all mine
SYNOPSIS: Bakugou decides to put his delusional secretary in their place.
pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader
word count: 9.6k+
genre: fluff, SMUT, maybe a smidgen of angst
tags/warnings: 18+! minors dni! reader is not the secretary, basically this other lady is trying to seduce your man but katsuki isn’t falling for it! marking, exhibitionism, oral (f!receiving), riding, soft!bakugou but also mean!bakugou, humiliation (not really at reader), a couple spanks, office sex, praise, degradation, pet names (baby, princess, angel), crude language
author’s notes: this is very overdue, like incredibly overdue LOL i started this wip last year but could only continue writing during random bouts of inspiration. so i apologize if the smut is a little half-assed and if the characterization is questionable. but enjoy my late kinktober 2022 present to y’all
The sound of Dynamight’s heavy boots hitting the floor resonate throughout the wide hallways of his agency, drowning out the heels clicking behind him. A woman quickens her pace in an attempt to catch up to the impatient blond hero, rushing into his peripheral vision.
“Sir? Oh Bakugou sir~” The dulcet chime calling him is sickly sweet, enough to make him grimace. “I need you to look over these reports before I file them away.” She whips out one of the thick packets of papers clutch to her chest, bringing his steps to a halt which makes the hero point a glare at her.
“How many times do I have to fucking tell you that you’re suppose to call me by my hero name.” Malice coats his words, dripping off his tongue as he swipes the reports from her fingers. The woman, to the hero’s annoyance, indulges in his feisty attitude.
“Aw, but ‘Bakugou’ is more fitting given how closely we work together!” She waves off his displeasure, hoping her excessively cheerful personality can tone him down. “I am your secretary, after all.” She leans into his space, too damn close for his liking by how he could get a whiff of her pungent perfume. The overbearing scent has him side-stepping to create more distance between them.
The blond rolls his eyes before giving the papers in his hand a once-over, not even granting her the satisfaction of eye contact. “You work at a Pro-Hero agency, not some ordinary office job.”
Normally, he isn’t one to admonish any of his employees unless they’re his sidekicks. He’s always out and about on missions, never dawdling around the office long enough to find anything to scold them about. So long as they were competent at their job, he never had to give them any earfuls. But this woman here has been testing that resolve.
A month into her new position, his secretary has been greeting him every morning with far more energy than should be considered possible at such an hour. Her regular tasks shouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary. She was mostly tasked with filing villain reports and contacting other Pro-Hero agencies, but her enthusiasm warrants him to think otherwise.
She deliberately shares elevator rides with him, droning on and on about god knows what before getting off at her floor, ending their dull conversations with winks and wide-eyed smiles that make him want to gag. It’s one thing to be genuinely excited about your job, but it’s another thing to be attached to your boss at the hip. She’s at his beck and call when he doesn’t even ask for her.
One can chalk this up to her simply gunning for a promotion, buttering up her boss to garner his favor. However, Bakugou isn’t an idiot. He can read the air, deciphering the meaning behind her words and advances. Her deceptive guise of a hardworking secretary beneath those batting eyelashes is easily uncovered by him.
If she was really trying so hard for a promotion she’d approach him with more important topics in mind. Statistics, analysis, updates on villain activity and hero work. Y’know, discussions that would actually benefit his agency rather than waste his time.
Instead, Bakugou stands there listening to… this.
“You know, I’ve been thinking,” her voice drifts off as she taps a finger against her bottom lip pensively, “we should consider holding a party to get to know all our co-workers better!” she proposes. The blond narrows his brows incredulously at her suggestion.
Oblivious to his lack of interest, she moves closer to him, caressing a hand along his hard bicep. She tip-toes her fingers up his arm before flattening her digits next to his ear to whisper, “Company members only, of course. But I’m sure we’d still have a fun time even if it was just the two of us, right?”
Recognizing the suggestive lilt in her tone, he shoves her off of him without even touching her, abruptly tossing his shoulder back. The secretary freezes and comes across the peeved expression on the explosion hero’s rough features.
“We’re here to beat villains and protect civilians, not throw dumb parties.”
“But–”
“Shut it,” he retorts harshly, not letting the bewildered look on the secretary’s face demur him. He shoves the reports back in her arms. “Just do your damn job.” With his brows taut behind his mask, the blond glares hard at her, watching her fumble with the papers before he resumes the rhythm of his combat boots stepping down the hallway. The hero gives her one last glance over his shoulder.
“And remember, it’s Dynamight to you.”
.
.
Man, what an annoying woman.
Is the thought that plagues Bakugou’s mind as he stands beneath the running water in his shower, washing away the sweat and grime accumulated from another busy day of heroics. Yet he still can’t get the irritating thoughts in his head to do the same.
His fingers weave the shampoo through his spikey locks, the pads of his digits massaging his scalp. Glancing at his reflection in the foggy, glass screen door, he meets his scowling mug.
“Tryna get in my pants and shit… Worry about keeping your damn job,” he grumbles to himself exasperatedly. What he finds especially annoying is knowing his secretary will start the day again tomorrow as if nothing happened. Even with Bakugou’s firm stance at wanting to keep things strictly professional, she’s going to continue getting up in his space, trying to caress her nails up his arm, and stink up the place with what he swore was five different kinds of perfume sprayed on her clothes.
But Bakugou’s not some oblivious fool. He can recognize from a mile away what her goal is and he absolutely wants no part in it.
Besides...
“Katsuki! Dinner will be ready when you’re done showering!”
His head swivels toward the door of the bathroom. “Yeah I heard ya!”
He’s already got someone deserving of his time and affection.
You.
“’Kay!” you reply, voice gradually growing louder. Bakugou hears your feet plodding toward the bathroom door just as the door creaks open slightly. “I’ll leave you a new towel to use after you’re done showering, too.” Even through the steam, he can recognize your silhouette peeking inside to drop the towel off. Unbeknownst to you, behind the cloudy glass door of the shower there’s a smile that finds his lips.
After washing the lather off his hair and body, he shuts the water. The last streams falling from the showerhead glide down his skin, joining the suds on the floor before they all disappear down the drain. As the thick steam surrounding him dissipates, he covers his toned body in the towel you left for him.
While patting down the excess droplets cascading his blond locks, Bakugou puts on some sweatpants, but forgoes his t-shirt for now, leaving it hanging over his shoulder. He continues rubbing the towel around his torso as he exits the bathroom.
The savory aroma of thick cheeses and tomato sauces hits Bakugou’s nose the moment he enters the kitchen. He stops in his tracks to take in the pleasant smells, along with the sight in front of his eyes that effortlessly forms a grin on his face.
Your soft hums accompany the harmonious atmosphere of the kitchen. Bakugou’s ruby eyes rove over you shimmying your way around an array of pans and plates like you own the place (which you essentially do), watching you finish piecing your dinner together with a generous sprinkle of garnish and spices.
Eyes never leaving you, an expression of admiration and fondness paints his usually hardened face. With arms crossed over his chest, he could just stand there, admire you, and be more than wholly content. You could do the most mundane things and still have him wrapped around your finger—not that he’d ever mention that to you out loud of course. Occasionally, Bakugou wonders how he ever got so lucky with you in the first place.
You’re so blissfully unaware of your hotheaded boyfriend lurking nearby. It’s all the more apparent by how you abruptly pause as soon as you discover him idling in the kitchen doorway in all of his half-naked glory.
The blond doesn’t let the fact that you’re practically ogling his hard muscle slip past him, and definitely doesn’t miss your moment of hesitation before you avert your gaze, your cheeks growing hot. It brings a smirk to his face and his ego through the roof.
Bakugou tosses his towel and t-shirt somewhere off the side before coming to you. “What? Getting flustered or something, babe?” he taunts. His deep tone hovers next to your ear as his chest touches your back. His hands are on either side of you, trapping you against the counter.
“That fuckin’ hot that I got you this speechless?” His breath is so close to you, he just knows you have goosebumps trailing down your spine. He can tell by the heat swirling in your cheeks just how much he has an effect on you and he absolutely loves how easily he can get you flustered.
Though he can’t say he’s all but immune to your charms, either. He trails a calloused hand up your bare thigh and hips, giving your ass a firm squeeze through your booty shorts which causes a yelp to flee your lips.
Fuckin’ hell.
The way you were dancing around in these things, tip-toeing to reach high cabinets that caused the shorts to ride up slightly and give him a glimpse of the plushness peeking past the fabric already had Bakugou half-hard simply standing behind you. But being able to touch what was essentially his started to make the material of his sweatpants absolutely suffocating.
In a single motion, he spins you around. Your back is pinned against the counter as you’re forced to face him. The cocky grin plastered on his lips greets you.
Finally grasping your composure, you raise an eyebrow at him. “For someone who wanted to take a shower as soon as their stinky-self got home, you sure are eager to get dirty again,” you retort, tracing your hands up his arms to place them on his broad shoulders. “Work didn’t get you sweaty enough?”
The blond chuckles lowly at your cheekiness. His face inches closer, mere centimeters away from your lips. “I could go for an extra workout,” he says huskily, voice dissipating with the shortening distance between you.
His eyes are lidded as he targets your lips, hands leaving the edge of the counter in favor of wrapping his arms around your waist. To his surprise, when he darts forward he meets nothing but air.
Hearing your giggles beside him breaks the tension between you. He opens his eyes and discovers that you’ve tilted your head out of the way. Before he can open his mouth to spit a retort, you rest your head against his shoulder, arms winding at his neck.
“Food’s gonna get cold, big boy,” you hum.
The noise that leaves his gritted teeth is practically a growl. “Dun care about the food–” His hands at your sides play with the waistband of your shorts. “Would rather eat you out on this counter.”
He watches you gulp down the lump in your throat, finding the idea tempting as a dull throb aches between your legs. But to his dismay, you don’t want to let him indulge in you just yet.
You lean forward to kiss his cheek to prepare him for your next words, “First and foremost, dinner. And then I'll let you do whatever you want with me. How’s that?” You tiptoe to peck his nose one more time for good measure before wriggling free from his clutches. You shuffle away to the steaming hot food you left on the other end of the counter.
Pink swathes his cheeks as Bakugou stands there dumbfounded. He rubs the back of his head, his brows furrowing in frustration.
“You’re killing me here, dammit.”
You let out another dulcet giggle. The urge to sneak up on you again to try to get you all hot and bothered lingers until it’s interrupted by a piece of fabric thrown in his face. “Also, shirt on we please.” You turn back at him with two plates of stuffed ravioli perched on each hand. “No shirt, no service.”
He yanks the white t-shirt off his face, grimacing as he begrudgingly pulls it over his head. “Yeah, yeah. You love it though.” Nonetheless, he follows behind you while the savory aroma of your food creates a path toward the dining table. The scent alone makes his stomach growl, the effects of a long day at work making themselves apparent.
Despite the antics he has to put up with, he can’t help but soften around you. It’s as if you possess an innate ability to effortlessly get him to shed his notoriously rough exterior.
He takes a seat on his side of the table, his stomach now growling loud enough for you to hear. You tease a wry grin before placing the ravioli dishes on the table, letting the delicious aromas waft around him, his mouth watering.
“I know it’s been a long day for you so you better eat up, hero.”
The blond’s eyes flicker for a second, chest enveloped with pride as he meets the look on your face that awaits for him in anticipation to dig in. “Yeah… Thanks for the meal,” he murmurs, mild gratitude woven in his words as he picks up the fork and finally chows down.
Again, what did he ever do to deserve you? He knows how hard you work each and every day. The fact that you’re still willing to love and take care of him is enough for him to want to cherish you for an eternity. Coming home to the person he loves and sharing meals with them is a blessing to him as it is and he absolutely wouldn’t trade this for anything else.
Which just makes the matter of his secretary all the more annoying to him.
The damn woman has walked in his office plenty of times to see the framed picture of you two on his desk, even occasionally interrupting his phone calls with you that would end with him mouthing low “love yous” before he’d have to turn around to acknowledge the petty expression resting on her face. He’d watch as her demeanor quickly shifted into a full 180—from a bitter frown to a forced grin to keep up her facade. She definitely knows he’s in a happy, committed relationship. The real question is whether or not she cares enough to acknowledge the fact.
He could just fire her for unprofessionalism. That seems like an obvious solution, but knowing her, she’d probably feed the media some false rumors about alleged abuse towards his employees. Of course, that wouldn’t at all be true. Far from it, but the news loved to twist the truth so long as it got them clicks. Given Bakugou’s naturally rugged demeanor, it wouldn’t be hard for the public to buy their shit and for his ranking on the hero chart to plummet. Which Bakugou could not afford right now considering how close he was to the top.
“’Tsuki, stop playing with your food.” He hears you chide, tugging him from his contemplation.
Bakugou huffs, jamming his fork onto the plate. “I’m not a damn kid.”
“Right, tell that to the ravioli you’re mangling with your fork.” You raise your brow and point at his stabbed and defeated pasta, the filling oozing out from the punctured holes. He keeps his gaze suspiciously fixed on the ravioli.
Does it taste bad? You wonder warily. “If you don’t like it then you don’t have to eat it, y’know.”
“What? No– The food’s fine.” He stuffs three pastas in his mouth one after the other. “Fucking delicious,” he mutters through ungracious chewing, cheeks puffed profusely, bringing a grin to your face.
“What’s wrong then? Bad day at work?”
He swallows his food. “Could say that,” he answers, resting his head against his propped arm. “Just some employee causing trouble.”
“Hopefully it’s not one of your sidekicks,” you pick at the raviolis while stuck in your musing, “I remember your first batch of recruits when you just started your own agency. You nearly scared half of them away by the end of the week.”
“How else was I supposed to whip those newbies into shape?” He lounges in his seat. “If they can’t take some yelling from a Pro, then they’re definitely not ready for the real hero world. Besides, they were the ones that came to my agency knowing that I’m the best,” he boasts with confidence, shoving more pasta in his mouth, and munching at his leisure.
“Also, it’s not a sidekick. Just some lady who can’t do her fuckin’ job.”
“Aw, cut her some slack, I’m sure she’s trying her best.”
Bakugou almost scoffs. If you knew the real reason for her lack of work ethic, you’d be on the same page as him.
Either way, he really needs to get this secretary off his back before shit blows out of proportion. If pictures, phone calls—hell—even lunch dates can’t get her to wake up, then what?
To his surprise, the idea actually comes to him quicker than he anticipated, red eyes perking up at a scheme forming in his head.
Of course. Heh, why didn’t I think of that sooner?
This is how he’s going to do it, he thinks. His lips barely resist the urge to quiver into a smirk that will no doubt have you questioning whatever was riling him up. Swallowing his final piece of pasta, Bakugou pushes his plate away but aims his fork in your direction.
“You free tomorrow?”
“I just have to drop off some papers at work in the morning. Why?”
“Good. Come by the agency for lunch.”
Your brows furrow at how sudden the request is, however, you go along with it. “Okay, should I make lunch for us?”
“Nah, don’t. I’ll order something,” he assures, but in his head he’s sure lunch would be the last thing on your mind tomorrow afternoon with what he has planned for you, him, and his secretary.
Bakugou scoots his seat back, leaning over on your side of the table. “Now, I remember a certain brat made a promise to me after dinner was done.”
“Hold it, I still have a piece–”
“Nuh-uh, c’mere–” He lightly pushes your hand away, and with effortless strength, pulls you out of your chair and over his shoulder. “Already waited too damn long.”
“Whoa..!” Your last piece of pasta falls back on the plate, forgotten. You watch as the distance between you and the dining table diminishes, the impatient blond leading you two into the hallway. At your fidgeting, he swats your thigh, warning you to stay fucking still unless you want to accidentally fall on your face.
With a squeal escaping your lips, you comply. As a reward, he presses his lips against the side of your ass as you’re still hanging over him, nipping at your curves. Your yelps are replaced by laughter. The ticklish sensation nearly makes you squirm again if not for Bakugou dropping you unceremoniously onto your bed.
“You better make it up to me for having to make me wait, Princess.” His emphasis on what is supposed to be your endearing little pet name comes out as a snarl as you’re cornered against the sheets. Expecting this kind of intense reaction from him after your meal, you grin slyly.
“I mean the ravioli was good, wasn’t it?”
Well that he can’t deny. Still, the blond smirks, showing his pearly canines. “Yeah, but,” he moves away from you, kneeling while grabbing at the hem of his shirt to pull it off,
“I’m still fuckin’ hungry.”
.
.
There is no doubt that the next day, you woke up incredibly sore. Sore yet also just as happy.
The tension in your muscles had dissipated as a result of being repeatedly fucked into your own mattress last night, allowing you to sleep soundly. So soundly that you don’t even notice your boyfriend leaving for work that morning. But it can’t be helped given how ungodly early his hero work starts every day.
Some hours after Bakugou has already left, your alarm goes off to remind you that it’s about time to begin your day. Even after a spent night, you can’t bear the thought of lying in bed anymore, especially with how cold the sheets had become, devoid of the blond’s natural warmth. Plus you had something to look forward to this afternoon—your lunch date.
Once you get washed and dressed, you grab your business files from your desk and dash out the door to drop off your papers at work.
Before you know it, it’s noon and you’re standing in front of the receptionist’s desk at Dynamight’s agency.
While you wait for the receptionist to finish their business call, you think back on the employee Bakugou mentioned yesterday. You note in the foreground how busy the entire place looks, which doesn't surprise you. The agency runs like a well-oiled machine. With all the hustle and bustle going on, it seems like everyone is doing their job with peak efficiency. Honestly, you can’t imagine anyone wanting to test the wrath of the explosive Number Two Hero, but you assume such people existed.
“Thank you for waiting! Here to see Mister Dynamight?” The receptionist greets you after hanging up their call, immediately recognizing you from your prior visits.
“Yeah, just coming by for lunch.”
“He’s in his office right now so I’ll let him know you’re here then.”
You mouth a thank you, followed by a farewell wave as you make your way to the elevator.
“’Suki’s office should be on… this floor…” you murmur, pressing the corresponding button on the panel. While you wait for the doors to close, you spot a figure approaching from a distance. You can see the person’s wrinkled professional attire, disheveled hair, and slightly smeared makeup as she approaches the elevator clumsily.
“H… Hold the door!” she pants.
Hearing her frantic request, your mind catches up with you. You jam your index finger on another button on the panel, keeping the doors open just long enough for the woman to slip inside and catch her breath.
You watch her ungraciously drop to the floor, lungs gasping for air. “That was a close one.” You bend down to extend a helping hand.
She sputters as she reaches out to you, “Yeah, thanks, I– Wait, you’re...” When she looks up, her eyes squint to get a better look at your face, brows knitting together as she recognizes your features. Dismissing your help, she abruptly retracts her hand before getting up on her own. You cock your head suspiciously when you notice her change in demeanor.
“Oh, I’m just stopping by to have lunch with my boyfriend. He’s your, uh,” you piece your words as eloquently as you can, “boss.”
It’s always difficult for you to tell any of Bakugou’s staff that you’re his girlfriend. You’d done it before in front of his group of sidekicks while waiting outside his office and as a result they all flipped, bombarding you with questions about your relationship before falling dead silent when his door suddenly swung open.
You’re expecting the same, if not, a similar reaction here, but you’re surprised to see a deadpan look in the woman’s eyes. She averts her gaze. You glance over at her, taking note of her fists shaking at her sides and how she bites the inside of her cheek which forms a pout on her lips.
You’re beginning to wonder if you shouldn’t have disclosed that information. “Are you okay?” you inquire, your voice filled with genuine concern. She eventually turns to look at you straight on, her expression teetering between a smile and a scowl. In any case, she tries to steer you away from the elephant in the room.
“Yep! Just peachy!” she assures through a strained grin that makes you all the more suspicious of her. Even if you want to question it, she has no intention of continuing the conversation. Her lips press together in an effort to maintain her smile, or else risk blurting something that should’ve stayed in her mouth. You keep to yourself in the elevator so as not to bother her, but the prolonged silence, combined with the elevator’s incessant dinging throughout each ascending floor, creates a suffocating atmosphere.
With every floor you pass you soon realize that despite keeping your distance, she’s still looking in your general direction. You notice her sneaking glances at you and your neck grows hot as you follow where her eyes wander. You press your palm against your jugular, the spot you recall Bakugou laying his teeth on last night.
I thought I covered that…
You want to chastise yourself for not spending enough time this morning to conceal the blemishes on your neck. Your coworker had even commented on them before you left for Dynamight’s agency, to your embarrassment.
You settle for letting out an uneasy chuckle while adjusting the collar of your shirt. Though the majority of Bakugou’s staff are already aware of your relationship, you’d rather hide any detail of your sex life if possible. You’d prefer not being the hot talk amongst the whole faculty.
You expect to be the brunt of the woman’s teasing next, anticipating her wiggling her brows or whistling, but she keeps her mouth shut and her expression even appears offended.
Fortunately, the elevator saves both of you from any more uncomfortable silences. Right on cue, the doors slide open for the woman to exit on her floor. She doesn’t spare you a glance on her way out, but you overhear her mutter under her breath, “Enjoy your lunch or whatever.”
She stomps in the opposite direction until her figure disappears behind closing doors. Your face scrunches. “What’s her deal?”
You’ve gotten used to the bitter reactions some people would give over the fact you and Bakugou are in a relationship. You kind of have to, considering who Bakugou is and the hoards of fans he’s accumulated over the years as a Pro-Hero. But any of the backlash you receive is mostly posted online by petty netizens. No one has the guts to confront you in person. Mostly because if they do, Bakugou has no qualms about retaliating with equal venom and more. This lady, on the other hand, works for Bakugou. When it comes to greeting her boss’s girlfriend, she should be professional, right?
You brush those thoughts away, recalling that no one should ever have to suck up to you simply because you're a Pro’s significant other. “She’s probably on the PR team.” You laugh off, remembering how much trouble it is to manage Bakugou’s public image and how she must be tired from working overtime.
The elevator dings one last time to indicate that you’ve arrived at your destination. When the doors part, the entrance to Dynamight’s office is directly across from you, passing a short corridor. Normally, sidekicks and employees had to press the button on the side of the door, or page him ahead of time before entering. However, you have the luxury of just swinging those doors open whenever you like.
“Heya, Katsu–”
“For the last fuckin’ time, there’s no way I’m going on that mission as his fucking standby.” The voice booming at the other end of the room behind a wide, wooden desk drowns out your voice. “Tell Grand that if he can’t find another B-rate hero agency like his to do his damn dirty work, then he can just fuck himself,” he spits into the receiver. He slams the phone down and hangs up the call without a second thought.
You announce your presence once more with a low whistle. Another one for the PR team. “Vulgar as usual,” you joke.
He sighs loudly, “The only way to get the message across their thick skulls is to beat it into their heads at this point,” he says, leaning against the large glass windows behind him. “That Shindou needs to get off my back. I thought I told everyone I wasn’t taking anymore calls from that asswipe.”
“I’m sure Grand will finally get the idea after he receives your message from his manager.” Slipping in next to him, you wrap your arms around his neck. Your fingers delicately crawl up to his chin, tilting his head to face your smile. Bakugou reciprocates the gesture, his gloved hands gripping your waist and pulling you in as your lips briefly meet. When you part, you rest your forehead against his.
“How was patrol this morning, hero?” you whisper, playing with the tufts of hair above his neck.
“Same old shit,” he tells you quietly as you hum at his response, an amused grin tugging at the seam of your lips. Just as you’re about to separate, his hold at your sides tightens, locking your body against his.
“Bet you missed me, didn’t you, princess?” He leans in to nibble your jawline, causing laughter to tumble from your lips. “Bed got cold without me?”
Your answer is interrupted by a hand brushing up against the waistband of your pants, ruffling your tucked-in blouse. The man growls in the crook of your neck. “Didn’t have my cock to keep you nice and warm?”
Your nose scrunches at his unfiltered tongue. “Katsuki, I came here for lunch, remember?” You push at his chest, attempting to get him off you, but his teeth lock onto your clavicle.
“Food’s on the way,” he assures. Fingers play with the loops of your pants, dragging your shirt out slowly. “Might as well kill time–” His lips suddenly collide with yours, stealing your breath and drowning out any protests. He scuffs his teeth against your bottom lip, looking for a way in. You whimper in response at his persistence, stumbling backwards against the edge of his desk as he finally pries through your lips.
After an intense moment of kissing, his attention shifts to your jugular, nipping at the tender skin again. Every time his canines make contact with the broken skin, you wince. “Still got my marks all over ya,” he boasts, but the more skin he tries to unveil, the more he has to pull at your shirt’s collar which quickly annoys him. “Though I don’t understand what the hell you’re covering them up for.”
“D-Don’t want people to see…” you fumble with your excuses yet tilt your head to grant him better access. He scoffs at how your actions betray your words.
“Why does it matter when I want them to see? Let those fuckers look and know we’re together.” He licks one of the patches of broken skin. His harsh words make you shiver in his hold, but beneath his rough exterior, you sense a tender possessiveness in the amount of attention he pays to your body.
Your fingers brush through his hair, gently pulling him off of you so you can look him in the eyes, “You’re so damn insufferable, you know that?”
“Heh, you like it though,” Bakugou counters. You click your tongue, feigning ignorance. With his hand wrapped at the nape of your neck, he thumbs at your blemishes. His ruby eyes take their time to admire every inch of his claim on you. “You were clenching whenever I marked you. Screaming nice and loud too.”
“I bet the neighbors hate us now…” You sigh quietly.
“Took them that long?” He grins, almost proud of being a menace to those extras next door despite being a heroic figure. “Besides, not my fault you let me do whatever I wanted to you.” You pout, but accept it’s a fact you very well can’t deny.
As his deft hands unfasten each button of your blouse, he switches your positions. He yanks your shirt, dragging the fabric down your shoulders to reveal your skin and the bra hugging your chest. Licking his lips, he removes his thick gloves before hoisting you up to sit on the desk with him, making you straddle his thighs. Another pause of appreciation for the blossoms adorning your chest makes him blurt out, “Maybe I should let you mark me up just as much.”
You look at him precariously. He doesn’t take back the grin on his face. Seeing your wide-eyed expression, he cups your jaw, pulling you toward him. “What’s the look for? I know you’ve thought about it, princess.” Bakugou reads you like a book. He revels in your flustered face, telling him how right he is.
The image of his scarred, toned skin covered in hickeys has crossed your mind more times than you can count, but you’ve always been too engrossed in the intoxicating sensation of his teeth grazing every stretch of your skin to ever have an opportunity to bring the thought to light. Bakugou never gives you an inch when it comes to taking the reins in the bedroom. But now he’s practically granting you the opportunity on a silver platter.
You point a dubious look at him. “Are you serious, or did you bump your head somewhere earlier on patrol?” Anticipating your skeptical response, a chuckle rumbles low in his throat. He scoots back to remove his tank top, letting your hands lay over his chiseled physique. Your fingers immediately trace the scars and cuts lining his muscles, each one standing as a testament to every one of his battles. The idea of your own marks joining his adonis of a canvas has your eyes fluttering.
“’s no joke, babe,” he clarifies, a wicked grin plastered on his face. He then remembers why he made this whole arrangement in the first place. “Aren’t you tired of those fuckin’ extras always ogling me—looking at me up and down like they even have a damn chance to touch all of this?” He grabs your wrist and guides your hands above his chest, your fingertips brushing his collarbones.
You bite your lower lip. “Well…”
Hearing your voice linger, he snarls, “Are you seriously hesitating?”
It’s not like you hadn’t ever clenched your fists in front of the TV whenever your boyfriend was being interviewed by some mischievous news reporter or journalist. They never make it subtle when casting one too many glances at the Pro’s sweaty, skintight attire, staring into his red eyes for so long that they started looking dumb. Though as much as dark green jealousy occasionally takes root in your subconsciousness, you never act on your displeasure.
In the back of your mind, you always saw it as a sign of clinginess. But Bakugou sees it differently. To him, he’d want nothing more than his girl staking their claim on him. For you to get needy, jealous, possessive. Let the entire world know that you both belong to each other and no one else.
You fix your gaze at his cynical expression that eggs you on. Before you know it, you lunge forward. Your mouth latches onto his neck, arms curling around his shoulders. Bakugou draws you skin-to-skin, his low chuckle reverberating in the depths of his chest.
“Ooh, that’s it,” he encourages, rubbing your back. His other hand palms your ass, rocking you both back and forth, grinding his bulge against the crotch of your jeans. Your teeth cling to him, sinking into his skin. Your lips vibrate against his collarbones while you whimper at the delicious friction on your clit.
“Harder. I wanna see nice ol’ purple marks here,” he orders, relentlessly rolling his hips. You want to slap him on the wrist, your concentration waning as heat quickly pools in your abdomen. As if the grinding isn’t enough, Bakugou effortlessly undos the button of your jeans. He pulls down the zipper before reaching inside and touching you through your underwear.
“Fuck, already this wet from a little grinding? Nasty girl,” he hisses, running his index and middle finger across the ruined crotch of your panties. “Or maybe marking me is getting you all riled up?”
“Shut up–” you mutter half-heartedly. With a pop, your lips leave him. You lean back to evaluate your work. They’re not as noticeable as the marks Bakugou usually gives you, but they’re visible, and they’re purple as requested.
A small trail of violet hickeys adorns the crook of the blond’s neck and collarbones. Your finger traces the path, eyes capturing the sheen of your saliva over the marks. His skin gleams in the sunlight streaming in through the windows.
Reaching inside the pocket of his baggy pants, Bakugou pulls out his phone to turn on the front-facing camera. He gets a clear view of your work on the screen, and his smirk appears on the display. “My girl did that, huh?” He cranes his neck to examine the blemishes from different angles. Soon after, you hear his camera’s shutter release, capturing the image and adding it to his gallery. He should really consider making an album out of these.
Tossing his phone to the side, those piercing red eyes return to you, and your assertiveness fades. He grabs your wrists and leans in to kiss your temple.
“You did well, princess.”
His hushed voice makes your cunt clench and your ears warm. “I'll be sure to show these off later,” he promises, his tone dripping with smugness.
God, you realize how little his hero costume does to hide any of those hickeys. Given that he has to go on patrol again soon, you can expect his neck to be a hot topic in the media. Regardless, you can’t deny the satisfaction that wells up in your chest at the thought.
Katsuki was right. You really are possessive over him. And of course, it goes both ways.
While you’re distracted by your epiphany, he uses this opportunity to unhook your bra, happily discarding the garment. You exhale as he roughly cups the underside of your breast. His breath tickles your perky nipple, strong arm hooking you into him.
The pattern of his breaths are erratic, excitement coursing through his veins. His carmine eyes are lidded as he flattens a tongue against the hardened nub. As Bakugou fully wraps his lips around the stiffening bud, sucking and biting to his heart’s content, mewls part your mouth.
“Your tits still taste fucking amazing,” he mutters, mouth caught between sucking and spewing obscenities. “These tits gonna give me some milk too, princess?”
“Don’t push your luck, mister,” you quip before biting your bottom lip. You concentrate on moving your hips back and forth against his thigh, trying to find the right angle that provides you with the delicious jolt of pleasure you craved between your thighs. With a smack, his lips leave your nipple.
“Guess I didn’t give you enough attention down here since you keep rutting against me like a needy slut.” He swats your ass before gripping the plushness harshly. The mild sting has your pussy clenching. “My baby doesn’t feel satisfied unless she’s getting stretched open by my cock, huh?”
Just a little bit of dirty talk from him is enough to make you whimper pathetically, “Please, ‘suki…”
“Please, what? Gotta tell me more than that, princess.” He tugs the waistband of your pants, teasing you. Never breaking eye contact, Bakugou’s hand sneaks under the edge of his desk. “Use your words, I want to know what I’m doing to you. Don’t skimp on the details.”
A light click goes off, but if you hear it you don’t make it apparent, too focused on the hot blond in front of you that was making your head spin.
“Fuck… ‘Suki, I feel so hot… Need you right now…” You grab his hand showing him your ruined panties by letting the pads of his fingers trail your wet pussy. “See? Look what you did, I’m soaked.”
Bakugou mutters curses under his breath, applying more pressure to your panties to thoroughly inspect the slick saturating the fabric. He couldn’t have asked for a better reaction, finding your pleading to be incredibly sinful and all-too-tempting. He considers it a waste that he isn’t recording anything. Well, maybe it isn’t an entire waste.
“Damn, how are you this messy? This pussy’s fucking sobbing for me.” You nod, sloppily gyrating on top of his hand. For once, Bakugou is considerate to your needs and slides your panties to the side to slip his digits across your bare folds. You both moan in unison, you at the extra relief and him at the slippery honey dripping down his knuckles.
In his eyes he was being generous, granting you his thick fingers prodding your silky walls rather than reduce you to pitifully grinding against him. But, being greedy, you thought he wasn’t being generous enough.
Bakugou’s fingers leave your cunt to sample you, wet digits laying flat on his tongue. “Fuck, I need to lick you clean right now.”
“N-No, ‘suki, jus’ want your cock in me already,” you whine with a pout. However, Bakugou is insistent on stealing more than just a little taste from your sweet cunt.
“Not gonna even let me indulge a little? Must have spoiled you with too much dick last night.” He scoffs, but doesn’t move to discard his uniform to free his hard cock. Instead, he motions you to step down and stand in front of him while he remains perched atop his desk.
He eyes you up and down. “What are you waiting for, princess? I want it all off already.”
Your fingers start moving toward your disheveled blouse. As fabrics pile the floor, you catch the blond licking his lips, lewdly eyeing your panties that slip down your legs to reveal your juices coating your inner thighs.
“Turn around and kneel on top of my chair.”
At his blunt tone, you obey. Dynamight’s luxurious office chair cushions your knees as you carefully lift your body onto it.
“Bend over.”
Without question, you use the arms of the chair as leverage to safely lean forward, spreading your pussy in front of him. As half of your face presses into the cushion of the head rest, you steal a glimpse of his reaction from your peripheral vision.
With a guttural hiss between his teeth, he gets off the desk, pulling the chair closer for an even better look at your glistening center. He palms your ass, rolling the globes in his hands before spreading them, exposing your slick folds.
“You seriously trying to deny me this angel cunt?” His words are emphasized with a quick smack before his tongue dives between your folds. You whine at the contact, his lips fluttering around your clit as it works its way up your slobbering hole.
Knees shaking, you subconsciously muffle your sounds as you press your face into the headrest of the office chair. Not satisfied with your muted cries, Bakugou reaches one hand toward your head. He cups your jaw, turning you more to the side so you aren’t hiding in the cushion. When his tongue swivels around your sensitive bud, your moans resonate across his office with euphoria.
“‘suki! I’m gonna–!”
“Gonna cum? Do it then you slut.”
At your warning, he works his mouth vigorously against your pussy, even adding two fingers into your walls. Your toes curl behind you as your grip on the arms of the chair tighten.
“Fuck, you’re dripping all over my damn office chair.”
Maybe you would’ve issued a half-hearted apology, if not for his tongue and its unrelenting intensity across your sensitive bundle of nerves. You only offer a string of moans that Bakugou happily accepts, smiling into your pussy as he feels you tense up against him.
“Ka..tsuki!!” You practically scream, electricity coursing through your skin as your orgasm shakes your entire body.
“That’s it, princess. Want your taste all over my tongue… So fucking good,” he drones against your folds, not letting a drop go to waste as you slowly come down from your post-orgasmic bliss.
“Ah! ‘Suki, I’m already too sensitive…” You gasp, still feeling him drunkenly licking up and down your slit despite you just coming. Reaching behind you, you weave your fingers through his ash blond hair, nudging at his scalp to try to push him away, but Bakugou’s strength clearly outweighs yours. He grips your wrist, lifting his face off your sloppy pussy of his own volition.
“That sensitive just from my tongue? Oh, sweetheart, I plan on ruining you in my office chair alone.” Keeping his word, he replaces your pliant body with his own, planting himself right on the cushioned seat with his legs spread thoughtlessly. He dashes for the hem of his pants, unfastening the zipper, and pulling down enough articles of clothing for his cock to spring out, stiff and glistening with his arousal.
Lust blown eyes admire the thickness of Bakugou’s shaft, rightdown to the veins on the ridges of his cock. A smirk and chuckle follow in the wake of your heady gawking, swearing that you look like you were about to pounce and give him the best head of his life. Sadly, as he glances at the digital clock perched behind you, he realizes there’s no time.
“Sorry, babe, food’s gonna be here any minute and I need you on my cock right fucking now.” He rolls the office chair closer to get a firm grasp of your hips, motioning you on top of him with rousing urgency. Thighs on either side of his own, you reach over your body to level his cock over your dripping folds.
The blond’s lips curl into a sneer beneath you, hands fondling your breast and ass—the latter spreading your cheek to help you accommodate his size. “Besides, this what you wanted, right? To be–” As you begin sinking down his length, your mouth opens in a soundless mewl. “–split open on me, even after I fucked you into the mattress last night?”
Your teeth tug at your bottom lip while you do your best to bottom out. Katsuki isn’t amused by your muted reaction, pinching your nipple as punishment and spurring his desired noises from you. “What did I say? Answer me, slut, you wanted to get fucked dumb again, didn’tcha?” His words are harsher this time, demanding your attention.
“Yes, yes! Wan’ you to make me your little cockwhore, ‘Suki…” you confess, moaning when you feel his dick fully impale you. At the same time, Bakugou hisses at how your walls mercilessly hug his shaft.
“Yeah princess, I’m going to give you exactly what you need– Fuck! How are you so damn tight?!” It hasn’t even been ten hours since he had sex with you, stretching you into his shape last night until the sun shined, and yet you still had the innate ability to squeeze every ounce of pleasure out of him and then some. At this rate, he’s not going to last. “Need you to move, baby. Ride me already.”
Hearing the urgency in his tone, your hips begin moving on their own, dragging yourself on and off his cock. Hands on his shoulders, you leverage yourself to maintain a steady rhythm that had you both delirious and panting in pleasure. The blond’s thick fingers dig into your soft flesh, growls leaving his lips as fire flares in his veins, threatening to ignite his last ounce of willpower to allow you to keep this sustained tempo.
“F-Feeling good, ‘suki?” you question, looking down at him with a sinful expression painted on your gorgeous face—pretty eyes half-lidded and needy just for him.
“Yeah… God you make me act up all the damn time I–” His cock twitches between your tight folds, eyeing you from below and watching you clasp his hand that’s pawing your breast to gesture to him to play with you some more. The sensual yet genuine smile you give him ultimately breaks his resolve.
Oh, fuck it.
As if chains have snapped around him, Bakugou suddenly shoots up, carrying your body against him. He lays you across his desk quickly but carefully, with little regard for whatever else tumbles and falls off of it except for you.
You squeal in surprise, your arms and legs attempting to find purchase around him before you’re reduced to jelly by the new quickening pace of his cock pounding your insides.
“Oh my god… Katsuki!” The obscene slapping of skin on skin accompanies your desperate cries throughout his office. Arms that were wound around his neck lose their hold on him, pathetically dropping to your sides to clasp Katsuki’s wrists, where he’s pulling your thighs apart to spread you open for his unrelenting thrusts.
“Sorry, princess… you looked so damn hot I couldn’t hold back anymore. Needed to feel you deeper and make you cream already.” His tepid apologies don’t reach your ears as you’re overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of his movements, followed by a searing knot welling up in your abdomen.
By the looks of it, you have no objections to the turn of events, gazing dreamily at him as his hardened body hovers over you. From your point of view, you get glimpses of the sweat dotting his forehead, his nose scrunched in concentration, and narrowed ruby eyes glimmering with feral desire.
With stars in your eyes and features all flushed with warmth and lust, you sing a euphony of I love you’s between whimpers. Your voice catches in your throat when his cock repeatedly hits that sweet spot inside your gummy walls.
Bakugou can’t get enough of you, heart swelling with his affections that he can’t help but flick his wrist to intertwine his hand in yours. Despite his progressively carnal thrusts, he possesses contrasting tender devotions in his voice.
“I love you, princess. It’s been you and no one else. No other bitch can compare,” he repeats over and over like a mantra, a declaration of his loyalty to you and only you. You swear there’s an extra weight behind his words, but you’re too engrossed in the feeling of utter euphoria this man gives you in mind, body, and soul to give it a second thought. It’s as if you’re walking on Cloud 9 as your pussy clenches around him, back arching in the moment that’s pushing Bakugou to the breaking point
“So damn perfect, you were fucking made for me, baby. Give it to me, cum on my cock,” he pleads, “I know you’re almost there, princess.”
“Yea, ‘suki… Wanna cum for you, you make me feel so good,” you murmur brokenly, voice splintering into an incoherent babble that he finds so endearing, caressing your cheek while deepening his brutal pace. That knot in your tummy tightens and when the cord eventually snaps, you cry out, clutching onto his hand.
Katsuki insists he’s never seen a prettier sight than you finally losing yourself all because of him. It urges him to reach his own high and claim you in the only way he knows how—coming in your pretty cunt and dedicating himself wholly to you.
“Pretty angel, you’re making me crazy over here. Fuck! ‘Bout to blow my whole load inside you. That what you want?”
“Mhm! Please..!” You manage a few urgent pleas before Bakugou finally reaches his limit, groans resonating in the wake of his cock stuttering between your silky folds. His growls reverberate from the depths of his chest, thick with rapture as his body is bathed in the sweet sensation that is your entire being swallowing him whole. Ribbons of his cum paint your insides. You feel so full, both physically and spiritually, your heart bursting with love for the man that was spilling his adoration for you merely seconds ago.
Bodies spent and chests heaving, you lay on the desk with Katsuki on top of you. You don’t notice his hand sneaking under the desk, a click going off that goes equally overlooked, enveloped by your collective pants echoing in the stillness that is his hero office.
After a moment, the sensations catch up to you and the weight of his sweaty, heavy torso makes you squirm.
“Feel sticky…”
“There’s a shower and bath right there.” Bakugou grunts, but there’s playfulness behind his deceptively gruff mannerisms.
Your hands trail over his back at his response. “I know, but can you carry me?”
“Fine. Such a princess…”
“I’m your princess though.” You giggle, a teasing lilt in your carefree tone.
The blond can’t help the grin that finds his features. “Hell yeah you are.”
Bakugou pulls on his uniformed cargo pants to scrounge together some semblance of decency as he cradles you against him. Your body is like jelly in the Pro Hero’s strong arms, barely exercising the strength to hold onto him properly as he moves you to the unnecessarily luxurious bathroom built in his office. While setting you down on the counter next to the sink, the pager in his pocket rings.
“Food’s finally here.” He reaches for a hanger on the door, finding a bathrobe to blanket you in. “I’ll be back.”
You raise a brow. “Going out like that?”
“Relax, I’m putting a shirt on obviously.”
“A shirt, huh?” Not at all convinced, you cross your legs. You and him both know he absolutely reeks of sex. The marks you gave him are also an obvious giveaway. No doubt he’ll be an eye-turner to anyone he crosses paths with at the agency.
“Fine, I’ll have someone bring it up.” He meets you in the middle and you happily oblige, shoo-ing him to go about his business once again. The blond rolls his eyes, exiting the bathroom and out the large double doors of his office to wait at the elevator for his delivery.
And when those doors open with a ding, he’s greeted by the very last person he wishes to see. Swathed in the overbearing odor of her pungent perfume, his secretary stands heel-to-heel in the elevator, eyes crossed and a furious blush penetrating the matte layer of her foundation. Her steps traverse the threshold between the lift and hallway. With hands balled into small fists, she jabs the plastic bag of take-out food into the hero’s chest before wagging her finger at his disinterested demeanor.
“You..! You! How dare you?! Why, I should charge you for sexual harassment for what you did! So uncouth! Barbaric even!” She lectures vehemently, voice dripping with malice akin to the insults she practically spits at his face. The benevolent facade she dons everyday to garner his favor crumbles to pieces before his eyes and Bakugou can’t contain his laughter at the pathetic display.
“What’s so funny?!”
“Oh man, you’re a riot aren’t ya? You coulda very well just turn off your speaker if it bothered you so damn much,” he suggests, but the glint in his expression tells the woman he can see right through her. “But you didn’t, did you? You listened in on the whole thing like a fuckin’ pervert.”
At his deduction, the secretary blushes even harder. The fists at her sides shake with an anger that boils under her skin, melting her composure like the wicked witch of the west.
“Why you..! You’re the pervert here! Don’t think you can turn the situation on me when you’re the one who instigated this!” She points an accusing finger in his direction, an empty threat to the indifferent blond.
The hero barely offers her a scoff. “Me? The instigator? You got some fucking nerve saying that when all month you’ve been coming onto me practically on all fours despite knowing I’m a taken man.” Now it’s his turn to retort with equal venom and then some. His sudden switch in demeanor quickly overwhelms the woman as with every step he takes forward, she grows smaller and smaller.
“What’re you going to do? Tell the media? Report me to the authorities? Make a bunch of baseless rumors on your online blog? Well news flash—unlike you I’m irreplaceable. There won’t ever be another hero that has left as big of a mark on this country as I have, and you know it.” He holds his chest proudly after every word. In his presence, the secretary shrinks, gradually cowering back toward the elevator. Any semblance of nerve she held vanishes in front of her.
“Now start packing your things. If I don’t see your station left spotless by tomorrow morning I’ll make sure your days working for the hero industry are numbered.” It’s a threat she doesn’t dare challenge, wordlessly pressing a button on the panel to descend the floors and flee with her tail between her legs. The flabbergasted expression on her face is the last he sees of her.
And just like that, Katsuki feels a weight evaporate from his shoulders, releasing a deep sigh he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He bounds back to his office with your lunch in tow.
When he returns, he overhears the water running in the bathroom before it’s soon shut off.
“Ah, ‘Suki, you’re back! I just filled the tub with water for our bath.” Your sincere smile meets his eyes which soften at the mere glimpse of you kneeling next to the tub, patiently awaiting his arrival.
“Fuck, babe, you weren’t suppose to move. Should be too sore after what I did t’ya.” He hoists you off the floor and into welcoming arms.
You pout cutely. “C’mon now, I’m not helpless you know.”
“‘Course not. But you’re my princess, remember? All mine.” He settles you both into the depths of the soothing, warm tub, nestling your body against his chest as he presses kisses in every area of tender skin he laid his claim on.
“And I plan to treat you like one for the rest of our lives.”
.
.
The very next morning, he finds a letter of resignation on his desk—the very place the two of you had fucked.
copyright 2022 shotoh, all rights reserved. i do not allow my creations to be published or translated elsewhere so please do not repost this or share my content on tiktok.
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