth against his thigh, trying to find the right angle that provides you with the delicious jolt of pleasure you craved between your thighs. With a smack, his lips leave your nipple.

“Guess I didn’t give you enough attention down here since you keep rutting against me like a needy slut.” He swats your ass before gripping the plushness harshly. The mild sting has your pussy clenching. “My baby doesn’t feel satisfied unless she’s getting stretched open by my cock, huh?”

Just a little bit of dirty talk from him is enough to make you whimper pathetically, “Please, ‘suki…”

“Please, what? Gotta tell me more than that, princess.” He tugs the waistband of your pants, teasing you. Never breaking eye contact, Bakugou’s hand sneaks under the edge of his desk. “Use your words, I want to know what I’m doing to you. Don’t skimp on the details.”

A light click goes off, but if you hear it you don’t make it apparent, too focused on the hot blond in front of you that was making your head spin.

“Fuck… ‘Suki, I feel so hot… Need you right now…” You grab his hand showing him your ruined panties by letting the pads of his fingers trail your wet pussy. “See? Look what you did, I’m soaked.”

Bakugou mutters curses under his breath, applying more pressure to your panties to thoroughly inspect the slick saturating the fabric. He couldn’t have asked for a better reaction, finding your pleading to be incredibly sinful and all-too-tempting. He considers it a waste that he isn’t recording anything. Well, maybe it isn’t an entire waste.

“Damn, how are you this messy? This pussy’s fucking sobbing for me.” You nod, sloppily gyrating on top of his hand. For once, Bakugou is considerate to your needs and slides your panties to the side to slip his digits across your bare folds. You both moan in unison, you at the extra relief and him at the slippery honey dripping down his knuckles.

In his eyes he was being generous, granting you his thick fingers prodding your silky walls rather than reduce you to pitifully grinding against him. But, being greedy, you thought he wasn’t being generous enough.

Bakugou’s fingers leave your cunt to sample you, wet digits laying flat on his tongue. “Fuck, I need to lick you clean right now.”

“N-No, ‘suki, jus’ want your cock in me already,” you whine with a pout. However, Bakugou is insistent on stealing more than just a little taste from your sweet cunt.

“Not gonna even let me indulge a little? Must have spoiled you with too much dick last night.” He scoffs, but doesn’t move to discard his uniform to free his hard cock. Instead, he motions you to step down and stand in front of him while he remains perched atop his desk.

He eyes you up and down. “What are you waiting for, princess? I want it all off already.”

Your fingers start moving toward your disheveled blouse. As fabrics pile the floor, you catch the blond licking his lips, lewdly eyeing your panties that slip down your legs to reveal your juices coating your inner thighs.

“Turn around and kneel on top of my chair.”

At his blunt tone, you obey. Dynamight’s luxurious office chair cushions your knees as you carefully lift your body onto it.

“Bend over.”

Without question, you use the arms of the chair as leverage to safely lean forward, spreading your pussy in front of him. As half of your face presses into the cushion of the head rest, you steal a glimpse of his reaction from your peripheral vision.

With a guttural hiss between his teeth, he gets off the desk, pulling the chair closer for an even better look at your glistening center. He palms your ass, rolling the globes in his hands before spreading them, exposing your slick folds.

“You seriously trying to deny me this angel cunt?” His words are emphasized with a quick smack before his tongue dives between your folds. You whine at the contact, his lips fluttering around your clit as it works its way up your slobbering hole.

Knees shaking, you subconsciously muffle your sounds as you press your face into the headrest of the office chair. Not satisfied with your muted cries, Bakugou reaches one hand toward your head. He cups your jaw, turning you more to the side so you aren’t hiding in the cushion. When his tongue swivels around your sensitive bud, your moans resonate across his office with euphoria.

“‘suki! I’m gonna–!”

“Gonna cum? Do it then you slut.”

At your warning, he works his mouth vigorously against your pussy, even adding two fingers into your walls. Your toes curl behind you as your grip on the arms of the chair tighten.

“Fuck, you’re dripping all over my damn office chair.”

Maybe you would’ve issued a half-hearted apology, if not for his tongue and its unrelenting intensity across your sensitive bundle of nerves. You only offer a string of moans that Bakugou happily accepts, smiling into your pussy as he feels you tense up against him.

“Ka..tsuki!!” You practically scream, electricity coursing through your skin as your orgasm shakes your entire body.

“That’s it, princess. Want your taste all over my tongue… So fucking good,” he drones against your folds, not letting a drop go to waste as you slowly come down from your post-orgasmic bliss.

“Ah! ‘Suki, I’m already too sensitive…” You gasp, still feeling him drunkenly licking up and down your slit despite you just coming. Reaching behind you, you weave your fingers through his ash blond hair, nudging at his scalp to try to push him away, but Bakugou’s strength clearly outweighs yours. He grips your wrist, lifting his face off your sloppy pussy of his own volition.

“That sensitive just from my tongue? Oh, sweetheart, I plan on ruining you in my office chair alone.” Keeping his word, he replaces your pliant body with his own, planting himself right on the cushioned seat with his legs spread thoughtlessly. He dashes for the hem of his pants, unfastening the zipper, and pulling down enough articles of clothing for his cock to spring out, stiff and glistening with his arousal.

Lust blown eyes admire the thickness of Bakugou’s shaft, rightdown to the veins on the ridges of his cock. A smirk and chuckle follow in the wake of your heady gawking, swearing that you look like you were about to pounce and give him the best head of his life. Sadly, as he glances at the digital clock perched behind you, he realizes there’s no time.

“Sorry, babe, food’s gonna be here any minute and I need you on my cock right fucking now.” He rolls the office chair closer to get a firm grasp of your hips, motioning you on top of him with rousing urgency. Thighs on either side of his own, you reach over your body to level his cock over your dripping folds.

The blond’s lips curl into a sneer beneath you, hands fondling your breast and ass—the latter spreading your cheek to help you accommodate his size. “Besides, this what you wanted, right? To be–” As you begin sinking down his length, your mouth opens in a soundless mewl. “–split open on me, even after I fucked you into the mattress last night?”

Your teeth tug at your bottom lip while you do your best to bottom out. Katsuki isn’t amused by your muted reaction, pinching your nipple as punishment and spurring his desired noises from you. “What did I say? Answer me, slut, you wanted to get fucked dumb again, didn’tcha?” His words are harsher this time, demanding your attention.

“Yes, yes! Wan’ you to make me your little cockwhore, ‘Suki…” you confess, moaning when you feel his dick fully impale you. At the same time, Bakugou hisses at how your walls mercilessly hug his shaft.

“Yeah princess, I’m going to give you exactly what you need– Fuck! How are you so damn tight?!” It hasn’t even been ten hours since he had sex with you, stretching you into his shape last night until the sun shined, and yet you still had the innate ability to squeeze every ounce of pleasure out of him and then some. At this rate, he’s not going to last. “Need you to move, baby. Ride me already.”

Hearing the urgency in his tone, your hips begin moving on their own, dragging yourself on and off his cock. Hands on his shoulders, you leverage yourself to maintain a steady rhythm that had you both delirious and panting in pleasure. The blond’s thick fingers dig into your soft flesh, growls leaving his lips as fire flares in his veins, threatening to ignite his last ounce of willpower to allow you to keep this sustained tempo.

“F-Feeling good, ‘suki?” you question, looking down at him with a sinful expression painted on your gorgeous face—pretty eyes half-lidded and needy just for him.

“Yeah… God you make me act up all the damn time I–” His cock twitches between your tight folds, eyeing you from below and watching you clasp his hand that’s pawing your breast to gesture to him to play with you some more. The sensual yet genuine smile you give him ultimately breaks his resolve.

Oh, fuck it.

As if chains have snapped around him, Bakugou suddenly shoots up, carrying your body against him. He lays you across his desk quickly but carefully, with little regard for whatever else tumbles and falls off of it except for you.

You squeal in surprise, your arms and legs attempting to find purchase around him before you’re reduced to jelly by the new quickening pace of his cock pounding your insides.

“Oh my god… Katsuki!” The obscene slapping of skin on skin accompanies your desperate cries throughout his office. Arms that were wound around his neck lose their hold on him, pathetically dropping to your sides to clasp Katsuki’s wrists, where he’s pulling your thighs apart to spread you open for his unrelenting thrusts.

“Sorry, princess… you looked so damn hot I couldn’t hold back anymore. Needed to feel you deeper and make you cream already.” His tepid apologies don’t reach your ears as you’re overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of his movements, followed by a searing knot welling up in your abdomen.

By the looks of it, you have no objections to the turn of events, gazing dreamily at him as his hardened body hovers over you. From your point of view, you get glimpses of the sweat dotting his forehead, his nose scrunched in concentration, and narrowed ruby eyes glimmering with feral desire.

With stars in your eyes and features all flushed with warmth and lust, you sing a euphony of I love you’s between whimpers. Your voice catches in your throat when his cock repeatedly hits that sweet spot inside your gummy walls.

Bakugou can’t get enough of you, heart swelling with his affections that he can’t help but flick his wrist to intertwine his hand in yours. Despite his progressively carnal thrusts, he possesses contrasting tender devotions in his voice.

“I love you, princess. It’s been you and no one else. No other bitch can compare,” he repeats over and over like a mantra, a declaration of his loyalty to you and only you. You swear there’s an extra weight behind his words, but you’re too engrossed in the feeling of utter euphoria this man gives you in mind, body, and soul to give it a second thought. It’s as if you’re walking on Cloud 9 as your pussy clenches around him, back arching in the moment that’s pushing Bakugou to the breaking point

“So damn perfect, you were fucking made for me, baby. Give it to me, cum on my cock,” he pleads, “I know you’re almost there, princess.”

“Yea, ‘suki… Wanna cum for you, you make me feel so good,” you murmur brokenly, voice splintering into an incoherent babble that he finds so endearing, caressing your cheek while deepening his brutal pace. That knot in your tummy tightens and when the cord eventually snaps, you cry out, clutching onto his hand.

Katsuki insists he’s never seen a prettier sight than you finally losing yourself all because of him. It urges him to reach his own high and claim you in the only way he knows how—coming in your pretty cunt and dedicating himself wholly to you.

“Pretty angel, you’re making me crazy over here. Fuck! ‘Bout to blow my whole load inside you. That what you want?”

“Mhm! Please..!” You manage a few urgent pleas before Bakugou finally reaches his limit, groans resonating in the wake of his cock stuttering between your silky folds. His growls reverberate from the depths of his chest, thick with rapture as his body is bathed in the sweet sensation that is your entire being swallowing him whole. Ribbons of his cum paint your insides. You feel so full, both physically and spiritually, your heart bursting with love for the man that was spilling his adoration for you merely seconds ago.

Bodies spent and chests heaving, you lay on the desk with Katsuki on top of you. You don’t notice his hand sneaking under the desk, a click going off that goes equally overlooked, enveloped by your collective pants echoing in the stillness that is his hero office.

After a moment, the sensations catch up to you and the weight of his sweaty, heavy torso makes you squirm.

“Feel sticky…”

“There’s a shower and bath right there.” Bakugou grunts, but there’s playfulness behind his deceptively gruff mannerisms.

Your hands trail over his back at his response. “I know, but can you carry me?”

“Fine. Such a princess…”

“I’m your princess though.” You giggle, a teasing lilt in your carefree tone.

The blond can’t help the grin that finds his features. “Hell yeah you are.”

Bakugou pulls on his uniformed cargo pants to scrounge together some semblance of decency as he cradles you against him. Your body is like jelly in the Pro Hero’s strong arms, barely exercising the strength to hold onto him properly as he moves you to the unnecessarily luxurious bathroom built in his office. While setting you down on the counter next to the sink, the pager in his pocket rings.

“Food’s finally here.” He reaches for a hanger on the door, finding a bathrobe to blanket you in. “I’ll be back.”

You raise a brow. “Going out like that?”

“Relax, I’m putting a shirt on obviously.”

“A shirt, huh?” Not at all convinced, you cross your legs. You and him both know he absolutely reeks of sex. The marks you gave him are also an obvious giveaway. No doubt he’ll be an eye-turner to anyone he crosses paths with at the agency.

“Fine, I’ll have someone bring it up.” He meets you in the middle and you happily oblige, shoo-ing him to go about his business once again. The blond rolls his eyes, exiting the bathroom and out the large double doors of his office to wait at the elevator for his delivery.

And when those doors open with a ding, he’s greeted by the very last person he wishes to see. Swathed in the overbearing odor of her pungent perfume, his secretary stands heel-to-heel in the elevator, eyes crossed and a furious blush penetrating the matte layer of her foundation. Her steps traverse the threshold between the lift and hallway. With hands balled into small fists, she jabs the plastic bag of take-out food into the hero’s chest before wagging her finger at his disinterested demeanor.

“You..! You! How dare you?! Why, I should charge you for sexual harassment for what you did! So uncouth! Barbaric even!” She lectures vehemently, voice dripping with malice akin to the insults she practically spits at his face. The benevolent facade she dons everyday to garner his favor crumbles to pieces before his eyes and Bakugou can’t contain his laughter at the pathetic display.

“What’s so funny?!”

“Oh man, you’re a riot aren’t ya? You coulda very well just turn off your speaker if it bothered you so damn much,” he suggests, but the glint in his expression tells the woman he can see right through her. “But you didn’t, did you? You listened in on the whole thing like a fuckin’ pervert.”

At his deduction, the secretary blushes even harder. The fists at her sides shake with an anger that boils under her skin, melting her composure like the wicked witch of the west.

“Why you..! You’re the pervert here! Don’t think you can turn the situation on me when you’re the one who instigated this!” She points an accusing finger in his direction, an empty threat to the indifferent blond.

The hero barely offers her a scoff. “Me? The instigator? You got some fucking nerve saying that when all month you’ve been coming onto me practically on all fours despite knowing I’m a taken man.” Now it’s his turn to retort with equal venom and then some. His sudden switch in demeanor quickly overwhelms the woman as with every step he takes forward, she grows smaller and smaller.

“What’re you going to do? Tell the media? Report me to the authorities? Make a bunch of baseless rumors on your online blog? Well news flash—unlike you I’m irreplaceable. There won’t ever be another hero that has left as big of a mark on this country as I have, and you know it.” He holds his chest proudly after every word. In his presence, the secretary shrinks, gradually cowering back toward the elevator. Any semblance of nerve she held vanishes in front of her.

“Now start packing your things. If I don’t see your station left spotless by tomorrow morning I’ll make sure your days working for the hero industry are numbered.” It’s a threat she doesn’t dare challenge, wordlessly pressing a button on the panel to descend the floors and flee with her tail between her legs. The flabbergasted expression on her face is the last he sees of her.

And just like that, Katsuki feels a weight evaporate from his shoulders, releasing a deep sigh he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He bounds back to his office with your lunch in tow.

When he returns, he overhears the water running in the bathroom before it’s soon shut off.

“Ah, ‘Suki, you’re back! I just filled the tub with water for our bath.” Your sincere smile meets his eyes which soften at the mere glimpse of you kneeling next to the tub, patiently awaiting his arrival.

“Fuck, babe, you weren’t suppose to move. Should be too sore after what I did t’ya.” He hoists you off the floor and into welcoming arms.

You pout cutely. “C’mon now, I’m not helpless you know.”

“‘Course not. But you’re my princess, remember? All mine.” He settles you both into the depths of the soothing, warm tub, nestling your body against his chest as he presses kisses in every area of tender skin he laid his claim on.

“And I plan to treat you like one for the rest of our lives.”

.

.

The very next morning, he finds a letter of resignation on his desk—the very place the two of you had fucked.

copyright 2022 shotoh, all rights reserved. i do not allow my creations to be published or translated elsewhere so please do not repost this or share my content on tiktok.

[vampyrsm]

𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐒𝐖𝐀𝐏

✽ — PAIRING: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader ✽ — SYNOPSIS: When a job goes south, Bakugou and Kirishima are left dealing with the consequences of saving a life that maybe they shouldn't have. ✽ — WORD COUNT: est. 30.2k ✽ — WARNINGS: Female reader (she/her used), Cyberpunk AU, gun violence, gunshot wounds, descriptions of dead bodies, blood, body modifications, amnesia, death threats, POV changes between Bakugou & Reader, enemies to lovers (?), eventual smut, angst, no beta reader, no second part, there are no happy endings in night city. ✽ — NOTES: It only took me two years but hey, it's here. You don't necessarily need to know anything about cyberpunk to read this, I've tried to explain things as best as I can in the fic itself. But if you have any questions, please feel free to send me an ask! ✽ — EXTRAS: Playlist // AO3

“Shit!”

“The fuck did you do now?!” The blonde rounds the back of the car, a hand clasping the handgun tight in one hand whilst the other runs frantically through his sweat-slicked hair. It was not meant to go like this, this was meant to be an easy job. 

That’s what Aizawa said! Easy! The warehouse they were supposed to hit tonight was rumoured to be empty, no one had been seen moving in and out of it for days. There wasn’t meant to be a gunfight and now Bakugou worries about how it’ll come back around to bite him in the ass. 

His eyes snap away from the pools of blood and a mixture of chemical fluids. Kirishima is hunched over something in the open trunk of the car, his shoulders are bunched and Bakugou can practically feel the tension rolling off of his best friend in waves. “Oi, what the fuck is—”

Kirishima steps back, and Bakugou’s words die on the tip of his tongue when he stares down at the loot Aizawa had sent them to get. He had said it was just a simple shipment, a bunch of cyberware shit that needed to be shifted from one side of Night City to the other. But this was not just any old sort of cyberware. 

Arasaka cyberware. 

That meant the crate would most likely be tracked, and inside of it would be goods worth more money than either of the two Mercs had touched in their entire life.

“Oh fuck me–” Bakugou speaks first, eyes locked onto the metallic case. “Ei, we need to drop this shit. We can’t be caught with it, they’ll have our fucking balls.”

“No shit we can’t be caught with it! But what do we do with it now?! We can’t just leave it, what if the Maelstrom comes back and takes whatever’s inside of it?” Kirishima’s the one glaring at Bakugou now, the look making the man of 6’8” seem more of a terrifying monster than anything. “Why did you have to say yes to this job, man? We were fine for a few more weeks–”

“Because it would’ve gotten us both out of the fucking city Eijirou!” Bakugou yells finally, he is shorter than Kirishima but still at his own height of 6’3”, he makes up for his lack of height in comparison with his explosive anger. “I took it so that we could go back fucking home! Don’t you want that?!”

“Of course, I wan–”

Bang!

Instinctively Bakugou and Kirishima drop to the ground, Bakugou pulls his handgun up and is ready to fire whilst Kirishima's skin shifts with the metal plating. The two of them were a two-man team that was inseparable, Kirishima the shield and Bakugou the firepower. Both of their eyes are locked together as they wait to see if there’s another gunshot, Bakugou’s heart feels like it might beat its way out of his chest any minute now. He was certain he had gotten everyone, his optical enhancements had confirmed as much. 

The red of his eyes flash to life as he takes a deep breath before peeking over the back of the car, it’s silent for a moment before he hears a dragging noise and sure enough—there’s a body heat signature east of the car, hidden behind some boxes and crates. His arms adjust on the car, holding his gun steady, ready to shoot the second their head peeks over the crate.

…But then the heat signature flickers out, and Bakugou drops his position in confusion before there’s another bang and this time the bullet does collide with the car. 

“Fuck, they’ve got some sort of tech that lets them hide from my optics,” Bakugou whispers harshly to Kirishima who has his back plastered to the car, his face stoic despite the possibility of being taken out by someone who was possessing cyberware that’d allow them to appear out of thin air practically. 

Kirishima nods once, the body plating along his forearms clicking into place as he readies to use himself as a human shield. Bakugou steels his nerves, eyes flashing back to life before finally saying “Move with me.”

The two of them are up in an instant, Kirishima crossing his arms over his upper half and tensing his muscles to ensure his body mass covers Bakugou entirely whilst the blonde slips his arm just beneath Kirishima’s with the gun poised and ready to shoot. The crimson of his eye gleams in the darkness when he catches the heat signature once again dashing from one crate to another and this time Bakugou doesn’t hesitate. The gun fires in rapid succession, neither of the men flinching. The reaction is immediate when there’s what sounds like something falling to the floor. 

“Lost visual again,” Bakugou confirms when the warm red spot vanishes from his vision, leaving just droplets of what must be blood on the floor in their wake. Both mercs wait in silent anticipation, Kirishima moving with each step Bakugou takes as if it were second nature to him—perhaps at this point in life, it was second nature. 

Kirishima had come with Bakugou from Tokyo to Night City nearly 15 years ago with the plan that the two of them were simply there for one job. It was going to give them life-changing money, something the two of them desperately needed for themselves and their families back home. 

“Ei!” Bakugou yells, Kirishima plants both of his boots against the ground and brings up his arms to defend his face. The bullet buries itself into the metal plating of his arm, pulling a deep grunt from the man.

“Motherfucker–!” 

Bakugou again fires the gun, a snarl resting on his face and this time he hears the sound of flesh being hit by the bullet, and then the sound of a body slumping onto the ground. Kirishima finally steps down from being the human shield, pulling his arm up to view the bullet that’s embedded deep into his forearm. No doubt the Doc will be pissed about this when he gets back.

“All good?” Bakugou asks, changing out the mag in his gun before glancing towards the foot he can now see peeking out from behind the boxes. Kirishima grunts a yes whilst pulling the bullet free from his arm, the sound of it hitting the floor loud in the now silent warehouse. “Doc’s gonna kill ya for that.” 

“Ya think? She only just upgraded it for me.” Kirishima almost whines, quite the opposite of the man he just was as he watches the black liquid of the synthetic fluids leak from his arm in place of blood. “If I ask her nicely, do you think– Hey, where are you going?” Kirishima watches Bakugou slam shut the trunk of the car before stomping his way over to the body he’d just shot, he had to know if it was enough scumbag from some gang or if Arasaka were already onto them.

Bakugou rounds the crate, readying his gun to fire once more and freezes in place; gun raised just slightly, eyes widened and mouth ajar. “You’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me—Ei, get here. Now.”

Kirishima walks over when the ash blonde hisses at him to hurry the fuck up, wiping the black liquid free from his arms before looking down at what Bakugou was staring at. 

“Ohh.. fuck, dude.” He gapes at the girl lying on the floor, covered head-to-toe in blacked-out clothing. But it wasn’t the fact it was a girl that Bakugou had taken down, but rather it was the fact she had the Militech symbol stitched into the sleeve of her t-shirt. “What the fuck did Militech want with this?”

“I don’t know—maybe to reignite that old corporate war they had years ago with Arasaka? Everyone knows both of them are fucked up.” Bakugou is still frozen, the handgun still aimed to shoot. If he takes out this Militech assassin, it’s most likely going to be tracked back to them and by them; he means the new family he had found in Night City. It was a tightly knit group, all coming from similar backgrounds to his own but ending up in NC for different reasons. He couldn’t do that to them, he couldn’t get them killed because he took a job to run away.

Kirishima squats down next to the body, head tilting as he leans a little closer towards her head. His hand hovers just next to her face, “The fuck you doin’ now? Gettin’ your big ass fingerprints all over the body so they ca—” 

“Shush,” Kirishima demands, and Bakugou goes to defy immediately before he’s shushed for a second time whilst Kirishima puts his index finger beneath her nose. It’s a tense moment, but he feels it. “Still breathing, we could still call trauma and—”

“And what? She relays to her boss that she ran into one very identifiable red-haired giant and his angry friend? No. We kill her.” 

“Wait! Wait!” Kirishima moves to push the gun away when Bakugou raises it, meeting his scathing glare with his own determined one. “What if we use her for info? Clearly whatever is in that box is worth enough to get both Arasaka and Militech willing to fight.” 

Bakugou’s jaw ticks as he clenches it, eyes flicking between his red-haired friend and the girl on the floor. He’s right, Aizawa might know something about this, and if they’re able to pull info from her about Militech then they could probably sell it to Arasaka for a pretty penny. 

“Shit.” He huffs, finally pulling the gun back and holstering it. “Fine, but you’re the fucker that’s got to explain why we’re dragging a half-dead Militech asshole through the Docs door.”

“—not keeping—” 

“This is your—” 

“Guys.” 

Everything felt…wrong. Nothing felt like it belonged, and yet it did at the same time. Mechanical parts clicking and groaning, blood pumping in and out, brain whirring to life. Lights that are far too bright for delicate eyes, and all noises submerged in synthetic water. 

What was happening? 

Where were you?

“Can you hear me?” a voice calls from a distant place to your left, you want to open your eyes or will your lips to move to form the words that are hanging at the end of your tongue. What happened to you? Nothing made sense, you didn’t recognise that voice and you didn’t recognise the coldness of the metal table you were laid on. 

“Hey—wait, calm down.” A smooth, cold hand presses itself against your sternum and it was as if a light switch had been flipped in the dark recesses of your mind. You didn’t have to think when your own hand wraps around the offending limb, fingers curling dangerously tight.

“Shit, I knew this was a fucking mistake!” A new voice, distantly familiar. There’s a scrambling of feet, and finally, your eyes are opening. The light is blinding, but you can make out the blurry outlines of figures that are double your size and they’re frantically moving to reach something; guns, you belatedly realise and you don’t miss a beat in hauling yourself off of the metal table. 

The two men—you can finally see them now and they’re nothing short of a pair of gigantic cyborgs—have turned to you with guns raised but they haven't made a move yet. Your arm tenses around something until you hear a squeak accompanied by a choking sound. Hesitantly you glance down to see you have a woman with brown hair pinned to your chest with one forearm crushing her throat and the other raised in their direction. 

“Now, just hold on.” The one with the red hair speaks, his hands raised to show he’s no threat but you don’t miss the way his skin shifts with the metal plating. Armour. He must be the shield, and the other must be the firepower. 

“Lower your weapon.” Weapon? You flick your eyes towards the blonde who most definitely isn’t lowering his weapon. The redhead shifts again, and he’s taken a step forward towards you but his hands are still up in surrender. “Please, lower your weapon.”

He must see the confusion on your face so he points towards your free arm currently not crushing the woman to your body. You hesitate to look where his finger is pointing, but it’s hard to miss when your eyes drift slightly away from the redhead. In place of your arm is what looks like an M-179 precision rifle. 

Wait—how do you know what type of weapon that is? You’ve never held a gun in your life before, you–you…–you were just some street rat. The weapon retreats back into your arm, clicking your own metal plates back together until it’s smoothed over as if it had never existed in the first place.

Did these people put these parts into you? Had they found you passed out in some dark alleyway and dragged you here to experiment on you? That’s the only explanation, it’s the only reason you’re in this dingy ripper doctor's office. 

“S–Stop. Can’t—breathe.” the woman croaks against your arm, and you realise you’re actually starting to crush her windpipe with your forearm. She stumbles forward with a hard choke, whilst you launch yourself back into the surrounding deskspace. Metal clangs and surgical instruments fall to the floor in a loud clatter, the roaring in your ears is too loud to hear what the people are saying to you.

Another set of hands place themselves against you, your upper arms this time but they’re no longer cold, they’re warm. A shroud of red covers the edges of your vision and all you can focus on is the face directly in front of yours, his lips are moving and it’s impossible to decipher what he’s trying to say. 

Why does his face seem so familiar? You had seen this hair somewhere before, and those teeth. You had never run into someone with such sharp teeth and yet your mind couldn’t stop trying to find just where you had seen them before. The red-haired man looks over his shoulder, letting you see the blonde who was frowning in your direction still brandishing the gun that was pointed directly at your head if anything were to go wrong. 

“—know man!”

“Move so I can—”

“You.” Both voices silence immediately. Two different sets of red eyes on you and yet they both carry a different feeling; one filled with curious sympathy and the other hardened disgust. “Who are you? I–I think I know you.” 

“Uh, well, I’m Kirishima.” There’s a groan of annoyance from what you assume to be the blonde whilst the one named Kirishima keeps his eyes on yours. “What about you, what’s your name?”

Your lips part, tongue moving to accommodate the syllables of your name and yet nothing comes forward. You try again with furrowed eyebrows but it feels like your tongue is too big for your mouth and your throat is restricting around your name. In your oncoming panic, you latch a hand to your throat, widening your eyes when you try again and again to spit your name out.

“Hey! Alright!” A hand comes around your wrist and peels your fingers away from the skin of your throat, and Kirishima takes a deep breath when he looks down at you. “You don’t remember a thing, do you?” your only response is a shake of your head, and you swear the man's shoulders slump as he deflates a little at your admission. Had they known you?

“Fuckin’ brilliant, Ei. Now Aizawa’s gonna have our ass for bringing back a death machine with memory loss and the tendency to lash out!” Death machine? Did he mean you? However you don’t get to answer the question because the blonde stomps out of the room, the slam of the door stunning the room into silence. 

Another sigh before Kirishima drops his hands from your upper arms and straightens out to his full height. He is huge, bigger than anyone you have ever seen before. “You should rest before tonight.” He supplies, turning towards the door and you realise the brown-haired woman had also vacated the room at some point. 

“Wait. Tonight?” you take a careful step after him and you don’t miss the way his shoulders stiffen, nor the way his forearm plating clicks to ready himself. Was he scared of you? No. That can’t be right, this gigantic man could not be scared of you. You’re certain he could crush you if he wanted with just a single hand.

“Tonight you’re meeting our fixer.” and just like that he was gone, the door closing behind him with an audible click. 

They had locked you in.

Looking back around the room, eyes caught on the glint of various medical tools that had been scattered across the white tile floor. There are no windows besides the one at the far back of the room, but even from where you stand you can see it’s barred. You were well and truly trapped.

And so, with nothing else to do, you sat in the desk chair by the bed you had woken up on—and waited.

...

The next time you see Kirishima is when he had come to collect you from your makeshift prison, at some point someone—you assumed it was the Ripper—had shoved clothes in through the small gap of the door, you hadn’t realised you were in a state of undress when you had initially woken up. 

Kirishima smiles at you, but you can see it doesn’t meet his eyes as he towers over you. He’s dressed differently too, in a black leather jacket over a red distressed vest and black jeans with some very expensive-looking sneakers. He looked much more like his age like this, you didn’t realise he was more around your age. 

“Ready?” Kirishima offers, burying both of his hands into his front pockets and leaning against the frame of the door—While he seemed relaxed, you knew he was blocking off your only escape route.

You look down at yourself, you’re not quite sure how they had managed to get your size somewhat right but the black cargo pants and graphic tee were comfortable. The only thing they hadn’t measured correctly was the heavy orange bomber jacket that dwarfed you immensely. 

“Yeah, readier than I’ll ever be anyway.” Kirishima just nods, finally pushing the door open and letting you walk out first before he shuts the door behind you both.

The door immediately opens out onto a street, the floor is wet from the rain and the neon street lights give the dingy alleyway some light. You can’t tell where you are, when you look up there is nothing but a concrete overpass blocking you from seeing the sky. “C’mon, he doesn’t like tardiness.” 

“Who?” You jog to keep up with Kirishima’s wide – normal – steps, you barely come up to his shoulder and you have to crane your head up to look at him. 

“Aizawa, our fixer. He doesn’t normally meet with new faces, but you’ve piqued his interest.”

“But how? I’ve not done anything, I don’t even know who I am.” You try to explain, the emptiness that sits in your brain is unnerving, to say the least. 

Kirishima finally looks down at you, nothing but pity in his eyes. “That’s exactly why he wants to see you.” 

The rest of the walk is in silence, not that Kirishima seems to mind much whilst he flicks through his phone. You’re not quite sure who Aizawa was, but you knew what Fixers were. They were smugglers, fencers and they loved to handle information. Is that why he wanted to see you? To get information from you? But you had none to give, and when Fixers often don’t get what they want… they dispose of the useless item. 

Sparing a glance towards Kirishima, he was far too engrossed in his phone to realise the thoughts you were currently harbouring. You could make a run for it, he’s much bigger than you, sure, but you’re smaller. Maybe you’re faster. He could lose you easily in a crowd of people, you don’t want to be killed for something that’s not your fault. 

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” Kirishima says without missing a beat, his eyes not drifting away from his phone and you have to focus on not tripping over your own feet at being caught out. He hadn’t even looked at you, you weren’t that obvious– “If you run then that means I have to admit Bakugou was right and then I have to chase you down.” Finally, he looks at you, raising an eyebrow to see if you’re still going to do it. 

“I won’t run.” You say with less conviction than you would’ve liked but Kirishima seems happy enough with it, finally pocketing his phone into his back pocket before nodding his head forward.

“Here we are.” You turn to look at the building you’re both standing in front of. It fronts what looks to be a bar, not quite as modern as some of the others you had passed by. It looked more oriental and authentic. It’s not imposing, it blends in perfectly wedged between two other buildings that look like stores—it’s the perfect place for a Fixer you realise, it stands out enough to those seeking the man known as Aizawa but in an area shoddy enough that it won’t draw in too many people. 

Kirishima doesn’t give you more time to inspect the building, guiding you inwards with a hand between your shoulder blades until you’re past the old wooden doors and inside a very well-kept bar. It’s relatively empty, with a few people hanging around by the bar but it’s quiet.

Your eyes rove over the multitude of artwork hanging from the walls, swirling paint strokes and sculptured mythical creatures. Kirishima drops his hand from your back once he’s sure you’re secured in the building, leaving you standing alone whilst he meanders towards the bar to talk to a pretty girl with bouncy curly pink hair.

“Oi,” a gruff voice calls from behind you, your shoulders jump at the closeness of the gruff voice and you spin to see the blonde from earlier. He has a frown on his face the second he meets your eyes before they drag down and latch onto the bomber jacket you’re wearing. He seems to glare somewhat harder, sucking at the back of his teeth. “No fucking around. I won’t hesitate to blow your head off this time.” 

“This her?” a deep, almost sleepy voice drawls and you turn to meet the man to whom the voice belongs. He’s got shoulder-length black hair, and tired eyes yet the look he’s giving you is enough to tell you he’s very alert. You can’t help but straighten your spine a little, attention drawn away from the blonde who just huffs and wanders elsewhere. “Doesn’t look like much of a threat to me.” 

You’re left blinking at the man, the silence suffocating until you look hesitantly across the room to meet a set of red eyes—but they aren’t Kirishima’s. Bakugou was clearly growing agitated the longer this was drawn out. “I’ve never been a threat.” 

“Bakugou and Kirishima seem to think otherwise, even our Ripper Doc had said you have some interesting chrome.” Aizawa continues, settling into one of the seats close by before he regards you again. “But they also said you don’t remember who you are, is that true?”

“I–... Yes, it is.” Interesting chrome? “I don’t know how I got my upgrades, I woke up surrounded and I just acted on instinct.” 

There’s a beat of silence, the palms of your hands growing sweaty and you suddenly feel like you’re standing in a pit with lions. 

Then Aizawa breathes in deeply, sighing a little on his exhale. “I don’t know why, but I believe you.” There’s a noise of disagreement from Bakugou somewhere to the side but Aizawa continues anyway, “You could be useful to us. I’m sure your memories will come back over time and you’ll be even more valuable to us then. It’d be stupid of me to let you go.”

“Let me go? You want to keep me prisoner?” 

“Not a prisoner. We just can’t have you wandering the streets in the state that you are, it’s safer for everyone involved if you stay here.”

It made sense, you supposed. You would be safer staying in one place instead of wandering the streets, especially if you had no idea who you were. Swallowing the lump of anxiety, you nod your head in agreement and Aizawa visibly relaxes in his seat before he casts a glance towards Kirishima and Bakugou. 

“On second thoughts… I think it’ll be better for you to stay with those two.”

“What?!” Bakugou all but yells, the beer bottle in his hand smashing onto the floor in haste to get to his feet in disbelief. “I am not a fucking babysitter, and I’m not looking after some corpo—”

“You found her, you look after her. Didn’t I teach you that when I found you?” 

Bakugou’s upper lip curls into a snarl, his eyes darting from Aizawa and towards you–it’s like you’ve been pinned to the spot underneath his hateful gaze. His tongue drags along his lips, rolling his bottom lip into his mouth before he leaves without another word. Kirishima is quick to take his place, stepping up close to you to take you back to wherever you had to stay. 

“I promise he’s not always this bad—well, most of the time he is but he’s a good guy,” Kirishima says, a hand back on the spot between your shoulder blades to guide you out of the bar and back onto the open street where you finally see Bakugou once again. He’s sitting on a motorbike, an expensive-looking one. “Yo, Bakugou. Are we–”

“You have one fucking chance left. If you pull that shit again that you did at the Docs, I’ll personally rip your head from your shoulders. Got it?” Bakugou points a finger in your direction, which only makes Kirishima huff a sigh of annoyance and drag a hand over his face. “One. Then you’re done.”

He must not expect an answer as he slips the helmet over his head, the sleek black of it reflecting only the neon street lights but you can still feel his glare on you before he revs his engine once, twice—then he’s gone. 

You look up at Kirishima finally when Bakugou is gone, and the redhead just smiles awkwardly at you whilst rubbing the nape of his neck. “I did warn ya.”

To say the next few days were painful is an understatement. 

You had been confined to an apartment shared between both Kirishima and Bakugou, whilst the redhead was happy to have another roommate—Bakugou was not. He made it his mission to make it hellish for you. 

It started with him refusing to cook you food whenever he did for Kirishima and himself (Kirishima had to convince him to at least give you something to eat or you’d die and then Aizawa would be pissed). Then it started with the loud music early in the morning, you had no real bed so you had to sleep on the expensive U-shaped couch and Bakugou took great joy in turning the radio on and making sure it was on full blast. 

Kirishima did try to stop Bakugou’s attempts to drive you to a point of anger that would make you act out, which only had Bakugou sneering in your direction before he left to go do whatever the fuck he did all day. 

And it was going somewhat well, that same routine every day. Until Bakugou got a call.

Currently, you’re sitting on the couch, your elbows digging into your thighs whilst you lean forward. The room was deathly silent, save for the sound of the passing Trauma Team AV that flew by the window. 

Kirishima was staring out of the window, both of his hands pressing against the cool metal window ledge, the lights of the nightlife outside reflecting off of the various strips of chrome covering his jaw and down along his throat. 

Opposite you was Bakugou, his knee bouncing in what appeared to be nervousness whilst both of his hands were buried deep in his blonde hair, head tilted back to stare at the ceiling above.

“This cannot be fuckin’ happening.” He groans for the nth time that evening since ending the call. “That old fucking man—the nerve, all of the shit I do for him… and this is how he rewards me?!” 

“Dude, Aizawa has never steered us wrong. He obviously thinks we can trust her.” Kirishima says in an odd tone like his voice was devoid of any emotion. You supposed it made sense, he had never been able to trust you either for whatever reason.

“Well, I think we can’t.” Bakugou drops his head back forward, meeting your gaze and a sharp shiver rolls down your spine. “You remember what I told you before I let you come and squat in my apartment?”

“Our apartment.” Kirishima supplies quietly, though Bakugou is undeterred.

“You’ll kill me.” 

“Right, I’ll fucking kill you.” Bakugou finally stands, swiping the pulse rifle off of the table between the two of you before fixing it over one of his shoulders. “Now get the fuck up, we’ve got a Tyger Claws cunt to go kill.” 

The back of Kirishima’s car was very plush, you couldn’t help but wonder how good at being mercs the two of them were. They seemed to be living in the lap of luxury yet they decided to stay in Night City, but you didn’t dare ask why they were still here. Bakugou would probably take the opportunity to bite your head off. 

You sunk into the leather and watched the city pass by, the rain bounced off of the roof of the car and rolled down the windows in thick streaks. It still made no sense as to why Aizawa put you on this mission with them too, they were capable on their own so just what did Aizawa expect from you? You can’t even remember a time when you had used a gun so surely you’d just be deadweight—another reason for Bakugou to be on your ass if you fuck up. 

As if somehow sensing your inner anguish, Kirishima turns in his seat enough to meet your eyes. 

“Ready for this?” You’re not quite sure why he’s asking, even Bakugou seems to furrow his brows in confusion at why the redhead even gives a fuck about if you’re ready or not. “It should be a pretty simple gig, the Tyger Claws are ruthless but this guy we’re going for? Big junkie, won’t see us coming.” Kirishima grins at the end of his sentence, and you can’t help the small smile that grows on your face.

“Right, yeah, I’m ready.” You say with a small nod.

“Say it with more confidence and I might actually believe you for once.” Bakugou gruffs from his own spot in the driver's seat, with only one hand on the wheel and the other propped up on the door beside the window. He’s chewing at the skin of his thumb; one might think he’s actually a bit anxious. Kirishima only gives you a look you now know is his attempt at apologising on behalf of the antagonising blonde before he sinks back into his seat with a huff.

“Don’t gotta be so rude all the time man, she probably doesn’t want to be here as much as you.” Kirishima all but grumbles to himself, looking away when Bakugou shoots him a scathing glare.

“Yeah? Then maybe she’ll fuck off at the first chance she gets, won’t have to deal with her anymore.” The car falls into an awkward silence at that, not even Kirishima can counter the fact that it would be simpler if you did disappear but you can see the sad frown that’s making him look much more like a kicked puppy than anything. The music on the radio does nothing to squash the tension, instead, it only adds to the palpable dark energy rolling from Bakugou in thick waves. 

Soon enough the car is pulled into a darkened alleyway, only the rats and drunkards faintly aware of the presence of the two big mercs who get out of the car in a heartbeat. They seem to move in an organised way; a practised routine you realise. By the time you close the car door behind you, there’s a gun being thrust in your face. “Here, I know it’s not much but—it should do the job,” Kirishima leans a little as if sharing a secret “It’s all Bakugou would agree to give you, think you still scare him.”

You hum, eyeing the handgun in your hand and feeling its weight. It felt lighter than you expected, your fingers moulded perfectly around the hilt and you tilted your head to inspect the barrel. Something feels very familiar with the gun now in your hand, and as you look at both Bakugou and Kirishima to thank them you falter for a moment. 

Your vision flickers, the city behind them flashes to an old warehouse before it returns to normal. Kirishima seems to be talking animatedly but Bakugou’s eyes are locked onto your own, an unreadable expression on his face—maybe it’s because there is no real emotion on his face. No scowl, no anything, he looks like a blank slate. 

“Anyway, we ready for this? It’ll be over before we know it and then we can go to that ramen noodle bar I mentioned last week!” Kirishima grins, slapping a hand against his hardened stomach. 

“Yeah.” Bakugou finally speaks, breaking his eyes away from your own and down to the weapon in his hands. “The plan is Kirishima will be the shield, I’m the firepower, and you just follow us and keep quiet.” He says whilst staring you down, gone is the blank expression and that familiar frown is again creasing his skin. You just nod, and he seems happy enough with that response to turn on his heel and lead the way into the back exit of the building. 

The building is rundown, as are all the buildings in Night City outside of the high-end Corporate zones. You traverse over tipped-over vending machines, various boxes and crates that had been ripped apart and ransacked for all their worth. It’s dark and dingy, a low stream of smog flitting through the air from the old vents in the ceiling. The only way you can tell you’re going the correct way is with the help of the flickering dim fluorescent lights overhead, Kirishima and Bakugou are both deadly silent and somehow moving without even making a noise. 

The journey up the stairs is quick, without the worry of someone hearing the three of you coming, both men take the steps three at a time—leaving you to hurry after them as quickly as you can. 

Both of them freeze once they reach the door that leads to the 6th floor, Bakugou shifting a few steps back and Kirishima takes his spot wordlessly in front of the blonde. The clicking of Kirishima’s skin has you focusing on him, the way the metal plating shifts almost looks like his skin is hardening. Bakugou has his own gun raised, the heavy rifle looks like it weighs nothing in one hand when he taps the other on Kirishima’s shoulder indicating he’s ready to breach. 

It all happens in three very quick steps. 

First, Kirishima rips open the door to the point where it’s detached from the wall and tumbles down the stairwell—you have to plaster yourself to the wall to avoid being squashed. 

Second, breaching. Bakugou has both his hands back on his rifle, his eyes illuminating the chrome strips on his face whilst Kirishima steps forward with purpose. 

Third, gunfire. It happens in five quick taps of the rifle's trigger, Bakugou hardly shifting from the recoil as he swivels just his upper half whilst hunching his shoulders slightly to ensure each and every single one of his shots is a direct headshot. The sound of bodies slumping on the floor is your cue to finally enter the room, and a part of you wishes you hadn’t.

The room smells horrific, a stench you for some reason recognise as death. But it wasn’t coming from the fresh bodies, no, it was deeper in the large room. The translucent sheets of plastic that hang from the ceiling obscure most of the room, with multiple splatters of blood staining the material. Bakugou lowers his weapon slowly, Kirishima finally parting ways to do his own investigation of the place. 

“Think we got him?” Kirishima asks, using his foot to roll over one of the men Bakugou took out before grimacing at the clean shot between the eyes. Bakugou was a beast with the gun, there’s a reason why he was so sought out by Fixers other than Aizawa. 

“Dunno, I didn’t get a clear look at their faces.” Bakugou comments from the other side of the room, squatting down to roll a guy over to inspect his face. 

Both men are too occupied with the gig to notice that you’re traversing through the middle of the room, pushing past the thin sheets of plastic to grow closer to the source of the blueish neon lights. With each step, the smell grows stronger, a rotting kind of stench mixed with what smells like fried electronics. A shiver rolls down your spine, a warning to stop yourself from pushing past the final sheet of plastic. Your fingers curl against the material, crinkling it and still, both men are blissfully unaware of what you’re about to unveil—

An empty ice bath. 

Your eyebrows furrowed together, multiple thick wires and cords were all scattered around the bath yet there was no one connected to those wires. You take a hesitant step forward, the smell is still so strong—something isn’t right. The ice bath looked fresh, except for the blood staining on either side of the white porcelain, following the streaks upwards until you see a blinking screen displaying vitals.

Ayaka Ichida. Age: 26 Occupation: Arasaka Executive ECG: N/A Blood Pressure: N/A

“Arasaka?” You murmur to yourself, fingers ghosting underneath the word. Why did that name send a painful twinge through your head? Perhaps it was just the notoriety of the corporation. Arasaka were rumoured to be funding the Tyger Claws way back in 2020 but it’s been nearly sixty years since then—

Your eyes lose focus the longer you stare at the screen, no longer looking at the words but rather the reflection of something moving behind you. It’s neither Bakugou nor Kirishima, you would’ve heard them approaching. This is a woman, her skin completely exposed, and dripping wet. Shit. 

Her arm raises, the revolver sitting in her hand looks weighty and it’s definitely fully loaded when you catch the barrel of it. You spin on your heel, a hand stretched out ready to yell at Bakugou to move but it’s like you hit an invisible wall. Everything feels fuzzy in your brain, a wave of electricity passing through your body and shooting up and down your spine. 

You must’ve shouted something because you can see Kirishima raise his head in worry, Bakugou clambering to his feet but it’s as if everything is moving in slow motion. The barrel spins, the trigger clicks and the flash of the gun is bright in your eyes. 

You don’t quite realise you’ve moved until it’s too late, the fuzziness in each of your limbs is all-consuming. It’s as if you’ve been dunked in ice water and your limbs are slowly regaining their warmth—it’s painful. You blink, and suddenly your face is in Bakugou's; his eyes are wide and mouth agape as if he’s at a loss for words. Your entire right arm aches, but your spine hurts something fierce.

Not quite understanding how you had moved from one side of the room to the other, you glance over your shoulder to see the body—it’s more of just a pair of legs at this point, blood sprayed up along the walls and to the ceiling; bits and pieces dripping and dropping with a sickening wet thud. Did you do that?

The ache in your arm brings your eyes back to it, and it’s no surprise to see that the entirety of your arm was replaced with the rifle you had pulled out not too long ago at the Ripperdocs. It doesn’t look like you damaged your arm, the skin easily shifting back into place whilst you turn back to look at Bakugou. There’s a spray of blood on his face too, the blonde of his hair tainted by a dark shade of crimson that almost looked black. Bakugou is looking at you with what you might assume is worry, or some level of it anyway as he still seems to be frowning.

You open your mouth to speak, your throat tightening until you sputter out a thick vicious black liquid. Immediately your hand comes up to your mouth, touching your lips to see the synthetic blood leaking from your lips in thick rivers. “Wha…” you try to speak. Taking a step back from Bakugou, it feels like you’ve been hit by a train, your fingers go to press against the sore spot on your back but instead, you meet—nothing.

Your fingers pass through where your side should’ve been. You can feel the sticky synthetic blood coat your fingers as it continues to pour from your body, you can even feel the outline of the frayed edges of the artificial muscles you didn’t know you had.

“Shit!” There’s a set of hands on your shoulders, your entire world tilting backwards suddenly. “Hold the fuck on!” A voice calls from somewhere, yet you can’t see where it’s coming from. Your senses shut down one by one until you’re left floating in an endless amount of space. 

It’s dark here. 

Cold.

The vastness of the space around you expands over the horizon, and it feels like something is pricking into your skin. It hurts, everything hurts here. It’s too loud, yet it’s completely silent. Glancing down at your hands, your stomach drops and swoops in anxiety at the sight—you’re not made of human matter, but rather data. Pixels, bunched together to form a non-corporeal form of yourself. You’d heard rumours of this before.

Cyberspace. 

It’s an odd feeling, to be existing but also not at the same time. The Net was such a vast expanse of data and network that almost anyone in the world could access but not everyone could take a step into cyberspace in the third dimension. It was jarring without a doubt but the unlimited knowledge one could access whilst inside of it? That’s why there were so many Netrunners, people dedicated to diving into the Net and hacking whatever data they needed. 

But this place you were currently in didn’t feel like you were getting an endless stream of data, it was as if you had been cut off. Everything around you is freezing cold, with not a single thread of data to grab onto to understand just where you are. 

“Hi?” someone says from your side, your head turned sharply to see someone with both lilac hair and eyes, they had a tired expression on their face but even the surprise on their face was easy to spot. 

They hadn’t expected to be put into the Net alongside you. Both of their hands moved up to show they had no weapons, not that an experienced Netrunner would need weapons inside of a place like this. 

“Listen, I was told to try and come pull you out. You’ve been in here for two weeks and—”

“Two?” How has it been that long? You had only just woken up, it felt like you had just been in the gunfight and protected both Bakugou and Kirishima; even potentially giving your life up for the blonde. “I–I don’t understand, how has it been that long? Who even are you?” 

“My name’s Shinsou. You need to listen to me very carefully if you want me to get you out of here, okay?” He takes a step closer, stretching out a hand in an attempt to touch you—

There’s a pounding on your head, a throbbing pain that spreads behind your eyes and down to the base of your skull. Accompanying the throb is a low hum, more of a thrumming kind of noise that beckons you to turn around. Slowly you do, eyes glancing up from your hands to meet a set of dull blurred verdant eyes. Though these eyes do not seem familiar, they seem deadly, calculating. They glare at you through the opaque screen you hadn’t noticed, you can just about make out their body on the other side.

They have a single hand pressed against the screen, and the other curled into a fist that’s repeatedly beating against the screen. Each time it hits you can feel the pressure on your brain, was this your own consciousness? Who was this person? You move to take a step back but their punches only grow more frantic, more aggressive. It’s getting louder and louder, and the pressure on your brain is unbearable. Why can’t you wake up? The throbbing grows more intense until there’s a shooting pain that brings you down to your knees, curling your fingers into the ground. 

You can’t hear the voice of the man named Shinsou anymore, you’re not even sure if he’s still there. All you can focus on is the throbbing pain, the way it chokes you and holds you in place. Demanding your attention.

“Found you.” A static-filled voice speaks from the darkness, and you look up to see the crack in the screen with a much clearer view of almost black-green hair. It sounds like he might be laughing, it sounds almost manic before he calls out a name, a name you can’t ignore—your name. “I’ll see you soon.” 

As soon as the words left his mouth, the world around you started to melt away until you were left in complete darkness once again, though this darkness felt somehow different. You could feel something beneath you, smooth and metallic, familiar.

The second time you awake in the Ripperdocs office isn’t quite as jarring as the first, the lights are dimmed and there are no arguing voices. It’s easy to open your eyes, staring up at the overhead lights that have been turned off. The room is silent, the only distant noise is the street just on the other side of the door. 

Slowly you rise from the table you had been laid out on, you didn’t need to look around to know you were alone this time. Has it really been two weeks since—you gasp, fingers touching the side where you had been hit but instead you meet the warm flesh of your body? Looking down to confirm that you weren’t imagining it, it looked like you hadn’t even been hit. No scars. Nothing.

There’s a laugh nearby, drawing your attention to the set of double doors you had never set foot through before. You slide from the cold table, your bare feet gently slapping on the cold tile floor. Taking a step forward your body falters, swaying to the side on uneasy legs, the table of surgical instruments clatters when you bump a hip against it and you freeze to see if anyone would be alerted to your presence. 

No one comes bursting through the door.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you take another step forward. This time you were careful of where you placed your feet, and with each slow yet steady step you finally regain control over your legs. Soon enough you’re standing in front of the double doors, the voices on the other side muffled but they don’t sound familiar in the slightest. Were you even back with Bakugou and Kirishima? Had you been sold off as Bakugou had wanted? Fear danced up and down your spine, you’d have to fight your way out of here if that was the case. 

Steadying your heart, you raised your hand carefully to the door, ready to burst through.

Three… Two… One.

You slam the door open, throwing your body through the now open space and your arm lifts as if on autopilot to readjust the metal plating to reveal the rifle buried deep into your very bones. With a quick scan of the room, you register you’re inside what looks like a common room of some sorts. There was a sofa, a pool table, a kitchen on the east side of the room and a gigantic TV that was broadcasting something. 

There’s movement, a heat signature, and your arm automatically moves to point at the two men who are on the sofa. The yellow-haired one is the first to scream, then the one with black hair who scrambles off of the sofa to try and seek safety. 

“W-Wait!” The black-haired one yells, throwing his hands up, “Don’t shoot! We’re not the enemy!” 

Another door on the other side of the room beside the kitchen bursts open, there’s a scrambling of feet and clambering to all get in the room first. But Bakugou is the first in, his hand firm around the gun in hand as he raises it ready to shoot until he realises he has the barrel of his gun pointed at you. If you weren’t staring at him you might’ve missed the way his shoulders sag in relief. Kirishima is next to come in, eyes darting from both men who were sprawled amongst the mess of chips and used beer cans that had been dashed across the room in their attempt to flee immediate death. 

“Oh, you’re awake.” A voice that’s now familiar to you calls your name, the man with lilac hair sidesteps around the two hulking figures. There’s a lazy smile on his face, “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

Both Kirishima and Bakugou parrot the name Shinsou had given you, eyes drifting from Shinsou and to you, connecting the name to the face they’ve been living with for a while now. 

“Yep, that’s the name of our friend here.” Shinsou walks into the room as if there wasn’t just a standoff moments ago, dropping into an unoccupied seat. “We should probably tell you everything that happened whilst you were ‘out’.” He makes quotation marks around the word, both of you missing the way Bakugou has his eyes locked onto you—or more importantly, your side. Shinsou gestures for you to sit down, and you make your way around the couch slowly whilst the two men you had scared scamper to sit elsewhere. 

“I’ll be blunt with you. You’ve been out for nearly three weeks in total. We would’ve tried to pull you out faster but… you have some very impressive chrome. It took me two weeks to break your defences and even then you rejected me in a heartbeat.” 

Your eyes break away from Shinsou as he explains your ‘absence’ to watch Bakugou as he tentatively perches on the arm of the couch right next to you, both of his arms crossed over his chest. But the things Shinsou is saying make no sense, you hadn’t pushed him out, it was—you scrunch your eyebrows together, the headache still ever present in the back of your mind the harder you think. 

The silence stretches out in the room, just the sound of the TV droning on about Militech moving towards renewing partnerships with Lazarus. 

Shinsou clears his throat, demanding your attention once again. “Your wounds actually healed by themselves. You have synthetic muscles but they’re something else. No one has ever seen something like that, even Uraraka said it’s not something Rippers can get their hands on.” 

“Yeah… you weren’t actually breathing by the time we got you back here… I—We thought you were going to die.” Kirishima supplies from his position behind the couch, both of his hands clamped on the back of it and you can see the worry settled on his face when you look up at him. So you were dead for a portion of time, had all your chrome and cyberware saved your life? If what Shinsou said is true about your muscles repairing themselves then the time locked into your consciousness made sense.

Shinsou seems to notice the shift in the air first, clearing his throat before he stands up. He gives a stern look towards both Kaminari and Sero who are blatantly staring at you as if you were some anomaly. “We should go.” 

“But—” the one with the yellow hair and black streak starts, eyes darting back to you with a question that was probably best unasked.

“Nope. Get the fuck up, we’re leaving.” Shinsou commands, already partway out of the door and he knows Sero and Kaminari will follow as he doesn’t bother looking back. 

And soon enough, it is just you, Kirishima and Bakugou who looks like he’s about to shit himself with how tense he is next to you. It’s awkward, to say the least. You’re not quite sure what you should say, sorry for the trouble? Sorry for not dying? You’re sure that last one would apply to Bakugou, he had wanted you gone. 

“Why?” 

It’s Bakugou who breaks the silence, his head held now between his hands as he stares intently down at his shoes; knee bouncing, he’s anxious. You glance at Kirishima but the redhead just shrugs, urging you to look back at Bakugou. “Why what?”

“Why the fuck did you take the hit, huh?” His eyes meet yours, and you can’t miss the white of his eyes partially red, he was on the verge of tears. “Why the fuck would you do that when I mean nothing to you? It makes no fucking sense, no one just jumps in front of a bullet for someone. I wouldn’t have fuckin’ done it for yo–” He stops himself short, chewing on the words on his tongue that are better left unsaid. But the words still sting the same regardless of how true it is: Bakugou would not have taken a bullet for you, he would not have risked his life for you. Why did you care so much?

“I don’t know.” But it’s not the answer Bakugou is searching for, a frown is on his face but it’s not quite the same as the usual one you often saw him wearing. This one looked pained and confused. He diverts his gaze quickly, refusing to look at you once again before running a hand through his hair. “I guess I felt like I owed you for saving my life.” 

Bakugou only gives you one last glare before he’s up from his spot and marching back out of the room, leaving an icy chill in his wake that makes Kirishima sigh. 

“He means to say thank you, it’s… been a lot for him. We really did think you’d die on us back there, and I think Bakugou didn’t want another death on his conscience that wasn’t done by his own hand.”

Kirishima stands to his full height when you do, both his hands buried into the pockets of his jacket. “Anyway, let’s just go back home, yeah? You probably want to shower.” 

“Tellin’ me I smell, Kirishima? You don’t smell of roses yourself big guy.” You grin when he smiles at you, the banter between the two of you is easy. His shoulders sag with relief before he’s strutting out of the room before you. 

“Nah, not roses. Just pure manliness.” 

“Manliness smells like a Maelstrom cesspit?” Kirishima whirls on you with his mouth agape, a chuckle leaving his mouth.

The city opens up to both of you when you step out of the doors, the difference this time being it’s the middle of the day and the streets are bustling with people going to and fro with their plans for the day. You take a deep breath in, Kirishima still rattling on just next to you about how Maelstrom actually doesn’t smell that bad. You break into an easy smile, a genuine laugh leaving your mouth for the first time in a long time. 

A tingle runs up and down your spine, the shard slot on your neck buzzing as if someone was tugging on it, you look in the opposite direction of Kirishima to see if perhaps there was a nearby jammer or Netrunner who tripped on your own network.

But instead, you’re faced with something that makes it feel like you’ve been submerged beneath icy waters, your bones rigid and muscles tightened. 

Standing idle amongst the moving crowd is a large man, with broad shoulders but that isn’t what makes him stick out like a sore thumb. It’s not the corporate suit he’s wearing, but rather it’s the mop of green hair on his head accompanied by emerald eyes that are wide with mirth when you meet his gaze over the crowd. You can see his lips move, but it's like his voice is deep in the back of your brain.

‘Soon.’

Kirishima calls your name from your side, drawing your attention back to him for a split second before you glance back towards the crowd. The man was gone. “All good? Do you need more blockers?”

“Huh?” You blink up at him, blockers? Oh. Meds that rippers always pumped you full with whenever you had any amount of cyberware. When was the last time you had taken some anyway? “No, uh, I’m fine, thank you. Think I just need a real sleep.” 

“You just woke up from like a month-long nap, you’re telling me you’re still tired?” He grins down at you, guiding you back down the familiar street. 

“Yeah, I guess so.” 

The door to the apartment slides open with a hiss, revealing the dim lights of the amber overhead lights. Bakugou was home. Kirishima steps in first, shedding the thick jacket he had on to toss it onto one of the hooks. You followed after him easily enough, it hadn’t felt like so much time had passed but looking around the apartment you could see it. 

Things had been moved, the plant on the window ledge had blossomed and grown beautiful red leaves. Stepping further into the apartment, you watch Kirishima disappear behind a black glass door that slides open for a split second to reveal Bakugou who was hunched over what looked like one of his rifles before the door slid shut. 

You had been forbidden to enter the armoury, it was for Bakugou and Kirishima only. Bakugou had come with that rule, you couldn’t blame him but it wasn’t as if you needed their weapons. The thought of the gun embedded in your arm makes it ache, a tingling sensation that numbs your fingertips momentarily. Sitting down on the couch, you let out a sigh of relief when your muscles finally decompress and relax. 

Despite your body relaxing your mind was still running far too fast, too many thoughts bouncing back and forth—you suppose it’s from the fact you were connected to the Net with no blockers, all that information could fry someone's brain and you’re just glad it hadn’t happened to you. 

The peace and quiet doesn’t last long however, soon enough the entrance door opens with a whoosh and you turn in time to see a multitude of people walk in. You recognise two by name; Aizawa and Shinsou. You recognise both men with yellow hair and black hair, but there’s a woman with them that you haven’t met before with short dark purple hair. 

“What the fuck are you all doin’ in my fucking house?” Bakugou growls from near the armoury, arms crossing over his chest.

“You didn’t think we’d let you walk away with the coolest new member of the gang, right?” The one with yellow hair flops into the seat next to you, long gone is the fear he had shown just earlier that day. 

He grins at you when you stare at him, “Denki Kaminari, but you can call me whatever you want.” Kaminari offers with an easy smile, earning him a snort from the black-haired man who smacks him on the back of the head.

“Ignore him. Name’s Sero, it’s nice to meet you without a gun pointed in my face.” You shake his hand when he offers it to you, still wordless at how they’re effortlessly welcoming you into their gang. 

“Don’t fucking ignore me!” Bakugou finally yells, but no one flinches at the volume of his voice. “What the fuck are you all doing in my house?!” 

“New job.” Aizawa supplies, and immediately the room plummets into silence. “I know it’s only been hours since you woke up, but we really could use your help on this next one.” 

Bakugou moves to open his mouth, but Shinsou jumps in. “You’re the only one here who can disappear from someone's optical enhancements. Do you know how rare that is? We wouldn’t be asking you to do this if we didn’t think you’d be able to pull it off without any problems.” 

Aizawa continues, “You won’t be doing it alone of course. The whole crew will be going, but you will be the key player in this job, you’ll have to be the one to go in first.”

“When?” is the first thing you ask, and all eyes shift to you. 

“In three days. Ideally, we would’ve done it sooner but I figured you might want to rest first. From what I hear, you had quite the trip on the Net.” 

Aizawa notices the way your eyebrows furrow, “Shinsou was in there with you, but it was Jirou–” He points over his shoulder at the girl, who raises a hand for a moment. “–who broke through your defences. Apparently, there was some resistance from an outside source. Got anyone who'd be interested in protecting the data in your head?” 

You shake your head, the only outside source may have been the man with green hair but even then you weren’t sure if he was real or not. You hadn’t been on blockers, you had been using your chrome carelessly. It could just be exhaustion. 

Aizawa just nods his head, turning his attention to both Kirishima and Bakugou before gesturing with his head for them to come to talk to him privately. Kaminari and Sero both dive instantly at the chance to talk to you, gushing over the cyberware you were sporting. Apparently, they had never met someone who lived to tell the tale after having so much changed.

Aizawa sighs when he’s away from the group, slumping against the wall whilst Bakugou and Kirishima stand before him. Kirishima looks tense, and Bakugou is… well, Bakugou. 

“You remember the original job?” Both men nod. “The package you were ordered to retrieve is Arasaka’s countermeasure to the new power Militech has come into. Jirou had a look at it and apparently, it’s some sort of advanced AI that can short-circuit everyone in its vicinity and even cause people to spiral into Cyberpsychosis.” 

“What the fuck?” Kirishima murmurs, keeping his voice down so as to not alert the others.

“What’ve you done with it?” Bakugou asks, not missing the wince on Aizawa’s face.

“Handed it back to them.” Bakugou’s frown deepens, lip curling to reveal gums and canines but Aizawa jumps back in. “I didn’t have a choice, Bakugou. It was tracked, after you left with the girl they sent some jacked-up chrome head to come and pick it up.”

Bakugou runs a hand through his hair, gripping at the roots. This was bad. Arasaka were pieces of shit when it came to cyberware and if they were going to hit Militech with this then another corporate war would definitely be on the cards. “Shit, fuck. You sure it was an Arasaka guy that came to pick it up, not someone working for D—?” 

“No, if I picked up on his chip, I would’ve put a bullet between his eyes myself.” 

“Not if I do it first.” Bakugou snarls, earning a nod of approval from Kirishima. “Fucker already ruined our lives enough, we don't need him to get his hands on something that could kill us all.”

“You think they know about her?” Kirishima prompts after a beat of silence, all three men turn their attention to watch you on the couch. You were still static, Kaminari arguing with Sero about something whilst Jirou and Shinsou teased Kaminari about whatever it was. You looked out of place but at the same time, it felt as if you were always meant to be amongst the crew. You smiled easily, even laughing along with the group. 

“I don’t doubt it. Jirou said the outside source that was blocking her from hacking into the system was military grade. She has something important to someone very wealthy. With this next job, stick close to her. If Arasaka makes a move, they’ll be trying to take her out first. If Militech makes a move…” 

Aizawa shares a look with Bakugou before the blonde nods in understanding. “Good. Good luck on this next one, you’re going to need it when working with those idiots.”

Both men watch Aizawa leave before joining the rest of the gang on the couch, Bakugou sinks into a spot opposite of you and Kirishima slumps himself not too far from everyone, his legs spreading as he fully reclines into the seat. All attention is still on you, and Bakugou can’t help but keep his eyes locked on you. 

“We should celebrate!” Kaminari grins, practically bouncing in his seat at the prospect. 

“Celebrate what?” Kirishima is the one brave enough to take on Kaminari, effortlessly shifting the attention away from you momentarily.

“The newest member, obviously! I think we should show her a good time.” There’s a series of groans, a squawk of indignation from Kaminari whilst Sero berates him for always making everything an innuendo. Yet Bakugou can’t find it within himself to fight the decision, his eyes watch the way your eyebrows lift in interest before a smile brightens your features.

Maybe he’ll go along with it, just this one.

...

Part of him wishes he had fought Kaminari on some part of it. It was no surprise that the bar hopping eventually led them to visit Jig-Jig Street. It wasn’t the nicest place to be, it was the rundown part of Japantown that people often went to when they were desperate enough to get their dick wet. 

Jig-Jig Street was the red light district of Night City, where you could ‘buy love’ by the hour or even get in contact with dealers who would sell you the most exotic of drugs or enhancements that would cost you a pretty penny. It was dangerous too, something that Bakugou often argued about whenever the others tried to drag him here. Too many times he had come home with a nasty black eye or even in the back of a police car from the fights that broke out here.

The crude flashing neon signs had Bakugou hunching in on himself, practically snarling at Denki who dared to poke fun at the gigantic blonde. Thankfully, it’s Kirishima who once again saves the day by shooing Kaminari away with the rest of the gang before he draws Bakugou in by his shoulder. 

Bakugou just grunts, crossing his arms over the broadness of his chest before his eyes drift towards the redhead who’s now staring down at him. 

“What?” Bakugou barks, modified canines adding to the visage of him being a feral dog. 

Kirishima just laughs, “Loosen up man, let Denks have his fun. I have a feeling this next job is going to be a hefty one.” 

Bakugou shakes his head, squaring his jaw whilst he mulls over Kirishima’s words. He supposes Kirishima isn’t exactly wrong; this next job feels like there’s a heavy weight resting on them. An expectation of something; something that Bakugou hasn’t quite figured out yet. 

His eyes drift over towards you, embedded right in the middle of their little group. You still were a little bit stiff, eyes blinking owlishly whenever Kaminari came on a little too strong—but the alcohol had helped you loosen him, he thinks, you seem to smile a lot more now. 

“Whatever, get the fuck off me.” Bakugou snips, shoving Kirishima’s hand off of him and Kirishima knows not to take it to heart. Instead, he steps aside, watching his oldest friend stalk away into the crowd to god knows where. 

Bakugou wades through the crowds, dodging the half-naked bodies and the people high out of their minds who attempt to grab at him for his attention. He hated this part of town, it was the worst part of Night City – besides the gang wars and other shit the corpos got up to.

But this was a display of the depravity of the city, a show of just how long people would sink to feel something in this shithole of a city. 

Finally, Bakugou breaks out of the crowd into the open street. It was empty, given that it was nearing three in the morning. He lifts his head to stare at the sky, the overcast clouds enough to make him grumpier. The rain always fucked with his chrome, the cold chill that came with it would send it haywire. 

Glancing back, he can’t see the group he came with anymore and something in him itches to find you and make sure you didn’t get into any trouble that naturally comes with both Sero and Kaminari. 

“Running away?” A voice comes from his side, and it takes the years of experience that comes with being a hired gun to not jump out of his skin. His head snaps down, and a shiver rolls down his spine when he meets your gaze. 

“Yeah,” he admits, surprisingly, “Can’t fuckin’ stand this place. And you should split when you can too, you’ll end up getting roped into a threesome or some shit.”

That makes you purse your lips in an attempt to smother laughter before the corner of your lips threatens to break into a smile, there’s an easy air around you. You seem more relaxed, most definitely because of the drinks you had been throwing back when Kirishima challenged you. 

“Nah, Kirishima let me leave.” Bakugou arches an eyebrow at that, Kirishima had known you were leaving too? That motherfucker. He knew you’d come following after him, like a moth to a flame. “Figured it’d be safer to walk home with you than try and navigate my way out of here.”

That has Bakugou nodding in agreement, the fuzziness of tonight's drinks softens his need to put his guard up around you. “C’mon, it’s about to piss down and I’m not getting caught in it.”

He’s already walking away, and it doesn’t take long for you to match his stride. Your own hands are buried in the pockets of the orange jacket Kirishima had given you all that time ago – did you know it was his? He bought it with one of his first paychecks, it was in one of his favourite shades of orange but somehow it looked much better on you. 

His eyes drift away from the jacket you’re wearing and up to your face, you’re eyeing the signs as you walk by. They’re a range of ads for braindances that plunge you into a full-blown porno and ads for physical enhancements for stamina. It’s no surprise that everything in this part of town was about sex, Japantown practically ran off of it. 

But his eyes catch on your bottom lip, how you worry it over with your teeth and squint a little like you’re not really reading everything that goes by. 

“Somethin’ on your mind?” 

“Huh?” You look up at him finally, and it makes Bakugou’s chest flutter with something unknown. It takes everything in him to push it down, chalking it to the previous train of thought about advertisements. 

“What you worrying about? Yer gonna chew through your fuckin’ lip if you keep overthinking whatever it is.” 

The way your eyebrows draw together and your face nearly crumples makes him want to backtrack, but instead you wipe your face of whatever emotion you had just felt. 

“It’s hard to explain. More of a feeling than anything.” 

Something Bakugou isn’t good with, he’s not one to talk about his feelings or whatever the fuck is plaguing his mind. “Just spit it out.”

You follow him up the steps to the large apartment building, and yet you remain silent as you try to mull over the words you want to say. Bakugou expects you to just ignore his request, and he doesn’t blame you. He’d never talk about his feelings even if someone held a gun to his head.

Once inside the apartment, he watches as you sidestep around him to go and stand before the large window. Pressing a button to let the metal shutters roll upwards in quick succession until the district of Japantown is exposed to you. It’s a sea of neon lights, people ebbing and flowing like water as they move around each other without ever looking away from the devices in their hands or implanted in their minds.

“Can I show you?” You speak finally, once he shucks off his jacket and flings it onto the back of the sofa. He eyes you for a moment, show him? Show him what, your feelings? His nose crinkles in thought, but he finds himself relenting. The liquid courage he drank earlier makes itself known when he relaxes on the sofa. 

“Sure,” and you’re turning to look at him as if you expected him to shout at you or worse. But you don’t comment about it, scared to lose your chance so you move over to him. Settling into the seat next to him he can’t help but notice you don’t budge him at all, your own weight nothing compared to his own — had you always been this tiny? 

“You gonna kiss me or some shit?” He blurts when you turn to face him, your knee pressed into his thigh and he tries to not think about the bareness of your legs. You snort, however, shaking your head.

“No, nothing like that.” And you’re reaching for him despite that, his body grows rigid beneath your touch. Your fingers are gentle as they stroke along the smoothness of his neck before they card up through the short hairs of his undercut at the nape of his neck. You’re so close he can see the intricate thin strips of metal that help with your enhanced eyesight. 

He doesn’t find himself moving away, but rather leaning into the gentleness of the touch. 

“Hold still,” is all you supply before he feels something slip against the back of his neck, the plating shifting and moving until his body involuntarily jolts. Everything in his body yells at him to move, to stop you from doing whatever the fuck you’re doing but it’s too late. The connection is made and he’s plummeted into darkness.

There’s a blinding light and he blinks it away, only to find himself submerged in what must be the depths of your consciousness. It’s similar to what he’d seen in his short dips into cyberspace when the time called for it, but this is different. He’s standing in the middle of nowhere, screens and flicking images dash around him. 

Memories, he realises. Your memories from the moment you woke up and up until the very moment you sat down with him, but it’s not the memories you’re showing. Rather it’s the emotions connected to them, it’s bombarding his senses. He feels the tug at his heart, the fear that races up his spine when you first woke up in an unknown place and then the blissfulness you had felt when he took a bullet for him.

How could you feel at peace when you were going to die? It was too much for him to wrap his mind around, and quickly the emotion was changing. There was a sadness that weighed down on his body this time like his body was being pulled into icy waters when he heard the words he spat at you when you first woke up. 

You felt sad? Bakugou didn’t know, it made his heart ache something fierce. He didn’t want you to feel sad because of him – fuck, he just wanted you to know how much it bothered him for you to dive in front of him like that. He wanted you to know just how much time he spent in that shitty docs office, watching your near-lifeless body repair itself before his very eyes. 

But he couldn’t tell you that, he couldn’t tell you that Kirishima often was the one to wake him up from his slump across your lap in the mornings when he fell asleep hoping you’d just wake the fuck up and explain yourself.

Another jump in emotions, and he feels happiness – acceptance. You’re sitting among all his friends, and even with him in the picture, you feel like you found a place. Something in the memory makes his eyebrows raise, you glance at him and that feeling spikes. It feels like a thunderous amount of butterflies flutter in his stomach, rising up until they bombard his heart. 

He hadn’t even known you were looking at him like that. Yet beneath all that, he could feel the melancholy that came with your circumstance. You don’t feel like you belong, or perhaps it was the reality of your previous life's existence that weighs heavily on you. You had unresolved business, and that’s something Bakugou can relate to fully.

The next time he blinks, he feels the pressure of your forehead against his own. The slipping of the cord from his plating and how your fingers curl a little more into the longer hair further up the back of his head.

“Do you get it now?” You’re the first to break the tension, your question but a whisper above the whirring of the fan above your heads. 

And he thinks he does, that feeling that you couldn’t quite describe. You were content yet you were lost, you were happy yet you had a longing for something. You felt something towards him that was so indescribable it made his heart flutter. So he just nods, his own forehead pressing a little harder against yours to get it across that he truly does get it. 

His hand cups your jaw, thumb rolling across the fullness of your cheek before it presses into the flesh just a little. Your breath smells sweet; faintly reminding him of the drinks the both of you had earlier in the night. He doesn’t suspect you’re drunk, he definitely isn’t but that soft buzz keeps him from thinking too much. 

“It’s so confusing.” You admit, the word is just a breath against his lips and he finds himself wanting to swallow it. “I don’t want to think.”

That’s enough of a sign for him to make a move, his stomach churns with anxious excitement when he leans in. His lips finally press to yours in a tentative touch, your lips are warm and just as soft as they look. It draws him further, and further until his lips are moving against your own in a fluid movement. 

You don’t fight him when his hand slips to the back of your neck, pulling you into position so you can’t escape when he pries your mouth open with his tongue. The sweetness is stronger on your tongue, tangy with alcohol yet intoxicatingly enjoyable when he explores you like he might never get the chance again. 

It’s like everything explodes at that point, Bakugou grows insatiable; he needs to taste you. He needs to know you inside and out, this hunger pooling low in his stomach and burning a river of fire down to his groin. It makes him groan into the kiss when you offer a reprieve for a quick breath, he nips and bites at your bottom lip to see if he can pull any noises from you.

And he delights in it when he can, your moans are so foreign to him yet it’s a heady feeling. It has him tugging at you until you’re situated over the tops of his thighs, and in a fluid motion, he’s standing. His hands cupped under your ass, squeezing and massaging the flesh that he’s never had the chance to feel before. 

It takes him no time at all to cross the space from the living room to his bedroom, the door sliding open and closed with a hiss before the automatic locks click into place. He tosses you from his grip onto the plushness of his bed, the sheets still rumpled from the morning when he didn’t bother to make it. 

Bakugou looms over you like a predator, his chest rising and falling with quick breaths – you’re no better than he is, your lips are swollen and wet from his ministrations. Your heavy breathing only accentuates your breasts, drawing his attention down to them to see the rise and fall of your chest. His fingers move automatically, tucking underneath his shirt to tug it over his head. 

It’s flung off into some unknown direction, and when he looks up you’re leaning up. Your fingers skate along the sharp edges of his muscles, pressing into the places where the fat resides. Then you trace along scars that are white and some that are pink; you’re transfixed on him. It makes him preen under your gaze, and in your momentary distraction, he undoes the belt on his jeans before they’re pushed down too. 

The smile you give him makes his heart pitter-patter in his chest, you’re smiling up at him as if he’s the world to you. But the rational still-sober part of his mind insists that it’s just for the sex – he’s just a one-night stand to you and the feeling is mutual. Right? That is what Bakugou wants out of this, right? The tension in his stomach is unnerving, something akin to nausea at the idea of letting this not blossom into something more.

But he doesn’t get to ruminate on it further, your fingers drift downwards along the deep V on his hips until you’re at the top of his boxers. Automatically his fingers stroke up along your jaw, across your cheek until he’s hooking his fingers to the back of your head when you start to lean in closer. 

The feeling of your lips against the hard outline of his cock makes him jolt and melt at the same time, the rumbling moan is deep in his chest. How long had it been since he was last with someone? Fuck, he doesn’t even know but he can’t focus when the tip of your tongue slowly drags up along the thick vein on the underside of his cock.

He must jolt too harshly because you laugh a little to yourself before you take pity on him. Bakugou wants to snap at you, shut you up for even daring to laugh at him but the words die on his tongue the second he even thinks of them. Your hands are undeniably soft when you wrap your hand around his hardness. 

There’s a small crease between your eyebrows, an indication of either your concentration or perhaps your trepidation for what’s to come. 

“Lie back,” he offers instead, your eyes drifting back up to meet his and you slip free from the hand hooked on the back of your head, the loss of your softness around his length leaves a longing that lingers in the depths of his stomach. This time he takes the time to undress you, sliding you free of the dress Mina had managed to wrangle you into. 

It looked far too good on you, something he wouldn’t admit at the start of the night but his inhibitions continue to slip. “Look at you, so beautiful.” 

His fingers skim up along the now bare expanse of your hips, brushing past your panties line and mapping their way up your sides. You’re just as scarred as he is, but yours are so different from his. He can see the almost invisible lines where someone has taken a scalpel to you and modified your body. Did you even know who did it?

He swallows the lump down in his throat, forcing his attention up to your breasts once his hands brush along the sides. His thumbs roll up over your nipples beneath your bra, the pebbled skin hard enough–sensitive enough to earn him a shiver of delight. The smile that brightens up his face is nothing short of sinful, it shows the modified canines and displays all his carnal desires without him having to even utter a word.

You lift your body up when he demands it, letting him slip you free of your underwear until you’re as bare as he is. And Holy fuck, you’re fucking gorgeous. His eyes leave no part of you unseen, his gaze roaming over you until you’re practically squirming.

“Please.” You whisper, gasping when his fingers finally find a home in the width of your hips. “Stop staring and do something.” 

That has an eyebrow rising in your direction. “Oh? Someone’s demanding when she wants something. You want me to hurry up and fuck you until you’re too dumb to remember your own name?” 

“You’re too much.” You all but whine, and he imagines he’d be able to feel the heat in your cheeks if he were to lean in closer.

“You have no idea.” Bakugou grins, a sultry smile that has your hips bucking beneath his iron grip and he’s swooping down. 

Lips pressing into yours in a much more hurried fashion compared to earlier; it’s a hunger that can only serve to work someone up until the point of completion. It has his tongue rolling into your mouth, brushing against the back of your teeth and trying to hear you choke on him when he’s bearing his weight down on you.

He’s positively devouring you, and his hands work to spread your legs wide for him on either side of the thickness of his own thighs. Then his fingers make their way down between your legs, brushing against the crease between where your thighs bend. You’re whining, moaning and biting back just as hard when he dares to bite your bottom lip. 

He wants to fucking ruin you. 

Bakugou draws his head back just enough to peer down at you, the light filtering in through the half-shuttered window highlights parts of you that are otherwise shrouded in the darkness. It illuminates the harsh rise and fall in your lungs, the way your nipples are pebbled in the cool air and the slight glisten on your inner thighs.

Finally, he indulges you. His fingers press between your folds to slide against your clit before they slowly venture downwards. His middle and ring fingers circle against your entrance teasingly slow, his lips parting to breathe in your whines for more. 

His eyebrows crumple with your own when you moan at the intrusion of his thick fingers, his head is swimming with how intoxicating it is to be above you like this. To have this level of power over someone who could definitely kill him before he could blink.

The stretch is easy enough with how wet you got so quickly for him, and he groans all low and rumbling in his chest at just how tight you are. You’re so soft and velvety inside, your walls clenching rhythmically with your deep inhales.

For a moment, he just holds his fingers deep inside of you completely still. Relishing in the way you try to shift your hips beneath him despite how he’s pinning you down beneath the weight of his own body. It’s such a stark difference to the nervous wreck he’s seen you as, and so fucking better than the cold-blooded killer he knew you were deep down. 

“Fuckin’ look at you.” He whispers into the heated air between the sparse gap between you two, his eyes half-lidded as they meet your own. You’re trying your hardest to glare at him, but you can’t quite fight the euphoric feeling of him curling his fingers just a little to shut you down. 

“Who knew all it took to get you nice and compliant was to stuff you full with my fingers?” His tone is a little mean, a little condescending. The tears don’t come for you however, but he can see you slowly dropping into the headspace he wants you to be in. 

“Please,” you beg—a plea, a sweet melody that Bakugou thinks he wants to listen to for the rest of his life. But this was just a one-night stand, right? 

“Tell me what you want.” 

“Just–... Move already, please.” He grins wide at the whimper at the end of your words. A small part of him wants to draw this out, make you suffer just a little but the rational voice in his mind tells him he’ll only get more out of you if he obliges. 

So he does. His fingers crook upwards, brushing against the spongy spot that no one but he could reach with the length of his fingers. The reaction is immediate, you moan so sweetly that it has his own eyes threatening to flutter and roll into the back of his head. 

You’re practically gushing around his fingers as he fucks them into you, repeatedly crooking his fingers in an attempt to see how quickly he could make you crumble beneath the palm of his hand. Your thighs tense up, squeezing around his own when you try to close your legs to stop the onslaught of his fingers. 

Bakugou noses into your cheek when you tilt your head back, your lips parted as you try to breathe in. But he doesn’t give you the chance, he pushes you further into the bed with his weight, shifting his body up just slightly so your hips are forced to bend with him – then suddenly he’s fucking his fingers into you impossibly deeper.

His lips hover just next to your temple, panting heavily against you. It’s a task and a half to stop himself from painting the inside of his boxers that he’s still yet to remove. But he’s a man on a mission, and that mission is to make you cum on his fingers.

He doesn’t stop when he feels your hand clamp down around his forearm, the strength there is enough to stop a moving truck—except you’re distracted, lost in the pleasure that races up and down your spine until it settles in the back of your mind. You’re too lost in your own head to be embarrassed about the sloppy sounds between your thighs, his fingers forcing more and more juices from you until he’s certain his bed will be soaked through.

As much as Bakugou wants to watch your pussy take his fingers so well, he can’t move his gaze away from your face. You look like something they used to paint in cathedrals, an angel. Your head is thrown back into his pillows, eyes scrunched closed and mouth open to let your moans spill free. The light from outside bathes you in neon colours, catching on the metallic strips of your chrome. 

Even if it is just a one-night stand, Bakugou doesn’t think he’ll be able to forget the image of you in the throes of pleasure. 

Especially not when you finally do reach your climax for him. Your hand at his wrist tightens immediately, your thighs lock up with a tension that would worry him if he wasn’t aware of the intricate materials that you were composed of. Your chest stutters, and your mouth opens wider until he’s gifted with the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard; a series of moans that grow breathier with each pass of his fingers. 

“‘S too much.” You protest weakly, the hand that was wrapped around his wrist pushes in an attempt to free your swollen pussy from his long fingers. But he doesn’t pull out yet, only slowing down the roll of his wrist until finally he pulls free. Your entire body relaxes finally, muscles growing lax from where they’re wrapped around his waist. 

“It only takes one time and you’re done?” Bakugou questions with a teasing arch of his eyebrow, watching in amusement when your head rolls slightly to glare at him. It’s a hardly-there glare but you still give it to him regardless, it makes him grin down at you. “Nah, you’re not done.”

You’re like putty in his hands with how easily he manoeuvres your body around, tucking both of your legs together before twisting your lower half to the side. A large arm keeps your legs held up and off to the side, whilst his unoccupied hand strokes along the rigid length of his cock. It aches, pearled with pre-cum from just watching you cream all over his hand.

He levels the tip of his drooling cock to your entrance, easily finding the hole that was previously spread so wide around just two of his fingers. The warmth is intoxicating, flooding his senses and clouding his mind. He doesn’t even notice you moving just slightly to slide a hand down over your hip to feel the length of his cock disappearing deeper and deeper inside of you.

The groan Bakugou lets out once his hips fall flush against your own is sinful enough to have you clenching around him, turning that beautiful groan into a hiss through clenched teeth. He snaps his gaze up to you, only to see your own gaze heedy with lust and half-lidded. He can feel every single inch of your velveteen walls, can feel the way you’re still panting and clenching around his cock. 

He thinks he could die here, quite happily might he add.

A large hand comes down to your ass, shifting the flesh just enough so he can flit his eyes downwards and see the sticky mess that’s already tacking his pubic hair. That same hand comes back down again to level your ass with a firm spank, and it has you squeezing around him tight enough to stop him from rolling his hips back to start fucking you.

It’s enough to make him forget he’s fucking you raw.

“Squeezin’ me so fuckin’ hard. You like it that much, hm?” Bakugou goads with a bite to his bottom lip when he feels you pulse at the tone he takes with you. With enough willpower, he rolls his hips backwards just enough to pull himself out halfway before fucking his cock back into you. “Tell me how much you like it.” 

His stomach tenses when you brush the pads of your fingers against the tensed muscles there, his eyes drift away from where he was connected to you, along your arm until he finds your face. You’re looking him in the eye, eyelids heavy and lips parted when you moan low at the feeling of him rolling his hips smoothly once again. 

“Say it,” Bakugou bares his teeth at you, the modified fangs in his mouth gleaming with the passing lights through the window.

“Bak—” 

He moves before he can even think, faster than you can react. His hand engulfs the entirety of your lower face, thick fingers digging into the flesh of your cheeks until he can feel the solid metal that was buried in your very muscles. Your eyes are wide, more alert but you don’t fight him surprisingly. Bakugou hunches his body over your own until his forehead connects with yours, forcing you to look directly into his eyes.

The angle he’s at now has your eyebrows crumpling together, mouth opening in a wordless moan—he’s so fucking deep that he’s pretty certain he’s pressed right against your cervix.

“No, use my fuckin’ name.” He growls in your face, hissing his words through clenched teeth. You’re clenching around him so tightly that his head feels like it’s filled with nanites, infiltrating his brain until all he can think about is you, you, you.

A harsh thrust of his hips has you gasping, he can see you fighting the urge to let your eyes roll back and eyelashes flutter closed to bask fully in the pleasure. But you keep his gaze, sturdy and unyielding. 

“Katsuki.”

He’s never heard his given name on your tongue before, so breathy and sweet that it has his pace faltering for a split second. His name sounded perfect when you said it like that, as if your very vocal cords were crafted just to moan his name like that—like an angel. Bakugou gives in to the urge to moan in return, jaw falling slack. 

Your hand is delicate around his wrist, guiding him to free you from the grip he still had on your jaw to slide it downwards until he finds your throat. His fingers latch around it naturally, digging in just enough to have you gasping against his open and waiting mouth but not enough to hurt you. He can see that you enjoy it—can feel it in the way your pussy drools for him more.

The second his hand locks around your throat, everything empties from his mind. His hips move as if they were designed to fuck you, to feel your skin slap against his and to have your entire body jump with each harsh rut. Your moans vibrate against his palm, a shiver working its way down his spine whenever your moans grow louder, more desperate when he shifts his weight just enough to bully the tip of his cock against your cervix.

The hand around his wrist tightens, the tips of your nails digging into his flesh. It makes him hiss in pain, gritting his teeth to fuck you harder. His entire body glistens with sweat, dripping down along his hairline where strands of his ash blonde hair stick to his dewy skin. It pools in the hollow of his throat and builds along his biceps, which flex and bulge with the effort of keeping up his position hunched over you. 

“G’nna—” You gasp, his hand instinctively closing around your throat before relaxing. “‘M g’nna cum.”

And fuck, if he thought you whispering his given name was hot then he’s not sure where that ranks. He’s not sure why he’s never considered just how hot it would be for you to admit you were close to orgasm, to inform him that he’s doing such a good job at fucking you that you’re about to cum.

“Yeah?” He huffs in the effort of his pace, suddenly rearing back and releasing your throat in favour of shifting your position. He throws your legs over his shoulders, large hands grasping at your hips to pull you to the edge of the bed properly. “Then cum.”

With his hands lower down on your body, Bakugou’s able to free one hand from grasping at the meat of your thigh to let his thumb roll over your clit with enough pressure to have your knees turning inwards and back arching off of the bed. The moan that comes you from is angelic, a sound that has his stomach twisting in anticipation and the need to cum—but not yet, he’s going to fuck you as much as he can before he reaches his end.

He can feel you clamping down on him, squeezing the ever-loving fuck out of him to the point where his hips are forced to take shallow thrusts. But his hand doesn’t give up on your clit; he switches to his fingers to pinch and cruelly swipe at your swollen clit. Your toes curl against the back of his head, and Bakugou finds himself leaning into the feeling—needing to feel every single part of you whilst your pleasure crests.

And when you do cum, Bakugou can’t help but groan alongside you. 

“Fuuu—... That’s it, good girl.” His tone is a little breathy, his chest rising and falling with the quick breaths he has to take to keep up the pace to fuck you through your orgasm and beyond that. His hand drops away from between your thighs, sliding up to grab at your waist before moving you up along the bed whilst situating himself on top.

He tugs your legs down from his shoulders, wrapping them tightly around his waist—you move easily for him, so pliant and willing to do anything for him after he made you cum on his cock. Your thighs mould easily around the thinner part of his waist, your ankles locking naturally. 

His cock remains buried deep inside of you, still savouring the aftershock waves of pleasure that have your walls throbbing around him. Bakugou leans down into your space, with one elbow to the side of your head whilst the other latches itself onto the headboard. You meet his gaze, finally gaining back some clarity. 

“Back with me?” He grins, sharp teeth on display when he looks down at you. He wonders if you find him intimidating like this, you’ve shown you were somewhat afraid of him in the past—never stepping on his toes, or overstepping when he ordered you to stay the fuck out of his way. Part of him doesn’t want you to be afraid of him anymore, he wants to make you smile more, laugh more, moan more—

A hand caresses itself along his cheek, drawing him out of his lust-ridden mind until he finds your eyes. Your thumb drags itself along the apple of his cheek, across the corner of his lips until you press your thumb against his lips. He’s not sure what’s enthralled him exactly, maybe it’s just the look in your eye—because you’re not looking up at him like you’re afraid, but rather you’re looking up at him with something scarily close to admiration. 

Your thumb drops down from his lips and to his chin, and with the slightest of tugs you pull him down into your space. He collapses onto both of his elbows on either side of your head, his breath coming out in warm puffs against your face. He can smell you this close, a mixture of sweat and that sweet perfume Mina had bought for you. 

Again, he doesn’t fight it when you pull him that final inch. Your lips are smooth against his own, so gentle and intoxicating. You kiss him like you want to savour this, savour him. And so he lets you, he lets you savour him just as he savours you in return. His mouth pries yours open easily enough, your tongue eager to meet his own in a smooth curl.

His hips begin to move on instinct, both of his thighs spread wide so he can thrust hard and deep. Your skin slaps against his, a wet sound that has the pit of pleasure in his stomach tightening and tightening with each passing second. His balls smack against the roundness of your ass, drawing up with the urge to spill deep inside of you—but he won’t, as much as he’d love to feel your walls milk him for all he’s worth.

You’re the one who breaks the kiss off, head falling back into his pillows whilst he props himself back up over the top of you. With a better view of your body, your tits that bounce with each rut of his hips, he finds himself standing right on the precipice of his climax. His thrusts grow faster, more erratic in their strength and depth—effortlessly fucking you through your next orgasm when you open your mouth in a silent scream.

“Fu-fuck, fuck,” Bakugou pants, his stomach clenches and his balls draw up tight. He pulls back suddenly from your space, away from the intoxicating heat that radiates off of your body to pull from your pussy entirely. His hand wraps around his cock and he fists it aggressively, thumb pressing against his head before he sucks in one deep breath, only to release it in a loud groan.

His cum comes in thick waves, drawing lines up along your stomach and up along your chest. You lay there, with your legs wide open and eyes half-lidded; watching him cum all over your body. Bakugou finds his hips still thrusting with each spurt from his cock, squeezing every last drop before tapping the sticky tip against your belly button where it had mostly gathered. 

His entire body relaxes immediately, the weight of his responsibilities disappearing into nothing when he lets his mind bathe completely in that post-nut haze. You seem in the same mind, letting your legs droop at his waist and an arm coming to rest over your eyes, giving you a moment to catch your breath. 

Slipping away from you, Bakugou doesn’t bother to pick up the clothes scattered around and instead beelines it for the bathroom attached to his bedroom. He pauses by the door leading out, he can’t hear any noise—hopefully, Kirishima was still out, if not then he’s going to be up Bakugou’s ass about fucking you. 

Rummaging through a stack of towels, he finds a light and small one to wipe you down with. But as he’s about to re-enter the bedroom, he turns to see you’re standing up and looking around for your underwear.

“Where you runnin’ off to?” He gruffs, his own voice ruined from the session—he needs a drink of water, he makes a mental note. 

You look up at him, quite like the image of a deer in headlights. “Uh, well—I just thought you’d want me to… go.” 

Bakugou’s eyebrows furrow together before his eyes flit down to the ropes of cum still on your skin and he wants to ask if you planned on ruining your clothes with his cum. Instead, he shakes his head, stepping back into the dimly lit bedroom. 

“Get back in bed, let me clean you up.” He watches as you stare at him for a second more, hesitating or debating on refusing his offer. But clearly your exhaustion wins out, because you turn with a drop of the dress in your hand and climb back in his bed, careful to not drip any of his cum on the sheets. 

On the way past, he reaches down to a compartment in his wall to pull out two bottles of water. Placing them on the bedside table, he stands at the foot of the bed looking down at you. He can see you squirming under his gaze, the embarrassment starting to creep up on you but Bakugou can’t find it within himself to be embarrassed about the fact he was still completely naked. It felt good, with you.

You don’t squirm away when he wipes you clean, careful between your legs when he sees how puffy and swollen you look down there. But it still makes you flinch, a quiet gasp leaving your lips and it’s impossible to not smirk up at you before he drops the towel somewhere in the pile of abandoned clothes to be dealt with tomorrow. 

Grabbing one water bottle, he offers it to you. “Drink up, and then actually get in bed. ‘M tired as fuck.” 

He turns away when you take the bottle from him, still sporting that slightly bewildered look on your face as if you expected him to kick you to the streets—or rather, the sofa. Part of him does question why he’s letting you stay in his bed in the first place, but the idea of you going out to that shitty sofa after sex… it just doesn’t sit well in his chest.

He gives you the time to bury yourself beneath his sheets whilst he kicks the dirty clothes towards the far wall, next to the laundry basket before returning to you. You look tiny in his bed, made especially large to accommodate his height. You’re nearly lost beneath the thick sheets and mountain of pillows, it makes his lips curl into a playful smile before he crawls into bed with you. 

You shift out of the way to let him lay down, the room dimming further until you were both plunged into darkness save for the passing lights through the slatted shutters on his window. He can still make you out in the dark, with his optics shut down and eyes naturally enhanced—he can see you’re looking at him over the top of the covers, debating on if you should still make a run for it.

“Fuckin’—...” He huffs a sigh, shifting under the sheets so quickly you don’t have the time to stop him. “Stop actin’ like I’m going to bite you or some shit.”

You curve into his muscle easily enough, moulding into the shape needed to be held close. His chin rests atop your head, thick arms looped around you. It’s odd—Bakugou wasn’t a hugger, definitely not a cuddler but having you in his arms, the smooth feeling of your softer skin beneath his and the warmth that comes from your very being is comforting. 

His heart flutters in his chest when he can feel your arms slowly wrapping around him until you’re embracing him fully. You cling to him as if you were expecting him to rip you away at any given moment and ruin the moment. Has he really been that harsh to you? Sure, he’d been a bit of a dick when he first met you but you were choking out their only Ripper whilst holding a gun to their faces that’d eradicate them before they so much as blinked.

And sure, he had a tongue as sharp as a knife… fuck, maybe he was that harsh with you. He blames it lazily on the drink still in his system, despite the pestering fact in the very back of his mind that he worked most of it out of his system fucking you into his bed. It makes his head ache with the sudden rush of conflicting feelings, thoughts that clash over and over—

Forcing his eyes to shut and muscles to relax, he basks in the warmth of your much smaller body wrapped around his own and lets himself fall asleep.

You wake up feeling… warm. Not hot, nor cold. Comfortable too. The softness of the sheets around are some of the best you’ve felt in weeks, the blanket you’d been given to sleep with on the sofa was somewhat scratchy when you’d tuck it under your chin. This one is smoother, doesn’t catch on the thin intricate strips that are near-invisible to the naked eye that line your body. 

There’s a weight across your body, a leg wedged between your own and a heavy arm draped over your waist. The warmth is coming from directly behind you, a solid press of muscle that breathes steadily against the back of your head. And if you glance just enough over your shoulder, you find a head of blonde hair that’s softened after a night of sleep. 

Bakugou has himself plastered against you, completely. His face is buried into the back of your hair, and with him this close, all you can smell is him. His bed smells strongly of the aftershave he uses, and the man himself smells like your late-night activities—a musk that has your head in the clouds in remembrance. 

You’ve never felt anything like that before. Not that you can remember, anyway. Bakugou treated you more than just someone he wanted to fuck, he didn’t toss you around or disregard the fact you had to cum too to enjoy yourself—he made sure you were on the same level as pleasure as he was, if not more. He kissed you like a lover would. 

That last thought has your face heating, an odd feeling of butterflies fluttering up into your stomach until they settle in your lungs. It was ridiculous to have such a childish thought flit into your mind, Bakugou certainly wasn’t the type of man to settle down—his lifestyle didn’t fit with it.

You could tell just from the way he lived in his own home, he functioned to serve himself only—with the exception of Kirishima when he forgot breakfast. But outside of the walls of his apartment, his work lifestyle wasn’t fit for a partner in any sense of the word. He was a merc, mercs didn’t lock themselves down with someone because it was dangerous. Simple as.

Having a partner in Night City was the same as putting a target on your back. You became weak and vulnerable—something Bakugou would never let himself be. You knew that just from the weeks of living beside him. 

“What’s got you thinkin’ so hard this early?” Bakugou’s voice is deeper, raspier in the mornings… and it’s impossible to not clamp down in longing that he was still buried inside of you. 

He shifts behind you, one long deep breath in before he releases it. His muscles ease off of you when he breathes out, the weightlessness of sleep disappearing with each second. Instead, the arm that was slung over your waist grows bold in it’s movement. His large hand guides his fingers delicately over your skin, circling your belly button before meandering off until he finds your hip.

“Hm?” He nudges you with the tip of his nose, prompting you to glance over your shoulder at him. His eyes are smouldering, barely open and yet the red that stares back at you is bright. The long eyelashes you’ve never had the chance to see so clearly bat delicately against his cheekbones. 

“Nothing, sorry for waking you.” You whisper back, and his eyes automatically drift down to watch the movement of your lips. The hand at your hip kneads softly at the flesh there before it moves lower, the tips of his fingers skirting up and down along your thigh. It’s enough to draw a harsh shiver up your spine, and in turn, causes Bakugou to let out a raspy chuckle.

“Yeah?” You pick up on the playful tone in his voice, a teasing grin growing on his face. “How ‘bout you make it up to me? Hm?” 

You’re drawn to him biting on his bottom lip before his grin grows wider, watching you watch him—a back-and-forth dance to see who snaps first under the surmounting sexual tension in the room. The hand on your thigh slips down, hooking his fingers into your inner thigh to hoist your leg a little higher up on his hip. His cock is hot and hard where it presses between your thighs, the tip tapping against your clit. 

Shifting himself up onto one elbow, partially hovering over you from behind, he finds your lips with his own. The kiss starts off softer than he kissed you last night, it’s not as hurried—not yet anyway. Bakugou kisses you like he wants to savour your flavour, to save the taste of you on his tongue. He tilts his head just slightly to delve in deeper, and then prying your mouth open with his. 

His tongue is invasive, in the sense that he has to dive as deep as he can into your mouth. His tongue curls against the roof of your mouth, feels along the points of your teeth before he’s back to caressing your tongue with his own. The hand between your thighs spreads you lewdly beneath the blankets, a middle finger finding your clit before he strokes it down along your slit; wet and slippery for him.

Bakugou groans into your open mouth, before greedily going in again after the single breath he takes. This time the kiss is more energetic, more consuming. His cock twitches between your thighs, tapping against your thigh with its sticky tip. You can’t help but roll your hips back into him, push your ass out in invitation—

A loud bang in the living area has you both flinching, lips parting just enough for you to see the scowl starting to form on Bakugou’s face.

“Fuckin’ Ei. Just ignore ‘im.” His voice is harsh with desire, a low whisper that has your stomach tightening. Bakugou swoops back in, devouring your lips with more vigour, desperate to get what he wants now he knows that his roommate is awake—who knows when he’ll get a chance like this again. 

He manoeuvres you on the bed, climbing over the top of you until you’re in a similar position as last night; your thighs at his waist and his hands pressed into the sheets on either side of your head. His cock bobs again between the two of you, smearing his pre along the smooth skin of your inner thigh. His lips part from yours once again, this time to chart a path down along your jaw and neck. He bites and kisses in tandem, sucking your skin until you can feel the bruises starting to blossom there. 

Bakugou continues to consume you from the outside, pressing his hips down finally to relieve himself of the pressure building in his groin. He groans beautifully against your skin, a sound so intoxicating you can’t stop your eyes from rolling and your hands seeking purchase in his hair. It’s soft to the touch, and it doesn’t go unnoticed when you accidentally tug on it, his hips press harder against your own. Rutting his cock against your pussy.

“Shit, g’nna fuck you—”

“Yo, Bakugou!” The bedroom door opens with a loud hiss, and you can only squeak out in surprise when Bakugou all but presses you into the bed in an attempt to hide you. “I thought you said we had food in, and—... uh–...”

“Get the fuck out!” Bakugou snarls, reaching over to grab the closest thing to him on the bedside table. There’s a shift of his entire body, something flying through the air and the resounding plastic crunch of Kirishima being smacked by the poor water bottle that was launched. 

“Sorry!” Kirishima back peddles it out of the room before Bakugou can scramble to find something else to throw, the door hissing to announce that he was well and truly out of the room. 

The air is no longer thick with sexual tension, instead, there’s a lingering awkwardness that has Bakugou deflating on top of you. His face is buried into the crook of your neck, and you can feel the heavy sigh that’s pushed out of his body in acceptance that he won’t be fucking you again today. 

“He’s such a fuckin’ idiot, can’t trust him to do shit on his own.” He grumbles against you, his lips so close you can feel each word forming on them. He leans up off of you, kneeling between your legs and you try your hardest to not grow embarrassed at your nakedness on display. He looks almost sad, defeated at the fact he knows he has to go deal with the red-haired giant that’s no doubt ripping apart his kitchen looking for food.

“Sorry,” he huffs, leaning down to leave a lingering kiss on your lips before he’s up and out of bed. “You can just sleep in here if you want. I know that eyebags said you need to rest after whatever the fuck happened so—just, rest here.” 

You raise an eyebrow before realisation dawns on you; he means Shinsou. You smile at that, tucking the comforter back around you and burying yourself among the pillows. You watch as Bakugou blindly digs through his wardrobe, plucking out various clothes until he finds what he wants. 

As if sensing your eyes, he glances over his bare shoulder at you with a wicked smirk on his face before bending down to draw his boxers up his legs. “The showers just in there, feel free to use whatever's in there.” He nods with his head in the direction of the bathroom.

“Okay, thank you.” You smile at him when he turns to look at you, he looks awfully handsome like this. Half dressed, a shirt in one hand and belt loose around his waist where he still has to button up his black cargo pants. He hovers for a second, fingers curling a little tighter around his shirt and you can see his jaw working to help him spit out the words he wants to say.

Except, he’s interrupted again by another bang—one that sounds suspiciously like the microwave door being broken. Bakugou groans in annoyance, running a hand through his hair before giving you one last glance just before he leaves the room.

You’re left in silence, the outside world still asleep despite the sun rising. 

“You fucking idiot!” Bakugou yells, muffled but still loud enough that you feel like you’re in the room with him. The rest of the argument fades out into muffled voices, and soon sleep retakes you with the comforting smell of Bakugou still clouding your mind.

It isn’t until a handful of hours later that you emerge from the bedroom. It had quieted down soon after Bakugou had come out to confront Kirishima, and you managed to shower uninterrupted—you found clothes laid out on the bed for you, no doubt from Bakugou who must’ve heard the shower running at some point.

When the door hisses open, you’re met with the smell of beer and the voices of multiple people. People you’ve come to know as Shinsou, Sero and Kaminari. Of course, Bakugou and Kirishima are there too but the former is quiet as he watches the group yap about something he’s uninterested in. 

“Nah, man. I’m telling you, she was looking at me.” Kaminari whines, earning him a snort of laughter from Shinsou and a shake of a head from Sero.

“You’re delusional, she’s a doll. They don’t see a thing.” Sero snickers when Kaminari pouts at that, leaning into Kirishima’s side who mockingly consoles him for thinking he had a chance with a doll.

The name is something that most people know, it was a way for people to get away with doing whatever they wanted to another person without the repercussions. Fuck a doll and they have their memory wiped by the end of it, confess murder and they’ll just smile at you. Dolls. You’d seen plenty of advertisements for it last night whilst visiting Jig-Jig Street, the idea of a chip like that existing made you feel sick.

A call of your name has your eyes blinking, snapping out of the trance and looking towards the source. Shinsou. Immediately Sero and Kaminari flinch in realisation that you were standing right behind them on the sofa, an unwanted reminder of when you had nearly blown them to pieces no more than 48 hours ago. 

“How’re you feeling?” Shinsou asks, head tilting slightly.

“Fine, better than yesterday.” You smile back a little, eyes making their way automatically towards the ash blonde who sits with his knees apart on the opposite side of the sofa, an arm draped over the back of it and a beer can cradled in the hand on his thigh. “Still tired.”

“Even after you slept all day?” Kirishima asks next, and you make the mistake of glancing at him because he has a very knowing smug grin on his face. “Or maybe it was because you didn’t—”

“Oi, shut the fuck up.” Bakugou grunts before taking a sip of his drink, and you’re thankful for the intervention. You use the momentary distraction created by Bakugou to slip into a seat, finding the only place available between Bakugou and Shinsou—there’s a large enough gap that you know was reinforced by the blonde. 

Bakugou only offers you a sideways glance when you settle into the seat next to him, you can feel him watching you; observing to see if you had any regrets from the previous night. But you have none, not a single one. You felt… happy. You didn’t have an overwhelming sense of dread sitting on your chest, instead you felt at ease. You relax into the plushness of the sofa, indirectly sinking into the spot where Bakugou had his arm slung over the back.

The conversation has already moved on, thankfully. All four of the men engaged in the conversation, with Bakugou drinking away at his beer whilst observing the group gathered. 

“Do you remember that gig over in Watson?” Sero snorts, earning him a groan from Kirishima and a laugh from Kaminari. Sero flicks his gaze over to you, and you can see the mischief there when he realises he has an audience who haven’t heard the story.

“Hanta, don’t.” Kirishima whines, sinking into the seat with a large hand coming up to cover his face. You’ve never seen him quite like this; embarrassed. It was new, and you can’t help but smile at the idea of hearing something that would cause the giant of a man such emotions. 

“But she hasn’t heard the story!” Sero exclaims, grinning from ear to ear as he leans forward to put his beer down on the coffee table. “Alright so, we had this gig over on the Northside, up in the Watson district. It was probably one of the easiest gigs to date, a simple in-and-out steal.”

You can feel Bakugou shift next to you, and out of the corner of your eye you can see him grinning over the lip of his beer can. 

“Anyway. It was me, Denki and Ei.” He gestures to each of them in turn. “And for some reason, big Red here wanted to be the guy to do the stealth portion of the mission.”

“Don’t look at me like that, Uraraka just installed some new cyberware. She said I wouldn’t make a sound!” Kirishima huffs when you shoot him an incredulous look. A man who was over 6 ft 7 was definitely not suited for stealth work. If anything, you would’ve picked Sero—lanky, tall, light-footed.

“You’re about as heavy as a bull, you’re heavy footed as fuck Ei.” Bakugou goads, a grin on his face when Kirishima turns the glare his way. 

Sero snickers, leaning his elbows on his knees. “We were meant to just steal this van, apparently it was Maelstrom property but we needed what was in it. All Kirishima had to do was sneak in, hotwire the van and get the fuck out of there. Instead, he trips every alarm known to man and has to hightail it out of there in a van with only two wheels.” 

Bakugou offers a laugh, a genuine laugh at the memory of Kirishima returning to the hideout with a van hanging on for dear life.

“What about the time we had to eradicate that Daemon on the Net?” Kaminari snickers, which in turn has Shinsou turning his sights on him. “Shinsou popped a boner when his connection was flooded with those sex toy ads.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Shinsou growls, and you watch quietly when he lashes out at Kaminari who dares to laugh in his face. “I told you, the next time you tell someone that shit I’m—”

The conversation fades out slowly, your eyes focused on the spot in the centre of the coffee table. Daemons on the Net. Something about that sounds too familiar, would the man you saw in your own subconscious connected to the Net count as one of those daemons? Has someone injected you with something to cause a break in your cyberware? 

You can still hear his voice, calling out your name. You could still feel the shards of glass he shattered in your mind, in your soul. They were lodged so snuggly against your vital organs, pressing yet waiting to be given the order to execute. That happiness you had felt just moments ago is washed away, replaced with the reminder that you were clueless as to who that man was—clueless to who you are. 

A nudge to your foot has you blinking rapidly, glancing down to see Bakugou had knocked his foot against your own. You look at the man at your side, only to find his eyes already set on you. His hand is empty of the beer can he was drinking, and he’s staring at you like he was able to see your inner struggle. 

“C’mon.” He grunts, standing up suddenly and you have no choice but to follow after him. You follow him towards the front door of the apartment, where he suddenly turns to you with the black and orange bomber jacket you’ve grown attached to. You don’t fight him when he throws it over your shoulders, holding the arms to help you with putting it on. 

“Where you goin’?” Kirishima calls from the living area, all of the guys turning their heads to watch you adjusting the jacket on your body whilst Bakugou does the same with his own riding leather jacket.

“Out. Need more beers, figured I’ll take this one with me to save her from you guys being a bunch of freaks.” That earns him a number of groans and insults. “Shuddup, last time you were left with a girl alone, you all had to stiff leg it out of there.” 

He doesn’t wait for the next round of insults hurled his way, instead, he pushes you out of the door first before letting it shut with an audible hiss behind him. You can still faintly hear them arguing through the door but Bakugou shows no issue with the fact he probably just left his own apartment to delve into chaos. 

Bakugou leads you down the stairwell that leads to the garage, he holds the door open for you once you reach your destination and you’re met with a large parking lot. You’ve never been in here before, all the times you went out it was with Kirishima and he was adamant about walking around Night City instead of driving—he hated traffic just as much as the next person it seemed. 

You follow behind Bakugou like a lost puppy, eyes darting from car to car. All of them ranging from heavily modified or straight-up pieces of junk that should be scrapped for a few Eurodollars. When he comes to a stop at the end of the garage, a light flicks on overhead to show the sleek black motorbike you saw when you had been first introduced to Aizawa. 

Bakugou steps off to the side, rummaging around through a bio-coded locker which leaves you to investigate his motorbike a little more closely. It’s beautiful, obviously one of the pride and joys of the ash blonde. Your fingers ghost delicately along the smooth leather seat, it looks untouched—or rather, well-loved and cared for. 

You tilt your head to look down along the expensive body, eyeing the fact there wasn’t even a single scratch on it. Just how well did he care for this bike? Your eyes spot what you’re looking for; Yaiba. 

“It’s a modified Kusanagi CT-3X, if you’re wondering.” Bakugou finds himself next to you, one helmet perched atop his head and forcing the hairs down into his eyes, the other is under an arm.

“A rare Arasaka bike, right?” Bakugou nods at your words, an eyebrow arched as if he’s impressed you even knew that—to be fair, so are you. Your mind buzzes at the information you’re able to pull effortlessly from the bank of information sitting in your mind. “One of the fastest and most expensive bikes out there, how’d you get it?”

“Callin’ me cheap now?” He sneers but there’s no heat to it, he grins when you turn to look at him. He adjusts the helmet under his arm, holding it up to you so he can place it carefully over your head. “It was something I got with my first real paycheck, I always wanted one. Even as a kid when I lived in Tokyo, Yaiba had some of the best bikes out there and I just knew I wanted one.”

You smile up at him when he reveals just a slither of his past. So he wasn’t from here, it made sense. There was something about him that was never truly comfortable about being in Night City, no matter how long you live here—you’re never truly a part of the city as an outsider. Bakugou’s careful in pulling down the helmet, pressing a button on the inside before pushing down his own helmet.

“You hear me alright?” He questions, and you have to stop yourself from flinching at the voice in your ears. You nod at him, and you can hear him snicker quietly over the Bluetooth connection between the two helmets. “Alright, let’s get going before Ei comes and hunts us down.”

He slings a leg over the bike effortlessly, the entire thing bouncing on it’s suspension before he looks over at you through the small lifted gap of his visor. You hesitate for a moment, glancing from him to the seat behind him—if you can even call it that, there’s hardly any room and you’re going to be pressed up right against him. Why does that even matter when you were naked and under him this mor—

“Stop thinking and get the fuck on.” He grumbles, going as far as to reach over to grasp at your forearm to tug you forward. You have no choice but to clamber ontop of the bike behind him, your hands coming to loosely grab at the material of his leather jacket. Bakugou sighs heavily through the comms, using one hand to grasp at each of your hands individually to secure them snugly around his chest. “Hold on, this thing goes fast.”

The bike rumbles to life beneath you, Bakugou no doubt revving it on purpose to make you scoot closer to ensure you weren’t going to slip away when he put his foot down. You cling to him, your arms tucked tightly around his ribcage and head tilted so you’re not poking the front of your helmet into his back. 

Soon enough, you’re out on the road, and you’re amazed by just how easily Bakugou moves the bike with his own weight. He makes it seem effortless when he weaves in and out of traffic, how he bends easily forward forcing you to move with him so that he can pick up speed. You can only watch the world blur past, streaks of rain hardly leaving a mark against your visor from just how quickly you’re going.

You cling to Bakugou, hands grasped tightly on his stomach. You can feel each of his muscles under his shirt, they tense and hardened when he rounds corners much too quickly. He sits back up from his leaned position, forcing you backwards and tilting your head to look over his shoulder. You can see from the speedometer that he’s way above the legal speed limit, hitting a solid 150mph.

The wind and rain batter against the exposed strips of skin on your body, and your hands sting like you’ve been pelted with a million little rocks but you can’t complain too much. The rush, the adrenaline, it’s something else. You feel weightless when Bakugou expertly rounds corners or when he picks up speed along a long stretch of road, weaving between cars that beep and no doubt scream at him for being such an idiot.

“Look to your right,” he speaks into the microphone that’s connected directly to your helmet, his voice sounds calm—at peace. This was his peace, his getaway. To speed his way through a city that could kill him in the next moment. 

You do as he says, glancing to your right to see… you. It’s a clear reflection along some corporate building, you can see yourself attached to his back holding on for dear life. The city on the other side of you is bright, flickering and flashing despite the downpour of rain. You didn’t notice it when you were in the garage but Bakugou had modified his bike to light up, the inner trim of the wheels is set alight with bright neon orange lights.

In a moment of bravery, or perhaps stupidity. You let go. You can hear Bakugou over the comms shouting at you to grab ahold of him again but you feel free. Weightless. Truly weightless. You can’t hear that man's voice in your head anymore, you can only hear the howling wind and the beat of your own heart. You can’t feel that barrier in your mind, splintered and fractured, irreparable because you’re free. 

When your arms extend out at your sides, you can feel a frantic hand grab at the fabric of your jacket. Bakugou holds you in place whilst you let yourself go; to feel free, for the first time. Your heart races in your chest, the feeling like nothing you’ve ever experienced before in your life and you want to cling to this feeling, to this freedom. To the man in front of you, the one who had gifted you that freedom so easily. 

The reflection of the two of you disappears quickly, the building left behind and you can’t help but grin when you finally hear Bakugou again over the whistling wind.

“I swear to fuckin’ god, I won’t be scooping your brains off the road. Put your arms back around me!”

You laugh into the helmet, wrapping your arms once again around his body. You can still feel the tension in his back but it melts just slightly when you grasp tighter than before, holding the entirety of your body against his own. 

“You got a death wish or somethin’?!” He still growls despite you being reattached to him, and you give him another laugh that makes his shoulders sag just slightly in relaxation. “Fuckin’ idiot—...”

“Thank you for bringing me out tonight.” Your words are met with silence, your head comes to rest against the broadness of his shoulders comfortably as you watch the world pass by. The city eventually bleeds out into green, grass and trees that tower high into the sky. You’ve never been here before.

“Yeah, whatever.” Bakugou grumbles quietly, and if it wasn’t for the connection between your helmets you would’ve missed the bashfulness in his voice. “We’re nearly there so just hold on this time, dumbass.” 

You let your body move effortlessly with his, swaying from side to side when he does sharp turns around corners that would have an inexperienced rider thrown off the back of their bike. The rain has started to lessen, only a light drizzle that drenches the back of your jacket and you only squeeze tighter around the single source of warmth. 

Bakugou slows the bike down to a complete stop once he reaches the destination in mind, with a glance around you can see you’re in the middle of nowhere. There are a few houses dotted around, if you can call them that, they’re more like massive mansions. 

“C’mon, keep that on and keep quiet.” Bakugou taps your thigh to get you to climb off the bike before he follows after you. You watch him manually move his bike to hide in the shadows behind some bushes and you’re furrowing your eyebrows immediately in confusion. Just what exactly was he planning?

He tilts his head in a gesture to get you to follow, taking you off of the road and down a steep hill that leads further into the underbrush. The city is obscured by the number of trees and large shrubs, and you nearly lose sight of Bakugou when he ducks in and out of the shadows—but as you watch him, you realise he knows his way through all of this a little too well.

“You’ve been here before?” You whisper over the link, and you see Bakugou glance over his shoulder at you for a moment before returning his gaze forward.

“Yeah, been comin’ here since I first moved here. It’s the only place with some real grass.” His voice lowered down to a whisper has your stomach set alight with butterflies. You continue to wordlessly follow him until he abruptly stops, throwing a hand back to grab at your forearm before pulling you down into a crouch next to him.

You peek around his shoulder, your eyes silently activating to see what he might be seeing. Immediately you hone in on a large SUV parked up on the ridge of the road, around fifty feet in front of you. There’s four heat signatures, all of them belonging to men who are in thick armour and strapped with multiple weapons.

“Arasaka.” You whisper to Bakugou, who quietly nods his head. He doesn’t move a muscle, holding your wrist tightly in his hand as if he’s waiting for them to just look in your direction and open fire. “They’re not holding their weapons, they’re not looking for anyone.”

“The Arasaka estate is up ahead. They’re still on guard dog duty.” Bakugou supplies, causing your eyes to move away from the group of men to the estate he speaks of. You can see it much more clearly with your augmentations active, you can see the heat signatures within and the overwhelming amount of security measures in place.

There’s an indistinctive shout causing you to dart your eyes back towards the group of people only to see them piling back into the car. Bakugou visibly deflates in relief, his hand around your forearm slips down to your wrist before he’s tugging you after him. You follow lowly just behind him, mindful of each step as you grow closer and closer to the edge of the underbrush. Bakugou exits first, standing to his full height which drags you up next to him.

When you glance around, you’re silenced by the view. It’s beautiful. Night City is in the distance, so wide and yet so tightly compacted into tall skyscrapers and tall flashing neon signs. Bakugou’s hand slips away from your wrist when you take steps towards the cliff edge that looks down on the lower level of residents, you can’t take your eyes away from the city before you.

It looked so… small. So dense and yet you knew the intensity of it all from the very moment your eyes opened in that ripper’s office. Night City was a vicious beast, a machine that chewed you up and spat you back out if you weren’t strong enough to survive—but when you look at it from here, look at how insignificant the people are and how tiny the city is. It’s almost impossible to comprehend.

“I come here when I need to clear my head,” Bakugou speaks clearly next to you, having taken off his helmet and holding it beneath his arm. You follow suit and remove your own, thankful for the fresh breeze and slight drizzle against your face. You glance towards Bakugou only to see his eyes set on the city before you, absorbed in his own thoughts. “Figured you could use it too.”

“It looks so beautiful from out here, but inside… it’s—”

“One of the worst places to live. Yeah, I thought it’d be great moving here all those years ago. But I was a dumb kid with a dumb idea, and now here I am.” Bakugou huffs, running his free hand through his flattened hair to re-fluff it before settling himself down onto the ground.

You take his lead and sit next to him, putting your helmet to the side and being careful to not let it roll off the edge of the small cliff in front of you. Setting your eyes back onto the city, you feel that sense of freedom again. You were free from the city, even for just a moment, you felt like you could breathe for yourself for the first time. Your heart wasn’t pounding, your mind wasn’t racing and your skin wasn’t itching in knowing what lay beneath it all. 

“Any reason you spaced out when Dunceface started talking about Shinsou’s gig with the Net?” Bakugou inquires after a moment of silence, you turn your attention to him to find he’s leaning against his propped-up knees, head tilted in your direction. “Don’t gotta tell me shit but—”

“It just reminded me of when I was… healing.” You admit, not missing the way Bakugou visibly winces at the reminder of what put you there in the first place. “When I was in there… Something happened, and hearing Kaminari talk about Daemons—it made me think about why I can’t remember anything.”

“What, like someone’s infected your network or something?” Bakugou shifts slightly, raising his head to look at you properly with a level of concern that looks frankly terrifying on his face. He looks… worried.

“I don’t know, maybe? It’d make sense. I have this empty part of my head that I can’t access, like it’s been cut off from me or something. What if there’s a Daemon in my system? Or worse.” 

“Shinsou would’ve picked up on that. Or even Jirou, she’s the one who said you had impressive firewalls inside that head of yours.” 

A part of you wants to agree with him, because it does make sense. They would’ve found the source of whatever was wrong with you, but instead, they came out empty-handed and you, empty-headed. But you can’t shake the vision of that man, the blurred green of his eyes and then when you saw him in the street… something just wasn’t right. 

“Maybe you’re right. I just—it’s scary, y’know? Not knowing who I am.” You whisper that last part, and Bakugou’s eyes turn from concern to a shade of pity. He shifts himself closer to you, slinging a heavy arm around your shoulders to pull you in close until your head is tucked against his shoulder.

“It doesn’t matter who you were, that’s what I always told myself when I moved here. I’m not the same guy as I was back then, I found myself. I found a new purpose. That’s just what you need, a new purpose, a new life that you created yourself.” His words are mumbled from where he presses his cheek against the top of your head. 

A new purpose, a new life. That’s what you wanted. To shed yourself of whoever you may have been before all of this, before you had met Bakugou and Kirishima—before you had been let into their family even with them knowing you were capable of killing them all. Your heart aches but not in agony this time, it aches with joy. 

You wanted so much more than what this city had to offer, you wanted to find out what you liked; your favourite foods, your favourite movies, your favourite smells and also the things you hated. You wanted to live.

“I think I’d like that,” you smile, shifting your head against Bakugou’s shoulder to look up at him. He meets your gaze with a soft look on his face, an almost invisible smile on his face. “I want to see the world.”

“Yeah? The world? That’s a lot to see.” His smile grows when you laugh quietly. 

“Would you show me the world, Katsuki?” 

Bakugou is quiet at your question, his eyes flit down to your lips before they find your eyes again. He looks so beautiful this close, the different shades of red in his eyes are breathtaking. There’s so much captured in them, every emotion he feels and every thought he has flicks behind them before his eyebrows visibly relax, his body holding you closer.

He leans in, lips brushing against your own before he speaks. “I’ll show you it all.”

And when he kisses you, he kisses you softly and gently like you were to be handled with such care. It’s not love but you have a feeling that it might blossom into something like that. One day.

Before you know it, the three days of rest have come and gone. It felt like you had blinked and you were back right where you started before everything had happened in that plastic-wrapped room. But this time you had Shinsou on one side and Kaminari on the other in the back of Bakugou’s car. 

Currently, Shinsou was connected to your interface via a cable that slipped free from his wrist and fused itself into the plating on your palm. He had told you it was to relay all information that you’d need to ensure you got in there unnoticed, he loaded you with visuals of maps, layouts of their cameras and their usual patrolling routes.

Kaminari on your other side was fiddling with a hunting knife, the jagged edge was glinting in the passing street lights and every now and again it would buzz with electricity. He told you it was connected to his own chrome, he’s able to absorb electricity and pass it back through objects—something that had earned him plenty of shocks to the system that left him reeling.  

Even with the presence of Shinsou in the back of your mind offloading a multitude of data, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from Bakugou who was once again in the driver's seat. He had been different in the three days since that night outside of the city. He was more open to the idea of intimacy, often opening his arms for you at night and holding you in the mornings until he had to inevitably get up.

Kirishima had noticed it too, grinning along with the back-and-forth jokes between you and Bakugou. He thankfully didn’t make a scene out of the gentle touches he absolutely caught the two of you exchanging when you assumed no one was around.

Your chest fills with those pesky butterflies, the smile on your face must look mushy because you can feel the ache in your cheeks. You felt genuinely happy, an emotion that was your own and something you were able to hold onto. You wanted to experience everything with Bakugou at your side, and no doubt Kirishima would tag along too. 

After that night out in North Oak, you had returned home to find that it was just Kirishima left and Bakugou had offhandedly said that a trip to Japan was on the table. Kirishima had leapt at the opportunity to talk about his hometown, about the different shops and restaurants there. He spoke about his country with so much love, and Bakugou had a nostalgic look on his face—so you asked if he’d take you there one day. He agreed, of course, stating it’ll be the first stop on your way to conquering the world.

Kirishima, of course, had no idea just what that meant.

“Try to keep your head clear,” Shinsou comments from the side, effectively dragging you free from your thoughts. “It’ll go more smoothly if you’re not actively trying to force me out of that brain of yours.” Your eyes drag along the cable connecting the both of you, something that could open you up in the most vulnerable of ways. 

During the three days of rest, you spent more time with Shinsou too. He had been a Netrunner for a long time, even coming from Arasaka’s very own prestigious school with the help of Aizawa funding him through the entirety of it. The rest of the crew hadn’t been so fortunate, coming from no education at all or limited from when they lived in Tokyo.

That was another thing you were curious about. People didn’t just come to Night City for fun, it was a city designed to trap you here until your inevitable death. Apparently, Shinsou had always been in NC, born and raised in Japantown but almost everyone else had tales of the way things were being run back in Japan—long story short, it was being overrun by corporations that had no regard for people who were beneath them. It was either leave or die.

“Done. Should be good to go.” Shinsou says, withdrawing the cable connected to your wrist. The information flickers through your mind rapidly, similar to how someone would graze through a filing cabinet. Everything was here, this would be a simple operation if you pulled it off correctly.

You hadn’t realised the car had drawn to a stop until Bakugou turned his head to look at you, eyebrows furrowing together as if he was trying to figure out something to say. But instead, it’s Kaminari who speaks up, slapping a hand against your thigh before he grins. 

“Ready to pull off the coolest fucking job?” You don’t miss the way Bakugou’s eyes lock onto the hand for a second too long before he meets your eyes again. All you can do is nod along, still unable to break your eyes away from Bakugou until he forces himself to look away first.

With a nod of his own head, Kaminari deems that worthy enough of a response and grins at you. His hand squeezes your thigh absentmindedly before he climbs out of the car, yelping with Bakugou grunts a command at him the second he steps out of the car.

Soon enough, you’re out of the car too whilst Kirishima ensures you have your weapon loaded and Shinsou talks over the game plan again. “You need to get to the underground levels. On the first floor, it should be primarily empty, the rest of Maelstrom will be beneath that. All you have to do is get into that room, snag a shard and leave. We’re here for backup.” 

“I’ll have to go dark when I’m inside.” You see Bakugou shift on his feet a little at that, the uneasiness of you being unable to communicate with them properly if anything was to go wrong. They all nod in agreement regardless, stepping back when you slip the handgun into its holster on your waist before shrugging off the orange jacket that Kirishima had given you all those weeks ago. Bakugou wordlessly takes it from you.

Looking at the building just across the street, it looks unassuming. A simple warehouse, but even you could see the spray tags on the walls of the Maelstrom, this was a significant base of theirs. 

Just as you’re about to step forward to begin the job, a hand grabs your elbow and you turn to see Bakugou looking at the building instead of you. “Don’t do anything reckless this time.” His eyes drift down to meet yours, the red flaring to life in his eyes for a second. “Got it, hotshot?” 

Your eyebrows raise. “Hotshot?”

“You took a pulse rifle shot—”

“Oh, you’re terrible. Really? Hotshot?” You grin at his words, it was another terrible joke he couldn’t stop himself from making. His lips twitch in a small smirk before it fades, the gravity of the situation settling on him once again. “I’ll be fine, I have you to back me up this time. Right?”

Bakugou stays silent for a moment before he nods. “Right. I’ve got your back.” He looks hesitant when you take a step backwards, his fingers that had been in contact with your elbow twitching at his side before he ultimately decides to pocket them. “Don’t play hero either, you get out of there if you have to.”

“It almost sounds like you care for me Katsuki,” his eyes widened the tiniest amount at the use of his name, no doubt a flurry of memories from just a few nights ago flitting through his mind. “But don’t worry, I’m not going to be taking bullets for anyone today. I have the world to see, remember?” 

But before Bakugou could say anything, you fade into nothing right before him. Even when his eyes flash to life, he can’t see you anywhere. His eyebrows draw together in concern, this plan felt rushed—he should be going in with you, you shouldn’t be taking this on alone. What was Aizawa thinking? A hand clapping on his shoulder draws his attention away from where you may have gone.

…Your shoulders drop once Bakugou looks away, you could see the concern on his face, painted as clear as the sky above. You couldn’t remember if you had ever done solo missions like this before—having a partner to help would’ve been nice, but you had no time to dwell on it when you started to walk towards the big warehouse. You note the multiple cameras as you pass by them, the red blinking light flickers for a moment before they’re shut down. Have you always had cyberware that could shut down electronics? 

“That was me.” Shinsou’s voice is loud in your head, as if he were speaking directly next to you. “Sorry, should’ve said something.” 

“Yeah, no shit.” You murmur back, eyes darting back and forth once you slip through the open warehouse door. There was a big truck in the centre of the room, modified with spikes and reinforced windows. Definitely Maelstrom. 

“About twenty feet in front of you, and then to the right there should be a door that will lead to the stairwell. That’s your way in.” 

You follow Shinsou’s guidance without hesitation, feet moving silently across the floor whilst your eyes dart back and forth through the dark warehouse. It was odd for it to be so empty, were they all really below ground? Surely there should be a guard— “Stop!” Shinsou all but hisses at you, your entire body freezing at the edge of a rack of crates. 

There’s movement, and your eyes dart upwards to see a drone scanning slowly. Drones? Since when did Maelstrom have the money for drones? You don’t say anything as you watch the silent drone pass by, thankfully having not detected you even through your invisibility. This could prove to be a problem if they’re using tech like that, who knows what else they have hidden. 

“There are no mentions of drones anywhere. They’re chromeheads, sure, but they always liked doing shit themselves.” Shinsou supplies once you’re moving again. Slipping into the stairwell that Shinsou had directed you to, you notice the difference in temperatures almost immediately. It’s freezing. 

“Turning off comms.” 

“Wait—” His voice cuts out immediately, something doesn’t feel right down here. It shouldn’t be so cold, it’s like stepping into an industrial freezer. Maelstrom didn’t like the cold, for one simple reason; it fucked with their cyberware. 

Freezing temperatures caused it to malfunction, which meant… it’ll fuck yours up too. You need to back out, and report what you think might be down there but—something is stopping you. Aizawa would be pissed if you back out of this with your tail between your legs, he definitely wouldn’t let you come back empty-handed either. 

With slow careful steps, you continue to descend into the freezing depths of the basement. Rounding the corner that leads to the final set of steps, you stop in your tracks. The lights are off, save for a slow, long blink of a red light. All the hairs stand up on the back of your neck, something screaming in the back of your mind to back out now. Your hand slips to the handgun on your holster, withdrawing it when you press your back to the cold concrete wall. 

You can do this. You can find out what’s in this room, slip by and find the shard. You can do this. You can. Sucking in a harsh breath, you brace your body before whipping around the corner with your gun raised but your blood runs cold, determination falling from your face and morphing into fear. “What—”

...

“What the fuck do you mean you can’t contact her?” Bakugou snarls, glaring at Shinsou who’s hunched over a laptop that was once tracking your whereabouts. 

“She said she was turning off comms, but she wasn’t even in the basement yet.” Shinsou frowns, running a hand through his unruly purple hair for a moment. “Fuck, you don’t think she…?”

“No,” Kirishima replies, leaning against the car with his eyes locked on the building in front of them. “She wouldn’t do that, not now.” 

“Should we go in?” Kaminari offers, glancing over Shinsou’s shoulder to stare at the blank map. 

Shinsou opens his mouth to talk before all heads whip towards the warehouse, their hearts thumping in their chests whilst the sound of the alarms being tripped drowns out any words any of them may have wanted to say. 

There are approximately three seconds of calm before the storm hits full force. The Maelstrom weren’t in fact in the building at all, instead hiding in the surrounding smaller buildings dotted around. Yet none of them looks at the group that is sitting staring at the scene unfolding; they’re all descending onto the warehouse. 

Onto you.

“It’s a setup,” Bakugou says, words coming out monotone as if he wasn’t quite aware of what he was saying—unaccepting of the ugly truth. “She’s been fucking set up.” 

He doesn’t hesitate. His feet move before he fully registers that he’s barreling towards what is most likely certain death, he thinks he can hear Kirishima shouting at him to stop but he can’t. You weren’t going to fucking die now after everything. 

His heart hurts from how hard it pounds against his ribcage, the rifle in his hand is light when he raises it to shoot anyone who steps foot into his path. Bakugou barrels through the open warehouse door, following the directions Shinsou had given to you no more than ten minutes ago. It seems a lot of the Maelstrom have made their way below ground, or had been shot on Bakugou’s way in.

His stomach twists uncomfortably at the thought of you being trapped beneath the ground with a gang of twenty or more descending on you with the intention of killing you. His hand itches around the rifle, fingers twitching with the urge to open fire the second he can. 

Something like true fear starts to pool into Bakugou’s stomach once he deduces that you must’ve descended the only set of stairs. The freezing fog slowly creeping up the steps is enough to make him shiver, the chrome in his body aches from the slow approaching cold. There’s no way you could be down there and still be alive, you were more metal than human than he was.

And yet still, Bakugou pushes through the veil of fear that washes over him and descends the stairs. The fog swirls and wraps around him like tendrils, tugging him further into the icy depths of the dark basement. His thumb brushes against the side of his gun, flicking it off the safety and soon a red laser helps guide him through the dense fog. 

He can’t see anything, or anyone, it does nothing to quell the horrid feeling that’s making a home in his chest. Had they already gotten to you? Kidnapped you? Did they know you were a high-priced target? The Maelstrom were no strangers to wanting to get their hands on money, they’d do anything for it.

In the darkness, Bakugou stumbles as the tip of his boot catches on something. He catches himself quickly enough, gun darting downwards and he’s unsurprised to see the remnants of one of the gang members. They already weren’t people anymore, but seeing them like this was something else. You had certainly been the one to cause such damage, but that just leads to the question – where the fuck are you? 

A hand clamps onto his shoulder, jolting the large blonde to move and reposition his gun until it was under the chin of whoever dared to sneak up on him. Just through the thickness of the fog, he’s able to see the illuminated red eyes of Kirishima staring down at him. It only soothes his heart a little, he knows Kirishima will have his back through this and for whatever is to come next. 

“You fucking big idiot, who just grabs someone in the dark?” Bakugou hisses regardless of the relief that settles into his rigid bones, his heated breath puffs out to add to the ever-growing fog that surrounds them. 

Kirishima smiles a little, albeit sheepishly and lets his hand drop from Bakugou’s shoulder. “I didn’t want to shout, who knows what’s in here.” Kirishima manages to whisper back, his eyes finally darting away from Bakugou to scour the darkness.

Bakugou can only grumble about that, Kirishima did have a point. Neither of them knew what was in there, and Bakugou couldn’t rely on his eye enhancements in the frigid cold. So he just moves, and Kirishima moves naturally along with him. 

“Do you think they got to her?” The dreaded question comes tumbling from Kirishima’s mouth.

“I fuckin’..- I don’t know.” Comes Bakugou's blunt reply, but he doesn’t mean for it to be so blunt. There’s just no other way around it, the possibility of you being taken or worse is slowly increasing. Bakugou doesn’t know what to do with the slow-building guilt in his conscience. He should’ve turned this job down for you, you were just blindly following whatever Aizawa demanded of you.

A click has both of the men freezing, Bakugou’s rifle in his hand poised and ready to fire the second the threat shows itself.

…The gun feels like a ten-tonne weight in your hand, it makes the synthetic fibres in your muscles in your body ache. But nothing is quite as heavy as the shard in your hand, it makes your stomach lurch uncomfortably to the point where your breakfast threatens to make a return. 

When you rounded the stairs and found the shard in a lone storage slot within an open cabinet, you had never wanted to run more. It wasn’t the fact it was a shard—but rather that it had your name engraved into the delicate metal. 

As soon as you had picked it up the red blinking light had turned off, the freezing air spilling from the now empty cabinet and tumbling onto the floor. You were plunged into darkness, and yet you could still see the shard as clear as day in your hand. 

However, it wasn’t just any data shard; it belonged to Militech. They were known for their ruthless advances in A.I. and other technological achievements, and the very thing in your hand with your name etched into it—you knew it could only mean trouble, whoever had dropped it off here wanted you to find it. But why? You didn’t understand, with each passing thought that involved Militech and the shard in your hand, it felt like your brain was ripping itself apart trying to recover memories that were locked behind a thick wall. 

You had to get rid of it; destroy it or make sure no one ever got their hands on it. This thing could hold countless pieces of information on the inner workings of Militech and its operations. 

“Hurry, or they’ll kill you.”

There’s a quick shuffle of footsteps coming down the steps behind you, and your fingers tighten uncomfortably around the chip. If you died here, you’d never be able to get away and ensure this thing never saw the light of day. The Maelstrom must’ve paid a pretty price for this thing, or perhaps they were keeping it safe until Militech came and picked it up. You couldn’t risk any of them getting their hands on it. 

You only had one choice. 

It’s not a painful procedure, it feels more like a tingle when the chip slides into the slot next to your own data shard on the back of your neck. But then it locks in, and it feels like you’re injected with nanites; they bite and chip away at you until they take root in your brain. They skitter and scamper across your spine, wrapping themselves around every vertebra. You can feel the way it spreads and wraps itself around your frontal lobe, squeezing until it’s too painful to bear. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, and your fingers press fruitlessly into the slot to try and pry it out of your body but it won’t release. It feels like your very soul is being warped and pressed into a mould, ripped and torn until you’re no longer a person anymore. 

The scream that tears apart your throat doesn’t sound like your own, it’s mangled and distorted—you can feel yourself fragmenting, your very skin splitting apart to rebuild itself in an attempt to save itself from the A.I. that was rapidly infecting your system. Your mind feels like it’s on fire, burning in the deepest depths of hell until finally, you feel nothing. 

Everything clicks into place, and the pain vanishes just as quickly as it had latched on. You move automatically when the first wave of Maelstrom approaches you, your handgun tossed to the side in favour of the gun embedded in your arm. It whirs to life, and you can only watch through the tinted glass of your eyes as you make your way through people as if they were nothing more than wet paper.

It all slowly comes to a lull, bodies slumped to the floor and blood sticks to your skin. It should feel cold but you feel like you’ve been locked out of your own body—everything is numb. 

It’s all so empty now, the memories you had formed over the last few months of being part of a family flicker and fade from existence. You couldn’t put a name to the faces in your mind, the voices and laughter becoming nothing but static that blinds you to the noise of approaching footsteps.

Not until it’s too late. You hear a shout, your eyes adjusting to the darkness to make out two outlines of gang members. One has a gun raised to you, the other has their hands raised to you as well yet you don’t spy a weapon. The Maelstrom weren’t known for their chrome for nothing, you suspected they had some interesting weaponry just like your own. 

Your eyes flicker, the augmentations in your eyes malfunctioning the longer you resist the command to execute all those who pose a threat to you. A warning flashes across your vision, a clear message that if you continue to resist you’re at risk of imminent death.

You raise your gun in response. There’s a presence looming just behind you, out of sight, yet you can hear a low chuckle – the familiarity of it has your blood freezing, and yet you can’t find the strength to stop yourself from acting on command for whoever was in control of the A.I.

“Put it down!” One of them yells, yet it’s muddied by the static in your ears. It sounds like they’re shouting through an old radio. “Lower your fucking weapon!” 

“They’ll kill you. Make sure you get there first.” The voice over your shoulder supplies, and you swear you can feel the puff of warm breath against your neck. There’s a soft brush of curls against your cheek when they lean just enough into your peripheral you can see green.

There are more whispers between the two of them, words you can’t make out but their momentary distraction is enough. Your arm tenses, the warning across your vision vanishes and then there’s a blinding light, it illuminates the darkness of the basement enough for you to finally make out the faces of the two men who had approached you. 

You can only blink, the familiar red and blonde hair makes your heart lurch. This all seemed so oddly familiar, a strange sense of deja vu washes over you. You expect to see one of them fall to the ground, but instead, it’s you who watches the world tilt and fall away.

You can’t move. Your limbs feel like they’re too heavy for your bones, and the cold finally starts to seep through your bones the second you make contact with the floor. 

“FUCK!” The blonde all but screams, and before you know it he’s in your face. Your body moves like a ragdoll until you’re scooped into his lap. You think you can feel the brush of his fingers against your forehead, frantically swiping away the hair that clings to your sweat-ridden skin. You can feel one of his hands move away from your face to press hard against your chest, you watch his face crumple when he realises something.

He’s speaking, rocking just slightly and the static starts to fade away until you hear him. “‘M sorry. ‘M so fucking sorry. I didn’t–I knew I shouldn’t–.” His sentences aren’t complete, broken up by the wet sobs that shake his body. His hand is wet when it comes back to your face, the smell of synthetic blood clogs your nose. 

The unnamed blonde continues to press his fingers against your face, squeezing your cheeks in an attempt to get you to respond but you can feel something now; a tug to just let go. You can only watch when the red-haired one squats down next to you as well, his mouth moves but there’s no sound.

You don’t think you have it in you to speak, to tell them something—anything, your world slowly starts to darken around you. But you hope the man cradling you knows he meant something to you; even if you can’t quite grasp the reason why. You just know that perhaps you might’ve come to love him, if you were given the chance to.

“Another disappointment.” The unknown man shrouded in a cloak of darkness watches from over the shoulders of both men who crowd you, but neither of them seems to notice him, too preoccupied with attempting to stop the rapid warmth that is spilling from your chest. The last thing you see is him shaking his head, a flash of green before there’s nothing.

. . . .

There’s a clatter on the sofa, followed by a choked sob. Bakugou rakes his hands through his hair, pushing back the long strands that fell onto his face. He side-eyes the headgear next to him; a braindance. 

It wasn’t just any braindance, it was one he had made specifically for him. They called it ‘Soulswap’, it was a walkthrough of your entire time with him, from the moment he had found you in that warehouse and up to the moment he had shot you. How it was made was something that Bakugou fought with for a while, it was morally wrong. To have someone dissect you like some high school science experiment and implant strands of your data—your memories—into something that he could watch. 

A ding on the coffee table draws his attention away from the braindance, and he swipes up his phone to see Kirishima has sent him a message.

[22:34] RED: Stop reliving it. You know that isn’t what she wanted.

Bakugou scoffs, what the fuck did Kirishima know about you? What the fuck did he know about the weight in his chest that replaced his once beating heart? He knew nothing. No one listened to him when he said that it wasn’t you at the end, that you weren’t in control. 

It was charted down to Cyberpsychosis on your unofficial death certificate. 

The uneasiness continued to eat away at Bakugou, even when he chose to ignore the onslaught of text messages from the others. It’d been this way for the last four years and it had only come to fruition now. It was hard to find someone capable enough of creating a braindance that wasn’t just a cheap way to get off or to kill someone without repercussions.

It was a delicate job, and he had finally found the guy to do it. 

Yet now he’s unsure if he should’ve gone through with it. Whilst it was all in cyberspace, he could still feel the emotions you had in your final moments. You had felt something for him, just as he had felt something for you—does feel something for you. 

Sinking back into the sofa, the world buzzes around him yet it feels like Bakugou is still stuck in that basement all those years ago. It used to take a more violent toll on his body, his modifications often becoming the victim of neglect until Kirishima forced him to keep taking the blockers to ensure he didn't spiral into psychosis. 

Bakugou’s head lulls back, staring up at the spinning fan on the ceiling. It won’t be long until Kirishima comes back and lectures him about bad habits or whatever the fuck he wanted to be on his ass for. 

“And with the renewed partnership between Militech and Lazarus, I truly believe we’ll be able to bring a stop to crime here in Night City.” 

That voice causes Bakugou to snap his head up, glaring at the television that hung from the ceiling in the centre of the room. It wasn’t often he would make TV appearances but it wasn’t unexpected. He watches the camera pan across an array of Militech drones and other tech that he can’t quite understand before it falls back onto the CEO of Militech.

Izuku Midoriya.

Midoriya has a fake smile plastered on his face, hands buried in his deep expensive pockets as he stares at the interviewer just off to the side. His verdant eyes are dull, devoid of anything lifelike. Bakugou isn’t surprised entirely by that, Izuku was… once a friend, but he betrayed him and the rest of them for a chance at fame. 

He moved to Militech and quickly overtook the company, plunging them into tech that wasn’t short of war machines. 

“Hah, yes. It is true, we have been working on a new AI that we think will definitely be capable of deterring even those inflicted by Cyberpsychosis.” 

Bakugou blinks, his attention drawn back to the screen to see Izuku laughing about whatever had been asked, something about that laugh sounds familiar – not just from when he had known Izuku but from recent memory. 

And when it slowly dawns on him, it curdles his blood and makes his stomach tense. That laughter. The voice that lacks any emotion. The world fades into nothing around him the longer he stares at Midoriya talking animatedly about something in the interview, his chest tightens more and more until it feels like his heart may just burst.

It wasn’t a case of regular Cyberpsychosis.

Izuku Midoriya was the one who triggered it. He must’ve been the one who had planted that foreign chip, he wouldn’t just hand something like that over to the Maelstrom.

“We’re proud to announce the next line of fully-developed Artificial Intelligence; Akuma. This is just one of our newly created full cyborg—”

Bakugou finds his body locking into place, muscles growing tight and stomach twisting in knots before his heart plummets down into his stomach. His eyes widened. There. Right next to Izuku is… you. But it’s not the you he knew, it’s a duplicate, one of the new cyborgs created to withstand ‘Akuma’. 

He can tell from the way you hold yourself, rigid and cold like you were just some lifeless robot. You don’t respond to the stimuli around you, staring blankly ahead. It feels like his heart is being torn apart once again, shredded in a blender until there’s nothing left but an empty void that sits in his chest.

He knows for a fact that it’s not the real you, the one he held, the one who took a bullet for him—the one he was going to take home to meet his parents. He watched you go up in flames at a pyre funeral. It was Aizawa who had suggested it. “To make sure no one gets her.” Looks like that didn’t fucking matter, did it?

…No. Izuku must’ve had your DNA stored from when you worked at Militech. You were just an experiment, all the chrome you were sporting wasn’t just because you were a Militech worker, but rather because you were one of the prototypes for Militech. From the very start, you were destined to fail—another disappointment.

Bakugou doesn’t even register that he’s already moving, swiping up the bomber jacket you wore. The pulse rifle swung over one shoulder and the door slammed shut behind him. It was time to pay his childhood friend a visit.

[sugurusbabygirl]

their favorite position

characters aged up obvi

Dabi:

Spooning

Sure, he's got commitment issues, but that isn't why it's his favorite. He's usually too tired to have any fun with you by the time he comes home, so the only time he really has with you is in the mornings. Waking up with you in his arms is the best way to start his day. Well....second best, only to rocking his hips into yours while he gently kisses the back of your neck. Clinging onto your hips with a sleepy yet firm grip, his soft panting tickling the shell of your ear.

"Mmm, had a dream about you. S'technically your fault I woke up so hard." "Gonna give me something to think about while I'm gone?" "F-fuck, how're you so tight in the mornings?"

Izuki:

Cowgirl

A step above missionary in his book. He loves the intimacy of being able to press his forehead to yours and watch every twist and twitch of your pretty little face. But having you on top is truly something else. He's smiling like an idiot, watching you try to bounce through the ache in your tired muscles. When you slow down, or show any signs of exhaustion, he'll grab your hips and do all the work for you.

"I got you, baby, just-ngh-just keep your eyes on me, okay?" "So good....feels so.....oh my god." "Hey, open those pretty eyes, c'mon. That's it, so good for me."

Katsuki:

Doggy

Mans got rage issues. After a long hard day of work, he's bound to need to take it out (consensually) on someone. And that someone always ends up being you, bent over the kitchen counter, bathroom sink, mattress, doesn't matter to him. He grips your hair in one hand with the other clinging tightly to your breast, pounding into you until you're reduced to pathetic cries and choked whimpers.

"No, no, sweetheart, you're gonna stay right there 'till I'm done with you." "Y'wanted to help me relax, right? Be a good girl and take it, then." "Shit, feels good, right? Knew you liked it like this-ah fuck!"

Keigo:

Missionary

....but with your legs bent over his shoulders. Eye contact is everything to him, so you better keep them open. He takes it nice and slow, savoring the look on your face, your soft moans, your scratches on his back. He's teasing you, knowing you want him to go faster. But your pleas fall on deaf ears, getting nothing but a sly smile and a hand snaking down between you two to rub tiny circles on your clit.

"See, I knew you could be louder, baby girl." "Feels so good, takin' me this deep, holy shit." "Ngh-fuck, shh, shh, you can take it, baby c'mon."

Aizawa:

Ballet Dancer

Otherwise known as 'fucking you against the wall the minute he gets home'. He doesn't even take a second to take his hero suit off completely. Your face is the first thing he wants to see when he comes home.....and your tight cunt squeezing around him is the first thing he wants to feel. It's fast and rough, don't misunderstand, but his hands caressing your cheeks, getting tangled in your hair, soft kisses pressed to your neck.....makes it feel almost romantic.

"Missed you so much today, love. Couldn't get you off my mind." "Aw, your legs are tired? Poor baby, I'll help you. Better? Good, hold on tighter, love." "Fuck.....c'mon you know you can scratch harder than that. Ah! Yeah....keep going...."

masterlist <3

[kimchikrust]

cowboy!katsuki x reader ? ? ? spicy spicy

—🧿 anon

goddamn anon, i don't prefer to post spicy content on this blog ( check my slut blog @migvelohara ) but i finna do it on here for the vine

blue divider for my slut blog ↘ 

cowboy!katsuki is rough and tough, and even though he's completely enamored by you, he can't help but be a little rough with you too

he has a bad habit of jumping you the second he returns from labor around the property

he's all sweaty, and the satisfaction from his productivity and the gorgeous view of you leaning over the stove with your ass sticking out is enough to make his cock harden in his dirty jeans

You hear his belt unbuckle before you notice he's in the room with you.

"You look delicious," he murmurs, pressing himself against your backside before you can turn around to greet him. His nose is nuzzling into the crook of your neck, brushing his lips against your skin and inhaling deeply.

"Bit early for a romp, isn't it?" You tease with a smile, reaching behind and combing your fingers into his hair.

"I'm having withdrawals," he grumbles, and you squeak when his massive hands squeeze your ass tight.

he loves missionary, drunk off of your tits bouncing in his face and feeling your legs lock around his waist to keep him deep inside of your sopping cunt

on the rare occasion, you're on top of him, and your juices dampen his blonde curls at the base of his cock, he almost nuts in your pussy when he feels you coating his balls as they slam up against your ass

his favorite position is reverse cowgirl (obvi) because when he gets impatient from your fatigue, he readjusts

Katsuki holds you upright with a hand over your mouth, muffling your throaty moans and satisfied gasps and restricting your breathing to your flaring nostrils.

He's snarling with pleasure like an animal as he bucks up into your cunt over and over and over again. There's not a lot of room for him to pull out, but he's so close to you that his cock hits your cervix with every quick rut.

Your ass is flush against his lower abdomen, like a perfect, smooth peach he wants to take a bite out of. Your arms reach back to dig your nails into whatever body part of his you manage to grasp onto.

"How's that big dick, baby?" He asks you with a smug, toothy grin that elicits a high-pitched moan, and your hot pussy walls clench tightly around his length. A broken gasp escapes his throat, and his eyes unfocus as they roll into the back of his head from the indulgence.

Katsuki's not ready to cum yet, so he holds you firmly by the hips as he forces himself deep and pinches at the fat of your ass. He twitches in your cunt as you weakly convulse and try to wiggle your ass against him.

"That's it. Push back against me," he murmurs, bucking his hips as you push yourself down on his cock. He pulls you back against his chest, moving his hand from your mouth to your throat, and he hears you pant, breathy moans. "It feels too good. Feels too fucking good."

"God, I love your cunt," he continues to blabber as he gets closer to his high but still tries to stave it off. "You gonna cum again, baby? Gonna be a good girl for me?"

"Oh, Katsuki," you whimper, head thrown back and eyes rolling around. He can feel you tighten more and more with every shallow thrust.

"You gonna cum with me?"

"Please, can I cum?" You say with a broken sob as Katsuki squeezes gently at your throat.

"Stop," he moans in disbelief because it's unreal how fortunate he is, as his hips slang against you on their own accord. "Are you gonna cum?"

"Can I?" You whine in desperation, and he almost chokes on his saliva.

"Cum for me," he demands, slamming into you harder and faster as he feels you gushing heavenly fluids.

He growls deeply as he finishes inside of you, continuing his long strokes until he can see his cum painting the lips of your pussy.

Katsuki pulls out with a quick swat to your ass, leaning down to bite harshly into your fat cheeks. He snickers like a boy when you squeal, jumping away from him as your body twitches from your intense orgasm.

a/n: lol did i correctly answer this submission? kinda just rolled with it lmfao

[ensemblesmile]

what happens on vacation

pairing: bakugo x f!reader

warnings: cheating, slight age gap (bakugo in his late 20s, reader a fresh college graduate), skinny dipping, late night beach sex, fingering, unprotected sex, pet names (he calls reader princess, baby), a bit of insecure reader, somnophilia, probably other tags i’m forgetting

on a much needed vacation pro hero dynamight is forced to take, bakugo spots you next door, the woman that will change his whole life. the only problem? bakugo’s currently on this vacation with his girlfriend…

word count: 4.5k

a/n: 18+ content, minors dni!! i’m ngl, this is a pretty self-indulgent fic i made… i just couldn’t get the thought of beach sex w bakugo out of my brain so i needed to write it. anyways, i hope you guys enjoy!

bakugo katsuki's girlfriend of ten years is finally getting her long desired vacation with the man of her dreams. everything has been planned, their tickets are booked, their condo is reserved for the entirety of their stay, it's on a beautiful seaside beach, and it'll only be her and her boyfriend, pro hero dynamight, also known a bakugo katsuki.

she has a somewhat tearful parting with her parents — parents who've never been more than a prefecture away — before boarding the plane for the us for their month long vacation, a vacation bakugo's secretary has been pushing for him to take since he cracked his first major case.

bakugo's girlfriend is practically bouncing in her seat in excitement, even in her sleep. bakugo finds her restlessness a tad annoying, reaching over the first class seat in order to bring her bouncing to a standstill. for the rest of the trip, bakugo finds solace in the calm, falling asleep to not be awakened until they reach their destination.

as they leave the plane behind, bakugo's girlfriend can't stop talking, excitement evident in her voice as she speaks at length about the things she's planned for them. even in the uver, she just hasn't stopped talking, excitedly explaining to the pro hero what they would be doing each and every day. when the driver tells them they've arrived, that's the only time she's quiet, though she instantly goes back to yapping away the moment they step out of the car and collect their luggage and as the car drives away from them, leaving them standing in front of their rented condo sitting on the beach.

as they explore their month long home, bakugo can't help but sigh in annoyance as she keeps making exclamations about how she really enjoys their temporary lodgings. bakugo can't help but get annoyed with the girl, wondering why he chose to start dating her all those years ago. he doesn't want to break up with her yet, as she helps keep other females who only want him for his fame and money away. after seven years, many people are asking him when he intends to pop the question. however, bakugo had decided long ago that this was not the girl he wanted to marry, she was not the woman for him, she was much too annoying. his perfect woman would be someone who he knew would be his destined lover the moment he laid eyes on her, he just wasn't expecting to meet her on this vacation.

it was about a week into their vacation when bakugo first laid eyes on you, his destined lover.

he was simply enjoying the sun on the balcony when you came into his life. the condo next door had finally become occupied, with you and your recently graduated high school friends having rented the condo next door in celebration of your successful graduation.

as he sat on the balcony, cold beer in hand, he heard your voice among many other voices,  though only yours held him captive in its alluring beauty. his girlfriend was somewhere in town, probably getting more groceries she thought they needed, so he didn't need to worry about her barging into his search for the voice that had captivated his heart.

standing up from his spot on the chair, he rested his elbows on the railing as he gazed out towards the beach, a cover for his desire to search for you. you were so easy to spot, so easy to look for because no one was as beautiful as you. it wasn't because you were younger than him by a good few years, nor that you had an excessive amount of makeup on. rather, there was simply this natural beauty about you that bakugo had seen in no other female.

and when you turned to look directly at him, his breath seemed to leave his body. if he were a high schooler, he probably would have gotten a nose bleed due to your choice of attire. you had chosen to wear a white bikini that was held together by rings. muttering "fuck" softly under his breath, bakugo sent you a wave of greeting before turning to reenter the condo, immediately moving towards the bathroom to take a cold shower. thoughts of you kept flashing through his mind, smooth, creamy looking skin invading his senses until he wanted nothing more than to feel it under his own hands.

and when bakugo's girlfriend returned, she couldn't help but feel something was off with him. whenever she reached over to touch him, he would instantly remove her hands as if her touch burned. whenever she tried to initiate anything remotely related to sex, he would instantly leave the room and not return until many hours later only to act as if nothing happened.

it wasn't until the end of the second week of their vacation that she finally found out why bakugo had become so distant lately. she hadn't actively been trying to find out, she knew bakugo could sometimes be distant like that. but when they happened to head for the beach one afternoon, she couldn't help noticing bakugo's gaze staying glued to you as you pranced around with your friends in next to nothing. was she imagining it? was bakugo actually interested in you or was it simply that he happened to be looking in your direction when she turned to glance at him?

her suspicions were confirmed when a volleyball came flying towards them and then rolled to a stop at bakugo's feet. when you came racing over, chest bouncing as you ran, she couldn't help but notice bakugo's gaze travel down to your chest, a hungry look in his eyes as he picked up the ball.

"i'm so sorry!" you exclaimed upon reaching them, reaching towards the ball as bakugo handed it back to you. "we got a little too crazy... i promise, it won't happen again!"

"don't worry about it, it's fine," bakugo responded, causing his girlfriend to quirk an eyebrow in surprise. if it had been anyone else, he definitely would have yelled at them to be more careful of other beach goers, but instead he acted as if it was nothing? just what was up with him?

"thank you for being understanding, but i'll still scold him when i get back," you had responded, tucking your bangs behind your ear before turning around to rejoin your friends, yelling at the one who caused the ball to go flying for being so careless with his serve. as you walked away, bakugo stared after you, causing his girlfriend to huff in annoyance and force his attention back onto her.

after that day, she actively avoided going on the beach by their condo, instead deciding to drag him out to other beaches where she felt you and your friends wouldn't appear.

of course, bakugo realized what she was doing, finding any excuse to stay behind if she wanted to go out. he wanted to continue to watch you, work up the courage to approach you.

the moment came late one night when he spotted you sneaking down to the beach with nothing but a towel to cover you. when he made his way onto the balcony, his breath left his lungs as you peeled the towel away, revealing your nude form under the moonlight. swearing softly, bakugo quickly returned to the bedroom, grabbed a towel for himself, and then headed down to the beach as well. when he reached the beach, he gazed at you with a reverence in his eyes as he called out to you.

"you know, swimming nude on a beach shared with others can lead to misfortune," he spoke up, startling you from your swim.

"oh fuck," you spoke up, turning to find your neighbor standing next to your towel. "sorry, i've been doing this for a few nights now, i guess after my first few times i wasn't expecting to run into anyone this late at night."

"mind if i join you?" he questioned, earning a look of surprise from you before you nodded your consent.

"be my guest," you responded, going back to swimming in the ocean as if you didn't have care in the world.

"so, ya do this often?" the pro hero questioned as he waded into the ocean.

"do what often?" you questioned curiously as you gazed in admiration at his form.

"go skinny dipping," bakugo replied, finally taking the plunge and joining you.

"mhm, my parents have a private villa back home that i stay at a lot, guess it's just something i started doing to prove something to my parents? but now i do it because i like the feel of the water on my skin," you replied.

"i see," bakugo murmured, eyes not straying from you as you continued to swim back and forth through the water. "you're beautiful, ya know? ethereal, even." he spoke softly, his words barely reaching your ears and causing you to stop your swimming.

"what...what did you just say?" you questioned, swimming closer towards the man.

"you're beautiful," bakugo repeated, louder this time as he moved one hand to cup your cheek lovingly. "took my fuckin' breath away the moment i laid eyes on ya."

"i- i see," you stuttered, hands moving to rest on the pro hero's shoulders. "i thought you didn't look too bad yourself, but...what about her? that woman you were with?" you questioned uncertainly, eyes averting from his heated gaze.

"she's nothing compared to you," bakugo responded, carefully pulling you in for a soft kiss on the lips. "let me prove it to ya, let me show ya how frustrated you've made me since i first saw you."

"okay," you murmured, squealing in surprise as bakugo quickly scooped you up and headed for shore.

"'m bakugo katsuki, by the way," the man introduced himself as he set you down on one of the towels that had been laid out beforehand. "feel free to call me katsuki."

"l/n y/n," you replied, gazing up shyly towards the intimidating man before you.

"fuckin beautiful, princess," bakugo praises, causing you to almost preen at his words. "been dreaming of this moment since the moment i first saw you, always wearing those skimpy ass bikinis." he spoke as he started teasing your hole, dragging a finger through your folds. "think i didn't notice how you seemed to be wearing less each time i saw ya?"

"wasn't intentional, swear," you murmured shakily, moving your arms up to wrap around his neck. "please stop teasing, want to feel you in me." you softly begged, a gasp escaping you as bakugo plunged a finger into you.

"ask and you shall receive," bakugo responded as he moved down to plant soft kisses against your lips, licking into your mouth each time you gasped at the feeling of him moving his fingers deeper inside you, swallowing your cries of pleasure. "gotta be quiet, princess, don't want the others to hear us, do ya?"

"s-sorry i just... have never felt this good," you moaned, clenching around his fingers.

"what kinda boys do ya fuck, huh sweetheart? i'll make you forget all about them, won't nobody occupy this pretty mind but me," bakugo grunted, continuing to thrust his fingers into you until you came on his fingers and into his hand. "fucking beautiful, wonder what you taste like," he groaned, removing his fingers from you in order to taste your release. "delicious, best fuckin meal i've had in my life."

your face grew red at those words as you gazed up at the pro hero, quickly realizing just what was happening.

and then he's back on you, pressing you against your towel and devouring your lips in heated kisses, licking into your mouth to start a dominance game, one that he wins every time. you throw your arms around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer as your kisses grow longer and more heated.

"much as i love this," bakugo grunts, finally pulling away from your lips, he continues, "need to feel ya 'round me."

with those words, he shifts, lining up with your hole before pushing in, slowly at first so you can adjust to his size before pulling out and then thrusting in at an almost bruising pace, his grip on your waist giving a hint of pain with the pleasure. your back arches with his movements, finding yourself thrusting towards him as he thrusts himself continuously into you.

"fuck, you feel so good," bakugo grunts, his head falling back as he continues his bruising pace. then his mouth is on your nipple, laving over the pert nub, his hand twisting your other nipple between his fingers.

"'m close," you softly moaned as bakugo continued to thrust into you at his bruising pace, even with you clenching down around him.

"fuck, don't cum yet, cum with me," the pro hero grunted, picking up his pace in order to bring himself closer to his own release. his grip on your hips tightens, almost enough to leave a bruises though he's careful to not leave bruises due to his desire to see you in even more bikinis. "fuck, cum with me, princess." he grunts, stilling inside you as he releases his hot seed the same time your own release begins.. leaning down, he presses a soft, longing filled kiss to your lips as he softens inside you. "hey, stay with me tonight." he requests upon pulling away from your lips, gazing down at you with a longing and somewhat hungry look.

"but, what about your girlfriend," you murmur, glancing away from the pro hero, a flash of guilt suddenly seering throughout your entire body, a look of regret flashing across your face before being replaced by a neutral look.

"who cares about her," bakugo grunts, trailing soft kisses along your jaw, eventually ending up at your neck. "was planning on breaking up with her soon anyways. you're the one for me, only need you."

"but...how can you be sure, what if you find someone else?" you questioned uncertainly, eyes averting from his form to the ocean behind him.

carefully, he grabbed your chin, making sure you were looking directly at him when he spoke his next words. "that will never happen, because the moment i saw you, i knew you were the only one for me."

"but...how can you be so sure about tha-" you questioned, eyes going round in shock as he leaned forward to give you a kiss, cutting off the rest of your question.

"i'm so sure because you gave me a taste of heaven and i'm never going back," bakugo responded causing you to stare at him with wide eyes, cheeks heating up in embarrassment. "so i'll ask again, stay with me tonight? i'll make sure you don't regret it."

"okay, i'll stay with you," you murmured with a soft nod, causing the pro hero to smile triumphantly. finally pulling out, bakugo allows you to get up, with you shaking your towel out and wrapping it around your small frame. "i have to go back to my own room for clothes though," you add, squealing in surprise as bakugo lifts you up in a princess carry easily, as if you weigh nothing. with a shriek of surprise, you wrap your arms around his neck to stabilize your position. you suppose this is a product of his hero training, being able to carry you as if you weigh nothing at all.

"that won't be necessary tonight," bakugo declares, walking towards his rented condo rather than the one you was sharing with your friends. "all you'll need is a shirt which i'll be more than happy to provide."

"oh, um, okay," you reply in embarrassment, burying your face in the junction between his neck and shoulder.

with all the grace of a 5'8" man, he carefully maneuvers you through the door as silently as he can so as to not wake his soon to be ex currently sleeping in the master bedroom. then he takes you to the downstairs bathroom, placing you down on the toilet as he starts the water, mindlessly stroking your cheek with a thumb as he waits for the water to heat up. once he's satisfied with the heat, he starts the shower, pulling you up and stripping you of the towel, shedding his own towel and then entering the shower, pulling you along with him.

"if you continue to treat me so gently, i might get used to it," you murmur softly, gazing up at the pro hero before you, eyes soft and loving in their intensity.

"good, because i'll continue to treat you as such," the man responds, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips though it soon turned heated with him even going so far as to crowd you up against the wall, his hands traveling to your thighs, lifting you up effortlessly and causing you to wrap your legs around his waist in order to steady yourself in his hold.

"katsuki, is that you? why are you taking a shower so late at night? come back to bed," a woman's voice sounded from the other side of the locked bathroom door, a hint of grogginess in her voice.

with a growl of annoyance, bakugo squared his shoulders as he pulled away from your lips, giving them a small nip before calling out to her. "i don't know who else it would be. i just got back from a late night run so i'm all sweaty, but i'm feeling pretty restless so i'll stay in another room. i would rather not keep you up. go back to bed, we can talk in the morning."

"what do you mean by talk? but okay, talk to you in the morning," his girlfriend called back, her footsteps soon receding as bakugo's tense shoulders suddenly relaxed.

"she always appears at the worst times," he muttered, his eyebrows drawing together in annoyance. "can't wait for her to be out of my life for good."

"hey, you don't really mean that," you murmured, reaching a hand up to soothe the pro hero's annoyed expression. "she's been a part of your life for a majority of it, probably longer than you realize. even if you no longer have feelings for her, at least keep her in your life as a friend?"

releasing you from his hold, bakugo moved to turn off the shower, a contemplative look on his face. "i plan to make you my wife, you're the only one i'll ever need, so tell me why i should keep an ex in my life, even as a friend?"

"well, why wouldn't you?" you shot back, turning the question around on him.

"she was meant to simply be a fake girlfriend, no strings attached," bakugo responded, causing you to tilt your head in confusion as you stepped out of the shower, reaching out for your towel only for it to be snatched away by the pro hero. as he continued to talk, he also dried you off. "i met her in my second year at ua, a headstrong support course student. she caught my eye and we started talking, soon becoming friends. many of my...friends... saw my new friendship with her as something more and at the time i didn't bother correcting them, deciding this would be a good excuse to turn down all the other love confessions i would get. then soon the entire school knew so i had to continue keeping up the act, and before i knew it, we made our fake relationship an official one, though i tried to tell her that i just didn't see myself drawn to her in that way. she ignored my warnings and threw her all at me. for the past few years, i've been trying to fend her off but there's only so much i can do. but now i plan to end it." bakugo explained, glancing up at you from where he kneeled before you, a look of pure desire in his eyes. "after all, i can no longer see myself with anyone but you."

at that confession and with that look in his eyes, your cheeks instantly heated up in embarrassment, causing you to look away from the man before you, hands flying up to your cheeks as if moving to hide the blush, though the action came too late as he was already smirking, wrapping a towel around your body and then wrapping another around his waist. his next action rather surprised you. he as he stood up, he wrapped an arm around your waist and throwing you gently over his shoulder causing you to let out a squeal of surprise as he walked towards one of the upstairs bedrooms. once he reached one that was relatively far enough from the room his soon to be ex was sleeping in, he gently laid you on the bed with a soft kiss, promising you he would be right back.

with a soft click, the door closed behind bakugo and you found yourself letting out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding.

"why me?" you questioned yourself quietly, moving up the bed to sit propped against the pillows, pulling the blankets over yourself to warm up slightly. "is he messing with me? but... he seems sincere?"

"i'm not messing with you," bakugo spoke up softly as he reentered the room, passing you one of his shirts as he slipped another over his own large frame. you took the shirt from the pro, slipping it on over your towel and then shedding the towel and depositing it on the ground by the bed. before you realize what's happening, bakugo is suddenly over you, trapping you between his body and the bed beneath you. "do you feel this?" bakugo questioned, pressing his hard on against your thigh. "you've driven me crazy since i laid eyes on you. allow me to enjoy your presence in this bed we'll be sharing tonight. allow me to make love to the only woman who will ever hold my heart in her hands."

"o- okay," you stuttered, having been taken by surprise at his actions and words, your heart skipping a beat at his confession.

with your permission secured, bakugo smirked victoriously, leaning down to capture your lips in a hungry kiss, his hands traveling along your figure groping and squeezing wherever he could. at a particularly sharp squeeze, you gasped in surprise — or would have had bakugo stopped kissing you — which he took full advantage of by shoving his tongue into your mouth, staring a dominance game that he easily won.

"fuck," bakugo grunted upon pulling away, allowing both you and himself to regain your breath. "i don't think i can wait any longer. i need to be in you," he murmured against your neck, planting soft kisses against your skin.

"then fuck me," you whispered next to the man's ear, wrapping your arms around his neck and threading your fingers through his hair. "prove to me those words weren't empty, give me a reason to believe your confession."

"oh, i'll do more than prove it to ya," bakugo smirked, resting his forearms next to your head and positioning himself so he's lined up with you.

with a glance at your face to check you were fine, bakugo carefully pushed in, almost cumming on the spot from the feeling of being in you once again. truly, nothing could compare to this feeling, your hole stretched around him to accommodate his length, the warmth at felt at being in you, and the feeling of you clenching around him whenever he moved, even only slightly. and when he started moving, you would make the sweetest sounds, gripping at his shirt weakly, and thrusting up towards him to match his own thrusts. you were just so responsive to him and it drove him crazy.

as he picked up his pace, bringing you closer to your release, he carefully lifted your — his — shirt until your breasts were exposed. laving over one, he quickly sucked it into his mouth and playing with your other nipple with his finger, causing you to let out the prettiest moan he'd ever heard. with a lewd pop! he released your breast and switched his attention to the opposite one.

"fuck," you muttered, gripping bakugo's hair in your hand, yanking at it in tune with his sucking. "fuck, fuck fuck fuck. i'm close, so so close," you softly admitted.

"then cum, cum on my cock, need to feel you in full," bakugo grunted, picking up his pace to fuck you through your high. as you came around him, bakugo felt himself releasing in you as well. leaning down to you, he kissed you, his lips traveling down from your lips to along your jaw to your neck, sucking softly at the skin before laving over it with his tongue.

with your back arched up towards him and your hand grabbing at his hair, you came around him with a moan that had his cock twitching. picking up his pace, bakugo worked towards his own release, glancing up at you as if checking to make sure you were okay all the while.

"are you on any birth control?" he asked softly, giving your lips a light kiss at the question.

"y- yes," you stuttered, gesturing to your arm. "i have the implant."

"good," bakugo grunted right before he came, spilling his seed inside you. without pulling out, bakugo collapsed on top of you, both your chests heaving at the "workout" you'd just experienced. "you feel amazing, princess. you've ruined me for any other girl and i hope i've ruined you for any other boy." bakugo voiced his desire, kissing your neck softly.

"no one compares to you," you responded, snuggling into his chest and feeling as if you're about to fall asleep.

"close your eyes, i'll be here when you wake up," bakugo murmurs next to your ear, rolling over so you're both on your sides, though bakugo makes no move to pull out or let you go from his grip.

soon, your breathing evens out and you're fast asleep, lulling bakugo to sleep as well.

when bakugo awoke that morning, he smiled softly and hugged you closer to himself, a smirk rising to his face as he felt his cock twitch from its place still inside you. the thought of you cockwarming him throughout the night must've done more to him than he realized as he felt his cock go instantly erect. needing to get rid of his erection, bakugo carefully rocked in and out of you so as to not jolt you awake but rather wake you slowly. your eyes soon fluttered open, giving the man before you a tired smile.

"g'morning," you murmur, your voice deeper from disuse which only caused bakugo's love for you to skyrocket.

"morning, princess," bakugo responded, his voice just as deep from disuse. "this is the best way to wake up in the morning. with you in my arms and our day starting like this." he admitted, rocking in and out of you with lazy thrusts.

"mm, i have to agree," you respond sleepily, wrapping your arms around him and threading your fingers through his hair and causing bakugo to release a rumble of satisfaction at the action.

[tired-teacher-blog]

Morning bliss

Characters : Bakugo/ Izuku/ Shouto/ Kirishima/ Fem reader

Warnings and Genre : NSFW/ 18+/ Sexual Intercourse/ Creampie/ Imagines

Notes : This is by no means a valentine's day special, I wasn't even aware today is the 14th until someone pointed it out at work, yeah, that's how single I am 🥲

Masterlist|Second Masterlist|Third Masterlist

Bakugo

_ "Hey gorgeous." his raspy voice vibrates against the softness of your neck while his long fingers dance atop your bare skin.

_ "Hi, why are you up already?" you squint with a tilt of your head as you try to focus on the handsome face hovering over your confused one.

_ "Well I am, and so should you." his warm hands move lower and lower to caress your sides and clasp your thighs as he swiftly settles between them.

_ "What? Wait, what are you doing?" you're fully awake now, goosebumps shake you to the bone as he moves your panties to the side and presses the smooth head to your clit.

_ "Can I?" he asks in a low tone and you nod eagerly while clinging to his broad shoulders and bracing yourself for the massive size you're yet to get used to, despite the years you've been together.

Your breath gets caught in your throat and your nails dig deep in his skin to add more scratches to the ones of the night before as he slowly pushes himself within your warmth.

_ "Fuck, you're so tight babe." he whines against your neck and pulls back just as slow before thrusting in again.

_ "Katsuki wait! Take it easy." your delicate walls cling to him as he rubs against them deliciously, the drag of his throbbing cock drives you insane and you suddenly start whimpering for him to keep going.

_ "You feel extra warm this morning, is it because of what we did last night?" his thrusts quicken while he slurs the words teasingly, and the knot in your stomach tightens as you bite down on his shoulder to hold back a scream of his name.

He isn't wrong actually, you are exceedingly sensitive right now, and a familiar tingling sensation is rapidly building up in your guts.

_ "Stop talking.. like that," you arch off the bed and squeeze your eyes shut as his plunges become erratic until you finally lose control, "that's it! Katsuki!"

You shudder uncontrollably and wail his name over and over again as he starts chasing his own orgasm.

_ "You're driving me nuts," he rasps out through gritted teeth as your pulsating core massages him deliciously, "fuck, I'm cumming too!" and so he does, spilling his seeds in your deepest depth while his husky growls mix with your broken whines.

_ "Good morning beautiful." he breathes out the words and falls on top of your spent body before slowly pulling out of you.

_ "Good morning indeed." and you answer with a tired smile, cradling his flushed cheeks and bringing his lips to yours in a sweet kiss.

Izuku

Your eyes flutter open to the feeling of something pressed against your butt, something that is too familiar to mistake.

You smile knowingly and push your hips against the hardness just enough to feel those strong arms squeeze you tighter between them.

His breath hitches though he isn't up yet, and it makes teasing him all the more exciting.

You move a hand behind yourself to cup his erection and knead it through his boxers, giggling triumphingly when he starts pushing against you.

You crane your neck to meet his sleepy face and fill your eyes with that adorable expression of his; furrowed eyebrows, tensed up jaws and pouty lips as a result of your relentless teasing.

_ "ugh, baby girl, what.." and a sudden groan spills out of his lips to fan over your nape as he finally opens his eyes and strives to take in his surroundings.

_ "Hi darling," you coo enthusiastically before slipping your hand into his underwear to pull out his already raging cock, "let's have some fun, shall we?"

_ "Huh? Oh! ye.. yeah." he blinks a few times until it dawns on him what you desire, and for a moment there he remains frozen as you work your panties off and guide him to your awaiting pussy, but..

_ "Izuku, Hold on!" you are taken off guard and it's time for you to be astounded as he swiftly takes control and lifts your leg up a little before thrusting into you.

_ "I don't think I can take it easy sweetheart, I'm sorry." he grunts against your nape and bites down on the sensitive skin there while setting a merciless pace from the get go.

Your mouth hangs open and your nails dig into the arms holding you in place, he's going deep with every thrust, and you know -without a doubt- that you'll fall apart in mere minutes.

One of his hands move down to fumble with your glistening clit, rolling his fingers on the soft nub while his hips slam against you from behind.

_ "Izuku.. Izuku please.. I'm, I'm going to.." you finally find your voice, weak and broken as it is, but your mind suddenly goes blank as shockwaves of pleasure ripple through your veins to leave you shuddering in the after bliss.

_ "You feel amazing, I can't hold it in any longer." he mumbles against your shoulder while pushing within you one more time until ropes of his pearls shoot into your throbbing heat.

His hips finally still and you both remain quiet for a while, striving to catch your breaths as your minds start to clear up.

_ "Are you alright love? Was I too rough?" he sounds a little anxious as he slowly pulls out of you and watches while you turn around to face him.

_ "No you weren't sweetie, it was thrilling." you're exhausted and a bit sore, but more than anything, you are blissed out and satisfied.

You smile widely as the worried look on his face immediately switches to a happy one, he's adorable, and he's all yours.

Shouto

Heavy, so heavy in fact that he's almost knocking the air out of your lungs. It's his favorite way of sleeping, like this on top of you, with his arms securely around your form and his face buried deep in the crook of your neck.

_ "Shouto." you call out gently with a smile plastered on your face, but the only response you get is a muffled whine as he nuzzles you deeper, so you try again.

_ "Hmm, what?" he finally responds, although without moving a muscle.

Is he aware of the hard bulge nudging your thigh? Most likely not, why else would he be so relaxed?

It's frustrating really, you want to feel more but are stuck underneath his weight and it's becoming a real torture.

Your fingers travel down his sides until they reach the hem of his boxers and slide into the black colored garment to cup his plumy butt.

It's so soft and smooth that you cannot help the giggle escaping your mouth just thinking about the position you're in right now.

There is no reaction from him though, so you take it up a notch and pinch him lightly.

_ "Ow! What? Huh.." his eyes are wide open now, and the look he's giving you is no deeper than a purely confused one, but suddenly, a blush appears upon his cheeks as he finally felt your palms on his buttocks, "what are you doing?"

_ "What are you doing? This right here keeps poking my leg." you roll your hips deliberately and wait for him to respond.

He doesn't for a moment, eyes roaming your face and blush growing deeper, but then he sits up abruptly while still staring at you.

He's blinking the sleep away, a little pout on his lips and hair pointing to every direction while his ass is in full display, it's almost comical to be frank, if not for the tantalizing beauty overpowering his goofy demeanor.

_ "Do you want to?" and he doesn't give you time to respond as he gently pushes your legs apart and settles between them.

_ "Of course I do." and your confident attitude suddenly disappears as you answer quietly while averting your gaze, but his mismatched irises stay on you when he peels off his boxers and strokes the flimsy fabric of your panties before pushing them to the side and slowly pressing the raging hardness into you.

A loud whimper leaves you both, and your fingers fly to grip onto the soft bedsheets underneath yourself, while his keep a firm hold of your quivering thighs as he rolled his hips against you.

He's moving slowly, and deeply, so deep in fact that a familiar heat is already settling in your guts. He leans in to capture your lips, taking your breath away and flipping your insides with just a kiss, as always.

He picks up the pace, thrusting harder and faster as his kisses travel to trace every inch of your face and neck, "I'm so close honey.." his whine brushes your reddened ear and sends a shiver up your spine.

_ "Me too, Shouto, I can't!" you thread your fingers through his soft hair and pull on it weakly as the knot in your belly finally snaps.

You arch off the bed and scream his name while his pulsing cock kisses your cervix and coats your walls with its warm load.

His twitching balls slam against your butt and your name leaves his lips in a growl before he finally slows down to a halt and collapses on top of you.

_ "I'm sleepy again." he chuckles languidly and nuzzles your neck whilst his eyes are closing again.

_ "Then let's go back to sleep." you kiss the top of his head and encase him in your arms before giving in to slumber yourself.

Kirishima

A loving gaze and a wide smile are adorning your face as you take in your boyfriend's peaceful expression.

His breathing is steady and body is relaxed, all but a growing stiffness under your palm as you slowly massage his cock from under the sheets.

_ "Umm.. ugh, sweetheart." he mumbles softly but his eyes are still shut, and it makes you wonder if he's having a salacious dream about you, because it wouldn't be the first time he does.

You lean down to capture his lips while your hand moves faster on him, and you smirk mischievously as he groans into the kiss and bucks his hips faintly to meet your touch.

Even in his unconscious state, he is still lively and you find it adorable.

_ "Eijiro, honey, how long are you planning on ignoring me?" you whisper between gentle pecks to his cheeks, eyes, and scrunched up nose until he's finally looking at you through a hazy gaze, and you give him no time to react as you straddle him at once and press down on his throbbing bulge.

_ "I'm.. I'm up!" his body tenses, and hands grasp onto your thighs as a beaming expression finds its way to his face.

_ "Good." you giggle excitedly and prop yourself enough to pull his boxers down along with your panties and pump his cock with one hand while flattening the other on his chest before slowly sinking into him with a seductive moan leaving your lips.

_ "Ah! Babe, you feel so good." his large hands grip onto your waist as you start bouncing on top of him, this position is driving you both insane as he's reaching deeper than ever before.

His eyes roam your luscious figure and he groans watching the way you fucked yourself on his cock, he reaches out to cup your bouncy breasts and fondle the perky nipples, you want more, and for this feeling to never end, but you're already getting exhausted and your thighs are starting to burn.

_ "Eijiro, my legs.."

_ "I got it beautiful." and he instantly sits up to cradle your butt cheeks and takes control, moving you up and down on him while his lips latch on to your bust and suck on the hardened teats.

Your nails scratch on his arms and neck as you're nearly overwhelmed with the otherworldly pleasure this man is drowning you in, "Eijiro, keep going sweetie, keep going please!"

He does as instructed, hips snapping to meet yours while he pounded you into oblivion.

His mouth leaves your breasts to place kisses on your shoulders and collarbone, sinking his sharp teeth into your flesh when a splintering orgasm shakes you both to the core.

His hips stutter as a ring of your essence and his circles the base of his cock.

Your head rests on his shoulder and your body falls limp as a dumb smile lifts the corners of your mouth, "that was.. it was.. it felt so good."

He giggles happily and wraps his arms securely around your frame, "it really did, shall we take a shower now?"

_ "In a minute, just keep holding me for a bit longer." you do realize how spoiled you just sounded, but really, all you need right now is to be in his embrace.

_ "You got it love." and Eijiro would do anything you ask of him, that's how much he loves you.

Divider by @/saradika

[lilissmut]

im just thinking about…

“fuck yes just like that!!” You screamed at the top of your lungs as katsuki pounded your pussy “yeah you like that baby? like it when I fuck you dumb hah?” Bakugo stated as he fucked you dumb, the only sound in the room was his grunts and your moans mixed together “m’gonna cum, m’gonna cum ‘suki!!” “C’mon be a good fucking girl and cum on my cock for me” bakugo reached down to rub small circles on your clit as you screamed out his name over and over. “Gonna be a good girl for me and take my cum hm?” Bakugos thrusts were slowing down as he was about to cum.. “yes please I’ll take it, im s’good for you, please give me it!” egging him on as he groaned and spilt his cum into you, gently pulling out then saying “you okay baby?” You nodded snuggling into his chest soon after

[vampyrsm]

ꕤ 𝐀𝐥𝐥'𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐖𝐚𝐫

ꕤ 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Ares!Bakugou x Aphrodite!Reader

ꕤ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.8k

ꕤ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Female Reader, MDNI, 18+ content, reader is married, unprotected sex, no prep, reader is cheating on her husband (with Bakugou), implied soulmates, Bakugou is much bigger than you, pet names used (my love, sweetness, etc.), back-to-back orgasms, squirting, creampie, Bakugou is deeply in love (he's a sap), praise, breeding, talks of having a child.

ꕤ 𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨��𝐞: So I decided to stray slightly away from the Greek Mythology we know, as in I didn't make them all related lol, that's just very complex and something I didn't want to think too much about. I do keep it somewhat 'canon' to what we know of Ares/Aphrodite's love affair and the outcome of the affair. When the reader refers to Enji as father, they are not related in my story - it's just how the other Gods often talked to Zeus as he was the Allfather. A quick rundown of the people involved: Zeus (Enji), Ares (Bakugou), Aphrodite (You), Hephaestus (Touya), and Hermes (Hawks/Keigo). If you're confused as to what Bakugou is wearing, it's this. Anyway, enjoy! Sorry for any mistakes, I tried to proof read but I'm only human.

Golden chalices filled to the brim with the finest of red wines clinked together, sloshing the crimson liquid onto the hand-carved marble table. It was always a grandiose event whenever the Gods were gathered, everyone in Olympus knew when they were in attendance. Mount Olympus was buzzing with anticipation for days and nights leading up to the event when the Gods would arrive to greet their King.

Though with all the theatrics, it was never a pleasant experience for some Gods. 

One of them was Bakugou, the God of War, who remained poised by the marble columns wrapped in ivy. His own wine had been long forgotten the moment it was given to him, he was never one to drink when such an event happened. He couldn’t trust the King as far as he could throw him – and Bakugou had quite the throwing arm. 

He was unusually angry tonight, his arms crossed tightly over his scarcely clad chest and he wore a deep-set frown as he glowered at the table. It was loud, as expected, with laughter and boisterous shouting whenever someone got a little too excited. But it wasn’t just the noise that was driving the God of War to madness, but rather it was you.

You, sitting at the table with your own chalice that was dainty and filled with a finer wine. You had always had a taste for the finer things, and Bakugou was no stranger to such things. You smiled and spoke when you had to, but everyone at the table knew you were amongst the strongest there – no one dared to make a comment on just what you got up to behind closed doors. 

Everyone knew about your lustrous adventures, perhaps it was just a side effect of being the Goddess of Love and Beauty – forever doomed to yearn and want more. You attracted far too much attention to yourself, yet you always revelled in the way people would worship you and beg. 

It drove Bakugou crazy. You had the ability to wrap people around your little finger with a bat of your eyelashes and a coy smile.

And he was tightly coiled around your finger like a snake, refusing to let go. He couldn’t quite remember just when it had happened, but Bakugou knew that he was very much in love with you and he assumed he may always be in love with you until the end of time itself. 

But the world was cruel, even to the Gods. Bakugou may not remember when he had first laid eyes on you but he does remember the day he laid eyes on you when you were forced into a marriage arranged by the King. Enji had forced you into marrying his son, Touya – the God of Fire. Whilst that was surely a powerful title, Touya was neglectful to you and was often rageful when he discovered just what you had been up to. 

Touya was indeed in attendance tonight, and sat directly next to you with a distasteful look on his face as he glared at the other Gods who surrounded the table. His own chalices were empty consistently, and yet the effects of the rich wine hadn’t quite taken a toll on the God.

As soon as Bakugou had entered and seen Touya, he had wanted to turn around and leave immediately. But it was you who called out for him, much to the annoyance of your husband who grunted at you standing up hastily, leaning against the table and calling his name.

He could never resist the way you said his name, nor could he ignore the way you plead for him. 

So that’s how he had ended up brooding on his own, overseeing the event taking place whilst lamenting on how he could be working on war plans.

“And tell me, are you still meddling with the mortals?” Enji’s voice was naturally louder than the rest, demanding attention and he always got it. Everyone turned to look at Enji before they all settled their eyes on who was on the receiving end of such a question; you.

Not many people recognised anger in someone's eyes; a burning desire to turn to violence but Bakugou did. He lived off of that feeling, that desire to destroy was something that burned deep in his stomach daily. And he could see it in your eyes when you turned your gaze away from the mirror sitting in front of you.

“And do tell me, dear Father, are you still tricking women into giving you illegitimate children?”

There were a couple of gasps and a muffled snort of laughter from someone further down the table which you assume came from Natsuo. Everyone waited to see just how Enji would react, to see if he would bring down the weight of the world on you with just a flick of his wrist or if perhaps you’d be the one to strike first. 

Bakugou felt his muscles tense, shifting into a prime position to protect you, if it came to that. His eyes were locked directly on Enji. He watched as the wave of anger contorted his face, his scar unsightly in the light that filtered through the open windows and made him look more like his exiled brother than anything. 

“Perhaps it’d be wise for us to calm ourselves before another war is afoot,” Hawks spoke from his own seat, eyes shifting uncomfortably between the other Gods before settling finally on you. The God of Speed silently communicates with you to back down from a fight that surely will turn out ugly, Bakugou is of two minds when he practically sees the fire inside of you burn brighter. He wishes to see the wounds you’d inflict on Enji if you were to truly speak your mind, but he fears what is to come of it.

But it seems you have made up your own mind, and you rise from your seat. You level Enji with one long stare before turning away, ignoring the protests of your husband. Bakugou knows he’s not the only one who watches you as you leave, the sheer fabric on your body leaves nothing to the imagination yet you always hold yourself with a sense of dignity. 

The laughter and talking resume shortly after your departure, and no one is aware of when Bakugou slips out of the room in pursuit of you. Except for Touya, whose hand curls into a fist against his lap and pulls the scars taut until they threaten to rip. 

He traverses the long halls as if they were his own; he had spent many years in the place that the King calls his home, often talking of war plans. The red cloak he wears billows in his large strides, and the metal armour on his shoulders and shins clink loudly. He knows exactly where you would’ve wandered to, you always had a habit of returning to the one place where you felt in tune with nature.

Bakugou turns numerous corners until he’s met with the archway that leads out into the hidden garden. One would consider it overgrown with flowers and greenery, ivy clings to the cracked marble arch that Bakugou ducks under to avoid hitting his head. He follows the obscured path just as he had many times before, careful steps to avoid the thorn bushes that lay in wait for their next victim. 

He follows the sound of running water until he comes to a stop. There you are. Sat amongst the bed of flowers beside the running waterfall that falls off the side of Mount Olympus. Your back is to him, yet he knows you well enough to know that you’re very aware someone is watching you. 

Your hands still on the flowers you had been chaining together, though you don’t turn to face him just yet. You remain in place whilst he approaches slowly – like he was approaching a wild animal.

“Have you come to give me a lecture on why I shouldn’t start wars without consulting you first?” You speak finally, and Bakugou recognises the tone in your voice. You’re exhausted. 

“It had crossed my mind.” He says simply, settling down into the spot next to you which earns him a glare when he crushes one of the roses with the heel of his foot as he stretches his legs out. He shifts the iconic helmet that he often wears off to the side, the red feathered strip blowing softly in the wind. 

“Then tell me, my love, why have you followed me? You know that it’ll only anger him further.” One would think you were referring to Enji as him, but Bakugou knows you’re speaking about Touya. 

“I’ll show him the true meaning of anger, he wouldn’t dare lay a hand on you or me.”

You hum in response to his words, not entirely believing him yet he doesn’t feel hurt that you don’t jump to his side in agreement. 

“Answer my question, Katsuki. Why did you follow me out here?” 

“Why did you return to our spot?” He always did this, answered you with a question until you huffed in annoyance and turned to look at him. He knew you could see the way his eyes lit up with your attention finally on him, and he bathes in the way you smile so delicately at him. 

“Because I knew you’d come. You always come.” 

His fingers brush along your cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before the same fingers that have murdered thousands of men brush down along your jaw. He takes the time to admire your beauty, much to your delight, he traces the hollow of your throat with his thumb when his hand hooks around the back of your neck.

“I will always find you, my love.” Bakugou breathes the words simply before he’s surging forward to press his lips to your own. The feeling of butterflies exploding in his stomach, an odd feeling when he’s so used to the eternal lust for violence that boils his blood. 

His lips move in time with your own, a dance between the two of you that had been practised for hundreds of years. You lean further into him, your hands brushing against the golden skin of his chest and the strap that holds his armour and clock in place. His own hand curls further against the back of your neck, holding you in place as he has his fill of you. The taste of the wine on your lips is still present, and even more so on your tongue. It has him dizzy with the sweetness of it, the way it blends so perfectly with the natural essence that oozes from you. You always had a talent for stuffing his head with soft cotton and filling every one of his senses with you.

You were like the sweetest fruit he had ever tasted, perhaps it made you sweeter that you were considered forbidden and he couldn’t help but sink his teeth further into you.

You all but moan when he does in fact bite the plumpness of your bottom lip, and it’s enough to surge him on. He’s laying you in the bed of flowers, your hair sprawling out behind you in a way that even the most talented of artists would only be able to capture just a fraction of your beauty. 

His body is huge over your own, caging you in from the outside world and capturing you in the world the two of you had built for each other. You both had always felt so enamoured with one another, true soulmates you had once said. He can’t deny the fact that you were very much correct with that comment, his soul had always been tied to your own from the moment you had first met him. 

Bakugou is the one to break first from the kiss (as always), yet he doesn’t move far. His lips still brush against your own when he pants, leaning onto one forearm beside your head whilst the other freely explores along your throat, down along your collar bones before he lays a hand over your breasts.

The sheer material doesn’t do much to protect you from his feel, his callouses catch on the silky material as he brushes the tip of his finger over your budding nipples. He can feel the way your heart hammers away beneath your skin like a tiny hummingbird, you’re excited he knows but this type of excitement was adrenaline induced. It was intoxicating. 

“You’re as beautiful as ever,” and the way he breathes your name is unlike any of the followers who say your name in prayer, it’s invigorating that you can get a man of destruction and bloodlust to whisper your name in such a tone. “I don’t think I’ll ever tire of your beauty.”

“And I’ll never tire of yours,” your fingers this time brush along his jaw, touching the scars that show just how dedicated he is to his role as the God of War. You follow along his jaw, his cheekbones and the crooked bump of his nose before you trace over his eyebrows with your thumbs. “I could admire you for all of eternity, and never grow bored of your comeliness.”

Bakugou chuckles, quiet yet you feel the rumble of it when your hand presses to the side of his neck. “You speak too much.” 

“Then perhaps you should change that.”

And he just grunts in return, before he’s diving back in to kiss you. This time with renewed vigour, a need to swallow you whole and devour the love you pour for him and only him. His fingers move to trace over your body once again, following invisible lines he had mapped out over the years of exploring your body so freely. It’s like second nature for him to drag his fingers over the fullness of your breasts before they dip down along your waist, your hips and across your stomach.

All the whilst you writhe beneath him, always one to submit to the lust first. Bakugou however wasn’t far behind you, his head span with the heavy scent that filled the air. Sweet like the richest of apples, delicate like the pink and white flowers that bend beneath the weight of your bodies tangling together. Yet there was always a tang underlying beneath the sweetness of it all, one that Bakugou had come to realise years ago was your arousal. So pure and so very intoxicating, it drove him forward once again.

Your legs all but part for him when he pushes forward, your knees bending to press into his sides whilst his hips settle against your own. He’s unsurprised to be met with the warmth, and wetness, that lies between your legs. You had never been one to adorn material that restricted you in ways, and he is thankful to have attended in his full attire for the party. His Pteruges does nothing to stop you from feeling just how hard he was already.

Bakugou continues to dominate the situation, just as he does with any task. Your hands paw uselessly at the metallic belt holding his pteruges in place, whilst your calves brush against the bareness of his thick thighs. He chuckles against your mouth, breathing in for the first time in what feels like an eternity. His eyes crack open just enough to see the look on your face; needy and wanting.

“Anyone could find us here.” Yet Bakugou makes no move to leave, his hips roll against your own to elicit the most beautiful of sounds from your throat.

“That’s never stopped us before, I need you Katsuki–.. Please.” You whine, finally getting your fingers to hook against the metal before it falls loose between the two of you. All he can do is smirk down at you, using his free hand to push the skirt-like attire down his thighs before kicking it off to the side to join his helmet.

Then he sits up on his knees, watching as your eyes immediately drop to stare unashamedly at his length. It droops against his thigh, thick and leaking precum profusely. He makes a show of unbuckling the large leather strap across his chest, shouldering off the heavy shoulder pads before his cloak flutters down with it. 

Bakugou remains on his knees as he watches you draw the sheer material covering your shoulders down until it falls apart around you, falling behind you like a sheet for the both of you to lay on. You’ve always been open to displaying your body before the God of War, dragging your fingers along your own breasts to toy with your nipples before you grow bored and move further down. 

Bakugou can’t draw his eyes away, following the invisible lines you trace down… and down… until they rest between the apex of your thighs. You spread yourself lewdly, uncaring for the squelch that tells him just how aroused you are at this very moment. It has him groaning deep in the back of his throat, his blood boiling just like it did before a fight. You’re another thing he must conquer, put you back in your place beneath him.

“You’ll drive me to madness,” Bakugou whispers, not intending for you to hear but you apparently do. You smile, yet you do not reply, clearly determined now to see just how quickly you can drive the man known for his courage and valour into the depths of chaos. 

Your fingers dance between your legs for a moment, brushing up and down along your soaked lips before they swirl and circle against your clit. The level of just how wet you are helps with the easy glide, easing you further into your delirious state of lust. 

Bakugou feels like he’s bewitched, eyes unable to blink away from the sight of you toying with yourself. It was nothing new, he had in the past made you masturbate in front of him for his own enjoyment. It was something that filled his chest with a sense of power, that you were doing all of this for him — it made him greedy for more.

“But perhaps madness would not be so bad, if you were by my side.” 

“I will forever be by your side, my sweetness.”

Sweetness – a name only you could use on a God like Bakugou Katsuki. Only you could call him something so gentle when he had witnessed enough bloodshed and war to fill four lifetimes. Only you could make the otherwise stoic man smile, and crumble like the weakest defences. His heart thunders in his chest when he dives back down into your space, the warmth of his bare chest against yours is all-consuming. 

He feels himself lose himself to the rhythm of your bodies, his hips rolling against your own once again but this time his cock is free. It catches against your lightly sensitive clit, drawing out a breathy sigh from between your bitten lips.

“Give yourself to me,” you mumble against his lips, your fingers moving from their previous position to thread themselves through his golden wheat-coloured hair, holding softly at the roots to keep his face just in front of yours. “All of you. I want all of you.” 

“Then you shall have me.” 

His lips press into yours as an effort to stop the volume of your voice when he breeches you with the thick head of his cock, whilst he would’ve loved to divulge in foreplay and excite you further he knows it’s too much of a risk to spend that much time alone with you. He already suspects soon someone will come seeking you, and that will only lead to more unfortunate events unfolding.

You don’t protest however to the way he splits you in half, your thighs fall apart further to accommodate him the best you can despite the sharp pain that fills your pelvis. Bakugou openly groans against your panting mouth, a low rumble that sounds like he’s in great pain when he finally bottoms out in you. 

It had been far too long since he had last fucked you. You had been sent away from Mount Olympus more and more often until it was once in a blue moon that he’d lay eyes on you. His soul yearned for you every single day, and the only way he had been coping with that loneliness was to become more ruthless with the men he commanded and the mortals who worshipped him. 

The two of you remain there, encapsulated in the little world the two of you build for each other when you come together. His forearms lay on either side of your head, his thumbs brushing delicately against your temples whilst he admires your features so close. Your own hand plays gently with the hairs at the nape of his neck, whilst the other strokes along the broad expanse of his scar-ridden shoulders.

“I’m in love with you,” it’s you who whispers it, and he wonders if you plucked that thought directly from his brain. It has him smiling once again, a rare occasion to happen so often in quick succession.

Bakugou leans down the short distance, his thumbs brushing into your hairline before he presses his lips to yours in a short yet fulfilling kiss, “I know.”

He so desperately wishes to declare his love for you but it would be no different to declaring war. It hurts his heart to not tell you just how much he loves you, yet he knows you understand this much. You don’t frown or get upset with his choice of words, not when he lays another kiss that lingers against your forehead before his hips roll once again.

It’s a slow pace at the start, sensual and it’s enough to convey his true feelings for you. A man who could crush another man’s skull in his bare hand holds you with such a delicate embrace, his hips don’t hammer into your own with the strength you know he harbours. He always took his time at the start, savouring the tightness of your walls when you clench around him as the tuft of the hair nestled just above his cock brushes against your clit.

He continues with this pace until one of his hands wanders down along your body again, retracing the same path until he finds your thigh. He takes a gentle hold of it, and the largeness of his hand squeezes as much of your thigh as he can before he’s hooking the same thigh over his forearm. 

It’s the only warning you get before he’s leaning back from you, it leaves him open to your eyes as you watch his muscles work with the new pace he sets. It’s more aggressive, more like the God of War that you know. It has your tits bouncing harshly with each rut of his hips, the slapping of skin against skin is loud in the otherwise silent garden.

His golden skin glistens in the sunlight, the sweat that gathers in the hollow of his throat expands all the way down to his adonis’ belt. His biceps bulge and tense when he rolls his head back in ecstasy, exposing the bobbing of his Adam’s apple when he swallows hard before his lips part in the most beautiful of moans. 

It wasn’t often he was so vocal in his pleasure, only reserving that right for you. It doesn’t go unnoticed either, you squeeze around him deliciously to pull another note from his throat that sounds a little more strangled. You giggle beneath him, only to be cut off by a particularly harsh slam of his hips against yours. The tip of his cock bullies its way through your walls, ramming against that one spot that only he seems to be able to reach. 

“You dare laugh at me?” He bares his teeth, quite the vision of the fearless God yet he shows no true malice behind his words. If you were to put a word to it, you’d say he was being playful.

“Never,” you manage to breathe between your moans, eyes fluttering in an attempt to stay open as you watch the man above you work as hard as he can to push you closer and closer to completion. “I-I would…” you trail off, and this time it’s Bakugou who laughs at you but it’s broken into a low groan. 

“Hah, drunk off of my cock already, my love?” He’s always been crude with his words, it makes your stomach do flips along with the added term of endearment. “How long has it been since you were treated like the Goddess you are?”

His words sting, unintentionally digging into wounds that grow old, tearing them apart for his prying eyes. You meet his gaze, eyebrows furrowing to show just how much his words hurt – the truth had always hurt the most.

“Too long,” you moan when he hoists your hips up just a little higher, both of your legs now wrapped around his waist whilst his hands grip harshly at your hips. He fucks into you harder at this angle, impossibly reaching deeper and deeper into you until you swear he’s going to touch your very soul; though perhaps that is his goal.

Bakugou doesn’t offer a reply, but rather a grunt. His thumb rolls down over your stomach before he reaches your clit, and he plays with it cruelly. The pressure is harsh, and he’s unrelenting in the speed at which he toys with you. He only has one thing on his mind right now, and that is to make you cum for him in a way only he can make you cum. 

“Give it to me,” he grits his teeth, jaw working as he tries to fend off the urge to fill you with his cum. “Cum for me.” 

He commands you, and you wordlessly obey. It feels like you’re freefalling from the top of the mountain you’re all perched upon, your head falls back into the plush bed of flowers and your mouth opens up in a scream of pleasure. Your eyes roll back until you see nothing but white, and Bakugou doesn’t let up in the way he’s fucking you.

He fucks you harder in fact, inflicting a tingling-like pain between your thighs. He not only works you through your orgasm but forces you right into a more intense one, it has your legs tensing and shaking. Your hands curl uselessly into the grass beside your head, tugging at your hair when you moan his name loudly. Perhaps he should’ve worried about how loud you were becoming, but a deep part inside of him wanted everyone to know just who you were devoted to. 

His thumb is replaced by two fingers, he swipes aggressively against your clit until you’re struggling to catch your breath. Your chest expands with the effort, whilst your knees try to crush into his sides fruitlessly. Bakugou has never shied away from the fact you were more of a generous lover when it came to orgasms, he beamed with pride whenever you blessed him with one such as this. He’s uncaring for the way your juices squirt against his pelvis and drips down his muscled thighs, if anything it encourages him to fuck more out of you.

“That’s it, such a good girl.” He praises effortlessly, fucking you through the intensity of your orgasm until his hips roll to a gentle stop. His hands that were once in a vice grip on your waist gently massage against your thighs, soothing the tensed muscles until you finally relax as best you can in the position he still holds you in. 

He lowers you carefully down until you’re flat again on the floor, and his hands effortlessly roll you over onto your stomach. Those same hands smooth over the expanse of your back, pressing into your lower back to ease the ache he knows often builds there whenever he bends your body to his will. 

Bakugou carefully raises your hips once again, positioning himself over you and you don’t protest when he pushes himself back inside of you. You rest your head on folded arms, angling your head just so that you can see over your shoulder at the mountain of a man who fucks into you slowly once again. He bends easily at the waist, pressing a delicate kiss to your shoulder.

“I’m not done with you yet,” is all he offers before he’s fucking into you again in earnest. You moan into the crook of your arm, eyes still narrowed in his direction to watch the way his mouth falls open and his eyebrows crumple together. The angle he holds your body in is sinful – your thighs squeeze together to make it impossibly tighter around the thickness of his cock. 

In this position, with your hips raised and head in the flowers, Bakugou can’t help but feel the rush of power that fills his body. To have such a powerful Goddess such as yourself bending under just a flat palm to your spine is driving him to fuck into you hard. Too hard perhaps, as he knows he’ll be leaving bruises on the back of your thighs and ass by the time he’s done. But he can’t help himself, this need to cover you in marks – his marks – was growing to be too much. 

You were his, and only his. He didn’t care what the fuck Enji nor Touya said. You were designed to be with him, you were his opposite, his other half. He’d die before he gave up on you. He’d do anything to ensure you were his, forever.

The idea hits him in the gut like a spear, it makes him grunt deep in his chest and fingers flex against the fat of your hips before he squeezes hard. He knows of one way he could secure you to him for the rest of your lives. 

“I should fuck a child into you.” He groans, the words pour from his mouth untapered whilst his mind runs haywire on the idea of you being round with his child – a child born from two Gods such as yourselves surely would be enough to kick Enji from his throne. “A son. Fit for the throne.” 

You watch him over your shoulder, and he meets your gaze easily. His eyes hold nothing but love and adoration for you, you know a child would definitely bring the two of you together forever. The idea alone has you nearly crushing him between your thighs, enough to cause him to grunt and come to a stop buried to the hilt.

“I take that as a yes, my love?” 

“Yes, Katsuki. Please.” You plead, and the ash-blonde God doesn’t have to be told twice.

He fucks you now with a new purpose, to breed you. His hips slap against the roundness of your ass, his fingers reaching to grasp and grope at you. Bakugou is unashamed in the way he marvels at your body, pulling your cheeks apart with his hands to watch the way your pussy swallows him whole despite the size of him.

His balls ache with the need to cum, he yearns for it every single time he’s with you. Yet he was never granted permission to do so; given you were the Goddess of Reproduction, he knew his seed would take to you – which would’ve caused many problems in the past. But now, he’s uncaring for the problems that may arise. He knows he would wage a thousand-year war for you as long as it meant he got to call you his. 

“Katsuki, cum for me, my love.” You moan, panting hotly into your arm in a futile attempt to muffle your whining. 

Bakugou has always been unable to ignore your pleas.

He cums, and hard. His hips stutter at first, fingers curling harshly against the skin of your ass. His hips rut down into your own, hard enough to make you yelp and bite at your arm. You can feel the way his cock jumps and throbs in the depths of your walls, the white seed he spills is molten hot, just like the fire that courses through his blood. 

Bakugou doesn’t stop the roll of his hips until he’s truly spent, both of his hands come to slam into the ground on either side of your head. His panting breath brushes against the sticky sweat on your bare shoulder before he lays kiss after kiss on you. 

“I love you.” He whispers against your ear, pressing his nose into your hair just enough to smell the delicate soaps you use to bathe in. 

“And I love you, more than anything.” You reply just as easily, turning just enough to let his lips brush against your own. The kiss you have now is just as it was at the start; it’s filled with adoring love and underlying longing.

He slips from you easily, but not without hoisting your hips up once again just enough to ensure none of his cum leaks from you. You laugh, but don’t stop him. 

“You truly wish to have a child with me?” You ask once he lays down in the grass next to you, tugging his red cloak from somewhere to the side over the naked expanse of his lower half. 

“Have I ever lied about something I want? Of course I want this.” 

You hum in response to his words, eyes finally fluttering shut to bask in the warmth of the sun and the tranquil feeling that slowly settles over the two of you. Bakugou continues to lay next to you, an arm behind his head whilst his free hand strokes through your hair to play with the various flowers embedded there.

“Then I hope you’re ready for everything that comes with a child.” You smile when Bakugou laughs, opening an eye to look at how he practically glows in the sun. 

“Woman. I have commanded armies of thousands of men, I have killed Gods with my bare hands. You think a child would bring down the almighty God of War?” 

“Maybe that’s your weakness.” 

“Madness,” he rolls over onto his side, brushing away the hair that’s fallen into your eyes before he kisses your eyebrow gently. “You are my weakness, my love.”

And all the whilst, neither of you is privy to the set of burning blue eyes that watch from the archway of the door. And neither of you are aware that Touya leaves to talk to his father – but not to demand you be humiliated for your adultery but rather for a divorce.

[honeesucker]

Part 8 -

Pairing: ProHero!DynaMight | Katsuki Bakugo x Puppygirl!Reader

Word count: 3,259

Series Content Warnings: Little bit of a slow start… Graphic Depictions of Past Abuse & Trauma Response | Profuse Usage of Pet Names / All-around Softness | Bakugo Experienced Work-Related Trauma (causing near deafness, being put on leave from the agency, PTSD) | Eventual smut™ (will be tagged in individual chapters - to include but not limited to KiriBaku, HybridxHybrid, Hybrid heat trope, sex toy usage).

Chapter Content Warnings: Bakugo x reader sex, dirty talk, "just the tip" late-night quickie.

*Not proofread.

Previous | Next (In Progress)

Bakugo had gotten you back to the apartment, the car ride weighed down in silence; Kirishima opting to leave after he walked you both up, knowing this was a moment he shouldn't intrude upon but promising again to come and have a movie night with you soon.  

You were sitting on the couch, in the same spot Kirishima had set you down. Your eyes unfocused, vision blurring as you blink slowly, staring at nothing as your body buzzes with... something.  

Fear? Disgust? Disappointment?  

You couldn't ascertain which one it was, or if it was all of them at once, all you knew is that you didn't hear Bakugo speaking, just a mumbled white noise of sound until he was sitting next to you on the couch, pulling you into his lap as he nosed as your temple and whispered in your ear. 

"Talk to me, Pup," he said softly. His deep, low baritone reverberating through your body like a pleasant hum. 

"I-I..." you tried to start a thought, but all words failed you. Nothing seemed fitting enough to express exactly what you felt. "I-I... think... I-I'm s-sad." You stuttered through the words softly, your eyes closing as the unfocused blur of your vision became dizzying. Bakugo's arms tightened around you, compressing your arms to your side like what you did to him before - deep compression therapy. He held you like this for the longest time, but a glance at the clock only showed just under an hour had passed. 

"I know sad doesn't quite cut what I'm sure you're feeling, but we prepared for this, yeah?" Bakugo said softly. "You'll keep seeing Hana, but let's go every week instead of every other week. I've already got the restraining order filed with Hana’s help, and we should be receiving the official document soon... and we have each other. You're safe. I will never let that scumbag, or any other bastard ever lay a single finger on you, okay?" Bakugo jostled your body gently, coaxing a response from you as your mind wandered.  

You just nodded, a soft 'okay' leaving your lips as you melted back into his encompassing hold.  

You trusted Bakugo, you knew he meant what he said, and never added in any fluffy extra wording, or beat around the bush... if he said you were safe, that no one would touch you again, he meant it. 

Yet you couldn't stop the worry eating at the back of your mind. Bakugo was strong, and powerful and fearsome, but so was he, and if he still had half the contacts he had before he went to prison, he was still just as dangerous... but would he really come after you? You did try to keep him in prison with your appeal at his probationary hearing... and he was one to hold a grudge until he got even - you had seen it countless times with the people who worked for him, entered deals with him, tried to get one over on him.  

He always won in the end. 

"Hey, stop that." You heard Bakugo's stern, comforting tone. You blinked the frightening visions away from your mind as you looked up at him, a question in your gaze that he answered. "Stop thinking of the worst-case scenarios, get out of your head, Pup... no matter what happens, I have you. Okay?" Bakugo had a strange way of being stern, strict and intimidating but also soft and composed, the surety in his voice a calming center as he stared down at you with harsh, dominating eyes. Determination and confidence oozing from him. "He won't ever lay a finger on you again, Pup," he finished again with a hardened resolve. 

You nodded. "S-Sorry, yes... I... I trust you." Bakugo just balked and shook his head.  

"No apologies, Pup, you're allowed to feel what you're feeling after that shitshow, but you can't let it take over - right? You can't drown in it..." Bakugo was talking to both him and you, at this point. Reassuring you while comforting himself as you leaned against his chest, your body relaxed in his lap as you nodded. He sought out and found just as much comfort in you being close to him as you did to him, it helped keep the sparking crackle out of his palms, helped keep the white noise and the deafening rings out of his mind. 

"Thank you," you finally said softly, looking up to nose gently at his chin, a comforting nuzzle as you kissed his jaw, then his cheek, and then the corner of his lips. "Thank you for choosing me and dealing with all of my problems and loving me still." 

"Tch, nothing to thank me for, Pup... I'd choose you a hundred times over again and again, b-but..." he paused for a moment, hesitation mixed in his normally confident gaze. "Thank you for choosing me back, Pup, for loving me too... and being a source of comfort for me. We help each other, yeah?" Bakugo asked softly, jostling you on his knee as you giggled and smiled up at him, nuzzling back into the crook of his neck. 

"Yeah, we do." You said softly, closing your eyes as you took in his strong scent, allowing it to fill your body and calm you down until nothing bad was left in your body, no tightly wound anxiety, no worrying spiral of panicked thoughts... just him.  

You fell asleep in his arms, sinking into his warm comfort. 

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗   

 You woke up late into the night. Looking over at the alarm clock on the nightstand it read that it was 11:49 P.M., and suddenly you realize you were tucked into Bakugo's bed, the mix of clean skin musk and caramel notes and the cologned scent of his deodorant floating into your sensitive nose as you pressed your face against the pillow.  

His pillow. 

You sucked in greedy breaths of air as something in you stirred, a growing need and soon you were slowly reaching down to run your three center fingers along the outside of your clothed pussy as you kept your face in his pillow; a quiet, choked moan leaving your lips as your ears perked up at the sudden squeaking sigh of a floorboard sounded off behind you... close behind you. 

"You in heat already again, Pup?" Bakugo uttered softly, curiously, not accusatory or mocking.  

You shook your head slowly, a pout on your sweet face as your bottom lip jutted out a bit, eyes teary in frustration looking back up at Bakugo dressed only in low-hung joggers, a clean pair. "N-No... not in heat just... your smell. You smell so good." You said softly as you nosed again at his pillow, and he quirked a brow looking down at you with his muscled arms crossed over his large chest.  

“Yeah, Pup? I smell that good huh?" Bakugo teased softly as he came around the bed, the material sinking beneath his weight as he laid on his side, looking down at your pathetic display. "I smell so good to you that even a whiff of my pillow has you desperate to touch yourself?" He teased again, and you could feel the soft blush flush your cheeks and the tips of your ears warm and embarrassed. "You wanna come smell it straight from the source, hm?" Bakugo asked, knowing where this would end up, but he didn't care. He was head over heels for you, he wanted to protect you, he wanted to shower you with love... but he also wanted to fold you in half and press his weight down as he fucked his thick cock into your slick pussy... the idea of it made him groan as he threw his head back, his eyes screwed shut tight as he tried to cap his growing desire.  

Your eyes widened, and you nodded. Crawling up onto him as he pulled you on top of him, as he shifted his body to lay on his back. Your legs on either side of his hips as you leaned forward to nose and nuzzle at his throat where his scent was the strongest...something about pulse points were so inviting. You took to the delicate skin of his throat quickly as you alternated between long lapping licks, and nosing nuzzles against his throat and without realizing it you had been grinding your clothed pussy down against the growing bulge beneath you. Bakugo's large hands were gripping the plush of your hips, his thumbs hooked into the waistband of your sleep shorts as he gripped your flesh with a bruising force. 

"Fuuuuck, Pup," Bakugo moaned out softly when you started nipping at his skin after a long lick up his throat, and as you did you ground down on his lap, the slick of your pussy soaking through your shorts and onto his pants as you started moving faster, guided by Bakugo's hands. "That's it, Pup, take whatever the hell you want from me." He growled out, bucking his hips upwards and bumping back up into your heated core as he felt your teeth clamping down on the soft skin connecting his neck to his shoulder. His hands fully gripping your ass cheeks, pulling them apart as he gripped the soft material of your shorts in the center and pulling. The soft material split down the middle with no resistance as you whimpered at the loss of warmth, but also at the primal display. Bakugo grunted and shifted his legs, and with one hand moved his joggers down and off his legs while keeping you on top of him. He threw the tattered material of your shorts against the wall, the torn material sliding down the wall and to the ground without an audience as Bakugo's focus was now solely on you, and the way your slick pussy was now gliding up and down the length of his painfully hard cock, the head catching against your hole every now and again making you whimper. Each time the veins and ridges of his cock caught your clit you keened, whining as you pressed back down against him, your eyes bright and needy as you glanced up at him, panting softly with your tongue lolled out of your mouth. Bakugo couldn't help the way he reached forward, cupping your cheek as his thumb pressed down against your tongue, groaning as you closed your mouth and swirled your tongue around the intruding digit.  

"P-Pl-lease..." you panted out softly around his finger, each word enunciated carefully. "W-Want cock pl-lease..." you whined and pressed down against him, the fat tip of his cock barely pressing into your cunt as you moaned out softly, and then cried as he lowered his hips, angling them away from your pussy as you glared up at him.  

He was looking down at you with a pleased look, smug and demanding, an arrogant arch to his brow as he chuckled down at the pathetic sight of you.  

"Fuck yourself just on the tip, Pup," Bakugo said softly, a rumble in his words as he bucked his hips back up again, the tip of his cock slippery and coated in a mixture of his precum and your slippery juices. His hands came back on your hips, squeezing the fat there as he urged your body back down. He could hear the squelching airy sound as his cockhead entered your cunt, and the wet pop as it pulled out; your hips barely balancing above his cock as you lowered back down again, repeating the action over and over until you were too weak to keep your body up. Your legs were shaky and weak, and within a moment you were spearing your full weight down as his thick cock spread you apart, his tip pressing painfully against your cervix with an aching pleasure as he groaned out with the feel of your pussy walls warm, wet, enveloping him completely. “Such a greedy Pup...” Bakugo groaned out, gripping your hips tighter as he bucked up causing your body to fall forward as he fucked up into you roughly with a symphony of wet squelching sounds and airy slaps of skin until you both were moaning out together; Bakugo a lower growling groan and you a sweet high moan as you bit down on his shoulder as your orgasm slammed into you unexpectedly. You squirted slick juice around his cock, wetting his lap as he continued to fuck up into you, his hips stuttering and soon he was pressing deep into you as his cock twitched and pulsed with his own release, hot white cum flooding your pussy and dripping out and around his cock with your juices in a lewd mixture.  

Your teeth were still digging down in Bakugo’s shoulder as he reached a hand up to pat at the back of your head gently, threading his fingers into your hair to scratch at your scalp gently. “Good Pup,” Bakugo let out breathlessly, his cock still left softening in your pussy as he enjoyed the still-spasming warmth of your cunt. “Let’s go take a quick shower and I’ll clean up the rest of the bed, huh?” Bakugo muttered gently against your temple, kissing you sweetly in the spot as he nuzzled his own face against yours, you just hummed in response, your tail wagging lazily against his leg. 

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗   

An easy three months have passed with an almost mundane normalcy. Kirishima and TetsuTetsu have been over multiple times for playdates, movie nights and after-patrol dinners. Bakugo even took you into his office a few days over the last couple of weeks on the days you didn’t go and see Hana at the Hybrid Rehabilitation Facility for your weekly therapy. Everything seemed to be on an upward trajectory as far as both of your healings. Bakugo kept taking you to regular check-ups to ensure your physical health was also healing alongside your mental health, and Bakugo even went to all his rehabs, check-ups and therapy, too, without so much as a grumble. He was happy to heal, if it meant healing alongside you and getting better together for each other... in contrast to nearly a year ago when Bakugo couldn’t imagine this working out, he was surprised even with himself as he made leaps and bounds in his recovery; a bit more of his hearing returned, there was less and less white noise and high-pitched ringing, and the Hero Support specialists were coming up with a high-frequency hearing aid that Bakugo could use that would aid in his hearing while protecting his ears from the loud blasts of his quirk and the outside world crumbling around him nearby in his daily Pro Hero work. 

All in all, it was picturesque... but your life wasn’t such a smooth road, and good things have a way of being balanced with the bad, and your bad day came in the form of a shopping trip out with Bakugo. 

You and Bakugo needed essentials and some groceries for the house, and before anything perishable was picked up, he offered to take you looking around for anything you’d enjoy having: new clothes, toys, books, anything at all. Bakugo had stayed back to look at some new knives and pans for the kitchen, while you wandered the store slowly looking around to see if anything caught your interest when a scent caught your nose. The burning, acrid scent of cigarettes and cologne, and the underlying musk of a person you long since had forgotten about in your recent peaceful months.    “Hey, mutt.” A familiar, deep drawl rang out. You froze in your spot, a soft plush bear in your hands that you had grabbed from the shelf now served as your center of balance and focus, of peace as you strangled the soft toy in your white-knuckled grip.  

Sharp, cold grey eyes regarded you with disdain and disgust. The over-gel'd slick back black hair greasy and catching the bright fluorescent light of the store as he stood in front of you with two other men flanking him a few feet back, pretending to look through items on a shelf as he spoke to you.  

“You look good, mutt,” he said out in a smooth, sleazy tone. “Fatter even, guess that new guy’s feeding you well huh? Looks good though, nice soft flesh...” He kept talking, but his voice hooked in your head and reverberated throughout, overwhelming you like a nightmarish echo chamber. You wanted to whimper, whine out, scream, cry, growl, bite him... anything to protect yourself and get him away from you. Your head was spiraling when a strong hand clasped around your shoulder from behind and a sharp, angry voice spoke over you. One that was scarier than his, but you weren’t afraid of it. 

“I’ll be informing your probation officer of this infringement on the terms of your release, and the restraining order we have on you.” Bakugo’s venomous, harsh tone rang out above you, sending a shiver down your spine. “Now, kindly fuck off before I blast that smirk off your face and leave you eating and breathing through tubes.” Your body sunk back against Bakugo as you sought comfort in his familiar scent and the hard contours of his body that always seemed to welcome you, and fit against you perfectly. “Now, you have ten seconds to fuck off,” Bakugo barked out, glaring at the men.  

“Now, now, that’s not very generous of you.” He stated coldly, his friendly demeanor dropping. 

“This is me being generous, prick, now leave before I utilize my right to arrest you and get detectives out here for you and your sorry entourage.” Bakugo nodded at the men behind him, glaring with equal ire at them as they twin men dropped their items and looked between Bakugo and their boss. Bakugo’s palms were sparking off with the desire to just blast this sorry sack of human to the depths of hell, but he knew a fight and more trauma isn’t what you needed – but you did need to be removed from this situation quickly.  

Bakugo kept a hard stare levelled at the sleaze before the sleaze cockroach finally lifted his hands up in defeat, and slowly backed away with his men, and out of the store... as soon as his retreating back was out of sight Bakugo knelt beside you and placed his hands on either side of your face. “Hey my Pup, hey, you okay? Pup?” Bakugo asked in a soft, sweet tone only reserved for you. One of his large hands on your shoulder as his other gentle coaxed the soft bear out of your white-knuckle grip on the poor things neck. “Guess you like this little guy, huh?” Bakugo mused softly, trying to distract you from what just happened with the soft bear now in his hands, he lifted the tiny thing up to pretend kiss your face all over until you were giggling against Bakugo and snuggled up against his chest; your breathing back to normal and your anxiety lessened.  

“How about you stick close to me, and we check out what we have and head home, yeah? I’ll cook you up a nice dinner with all my new kitchen gadgets, yeah? Sounds good huh, Pup?” Bakugo mused as he nudged you with his hip, a smile still on your face as you nodded, gripping his hand and walking toward the checkout, back to his shopping basket and you with your newly acquired bear in your hands.  

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