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satoruhour · 9 months

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RIDING JJK MENS ABS

a/n: thinkin’ bout dbf! jjk men bc of the toji drabble….. ouuuuhhhh im cooking

warnings: ab riding / humping & clit stimulation & pet names for all, implied phone sex, implied m! masturbation, somnophilia, cum eating, praise, implied second round (gojo), orgasm denial, implied overstimulation, calls you ‘slut’, a little mean, slight brat-taming, consensual recording, fingering from the back (geto), nipple play, soft sex, praise, brief unprotected p -> v penetration (nanami), toji is ur dad’s best friend, age gap (reader in uni, toji is in his 40s), calls you ‘whore‘ once, implied unprotected sex, implied creampie / breeding kink, lots of dirty talk, slight degradation, he smacks ur ass once (toji), n*sfw under the cut

✶ GOJO

your eyes flit between gojo’s and his pants, hanging low on his hips as his chest heaves in even breaths. it’s more often now that the strongest sorcerer wakes up after you, feeling so safe in your arms, but today you have other plans.

you feel a little sorry for him when he’s completed a gruelling mission last night, but the throbbing of your core and the twist of your stomach is uncomfortable enough when that gruelling mission lasted three days. you’ve sent him risqué photos, along with texts of needing him bad but the most comfort he could provide was late phone calls with the sound of him stroking his cock.

the real thing was always better, though.

your resolve hardens when your mind wanders to satoru’s moans you heard on the line just last night, dragging yourself off the warmth of the sheets and onto him, not before taking off your pants, freezing in place when he shuffles just a little. you’re awfully cautious especially when you‘ve been caught before from your output of cursed energy and his six eyes.

so when you settle down on him, you’re already grinning at your triumphant feat until your clit bumps along his abs and you’re sitting up straighter. oh.

you abandoned your original plan of pulling down his pants, instead dragging your pelvis against the hard muscle there, the ridges of his core feeling absolutely divine against your cunt. the only thing you can do with your hands is to hold them up, careful not to put any force on his chest while your hips move against his front and you’re moaning, softly. it feels too good to stay silent, letting out short breaths and wanton pleas of his name.

within a few rocks of your hips, you can feel your high already approaching, a little embarrassed at how wet his skin was from your dripping cunt but the feeling of it all makes you lost in pleasure, not even realising how, now, there was a pair of blue eyes staring back at you.

“wow.”

“satoru!” you jump at the sudden voice interrupting your deep spell of pleasure, not surprised when all he does is sneak a peek at his torso and just smirks, taking a finger and swiping at the soaked skin of his abs. he pops it into his mouth, humming, satisfied with the taste and you can feel your body heating up from the need and the desperation for gojo after being away from him for three days.

you’re just unaware he’s also missed you like a dog misses a bone, and he’s so goddamn hard it hurts, but he’d do anything for his pretty baby to get off first.

gojo grins, “why’d you stop?”

“i— uhm, just— ah!” you know that grin only ever holds sinister thoughts when he flexes his torso and stimulates your clit, enjoying the sudden moan you let out, “’t-toru…”

you start moving unconsciously, body sagging over his as your hands find their place on his chest and you press hard, gojo’s breath being taken away both literally and figuratively when you grind down onto his naked skin with the attractive bend of your body, the ridges of his abs making your pussy feel so good.

“sato— oh, f-fuck!” you whine out as he places his hands on your hips to help you, leaving trails of fire hot touches along your ass and waist. his hands are so big, too, the simple movement of his hands on you is enough to make you clench around nothing.

“that’s it…” satoru is entranced by your cunt, dragging up and down his middle while your whimpers taint his ears and he’s hoping you’d cum soon just so he can see your trembling thighs and beautiful voice. “that’s right, ride me like a good lil girl— shit, clenching ’round nothin’.”

“g’na cum?” nodding, your pelvis moves desperately on his torso as gojo’s words make you mewl out for him, the burn in your core finally releasing when his hands spread on your plush ass that it has your clit pushed up all against him and your hips stutter in cute little jerks.

“satoru, satoru, satoru, oh my god—!” and you cum loudly with chants of his name, cunt leaking more and more cum that all he can do is watch, asking you with a sweet voice to lie back on his legs while he spreads your pussy to see just how wet you are, a glistening shine on your folds. gojo just grins, licking his lips with a glint in his eyes and a throbbing cock — the morning’s just started.

✶ GETO

sometimes geto was a professional at hiding what he was really feeling — at how annoyed he gets when someone brushes your opinion off, or the anger when gojo accidentally had smacked you hard while explaining something. but because he was so adept in this skill, you never really know what he’s thinking until you’re teasing him in public.

you whine when your hands are slapped away from his pecs, an aht aht leaving him when all you want is some balance. but geto is mean when he wants to be, and he’s not entirely happy after the stunt you pulled in the high-end fashion store today. a show of brattiness and teasing, asking him to come into the dressing room just to bend over with your ass right on his cock. this photo would look so cute as my wallpaper, suguru!

you were right, even if geto didn’t want to admit it, but it’s the last thing on your mind now when you’re been denied your orgasm twice already, forced to ride your boyfriend’s abs with no one to help you.

“su’,” you mumble, going delirious from how much your clit ached, and yet you weren’t allowed to cum until he thinks you can, hands going everywhere from your hair to your face just to have some sort of ground. “w’nna cum, p-please… ’m sorry sugu—”

a high-pitched moan leaves you when geto tenses his torso, enjoying your show as he leans back comfortably with both arms behind his head. you look so stunning like this, begging for release while your body contorts in all sorts to grind your clit into him with more friction. it’s so cute, and while geto doesn’t enjoy being tested in public, there’s a thrill in denying it and then giving it all to you later until you’re begging for him to stop.

“what was that?” he makes an act of putting a hand to his ear, “didn’t hear you, baby.”

“’m sorry, suguruu— s-shit,” your hips speed up when you find a particular spot, apologies continuing to spill from your lips until they’re cut off but geto grabbing your hands, being a little lenient as he lets you use his chest. your moans turn into thankful whimpers paired with the lewd sounds of your pussy against skin, fingers feeling all around him from his neck to his hair and unaware of how geto could cum just from how you use him like a fucktoy.

maybe he should capture this.

“dirty little slut, hm?” you only could hum and agree, babbling out some yes’s aimlessly as you continue to grind your puffy clit on his front, a yelp sounding when geto prods at your entrance which is sopping wet. “look at you soaking my tummy, naughty girl.”

“yea— yeah, yeah, ’m your naughty girl haah—” as his finger nudges into your hole, you mewl and your mouth hangs open, thick finger already stretching you out nicely and he smiles, watching you amused while as your expression melts into rolled back eyes and thrown back head.

“yeah, you are,” geto mutters breathlessly under his breath, making haste to grab his phone with your photo on the screen to open the camera and presses record — something he loves documenting for a folder named ‘my eyes only ♡’ that’s full of you getting ruined.

“smile for the camera, pretty darlin’,” and your drunken state is captured right up to the moment suguru inserts another finger and he’s so glad he’s got it on camera — your whines, your faltering hips, your hooded eyes, your wet pussy — his cute baby smiling so brightly at the camera while you ride yourself into oblivion on geto’s abs, absolutely loving the attention.

because even if geto swears he loves putting you in your place, he loves seeing you in pleasure more, especially when it’s all just for him.

✶ NANAMI

“kento, can i try something?” you mumble, a little shy at the idea that popped up randomly in the outing with your friends earlier. you couldn’t wait to get home right after to try it out only to find that your boyfriend was still on his mission. a cold shower, your favourite show couldn’t distract you one bit, practically jumping up when he comes through the door at ten o’ clock.

nanami who never misses a night to read a few pages of his book, puts it down, a curious tilt of his head that’s got your heart full and pumping fast, both at the cute gesture and the thing you were about to suggest.

“in what way, baby?” he gives you his undivided attention, glasses pulled off his face and you suddenly don’t want to say anything until you remember the aching pulse of your cunt and you think that it would be worth it.

“uhm—” you stutter, taking his reading glasses from his hand and the book as well, setting them down on the bedside table. in a second you’re straddling him, being the victim of a knowing slight smirk and wandering hands on your waist.

“if you had this in mind, you should’ve just told me, dear,” nanami smiles at your flustered state, but is dumbfounded when you pull up the fabric of his nightshirt and move up just an inch from his hips to his torso, sighing softly to yourself when your pelvis meets the dips of his abs.

and before nanami can ask, you’re moving slowly, experimentally and it’s a little humbling when you’ve got this hot blonde guy across you staring at you with a raised eyebrow, but he eases it into it immediately, cooing at your unsatisfied cravings, no doubt getting hints from the message he got from you earlier, multiple messages of i miss you’s and what time are you coming home?’s

“need some help, darling?” you whisper a small yeah, letting him tug your underwear off one leg and then the other, not missing the way his eyes follow the wet spot on the fabric before tossing it to the side.

“if you wanted to grind on me, you could’ve just said so,” he says matter-of-factly, like it‘s just another day at work but nanami’s also been thinking of you the whole time, too, eyeing the way your nipples start to harden. he chuckles at the twitch he immediately feels in your cunt, teasing her a little but rubbing a thumb over your clit and a soft moan leaves your lips.

“’s embarrasin’,” you hum, lowering yourself against his body to hide and your elbows wrap around his head, soft blonde hair tickling your arms. but at that point it’s invitation for nanami to nudge the thin shirt up your body and effectively disrobing you before he latches his mouth onto your hardened buds, sending a choked whimper past your lips.

“k-kento, baby… ohh my god—” the feel of his tongue flicking against your nipples and sucking hard on them prompts your hips to hump faster, panting and moaning like a dog in heat while you start to soak his torso. nanami groans when he feels the wetness of your pretty pussy, unconsciously tensing his core.

“kento… f-fuck—!” he’s preoccupied with your tits, moving to the other one and repeats the process and your back arches in his hold, a pornographic whine going straight to his ears and right down to his cock.

“s’good for me, my love, doing so w-well…” nanami trembles when he feels your pussy contract and clamp around air, pulling away to look at your tear-filled face and knitted eyebrows and he feels a little guilty from being away the whole day.

“can you cum for me, hm?” nanami asks breathlessly, hands squeezing the fat of your breasts before they glide down to your ass, helping your tired hips. “cum for me, baby girl.”

you’re closer once those words leave his mouth and his lips capture yours in a harsh kiss, both groaning and moaning into each other’s mouths until you announce you’re cumming, hard. your hips move erratically, whining into nanami’s hair as your juices seep from your folds, leaving his torso dripping wet and soaking. but you’re so high from the orgasm that you squeak when his tip prod at your entrance.

it feels so good and soon you’re wiggling down to get his fat cock into you, pussy fluttering when his length stretches you out.

“’m gonna make it up to you, darling,” nanami grunts at the way your cunt feels around him, “been missin’ you so damn much today too.”

✶ TOJI

“baby, don’t think we should do this—” toji grunts when he feels you push him down onto your bed, headboard creaking just from how long you’ve had it. he would know, anyway, especially since toji had seen the bed in your room ever since he’s met your dad a few years ago when you were still in college. but now you’re bolder and older, clad in a short skirt with no panties and toji’s shirt.

because even when toji mumbled things like that in fear of your father finding out, you know he couldn’t resist you and your pussy.

“then how come you’re hard, toji-san?” he groans when you straddle his body that has a tight shirt on, the juices of your cunt leaking through. his hands immediately feel you up, palms going under the skirt and fondling your ass and he thinks that maybe he should let loose for once. toji isn’t sure when you had gotten so mesmerising, admiring the way you always helped your dad selflessly, contributing to his paperwork and bringing him coffee.

but until you’ve started dressing more provocatively around toji, he’s never noticed the way you grow into your features either, until one day you’re coming home after your second year of university in a tight pair of yoga pants, talking about joining some sports club to your dad while toji can’t take his eyes off of you.

it was so wrong of him, he knows, but when you’re confessing that night how you’ve recently been thinking about him, he loses all restraint he had, swallowing your cries of his name as he fucked you so good that night.

toji tsks, “dirty girl. grinding on your dad’s best friend like a whore. none of the boys at uni can fuck you good?”

you grin and shake your head, lifting your hips to pull the shirt off his body while he props himself up on his elbows to make it easier; the sheer size of shoulders and torso makes you lightheaded every time, toned in every area, albeit a little less years ago.

“y-yeah, toji-san, love it s’much…” your hips move on their own accord, eyes meeting his hooded ones as you drag your pussy up and down his middle, gasping when the hand that was caressing your ass lands a loud smack! that resonates throughout the room. you burn with shyness after, a pout making its way to your face before you bend down to hover an inch to his face.

“don’t wan’ dad to hear, toji…” you mumble, loving how you had so much effect over him by the way his chest heaves. It’s not often you see him, a normally cool-headed person, in this state, and toji’s equally enamoured by you as he smirks, tongue darting out to lick his lips.

“what if i want him to hear, pretty girl?”

you mewl, hips starting and halting every few times from the way toji stares at you. “what if i want your father to hear how my cock stretches your little pussy, hm? or how you’ll bring coffee to him with my cum leaking out your cunt?” his green eyes are unwavering, hand guiding you on his abs that flex and contract, making pleasurable contact with your needy clit.

“maybe then he’ll know what a little slut his sweet, sweet girl is,” toji voice mutters with a lilt and a rasp, drunk on the way your whimpers turn needier and sluttier, hips moving picking up their speed.

“wan’ you to ruin me, toji,” you drag out his name, the wetness of your cunt making obscene noises in the quietness of the room while your dad watches a football match downstairs, and you hope he doesn’t notice how his best friend and you have left the living room for too long.

“i’ll do that after you cum on me, angel,” toji grunts, rocking his body with you as your juices stain his skin, pleasantly surprised when you take one of his hands and stick his fingers in your mouth, sucking on it like how you usually would with his cock; the other swears he might just cum from that, and how you’re clenching around nothing, finally cumming hard with widened eyes and a slack jaw.

“cumming— cumming, cumming, toji…!” toji coos as you continue to ride out your high with cum dripping down your thighs and his body, a sly grin spreading across his face when he hears you say that they’ll be having another important football match after this and your dad wouldn’t miss it for the world.

you giggle as he places a gentle kiss to your lips, hands making quick work of his pants, “glad i get to have more time with my good girl, then.”

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lovifie · 2 months

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Simon Riley whose favourite hair was always yours.

The first time he touched your hair, you were both deployed. You were walking before him, your hair in a braid behind your head that was almost hypnotizing. You stick your head from behind a wall, and Simon pulls your braid the moment he hears gunshots to keep you away from the fire line. A whine escapes your lips that sounds almost like a kicked dog and you quickly look back to him. "Thank you, Lt." You mutter.

And in that moment, with your hair still in his hand, he knew he was in trouble.

Your hair doesn't glow in the dark, yet it always draws his attention. Like a lifesaver floating in an ocean. He quickly learns that he can't wait to touch it again, so he observes and waits for a chance to do so.

Like when you were rewriting a report on the mess hall, Price told you it was illegible and taking in consideration Price's handwriting you took it to heart. So there you were, writing again the pages with your best handwriting.

A lock of hair in the middle of your face had Simon almost sprinting to you to move it out of your face before you could it yourself. Of course he didn't say anything romantic, instead he said: "You are gonna go blind like that, and you are supposed to watch my back out there."

It wasn't romantic on its own, but his hand remained caressing the hair now behind your ear and when you looked up to meet his gaze, the both of you pulled away from each other as if you had been hit. "That line is dropping, start it again." He comments. "Yes, Lt."

On another occasion, you got late to practice, overslept. Obviously by your bed hair, not even time to brush it. Price quickly told you to fix it and Simon seriously considered if the insubordination would be worth it, because he would rip both his arms off if he could wake up everyday with that sight.

It was at that point that Simon realized he was doomed, because he had not been slowly pulled to you, he fell face first and being honest to himself, he was happy with it. He wouldn't admit it yet, it was easier to believe he only liked your hair.

And as time went on, it became more and more easy to find excuses to touch it.

Like when you got sick that one time, waking in the middle of the night to empty your stomach on the toilet. And it went on until the morning, when he found you sitting on the bathroom floor, too weak to walk back to your room.

Face wet with tears for not being able to stop throwing up, for being tired and for feeling useless. He quickly crouched down, paper towel in hand to clean your face. "Why are you here?" He softly asked, mask hiding his expression but his eyes gave away his emotions.

"I got sick." You mumbled, voice hoarse with the strain of the night.

"That I can tell, love." The nickname caught the both of you by surprise, but neither complained. "Let's get you to bed."

You nod, grabbing his hand to stand up, before another round of nausea hit forcing you to back down to throw up again. He quickly moved your hair out of the way grabbing it at the back of your head. "You are gonna get sick, Ghost. Leave me alone, I'm fine."

"Number one, I'm pretty sure your dinner from last night it's on my hand, so I believe we are past nicknames now." He says, being interrupted before being able to say the second thing.

"Don't touch my hair with puke on your hand!" You say grabbing his wrist, making him chuckle. You barely had energy to pull your head up and still tried to fight him.

"I would never, love. That's the other hand." He said looking as you wiped your mouth, breath getting knock out of him when you lock your gaze on his. "What is it?" You asked, confusing him. "Your name."

"Simon."

"Simon?"

"Simon Riley."

A beat of silence simmered on the bathroom for a second.

"That's a surprisingly sweet name, Simon."

And if the world had ended at that moment, Simon would have died a happy man.

But he didn't, instead he eased his way into your heart.

It wasn't hard, and soon enough Simon didn't need excuses to touch your hair. And touching your hair was the excuse to get you closer to him.

Like when he was dying to kiss your lips, but you wouldn't look up to him. Why wouldn't you look at him? Couldn't you tell it was killing him? So he fisted your hair, pulling back slightly; enough to make you look up but not enough to sting. And when his eyes met yours, he dived right into your lips. Moving his hands to cup your face instead of hair, needing to feel the warmth of your skin. The kiss pulling the air from his lung but still making him feel more alive than ever.

Or like when you finally had the time and intimacy to make love. And when he had you on his bed, knees apart and face buried on his pillow, he fisted your hair again, pulling your head back, because he needed to hear you moan his name while he filled you to the brim. Simon Riley was not a saint, but he would go through the hell his life has been again if it meant he got to experience this. Your cunt milking his dick, your smaller hand grabbing the wrist of his hand on your hip, your moans filling the room and when you looked back to him over your shoulder, his life got meaning and he kissed your lips.

Or like when you would cuddle, and he would do tiny braids on your hair he would forget to undo or tell you about and you would find out hours later when you would try to brush your hair and end up with massive knots. Walking to him ready to throw the brush at his head and you would find him hugging your pillow on his sleep, completely relax and content with himself.

Or like when years later, he brushed the hair sticking to your forehead by the sweat while you pushed his daughter to life. If he could take the pain away he would, but he knew you were the strongest woman in this world and could do it. He also knew you needed his comfort, so he moved his hand from your hair to grab your hand even if you crushed every bone inside.

Your hair was always his favourite, until your daughter was born. Because she had Simon's eyes, but she had your hair. And your hair was beautiful, but his little girl's hair was the proof of the love between Simon and you.

Simon Riley loved your hair, but he loved you more.

Masterlist

Hii🩷

Accept this as an apology for the pain from Inmortal!Simon, hope that you guys like it ♥️♥️

Also I barely proof read it, so if there are any misspelled words, no there isn't ♥️🫡

If there is anything that you would like me to write my inbox is always open for request and asks ♥️

P-Taglist: @whos-fran @thevoidwriting @sklt987659 @kayden666 @dumb12bvtch1212 @thatonepupkai @glocuseguardian3rd @Nothankyew @darkangel4121 @risingofjupiter

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#call of duty #ghost #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod x reader #cod #ghost cod #simon riley imagine #cod smut #ghost smut #call of duty x reader #cod modern warfare #simon imagine #ghost imagine #simon ghost imagine

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kaciidubs · 3 months

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Confiscated

❣ Summary: He was going a little too crazy on the new Fans app, and you would swiftly reign that energy back in. ❣ ❣ Word Count: 791 ❣ Warnings: Slice of life, fluff, humor, sexual innuendos, implied smut, mention of Bubble and Fans messages, Chris is a flirt and menace to stays, Reader teaches him the 'fuck around and find out' clause ❣ ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣ ❣ Additional Tags: Chan is referred to as Chris, Christopher Bahng, Bahng, and Baby, Reader is referred to as Baby, this was a wild time for stayville, lightly edited ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist

Tap tap tap. Send. Switch. Tap tap tap tap. Send.

He was having too much fun with making stays go wild - something about making them have the same reaction as he did, simply pushing him to continue on with his extravagant behavior.

From Bubble to the new - and arguably buggy - Fans app, he was giggling up a storm in his bed as he watched various reactions begin to pour in from his not-so-subtle flirtatious comments and innuendos.

However, what he failed to remember was one stay was considerably close by, and her reaction wasn’t contained behind the screen of his phone.

“Christopher Bahng!”

His heart nearly jumped out of his chest as he narrowly avoided dropping his phone on his face, eyes shooting to the slightly cracked door of the bedroom.

The sound of footsteps swiftly followed suit before the door swung open to reveal your flustered, astonishingly enraged face as you held your phone up.

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

“Um…” He squinted, unsure what he was supposed to garner from the black screen, “Talking to stay?”

“Oh, I know you’re talking to stay, mister ‘you know what’s sweeter than Dango Pudding’!”

The same heart that almost jumped out of his chest now fell to his ass - he could feel the heat of blush beginning to take over his face and ears.

“You still have my bubble?!”

You scoffed incredulously, “I- That- This isn’t about me! This is about you! You and your three addresses!”

His hands flew to his face, covering his eyes with an embarrassed groan, “No, no, no, please!”

“Nuh uh, it’s too late for begging, Bahng. Now, what’s this about some,” you paused, and he could hear the barely held back giggle threatening to break through your angered facade, “‘think you can handle it?’, huh? Or, ‘replying won’t be the only thing’, eh?”

Chris let out a shocked gasp as he scrambled to sit up, “You got Fans?! Baby, really?!”

“Baby? So I’m just ‘baby’? Not your-” A small snort escaped you, trying your best to keep a straight face, “-precious little Dango Pudding cup? Is that why you decided to stay on Bubble after wreaking havoc?”

“This can’t be happening - this cannot be happening right now.” Falling back onto the mattress, he stared up at the ceiling as he contemplated the pros and cons of simply disappearing off the face of the earth.

The bed dipped at the presence of new weight, hooking your leg over his hips to delightfully settle on his lap with ease.

“I’m confiscating your phone.” You hummed gleefully, leaning over him to grab the device currently abandoned beside his head.

“You’re what?” Angling his head, he caught your eyes with a pout, “You can’t do that!”

“Baby, you’re being extremely horny on main - trust me, I’m doing everyone a favor. Besides, aren’t you allegedly ‘cleaning your room’?” Looking around the bedroom pointedly, there was barely a hint of anything out of place, “Doesn’t look too dirty in here, but I’m sure we can make a mess to clean up.”

Your words had him choking on air, gasping and spluttering for words while a warm blush settled over him like a blanket.

“I- What- That’s- And you’re saying I’m the horny one?!”

Gasping in mock shock, you pressed your finger into his bare chest, “I’m like this because of you! Do you know how hard it is to try and watch a movie while your significant other is boldly sharing double entendres? How he’d do more than reply to his ‘favorite snack’?” Slowly trailing your index down the valley of his pecs, your tone softened as you tilted your head to the side, “Saying he’s not a flirt, then lamenting on how he needs them…” Honey dripped from your words as your eyes took on a sultry gaze, “Goading about whether or not they could handle it.”

The path of your finger stopped just above his navel, rising and falling with each bated breath he took - the air thick with lust and allure.

“Do you think I can handle it, baby?”

A chill ran down his spine, goosebumps rising along his skin as he blinked slowly, completely and utterly swept up in you.

He swallowed thickly, somehow managing to find his voice, “Can you?”

A smirk curled your lips, fire dancing behind your irises, “Guess there’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?”

Phones discarded on the nightstand, it wasn’t long until the bedroom truly had to be cleaned - and with a fresh pair of sheets and a clean pair of clothes, he made a quick excuse for accidentally ghosting on Bubble; the true reason remaining in the form of hickeys on his skin and scratches on his back.

✧. ┊Tagged lovelies: @having-an-internal-crisis-rn, @midnightfrog625, @anyhow-everything, @bangchanbabygirlx, @sweetracha, @j-onedrabbles, @nightimescapes, @caitlyn98s, @ch4nn13luv, @ihrtlix, @sometimesleeknows, @jeonjungkookenthusiast1997, @maximumkillshot, @y-ur--i, @acker-night, @dreamescapeswriting, @specialstay, @broken-glowsticks, @s00buwu, @junglyric, @tinyelfperson, @jj-stay, @katsukis1wife, @inlovewithmusician, @keen-li, @armystay89, @main-character0, @vampcharxter, @ddyskz, @prettymiye0n, @bbgnyx, @ivyisnotokay, @bahng-chrizz, @milknhoneyracha, @hann1bee, @palindrome969, @newhope8, @softkissfelix, @luvyev, @luminouskalopsia, @kpopsstuffs, @luvyev

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#skz smut #stray kids smut #bang chan smut #bangchan smut #bang chan x reader #bangchan x reader #skz x reader #stray kids x reader

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wordstome · 5 months

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COD Men as Dream Daddy DILFs

Call of Duty single dads x gn!single parent reader

⤐Characters: 141 + König + Horangi + Keegan

⤐Premise: You just moved into a neighborhood with a high population of retired military personnel.

*glances at my 3-4 wips* let's talk about some dilfs, shall we? ...Don't look at me. I had a vision. (No relation to the actual characters from Dream Daddy, just a similar premise) Also a disclaimer: I'm writing these dads mostly in their late 30s to 40s, but don't think about their ages and the ages of their kids too much. This is all vibes. And sorry ahead of time if I gave one of the kids the same name as you 💀 Feel free to imagine the kid has a different name because the names really don't matter

p.s. I wanted to write more characters but I had to reel myself in. I could be persuaded to write a part 2 with Vaqueros, Nikolai, Valeria, Nikto, and other Ghosts tbh

Warning: this shit is LENGTHY. Strap yourself in.

Price: A post about DILFs and you expect me not to start with Captain John Price? Price is the lynchpin of this cul de sac. He's the one inviting everyone over to the barbecue, tries to get the dads to get along, and gives everyone advice. He has the quintessential dad energy. He 100% slaps his knees and says "well!" when he gets up. Price also has major girl dad energy. He's got three adorable little ladies, aged 3 (Clara), 9 (Brianna), and 11 (Alice). Yes, he did name his daughters in ABC order, I can see him doing that. Oh, he dotes on his girls, and they love their dad endlessly. He's the model father: recitals, sports, parent teacher conferences, you name it, he's there.

That's how the two of you meet: he comes up to you at one of the aforementioned events and gives you a firm handshake and apologizes profusely for not coming around to introduce himself earlier. It's not like him not to at least swing by, and he hopes you can forgive him the discourtesy. He hands you his number and says anything you need, just give him a call, or maybe swing by for a beer sometime. He gives you a wink that makes your knees weak, a wink that says he definitely noticed you checking out his muscled arms and broad shoulders. Maybe you will swing by for that beer sometime—and maybe get a little more than just a drink.

Ghost: I could see Simon having a one night stand kid. He certainly never saw himself starting a family after he lost his last one, but he was stressed and probably piss drunk as well. Years and years later, he's back from deployment and finds a social worker with a boy on his doorstep, and the rest is history. I love the idea of Simon with a moody 16 year old, but I actually see Simon and his son having the same dynamic as Mike and Abby Schmidt from the FNAF movie. Since Simon wasn't around for Caden's early childhood, they have a relationship that's undeniably father and son, but leaning towards casual and sibling-like. Simon's figuring his shit out, dealing with his PTSD and the various lasting health issues his time in special forces has left him with, and Caden's a quiet, sensitive 10 year old boy who thinks the world of his dad.

You meet Simon at the local bar. His Ghost days are long behind him, but the balaclava's a hard habit to kick. Besides, he doesn't need people staring at his scars. He's usually there with the 141, but today he's alone, and looks like he could use some company. You sit up at the bar close to him and order a drink, but you don't disturb him, and he visibly relaxes when he realizes you're not going to try to make small talk. It becomes a routine, the two of you: always sharing a quiet drink together at the bar, and then both of you wordlessly go home to your kids. You have a sort of silent conversation every time: Good to see you again. Yeah, you too. Neither of you actually speak a word to the other until Price introduces you to him at a gathering, and you finally hear his voice. "We've met before," he says, with a glint in his eye that suggests perhaps he'd like to be more than just a silent drinking buddy. That's fine with you: you're dying to see what's under the mask and dark hoodie.

Soap: JOCK ALERT. Johnny's basically Craig from Dream Daddy: total dreamboat who goes on runs around the neighborhood and gets all the appreciative looks from the local moms. He thrives on the attention in a way that definitely makes the 141 roll their eyes. He's got an older little girl named Elodie, and a lil baby boy Thomas that he takes everywhere with him. Obviously he's just being a responsible parent taking care of an infant, but secretly, Thomas is a great conversation starter with aforementioned local moms.

Conversely however, it's Johnny who makes the move on you first. Maybe in the grocery store, maybe at one of Price's get-togethers. Sidles up to you and introduces himself with a look in his eye that means trouble. Only the good kind of trouble, of course. If you reciprocate and he finds out you're single, you're not getting rid of him. But why would you want to, anyway? He's endlessly charming, attentive, and good with his hands. When he's fixing a leaky tap for you, of course—what did you think I meant?

Gaz: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick is a fucking heartthrob. I'm saying it right here, right now. He's a walks in with flowers, makes you dinner kind of partner. Also househusband vibes, because, surprise: Kyle is still married. This isn't a Joseph (Dream Daddy) situation, though: he and his wife, Emily, have known each other for a long time, a very high school sweethearts situation. Over the years, though, they drifted apart with Kyle in the military, and Emily eventually realized she's not actually into men. They're still married for coparenting purposes: they've got an older teenage girl named Violet, and a younger boy named Elliott. (Yes, I'm naming him after Elliot Knight, sue me.)

Honestly, I think it would be HILARIOUS if you met Kyle on a dating app and realized he's your next-door neighbor. But however you guys meet, Kyle is an old-school courter kind of guy. He is taking you on dinner dates, listening to you rant about your day, and is on your doorstep in a heartbeat when you call him in a panic because your kid's running a 105 fever (41 in Celsius) and you need a ride to the emergency room. (Not that the other dads wouldn't do the same, but I'm trying to convey "most reliable man in the world" vibes here.)

König: Y'all...you don't know how much fucken time I've spent thinking about this man as a dad. He's in the same boat as Ghost where he never saw himself living long enough to start a family, but here he is with the most precious little girl you've ever laid eyes on. Ava's got her father's curly hair and big green eyes, and she has her dad wrapped around her pinky finger. For König, Ava is living proof that he's capable of being more than just a tool for violence.

You meet König through Ava, of course. Your kids are the closest of friends, and the two of them are constantly going over to each other's houses. You're obviously delighted that your kid is making new friends and fitting in so well, but you'd be lying if your heart didn't skip a beat whenever you open your door to see Ava's six foot ten dad standing there with soft eyes and a sheepish smile. I have to stop here, because I've already written an extra paragraph for this man that I've cut out and pasted for safekeeping in my notes app, and if encouraged I will write more. (Please encourage me.)

Horangi: I know we already had a sort of Robert (Dream Daddy) figure with Ghost, but I think Horangi is a dad whose kid is an adult, much like Robert and Val. I also think that out of all the dads, Horangi is likely the one who's still doing some level of military work. Either that, or he has a very demanding job that takes up a lot of his time. He's ashamed of the way he let his gambling affect his family in the past, and is making up for it by being responsible and keeping his finances in order.

You don't meet him until you've lived in the neighborhood for quite a while, but he pops up at a gathering, talking quietly with König in a corner. You'd thought you had met every neighbor in the cul de sac, so you're intrigued by the newcomer. Someone, probably Price, tells you what Hong-jin's deal is, and ever since that you just can't keep your eyes off of him. You can't quite work up the nerve to talk to him, so you occupy yourself talking with the other parents. Some time later, you're at the food table grazing on the snacks when you look up and make eye contact with him. There's something intense in his gaze that makes you freeze, like a deer in headlights. He's definitely checking you out, you think. Your chest erupts into nervous butterflies when he starts walking towards you.

Keegan: Keegan is an adoptive father! I love his dynamic with the Walker boys, so I can see him being the kind of guy who adopts an older teenager so they have a home and a family instead of aging out of the system. Jason and Cecelia are high school age siblings who would have been separated otherwise, and consider Keegan their dad in every way that's important.

I think you and Keegan are definitely rivals in some way. Maybe it's a PTO thing, maybe he gets a little too boisterous at your kids' sports game. Whatever it is, you can't stand the man, but your annoyance whenever he's around only seems to amuse him. You have no problem saying to his face exactly what you think about him, but unfortunately, Keegan can see right through you. And hey, Cecelia could use some experience as a babysitter, so you won't have to worry about spending the night over at his place, will you?

As always, I wanna hear peoples' thoughts and feedback! If you want to hear more about these dads, drop me an ask <3

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satoruluvies · 22 days

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jjk men when you're having a grumpy morning

includes: gojo, geto, nanami, choso, toji and sukuna

requested!

another headcanon coming your way ;)

gojo: this mf is always energetic and goofy save for some rare moments you were lucky enough to witness. you blame his sweet tooth for it honestly because what do you mean he still has the energy to tease you right when he wakes up? right when you wake up. you don't do mornings but you do gojo satoru so with a peck and some coddling you let out a small smile. on particularly extra grumpy mornings though, you find that the sweets he feeds you help a ton.

geto: how does this man have this much control over you? simple. because it's suguru. just a little gaze filled with admiration for you and only you make you fold. no, you are not one to be flattered so easily but come on. he chuckles at the small frown on your lips and somehow that sound turns your frown upside down. plus the warm hugs and soft voice is enough to make you win against even the impending doom of waking up.

nanami: we all know nanami is a man of actions and actions he does well. he'd get up before you, coffee already made and breakfast in process. he isn't fond of mornings either but he's fond of you. he loves seeing your messy hair and half lidded eyes with drool on your face come out of the bedroom lured out by the smell of delicious pancakes on the stove he so lovingly makes.

choso: he dislikes mornings, hates it even. so put your and his grumpy ass together you have two grumpy people having to deal with the early rays of the morning sun. you'd both be sleeping in, holding onto the last minutes you'd get to spend in bed until you begrudgingly try to get up only to be pulled back into bed by him. he'd huff and pull you closer into his chest, humming contently at no sign of protest. this is worth being late over, right?

toji: he's surprisingly an early riser. he used to train during early mornings so his body accustomed to it is what he told you. lately though, he doesn't train anymore, not as hard at least, so instead of hiking mountains and punching sacks, toji makes breakfast (cereal). he places the bowl in front of your zoned out self and ruffles your hair snapping you out of your daze. upon seeing your scowl he kisses you and when you shove him away he smirks. he watches you grumble as you eat the cereal, hoping you know that he remembered to put the cereal first and then milk, just how you like it.

sukuna: on mornings like this you wish sukuna could care a little more. you'd be dragging your feet to the kitchen to whip up something for the both of you only to be taken aback by the delicious looking breakfast for two at the table. sukuna wouldn't tell you anything about it only urging you to dine with him. you weren't stupid, the only one capable of this who also know sukuna would be uraume. poor uraume. but hey in his defense, kings don't cook, they give orders and sukuna was considerate enough to order someone to at least help with your h-anger. you can't be hungry and angry at the same time after all right? he does care a lot, in his own ways of course.

cereal first and THEN milk fight me grr

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cupid-styles · 4 months

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late night talking

in which harry’s quiet, shy, and always sends y/n tips during her cam streams. or: nerdrry x cam girl y/n

word count: 5.9k (wanted to get this out before christmas so it’s a bit on the shorter side than my other longer fics!!)

content warnings: sexual content (y/n is a cam girl soooooo voyeurism/exhibitionism is implied), smut (mutual masturbation, dirty talk/sexting, daddy kink, slight dom/sub dynamics)

please lmk if you’d want a part two for these cuties !

part two here

. . .

On a day-to-day, this is how Y/N typically spends her time:

She wakes up and throws herself in the shower with her eyes half shut. She eats some type of sustenance for breakfast, whether it be a granola bar or a warranted effort at some overnight chia seed concoction, and then heads to her main job, where her boss, Sam, has half her experience and somehow gets paid double her salary.

She does whatever's asked of her all day because she went to school for graphic design and she quite likes it, but only when Sam isn't up her ass, asking her to do tasks he's too lazy to do. At 5 pm on the dot, Sam is usually trying to get her to stay late but she's already on her way out the door. When she gets home, she forces down another quick meal — sometimes it's one of those frozen, premade things, other times she has the energy to make a veggie pasta or stir fry — pulls on a lingerie set, and sits on her cam site, where she strips and touches herself for money from strangers.

Her cam streams are her favorite part of her day.

She guesses she's some type of exhibitionist if she enjoys getting off in front of people she doesn't know, but it's a win-win considering they're voyeurs, too. Plus, when you put monetary tips on top of it — well, Y/N can't really complain.

She hides her face because her worst nightmare is her family finding out (that just sounds like a nightmare of a conversation to have with her parents), but she does have a few regular customers that come to most, if not all of her streams, are consistent tippers, and are always sweet to her. They ask about how she's doing and are polite in their requests, typically following them up with some sort of financial compensation so she has a reason to go through with it. It's not a bad deal at all — she enjoys her little community and the whole double life thing isn't the worst thing in the world.

Y/N's been doing this for about a year, so she's gotten pretty familiar with the types of customers that come through her stream, but there's one in particular — fleetwoodlondon — that somehow still has her stumped.

The thing is, this fleetwoodlondon person is far too nice. That's what confuses her the most. He (and she assumes it's a guy, because she doubts any woman would do this type of thing, but maybe she's just stereotyping) sends her tips for nothing in exchange, always tacking a bit more on when she's mentioned that she's had a rough day or she hasn't had a chance to eat dinner yet. She's messaged him privately, too, thanking him for his generosity and asking if he wants anything special in return, but he always says the same thing: No, that's alright. Thank you for the offer. Have a good night. x

There's a part of her that feels like it's bazaar, but there's a larger portion that's fascinated by him. She wants to know why he does what he does, why he feels that she's special enough to even do this in the first place.

It's a shame he's rarely willing to exchange more than 10 words with her.

. . .

Harry's days usually go like this:

Wake up, do some yoga or meditation, and log onto work. He works from home as a computer engineer for some large company that, if he's being honest, he doesn't really know a ton about, but they pay him extremely well and let him stay home all day, so it evens out. He's a diligent, hard worker on a small team of other shy, quiet people, so meetings are few and far between. On the occasion where he does have to present something a larger group, he'll stumble and stutter his way through a PowerPoint slideshow and take a puff of his asthma inhaler the second he's done.

When work is over, he hangs out with his cat, Beatrice, cooks them a yummy, healthy dinner, and watches TV with her. At the top of the 7 pm hour, he shuffles Beatrice off to his bedroom because he doesn't want her to see how her dad spends his free time: Watching a girl he doesn't know on a dodgy cam site, getting his rocks off, and sending her a large tip at the end of the night.

The first time he stumbled across her stream, he felt weird about it. It was semi-dystopian to watch someone in this way, knowing she was doing it live somewhere in the world. But she seemed to enjoy it and she had a decent crowd of subscribers and tippers in the chat, so it made him feel better when he eventually gave into his own temptation, dipping his fingers beneath the waistband of his sweats and fisting his cock the way she'd been encouraging her viewers to do. And the thing is, he never planned to attend another show — he assumed he'd just go on his merry way and that was the end of it.

But he couldn't stop thinking about her.

The softness of her skin, the lacy set that covered her most intimate parts, the giggles and teasing comments that fell from her plushy lips. He couldn't see any other parts of her face, but she had a pretty voice, and he just knew she was the most beautiful girl he'd ever see.

And, in complete honesty, he really loved when she shared small details about her life. It wasn't in a creepy way — he saw the way commenters replied in her chat and it made his stomach turn — but it was just... nice to get a peek into her life outside of this site, where Harry had to click out of porn pop-ups and erectile dysfunction ads every 5 minutes.

Hearing that she saw a cute dog on her way home from work or she got a free cookie with her lunch today was what reminded him that she was just another human, doing her best, the same way he was. And maybe it was true that he could never get her to pay attention to him in real life, but at least on this platform, he stood a chance.

Harry had more money than he knew what to do with. He lived a comfortable life, he didn't have a partner or kids, and his savings account was plentiful. If he sent moan-a-lisa (the first time he read her username, he did smirk at the playful pun) a decent tip at the end of the night, he wouldn't feel bad about it. His money could be going to worse places.

It was only when she started to message him privately that he started to panic.

About once a week, she would thank him profusely and ask if he wanted something in return — a custom video, pictures, even a phone call. But when he thought about it, he was just too anxious and scared — he felt like maybe he portrayed a slightly cool persona online, but if that wall got broken down, she'd see that he was lame. A computer nerd that stayed home all day and spent his money on a girl he'd never know in real life.

At least at a distance, she might at least think he's nice.

. . .

"Alright cuties, thank you so much for joining me tonight!"

Y/N watches as the chat floods with a variety of responses to her ending the stream: Some were kind (thank you for spending ur time w us!!!! have a good night!), others were sad and slightly parasocial (nooooo :( I'll miss u so much baby don't go), while the slight minority were just plain mean (stupid bitch u didn't even do anal 2nite).

"I'll be back tomorrow at the same time, 7 pm eastern standard," she says with a toothy grin. She waves them a goodbye, clicks the "end live" button, and lets out a sigh of relief when her camera finally shuts off. Her show ended up being nearly four hours long tonight and she could feel a warm bubble bath calling her name.

As she begins her post-streaming routine of grabbing a snack, starting her bath, and peeling the lingerie set off her body, she hears her phone go off. Almost like clockwork.

She grabs it and glances down at the notification. Unsurprised, her eyes scan over the message: fleetwoodlondon sent you $300!

Rolling her lips into her mouth, she clicks on it and opens the app. Immediately, she thumbs over to their private conversation, where she types out a message.

moan-a-lisa: please tell me you've reconsidered and are willing to let me doing something in return for all these tips.

As she's tossing her peach-toned lace set in the hamper, her phone dings again. She already knows his response before she even reads it.

fleetwoodlondon: Nope. Have a good night. x

She smiles playfully at his reply and shakes her head, eyes still glued to her screen as she walks to her bathroom. She shuts the door, lights her favorite candle, and climbs into the porcelain tub, breathing out a deep sigh as the warm water and bubbles begin to soak her sore joints and muscles.

moan-a-lisa: please???? im in the bath rn and could give u a fun little peek:)

With the exception of customers that pay for phone sex or custom videos, Y/N never produces off-the-cuff content. But the mysterious air of this fleetwoodlondon user is enough to make her break some of her own rules.

She's surprised when she receives a near-immediate reply — she'd mentally prepared herself to wait 10 or so minutes before he typed back, like he usually does.

fleetwoodlondon: Cute.

fleetwoodlondon: I just don't want you to feel pressured to send me anything. I don't tip you for that reason.

With a confused expression, she sits up to shut the water off. She nibbles on her bottom lip as she lowers back into the water, contemplating the weight of his words. In the end, she decides to go with her gut.

moan-a-lisa: why do you tip me then?

She's not entirely shocked when she doesn't receive an instant response to her question. She sighs, dipping her head back into the warm water. It's annoying, the way this person she doesn't even know is sticking around in her brain. She's not big on dating or seeing people romantically, so it's pretty unusual for her to be so focused on someone.

She tosses her phone onto the plushy bath mat on the floor and decides to enjoy the comfort of her bath instead of worrying over it. She takes care to wash her body and face, and when she gets out she puts her favorite skincare products on before brushing her hair out. When she finally looks at her phone an hour later, she sees a notification from the user himself.

fleetwoodlondon: I just think you deserve it.

fleetwoodlondon: But again, I never want you to feel pressured into sending me something just because of the money..

She shakes her head as she walks back to her bedroom. Pulling a pair of comfortable sweats on, she's still confused by the angle he's playing at. And while most guys would maybe weird her out, she wonders if she's being naive by feeling some sort of kinship with this person.

As she's contemplating her response in the darkness of her bedroom, her phone buzzes again in her hand.

fleetwoodlondon: I just like hearing about you. Knowing that there's just another regular human behind the screen, I guess. I promise I'm not trying to be weird because I know you probably get a ton of odd messages from people all day.. but I suppose maybe I'm just sort of lonely? And I enjoy the consistency of knowing I can watch your stream every night.

fleetwoodlondon: I'm so sorry if that crosses a line. Reading that back, it's probably creepy.

She has to bite her lip to hold back the smile that curls onto her mouth from his words. It's not creepy, not coming from him, anyway. He seems... innocent, somehow, despite being a frequent viewer of her streams. And, in all honesty, she gets it — she's lonely, too. She doesn't have many people in her life besides her family and the people she works with. She understands why her viewers come to her daily streams because she shows up for the exact same reason.

moan-a-lisa: it's not weird. i get it

moan-a-lisa: but if you're not interested in receiving content from me in exchange for ur tips, can we do something else then?

fleetwoodlondon: What?

moan-a-lisa: tell me about your days too

fleetwoodlondon: Really?

moan-a-lisa: yeah. i think im lonely in the same way u are. it could be nice.

fleetwoodlondon: Okay. I can do that.

moan-a-lisa: good:)

. . .

Harry doesn't entirely realize what he's signed up for when she starts messaging him the next day.

In theory, he assumed that maybe she was just saying that stuff to be nice. He knows she has a habit of trying to relate to her viewers and make them feel special. It was kind of her, but he chalks it up to that — that is, until he receives a private message from her at 11 a.m. the following morning. He's never spoken to her during the day, only during or after her streams in the evening. His eyes nearly bulge out of his skull when he reads her username on his phone — he's working on a big project with a few coworkers and they're on a meeting together (cameras off, of course), and he immediately chokes on his spit, excusing himself and turning his mic off.

moan-a-lisa: how's ur day going so far?

He swallows nervously. What is he supposed to say? Isn't there some cardinal rule about not revealing private information to strangers on the internet? (Though he thinks maybe that went down the drain awhile ago, considering how they ended up in contact.) He nibbles on his bottom lip as he quickly types out a response, trying his best not to overthink it. She's just being nice, he reminds himself, she probably thinks you're some desperate loser who needs companionship.

fleetwoodlondon: It's been alright, just working. Nothing too exciting. How about you?

He attempts to redirect his focus back to the coworker that's currently asking him a question about the project when his phone instantly lights back up.

moan-a-lisa: boring:( im working too except i kind of hate my boss. he's a douche

moan-a-lisa: what do u do for work?

"Harry?"

He stutters, clicking the button to turn his mic back on, "Yeah, that sounds good, Mike," he rushes out nervously, "I trust you, you know what you're doing."

"Alright, we'll move forward with that, then."

"Great. I actually need to take a break for a bit, need to feed my cat," Harry says quickly. "Let's reconnect on this tomorrow."

His coworkers agree and the meeting ends, allowing him to focus all his brainpower on replying to her. Is it messed up that he ended a working session for this? Yes, potentially, and he feels guilty for it, too.

fleetwoodlondon: I'm a computer engineer. And I'm sorry to hear that you hate your boss... do you have another job outside of streaming?

moan-a-lisa: yea I do graphic design during the day

moan-a-lisa: computer engineering??? so in other words ur smart as fuck and that's how u afford to pay me ridiculous tips so often?

He snorts to himself. He's always felt his job title sounds more impressive than it actually is. In reality, tech stuff is all he's ever been good at, so it was a natural move to major in computer science in school. He never thought he was particularly intelligent, even if his professors and peers insisted that he was. To this day, he feels like he's just a computer nerd that got lucky.

fleetwoodlondon: I mean, I wouldn't say I'm 'smart as fuck' but I do have more money than I know what to do with. So yeah, I guess that would explain the tips.

moan-a-lisa: i feel like ur being wildly humble rn

fleetwoodlondon: Definitely not. I just happened to find the niche I'm good at.

fleetwoodlondon: Do you like graphic design?

moan-a-lisa: yeah but i think i would like it way more if i could do freelance work or go to another company. like i said my boss sucks, he's kind of a misogynist and has way less experience than me.. not saying i should have his job BUT

fleetwoodlondon: ...But you should have his job.

Harry's stomach tightens at the description of her boss. Thankfully, he's never been on the receiving end of such treatment, but he has friends that have — one of college peers was even told by a higher-up that she'd never get a managerial role at the company because of her sex. It makes him sick to think about, but especially when he imagines her being in that position. He doesn't know why he feels so protective over her (he knows she doesn't need that from a stranger online), but he does, and it's weird.

She doesn't reply after that and Harry forces himself to be okay with it. Now that he knows she has a day job, he reminds himself that she's busy and doesn't spend all of her time replying to private messages on her cam site. It's a bit of a struggle to focus on his job, but it's a welcomed distraction so he doesn't have to think about what she's doing or why she hasn't responded.

He ends up working late to make up for the meeting he cut short and the time he took to reply to her messages. But when he peers over the screen of his laptop and sees the digital clock in his living room tick towards 7 pm, it's almost as if it's some sort of Pavlovian response, the way he grows antsy and begins to thicken up in his pants. He takes his time logging off from work and heats up a leftover stir fry from the night prior, swallowing hot mouthfuls so he's ready in time for her show.

Just as he's done eating and he's bringing up a private tab on his phone, he gets a notification from their prior conversation. His stomach pings with anxiety, his eyebrows raising in surprise when he reads the words: will you be watching tn?

He thinks it's a stupid question — of course he'll be watching, but maybe she doesn't know she's part of his evening routine. He swallows, fingers trembling as he presses on the notification and quickly types back. Maybe he's over exhausted from staring at his computer screen all day, but the flirtatious response that comes from his end is even a surprise to him. Wouldn't miss it for the world, he sends back.

She responds with a few angel emojis, his heart doing a flip as he reads the words she sent: good. i like knowing ur in the audience:) message me after and let me know what u thought.

When her stream starts, he wants to bite his fist. She's wearing a beautiful navy blue set that serves as a gorgeous contrast to her smooth skin. The bralette and underwear are intricate with sweet lace detailings, providing peeks of her nipples and the small patch of pubic hair that decorates her mound.

"Hi everyone," she greets with a grin. Despite the usual angle that only reveals a bit of her mouth and chin, he somehow feels like he knows more of her now. Selfishly, he realizes that he hopes she doesn't talk to other viewers the way they've chatted. "How are we doing tonight?"

There's a lull in conversation and he knows it's because she's reading through the immediate uptick of responses in the chat. He recognizes a few of the usernames who are also regular viewers, while others likely found her on the homepage.

"I'm good, thanks for asking!" she replies, rolling her plush lips into her mouth, "I didn't have too bad of a day, actually. Had some nice entertainment to get me through work."

Harry's heart stalls slightly. She couldn't be talking about him, could she? It's probably wishful thinking, assuming that she would think that highly of their short conversation.

"You guys are so nosy," she giggles, the sound of it making him smile, "Since when do you care so much about my personal life? Thought you just wanted to watch me cum."

As if that serves as some sort of reminder for her viewers, tips begin to flow in, along with demands in the chat. He watches her tug her bottom lip between her teeth as his eyes scan the messages too, stomach churning at what people ask of her. He wonders if it bothers her, but then again, he assumes she must have thick skin to do this. She doesn't need someone like Harry to defend her against horny strangers online.

"You're all silly," she murmurs as she rises onto her knees. Her thumbs find the thin fabric that hits at her hips, pulling the straps teasingly before letting them snap back against her skin. "Hold on, I have to do something."

For a moment, she cuts away from the screen, only leaving her legs in the view. Harry swallows as he lets himself examine her soft skin, fingers twitching at his sides as he imagines touching her — maybe even pressing kisses and dark marks into the surface of her thighs, too.

His eyes flicker up to a notification at the top of his screen and it reminds him to turn his phone on do not disturb. However, instead of finding an email from work or a text from a friend, it's her. She's messaging him while she streams, knowing he's watching. His stomach tightens almost instantly.

moan-a-lisa: are u watching?

fleetwoodlondon: Of course I am.

He watches as her lips curl into a small smile now that her body is back in frame. Her phone is in one hand while her other brushes up over her torso and chest and back down to her legs.

moan-a-lisa: what do you want me to do tonight?

He swallows harshly as she lowers her phone. She starts to reply to other messages in the chat, knowing it's important to engage with her viewers to keep them entertained.

"You guys know what my hard limits are, stop asking me to do that stuff," she says playfully, wiggling her hips slightly, "I promise, no amount of money will make me want to fist myself."

He snorts at that, momentarily forgetting that she's waiting on a response from him. Honestly, he doesn't know what's appropriate to ask of her — the last thing he wants is to make her uncomfortable.

fleetwoodlondon: Do whatever you want. You should get to call the shots for once.

On screen, she hums, though it seems like it's mainly to herself. As she plucks at the straps of her bralette, slowly lowering them down her arms to reveal the valley of her breasts, her tongue peeks out to lick over her lips.

"I really just want someone to dominate me tonight," she says, her tone dropping seductively, "I wanna be told what to do and how to do it. My brain's so fuzzy from being so horny all day, I can barely make a decision for myself."

Harry swallows harshly at her words. The chat instantly goes wild as tips quickly flow in, volunteering to be the ones to do it. She smirks, winding her arm around to unclip her bra, letting it fall to the floor.

"Sometimes I just think about you dominating me, you know that?" she murmurs, pursing her lips as her hands find her tits, gently squeezing at her nipples. "Today at work, it was all I could think about... made me so wet, I had a mess in my panties by the end of the day."

His eyes are bulging out of his head now — she couldn't possibly be talking directly to him, could she? It seemed silly and improbable, but also... they had spoken today while they both worked.

"Maybe someone from London, y'know? I've always had a soft spot for guys with British accents."

He almost comes in his pants on the spot.

At a surface level, Harry is kind and quiet. He's always been quite introverted, he prefers to be alone, and he thinks he could go days without seeing a single person, except for Beatrice. But somehow — and there's probably a psychological explanation for this, one that he's uninterested in finding out — he makes up for it in the bedroom. He doesn't know why, but when he's with someone intimately, he just becomes... dominant. He's aware that his tastes aren't vanilla, like many of his past sexual partners had assumed, as spanking, bondage, toys, edging, and overstimulation are all some of his favorite pastimes. And with the way she's teasing him right now, it's only pushing him further to the dominant threshold he typically keeps tucked away.

Pulling their conversation back up, he doesn't think much or read his message over before sending it.

fleetwoodlondon: If you wanted me to tell you how to touch your pretty little pussy, all you had to do is ask.

He sees the smirk that curls at her lips through the screen and he swallows, wishing he could taste them.

"Yeah? You wanna tell me what to do?" she asks breathily, wiggling a bit in her seat. His cock is already throbbing in his pants as he taps at the screen, eager to respond.

fleetwoodlondon: Spread your legs. Tease yourself.

It's not even 30 seconds before she's shifted onto her butt, knees to the sky as she opens her legs. Her underwear is still on, covering her modesty, but she uses gentle fingertips to trace over her mound and down to the crease of her thighs. He watches her shiver beneath her touch.

fleetwoodlondon: Move those pretty panties to the side. Let me see how wet you are for me.

"Fuck, 'm so wet for you," she moans, echoing the words from his message. She does as he requests, plucking the damp fabric from her center to reveal her glistening lips. Harry wants to verbally moan at how gorgeous she looks. "Can I touch myself, daddy? Please? Want it so bad— wanna be your good girl."

fleetwoodlondon: You are being good.

fleetwoodlondon: You can touch yourself, but only with your fingers.

She dives in almost instantly, fingertips ghosting over her clit as her head falls to the side, slightly overwhelmed by the pleasure after waiting all day. She trails them down to her hole, where she's leaking steadily, and smears her arousal up to her clit, giving it a soft smack. She whimpers from the quick sting.

"Do you see how wet I get for you?"

fleetwoodlondon: Open yourself up. Pretend it's my fingers instead of yours.

She moans as she pushes a single finger inside, arching deeply from the sensation. With her bottom lip wedged between her teeth, she gasps as she nestles a second in.

"Not big enough," she whines, grinding her hips down against her fingers, "Can't— they're too small, daddy, need yours instead."

fleetwoodlondon: I'm sure you do, but I'm not there. So be good and keep fucking yourself open with your pathetic little fingers. I want to watch you cum and lick it all up.

Harry can barely take it, watching her take her fingers knuckle-deep as she falls apart on screen from things he commanded her to do. He can see her thighs beginning to tense, her jaw slack as whimpers fall from her lips, and he wants nothing more than to finish with her. Quickly, he frees his cock from his sweats. So much pre-cum is leaking from the tip that he's almost embarrassed by it — he doesn't need any extra lubrication, so he wraps his fist around the head, bringing the substance down to the base of his length. He groans lowly and sets his phone up on the coffee table, leaning it against a box of tissues so he can use his other hand to pull at his sorely full balls.

"Fuck, daddy, you're so filthy," she moans, fitting a third finger in. She gasps from the stretch and it makes his eyes roll back as he pumps himself, trying to match the beat of her own thrusts. "Are you— y'gonna cum with me? Please, I want it, wanna lick up every last bit of it—"

"Jesus fuck," he mutters to himself, pausing momentarily to squeeze his base. She normally makes him finish fast, but it's never been this quick before. He has to give himself a break before he bursts all over himself.

"I'm gonna cum," she bleats, almost as if it's a promise, "Fuck, it's coming, I'm gonna cum for you, daddy— shit, it's all for you—"

He watches with wide eyes as her pussy pulses around the trio of fingers deep inside of her, a slew of curses falling from her lips as she falls apart. It's so beautiful, even if he's not privy to seeing her facial expressions. Her whines and whimpers are music to his ears, and finally getting to watch her reach her peak is all the permission he needs to reach his.

When he does a few moments later, all he can imagine is her hand wrapped around his cock, fisting it quickly while she mouths at the tip to catch the warm spurts of cum. He feels himself, heavy and twitching and tensing beneath his grasp, involuntarily whispering out similar sentiments to hers: "it's all yours, fuck, it's yours, it's yours."

His eyes flicker open to see her sucking on her fingers, a smirk on her lips as she gags around them. Her mouth is drooly and messy with spit and Harry wants to fall over.

"Thank you, daddy," she breathes out, "And thank you for watching, cuties. I appreciate all the sweet tips. I'll be back tomorrow at the same time, 7 pm, eastern standard time."

In the blink of an eye, the screen is blank, she's gone, and Harry has cold cum resting on his stomach.

. . .

If Y/N's being honest, she's not sure what got into her last night.

She can't stop thinking about him — fleetwoodlondon — and how he became the dominant of her dreams. They didn't exchange any messages after she ended the stream, and she wonders if that made things worse. But he's all she can think about at work today as she pretends to work on a project for a minor client that Sam passed off to her this morning.

With a nervous swallow, she pulls her phone from her pocket. She keeps hoping that he'll message her first, but she's not entirely surprised when the only notifications she has are from her work calendar. Sighing, she brings up their private conversation, biting her lip at the last dirty text he'd sent her.

moan-a-lisa: hi

moan-a-lisa: how's ur day going?

In an attempt to distract herself while she awaits his response, she redirects her focus to the project she’s working on. She can’t help glancing over at her phone every five seconds, wondering if maybe she took things too far last night and he doesn’t want to talk to her anymore. By the time an hour goes by and her stomach is growling with hunger, her spirits are crushed as she leaves her desk to head downstairs to the cafe for lunch.

She’s pouting over a panini and a blondie when her phone buzzes on the table. She thinks her mind is playing tricks on her when she sees his username, only to realize she actually had an unread message from him.

fleetwoodlondon: Boring, I’ve just been working all day. Was just thinking about you actually.

With raised eyebrows, Y/N’s curiosity is peaked. She assumes he’s referring to her the stream — to be fair, it had been incredibly hot for her, too, so she fully understands if that’s all he associates her with. (Even if she has to force herself to suppress any disappointment seeping from within.)

moan-a-lisa: yeah? what were u thinking about?

fleetwoodlondon: I picked up a book about graphic design and iconic advertising. It’s really interesting and I was thinking you might enjoy it.

fleetwoodlondon: Sorry. That’s probably the dorkiest message you’ve ever received on here.

Y/N doesn’t think she’s grinned this wide in weeks.

. . .

Y/N and Harry continue to text every day after that.

It’s weird. She’s never had this close of a relationship with a viewer before, and Harry has never found himself caring about someone he barely knows like this before. They don’t even know each other’s names and yet, they’ve been talking for a month, revealing tidbits of their lives that their closest loved ones don’t even know. In a sense, the consistent presence of the other on the phone is the most comforting thing either one has ever experienced.

Harry knows about her siblings, the time she broke her arm on a swing when she was five, and when she got so drunk in college she threw up in her friend’s lap. Y/N knows that he moved from London for graduate school, he has a cat named Beatrice that he adores (and feeds right before tuning into her stream every evening), and watches Titanic when he’s had a bad day.

So, he doesn’t really get why he’s so nervous to talk to her on the phone tonight.

It had started as a joke — they’d been messaging earlier today, making fun of the fact that they felt like teenagers the way they were glued to their phones to talk to each other. Y/N had brought up wanting to hear his voice so she could finally hear his accent. Harry noted that he didn’t even know her name. And so, they made plans to talk on the phone at 5:30 this evening.

He’s so anxious he feels like he might puke. As he watches the time slowly tick by, he grips his phone in his hand, waiting for it to start buzzing with an incoming call. He wonders if she feels nervous, too, or if this is no big deal for her. He feels silly for wondering if his infatuation has developed into a full blown crush, but he doesn’t think he can help it. He really, truly thinks he’s fallen for her just based off of chatting with her every day.

Beatrice feels the tension radiating off of Harry’s body so she wiggles herself into his lap, nuzzling her head against his thigh. He welcomes her comfort, giving her gentle pets at the clock finally ticks to 5:30. His phone begins to vibrate promptly.

He takes a long, deep breath.

And then he clicks ‘answer.’

And he hears the most beautiful voice he’s ever heard before.

part two

2K notes · View notes

shotoh · 1 year

Text

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.

#bnha x reader #bnha smut #bakugo smut #bakugou smut #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha fic #bakugou x y/n #bakugo x y/n #bakugou x you #bakugo x you #bakugou fic #mha smut #mha x reader #bakugou katsuki smut #bakugo katsuki smut

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darklordofthesimp · 9 months

Text

Anything VII (König x Reader)

The 7th instalment in the Anything-Verse

Main Masterlist

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - 7 - Part 8

Like the characters? Read their fics below!

Sunshine Masterlist || Saint Masterlist

Series Summary: A lack of information from the chain of command results in König mistaking you for an enemy sniper.

A/N: I’ve already got the next chapter mapped out hee hee

Category: Angst || Hurt/Comfort || Unrequited Pining || Tension

Warning: Graphic Language

You’d barely slept, how could you?

Though you supposed that you should have been used to broken rest, this time it wasn’t for the usual reasons. There were no nightmares that clawed at your mind, no anger that made you sweat- but, there was paranoia.

There was crippling anxiety that had you wanting to hide beneath the covers, there was fear that gripped you by the throat. The sensation of being stunned was overwhelming, your thoughts were scattered and your world was tipped upside down.

Everything that you believed, everything that you had come to terms with, it was all a lie.

You risked a glance at the clock, groaning as you realised that you’d have to get up. It was a mission, more so than usual. Dragging your sorry ass from the safety of your sheets was proving difficult, but the knowledge that you’d have to go train with König made it all the more impossible.

You took a deep breath in as you pulled your top over your head. It was different now, the lines were blurred and König might not be the enemy that you imagined him to be. If there was anyone that was going to help you unravel this with the same urgency that you felt, it was going to be him.

He’d do anything to prove himself, anything to stay as a sniper.

He wanted to keep the life he’d stolen from you.

Your stomach turned at the thought, the words weren’t sitting as right as they used to. The anger that occupied your chest with relentless heat has begun to cool as of late. If König was truly misinformed, it would mean that he really was just trying to do his job.

It meant that he was paying the consequences for someone else's misdeeds.

It meant that he was also a victim.

A chill ran down your spine and the fire in your chest reignited. Maybe he was a victim, but he sure as fuck didn’t look like one- he didn’t look like you.

You groaned as you stepped through your broken doorway, the reminder of how unhinged König could truly be was unwelcome as always. You thought that the Austrian kicking the door down would terrify you, it told you that you were never safe no matter where you locked yourself up. Instead, the fact that he’d done it to ensure your safety confused you.

You mulled over it as you walked towards the gym, mindlessly stepping one foot in front of the other.

A couple of minutes spent trying to decipher how you felt towards König felt like hours, any small bead of energy expended suddenly blew out to exhaustion. The man was an enigma who left you stranded in your own thoughts, flailing to find land.

“Good morning, Birdy.”

You forced yourself not to flinch away from König’s voice as you stood deathly still in the doorway. The man offered you a small wave from inside the gym, his arm stretched over his head as he loosened his muscles.

You didn’t want to gawk at him, honestly. It was just kind of hard not to.

He was larger than life, something that would never fail to amaze you. The sheer size of him was one thing, but his presence took up the rest of the space in the room. The breath in your lungs dissipated into nothing as you took in his visage.

“Good morning, König,” you managed to say softly.

You both froze for a moment, the gentle return of his greeting had caught the pair of you off guard. You supposed that there had been a shift between the two of you over the past few weeks.

But the way you felt about the man before you gave you whiplash.

Torn between hatred, fear, familiarity and comfort, you wished you could just chalk him down to a psychotic beast that wished you harm.

But he wasn’t and he didn’t.

The path your mind had begun to wander reminded you of the revelation you’d come to.

König cleared his throat, slowly standing upright as if he didn’t want to shatter the fragile friendliness between you both. Finally, you stepped into the room, one heavy foot after the other and your heart in your throat. You wanted to break the silence between you before that unnamed tension could grow, feeding on the quiet and everything that went unsaid.

“What did you have planned today?” You questioned with a raised brow, “anything torturous and terrifying?”

The Austrian snorted softly through his nose, crossing his arms over his chest. The slight smirk that pulled his lips upward had your breath catching in your throat. He cast his eyes downward before flicking that jade gaze back up to meet yours.

“Isn’t everything I do “torturous” and “terrifying” according to you?” König said, the playful tone was obvious but tentative.

You took a deep breath. He wasn’t diminishing the incident, he was finding some semblance of humour between the both of you. You swallowed the small drops of rage that threatened to open the floodgates.

“No,” you said, pushing your hands into the pockets of your hoodie. “That’s just you, I meant the training this time.”

You watched the shift in König’s features, the way his shoulders relaxed and his eyes softened. The olive branch had been extended, received and the see-saw of emotions between you had finally tipped to fall on the opposite end.

“Well,” König offered a small smile, “I promise that the training today will not be as scary as I am.”

You tried to ignore the genuine relief that flooded through your chest, tried to maintain the easy-going air that had settled in the space between you. Despite your best efforts, anxiety threaded itself across your throat as you stepped closer to the looming figure before you.

König slowly uncrossed his arms, sensing the shift in your attitude. It seemed like he always knew, even when you said nothing and your face didn’t change, he knew. Sometimes it irked you, but at times like these when he could read you and adjust, you appreciated it.

“I promise,” he reiterated, that jade gaze as soft as ever.

You took in a shaky breath, then released. “Okay.”

“Okay?” König repeated, taking a step toward you.

“Okay.”

And right there and then was the first time you’d seen him smile.

It was brief, barely a flash of his teeth as he quickly regained control of himself, but it was enough. You knew that you’d never be able to dispel that image from your mind, you knew that you’d be thinking about it as you went through the never ending cycle of wondering whether you hated him or not.

You knew that you’d want to see it again.

A shiver ran along the length of your spine and an unfamiliar heat spread across your neck. You cleared your throat in an attempt to clear your thoughts. It might have been unsuccessful in that regard but it did get König to step into action.

“Right,” he said with a sigh, scanning the space around him. “The sooner we get started the sooner you can escape the torture.”

Now it was your turn to snort as you took your sneakers off. “If only it were that easy.”

König rolled his eyes, approaching you with slow and lazy steps that had your heart racing. You straightened up, letting him move closer until he was barely a breath away. The moment that you had both shared in the kitchen raced across your mind, the scene beginning to look dangerously similar- hopefully Graves wouldn’t appear around the corner to trigger your fight or flight reflex this time.

“Can I help you?” You managed to choke out, dropping your gaze from his.

“Uh, no.” There was mirth in his voice. The man took a step backward, his hands raised with his palms facing outward. “Are you not ready?”

You tried to not look at the size of his fingers, you tried not to remember how they felt wrapped around your throat.

“Ready?” You stammered.

You couldn’t bring yourself to make eye contact, frozen as you stared at those fucking hands. They’d done so much damage, so much.

You tried not to remember.

Saint had always told you to replace a negative interaction with a positive interaction whenever you’d begun to spiral. When you remembered how hard his eyes had been when you'd been on that roof, you tried to remember how soft they were when he spoke to you now.

Your mind fell back to the moment in the kitchen.

“I’m ready.” You nodded, taking in a deep breath as he moved in close again. The scent of him flooded your senses, the faint recollection of his deodorant, something sweet and woodsy.

Those hands slowly lowered and you watched as they fell to rest on your forearms.

You remembered them holding you down, pinning you to the concrete as the weight of him pressed into your stomach. But, you also remembered those same fingers holding you ever so softly as he inspected you for burns.

You let loose a soft breath, forcing your gaze upward. He was already watching your face, his eyes scanning your features for any sign of serious distress.

“Well,” König murmured, his words tasting of the caramel latte he’d been sipping on earlier. “You going to take me down or not, kleine vogel?”

You raised a brow, “you don’t need to cuss me out, I’m getting there.”

The man frowned for a short moment, mouth opening and closing as he fought to find the appropriate response. “I did not swear at you?”

The sentence was more of a question than a statement and while he was stuck in his confusion, you saw opportunity.

You swung your hands around the grip that he had on your forearms, digging your fingers into his skin instead. You dragged him towards you with a sudden jerk that took every ounce of strength that you had.

For a moment, you were worried that the giant wouldn’t budge. However, his whole body fell forward as you dropped onto your back with him above you. Both your feet came up to rest on his pelvic bone, bracing as the entirety of his weight fell onto your legs. The momentum was your best friend with this movement, pulling his hands to your chest as you kicked him over your head.

The sound of 300 pounds hitting the ground hard behind you had your heart soaring. Adrenaline was pumping through your system, propelling you to your feet as you spun to mount your victim.

König’s face was contorted, teeth bared as he gritted them hard. His hands were above his shoulders, fists clenched and you could tell that you’d stunned him.

Satisfaction flooded your being.

You scrambled up the length of his body, pressing your weight onto him as you clenched your knees hard onto either side of his hips. Your hands came down to push against his wrists, pinning his body as best as you could.

The silence between you both was only broken by the sounds of panting. König’s chest heaved beneath, shallow and quick breaths as his eyes slowly fluttered open to glare up at you.

“That was rude,” he groaned. “Smart. But rude.”

“Yeah, well,” you replied with a shrug, taking a moment to try and wet the dryness in your throat. “Fights are often unfair.”

König’s eyes narrowed for a moment before conceding your point. “Yes. Yes, they are.”

You’d seen the signs too late, the way his lips quirked upward before he ripped his hands from yours. You’d felt his fingers grip your waist but you were unable to react before the world tipped from beneath you. The floor met your back hard enough to banish the air from your chest and your body froze as you were spun right back into the disadvantage.

A gasp ripped from your throat, eyes wide as you stared at the man now above you. His hair fell across his forehead, resting atop his lashes as he watched you through a hooded gaze. Neither of you said a word and you didn’t bother trying to fight him off. König made a show of slowly moving to grip your biceps, your fingers scrabbling uselessly against his forearms as he pressed you into the ground.

His body was tucked between your thighs, spreading your legs far enough apart that they were rendered useless from beneath him. You swallowed hard, struggling to catch your breath.

“Very unfair,” he confirmed with a husky murmur.

“It’s always unfair with you,” you rasped, your fingers gripping his skin tightly. “Always, König.”

König’s face fell, any trace of satisfaction turning into something akin to sorrow. He cast his gaze aside.

“Perhaps,” he said. “ But, perhaps if you were prepared it wouldn’t have been so unfair.”

You watched him carefully.

“Wrong place, wrong time.” You whispered.

König met your gaze again, observing you for a long moment before offering a hesitant nod. “Yes.”

Maybe, this was your chance. This was the opportunity to talk to him about what you suspected, to hear his side of the story entirely. Maybe, if you could sift through the discrepancies between your stories and what his chain-of-command had told him, you could both unravel the mystery.

Either someone was trying to kill you and used him as the weapon to do so or something bigger was at play.

Maybe, both?

“Speaking of,” you began shakily, your fingers nervously tapping against his skin. There was no real way to gently ease into the topic, you’d just have to drop the bomb. “Do you think that maybe the whole incident was a little too… convenient?”

König fell completely still, his eyes baring into yours.

You supposed that maybe you could have been a little more tactful.

You swallowed nervously when his chest didn’t move to breathe, he was as still as a sniper watching for their target. He reminded you of a snake lying in wait, preparing to strike out at any given moment. Suddenly, you didn’t feel so confident that he was the one that you should have spoken to about it.

The man said nothing and you’d begun to realise that he didn’t plan to.

“I just mean that,” you scrambled for words, anxiety clawing at your throat when he only stared. “I just mean that maybe it wasn’t just an accident or a miscommunication, maybe they were using you as a way to get what they want.”

König’s face didn’t change when he spoke. “And what would that be?”

You hated how perfectly still he was.

“To take me out.” You could barely spit out the sentence.

The mans grip tightened against your arms and the small amount of trust that you’d built between each other teetered on the edge of a proverbial cliff. Adrenaline dumped into your system when he took in a deep breath, clenching his jaw. His eyes never left yours, holding you captive not just physically but mentally. You were scrambling for air.

“I think that you are overthinking,” he finally said, relaxing his grip and releasing the tension from his lungs.

Your heart dropped.

Overthinking?

Why wouldn’t he want to investigate this further? It would exonerate him, it would relieve him of the guilt, it would make him innocent.

“What?” You rasped, blinking as though it would clear your confusion. “How can you say that?”

“Easily,” König said, sitting up. His demeanour was suddenly so cold. He let go of your arms, shooting you one last look before he attempted to stand up. “You’ve been through a traumatic event. Overthinking is normal.”

Desperation clawed at your chest. Before you could stop yourself, you reached upward to snatch his hands. König’s fingers interlocked with yours and his eyes widened when you pulled him back toward you. Your hands were trapped between his and the floor once more, his face only a breath away.

But you couldn’t even think about the proximity and, for once, you didn’t even care.

How could he just dismiss you like that?

How could he just try to leave without even hearing you out?

“König,” you whispered pleadingly. “Please, just listen.”

The man shook his head immediately, trying to pull his hands from your grip. You held on as tight as you can manage, his name falling from your lips over and over as you begged him to stay. You needed him to hear it, you needed him to help you.

“Let go, Birdy,” his voice was firmer than you’d heard in months, the sound of it a shock to your system. How the tables had turned, this time you were not the one trying to escape. Regardless, you disobeyed, only tightening your hold on him.

“Just tell me what happened, maybe we can work it out,” the words sounded desperate, even to you. You sounded like a lover pleading for a second chance to make the relationship work. You sounded like you were holding to your last tether of sanity. You sounded crazy.

König’s face was hard when he tugged back again. “We already know what happened, Birdy.”

“Listen to me-”

“Let it go, Birdy.”

“But if you just-”

“Enough!”

You recoiled, flinching as he yanked his hands from yours, breaking your grip as easily as tearing a cobweb. König’s fingers wrapped around your biceps, pushing you back against the floor, restraining you from getting a steady hold on him.

The man leaned down, jade eyes alight with something you’d never seen. He burned, the thunderous expression painted across his features warned you that his blood was simmering beneath his skin.

“Enough,” König seethed, his voice dangerously quiet.

Fear trickled down your spine.

Your heart dropped.

As you watched the Austrian soldier lean over you with a ferocity that rivalled that godforsaken night, you realised that in your desperation you had been so stupid. So, so, so fucking stupid.

König wasn’t going to help you.

König was in on it.

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