#RIOT HIRE ME !!!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

oceantornadoo · 4 days ago

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ch9 something borrowed something blue (mafia!price x simon's sister!reader)

tw: kidnapping. yeah...

masterlist | next

You feel like a teenager again.

Your first date is full of nerves and hormones, shy eye contact in the warm light of the candlelight dinner. That is, the candlelight dinner John organized in the back of a London bookstore you’d never explored, shut down early for the public so you could have a private dinner date. He takes you on a shopping spree after, setting you loose on the quiet store with no restrictions on time or money. You pick a few books to be sent back to your library in the country (what an extraordinary thought to have!), and a few for home. Home. Over the past weeks, almost two months, you now think of John’s home as yours. His bed as yours, his life entwined with yours.

“I would say you’re spoiling me too much, but honestly, you owe me.” You mention as John shadows your book search, his body heat searing into yours. He laughs, waves of sounds settling into your skin. “Glad y’r stayin’ true t’ y’r beliefs, sweetheart.” You nudge him with your hip and he takes advantage of your proximity, pulling you closer into the cage of his body. You grab the book you were perusing and tug it to your chest on instinct. “Hey! I said nothing sexual.” John nuzzles your neck, hands wrapping around your waist to rub at the pudge of your stomach. “‘S not sexual, jus’ comfort.” You melt like chocolate, conforming to the contours of his body.

“Tell me ya hate me.”

He whispers into the space between your ear and shoulder. You shudder at his words, pushing back into him to get closer. “I’m not answering that.” It’s the best you can give him without showing your cards. He hums in approval, sending a shock of electricity to your core. “Guess I’ll hav’ t’ take ya out again.” You turn in his arms, the book between you like a shield. “Someone’s presumptuous. Don’t you know it’s bad luck to plan a second date during the first?” He shrugs, the grays in his beard glinting in the lamplight. “Y’r a sure thing, sweetheart.” You gasp in faux-outrage, hitting him square in the chest with the book you’re holding. He barely moves, not having the decency to look hurt. If anything, he stalks closer with eyes like a tiger, a look at you like you’re prey. “Do tha’ again.”

That night, his words echo in your head. A little flower of insecurity grows in a hidden crevice of your heart. “Y’r a sure thing, sweetheart.” The memory of his smile, joking and lighthearted in the moment, warps into a smirk in your mind. In the bed you’re lying in, you inch away from John’s sleeping body as it replays over and over. Would all of this be happening if you weren’t married? How much of his hunger for you is fed by the fact that you’re the closest option? That you’re easy, letting him get you off within a few weeks of knowing each other. Sleep only comes hours later, when you’ve wrought your brain of all its thinking power.

John wakes you with sweet words and intimate cuddles, holding you against him as he tells you about all the places he wants to take you. Your earlier doubts, screaming and rioting, fade away into a whisper, letting his words wash over you. You forget about it.

Mostly.

Your own bookstore is getting along well. You’ve hired another assistant, a man named Arthur who was a referral of Phil’s. The extra help goes a long way, as he’s experienced enough to install the cafe you wanted in the front. In the next month, you order inventory and thrift furniture. You venture out to cafes to inquire about catering and post job listings for a cafe worker and bookseller.

On the weeknights you go on dates, John insists on picking you up from the store. It’s only one or two nights a week, where he’s free enough to do a late dinner or a drive around town. John shows London to you in bits and pieces, shyly peeling back the film of mystery that covers the town. You go to hole-in-the-walls, cuisines ranging from Jamaican to Indian to traditional British fare. The owners always seem to know him, giving him the best seats of the house and refusing to take his card. You’re starting to understand how much of an influence he holds, how the caring husband behind closed doors is also the feared mafia boss outside of them. It’s like you’re learning him anew, sharing childhood memories and terrible twenties stories every date. It’s a fantasy of what life would’ve been like if you’d met him naturally.

Speaking of his frightfulness, he’s not friendly with either of your assistants, but after a stern talking to, he becomes begrudgingly polite. He speaks in monosyllables and grunts, only offering you a full English conversation. Despite yourself, you find it a little endearing. This non-jealousy looks good on him and makes him handsier in car rides.

“Y’ look so fuckin’ good in these.” He’s talking about the overalls you thrifted, which appalled Gaz when he stopped by for breakfast this morning. You insisted they’re practical for the work you’re doing: going through newly delivered inventory and moving furniture around to your liking. “Thought you liked me in fancy things.” You murmur. He tells your driver to keep driving, then rolls up the partition to give you some privacy. John yanks you into his lap, a tight fit between his bulk and the ceiling of the car. It forces you to curl in tighter, your head in the crook of his shoulder. “Think y’re wearin’ these to our next gala.” Our. It grows roots and you hope it's poisonous enough to kill that flower of insecurity. He pulls you closer, and even through the denim of your pants, you can feel him grow hard under you. “John…” He kisses your exposed neck, then licks at the dust that’s settled on your skin. It’s so primal, like he’s reduced to base instincts when he’s with you. “We’re not doin’ anythin’. Jus’ want ya t’ know wha’ ya do t’ me.” He bites your earlobe, then soothes it with a lick. “So this has nothing to do with my all-male employee force?” He growls and you giggle at his annoyance. John pulls you back a bit so you’re off his cock, smirking when you groan at the loss. “Nah. Jus’ reminding you wha’ y’ve got at home.” You plant a quick kiss on his lips, then roll off and into the seat next to him. Despite the glaring safety violation, you tuck your legs under you and rest your knee on his thigh. Your hand runs through his beard, then moves up to smooth the wrinkles on his forehead. “Consider me reminded.” He kisses your palm near his face. “Now take me to dinner, I’m starving.”

Weeks later, you’re home late from your favorite date yet. A private movie screening of a drama film you’ve been talking about for weeks. The set-up was thoughtful and sweet, with your favorite candies and popcorn set up with a comfy blanket. However, the movie was darker than you thought, with a primary focus on a father and his strained relationship with his daughter. Two hours of watching them on screen left you raw and bloody, silent on the car ride back home.

“Feelin’ ok?” You nod. He squeezes your thigh, but when he tries to keep his hand there, you cross your legs so it falls off. He seems to get the message, stroking the outside of your thigh before pulling his hand back.

When you get home, Gaz is at your kitchen table. You nod to him in greeting, then try to bypass him in favor of a hot shower, but he stands up and blocks your path. “We need to talk, ma’am.” His eyes flick up to John standing behind you. “Sir, you need to hear this.”

Gaz lays out building plans and tax documents that blur in front of you. Your tired brain can’t comprehend what he’s saying, something about “encroachment” and “buying up buildings.” John goes into work mode, shrugging off his jacket and sitting down to take a closer look.

“Am I really needed here? I’m sorry, I’m just tired.” John’s eyes are warm but Gaz’s aren’t, his smooth skin marred by a frown. “Shepherd's bought a building a block from your bookstore. From what I can tell, it’s empty, but it’s a safety risk. It’s got a basement that we can’t get our eyes on.” You drag a hand down your face, clearly not equipped for this conversation. “Look, it’s empty, right? So just keep eyes on it and up my number of guards. I bought my bookstore under a ghost LLC, so the only way he’ll know is if he sees me. I’ll start using the back entrance.” Gaz’s eyes flit to John’s, waiting for his opinion. You groan at being dismissed so clearly.

“You know what, you guys figure this out. I’m going to bed.”

You leave before they can say anything. A hot shower calls your name, but the water is abrasive instead of calming. The same thing happens with your skincare, sitting too heavy for comfort on your face. When you’re ready for bed, and John’s still not there, you pop a few melatonin and go to sleep, eager to delay any sort of conversation.

He wakes you by brushing your shoulder gently. It’s clear the sun’s been up for a while, a rare sleep in. “Hi, baby.” You grumble at his words, turning to smother your face in your pillow. He kisses your shoulder, where his hand was, and stays there for a second, dark blue eyes tracking yours. “We need to talk.” His tone switches from sweet to serious, enough of a change to warrant you turning back to squint at him. “No.” He did not expect that, eyebrows raising. “No to whatever suggestion you’re going to make about delaying my opening or shutting down my bookstore.” You push off the covers, rising to get ready, but he yanks your arm and tugs you under him.

“It’s not fuckin’ safe.” He growls out. You push against him, trying for once. He uses his strength against you, pushing you further into the mattress. “Then make it safer. I’m not giving this up. There’s not even a clear threat yet.” You spit. Your tactical knowledge of Simon’s security strategy come to the forefront of your mind. “I’m puttin’ Gaz on yer team.” You roll your eyes, finally pushing off him to go use the bathroom. He follows you like a hound, not stopping when you try to shut the door in his face. “You’re not putting Gaz on my team. He would hate it. I don’t need a babysitter.” John doesn’t trust you, doesn’t trust the fact that you’ve been in this life for decades and know how to analyze a threat. John doesn’t respond as you pee defiantly, even when you throw a roll of toilet paper at his head to get him to leave. It’s only when you’re done washing your hands that he responds.

“It’s gettin’ more violent everyday, sweetheart. I can’t be biased when I make this call. Might need to send you t’ the country.” You can’t even compute his sentence. “What, send me away like you did 20 years ago?” That was not what you wanted to say. That was not how you wanted this conversation to be, you washing your face in your shared bathroom while he stares at you through the mirror. “Spit it out, darlin’. ‘S clear you want to.” You don’t comment on how he’s never called you darling and how evil he is to whip it out in that deep accent of his now. You towel off your face, then whirl around to face him, exposed in so many ways. “I think it’s pretty clear. You send me away when I complicate things. You did it when I was a kid and you’re doing it now. I’m a fucking problem to you, John.” He runs a hand through his beard, agitated.

“Tha’ why you hate me? ‘Cuz I told yer old man t’ send you away when I was 16 and green in the gills, not knowin’ a damn thing?” You frown, turning back to rub lotion on your face. You take your time, rubbing the excess into your wrists. John tracks the movement with squinted eyes. “I know you were young, John, but I was too.” John pulls you into him by the fabric of your t-shirt (his t-shirt). He settles his hands on your waist, ensuring eye contact before speaking. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry f’ bein’ an idiot when I was young an’ not thinkin’ about the little girl’s life I was destroyin’.” Well. That was the apology you’d been chasing for months, if not years. So why weren’t you satisfied?

“Thank you. But it doesn’t change what you’re trying to do now.” You stand and look at each other, silent. His hands don’t move and neither do yours, akimbo at your sides. “‘M not sendin’ you away. I’m keepin’ ya safe.” He murmurs. You shake your head in disagreement. “London is my home, John. The bookstore is my life. Where would you even send me?” He looks away, uncharacteristically unsure. “The country.” You roll your eyes. “You said that. I’m asking where.” He grips your hips hard, startling you. “The library.” You bark out a laugh. “The library? What, am I gonna sleep on the couch and just haunt the place.” A realization dawns on you. “No way.”

“Baby-”

“You own it?!”

“It was my first real estate purchase.”

“When were you going to tell me? You just, what, invented an old, dying friend?”

He almost looks embarrassed, the blush of his cheeks hidden in parts by his beard. “I didn’t want ya to feel trapped and you hated me too much then to take it freely. Yer mad I did somethin’ nice?” You pull away out of his grip, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “I am trapped, John. No matter how I feel about you now, I didn’t pick this marriage. On top of that, you lied. You won’t let me go on trips with you, you’re trying to push these security decisions on me, and I can’t even tell if you like me for me or my proximity. I need to go to work before I say something I’ll regret.” You dodge his reach easily, shucking on the nearest nice clothes you can find before heading downstairs to find Terrance. The clothes end up being your recently worn jeans and one of his button-ups, white for a change. It smells like him, pine and musk and man. You sniff the collar discreetly when Terrance is arranging for the car. Quick steps thud down the stairs and when you turn he’s there in a suit, unruffled and polished. You dart out the front door as quickly as possible, but because you’re weak and shameful, you turn back right before you get into the car. You mouth ‘bye’, brows knitted in frustration, and a sliver of betraying warmth hits your heart as he mouths ‘bye’ back.

Kyle is going to ask for a raise next week. He’s been working twelve-hour days, tearing through Shepherd's finances non-stop. He’s finally gotten to Shepherd’s employee list, unofficial, of course. Bored with the bland names, he switches over to his tabs on the bookstore. In his perusal, a name catches his eye. Phillip Sorth. Where has he seen that before?

Kyle goes through the man’s file. Pretty standard, worked at a bar before this. Kyle didn’t create this report, handing it off to a person on his team. So he’s disappointed when he clicks on the bar name, The General, and is returned with a blank page. Whoever made this is getting fucking fired.

The bar closed down three years ago. Which is odd, because Phil’s resume says he only stopped working there six months ago. When Kyle runs the address, alarm bells go off. It’s one of Shepherd’s.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He dials Price’s phone, which goes straight to voicemail. Shit. While he waits, Kyle runs another test and sure enough, Phil’s NI number links to a Phillip Graves, not Sorth. Which, of course, is a name on Shepherd’s fucking list. A top name, actually. The man’s a high-ranking spy.

Kyle dials Terrance, who also doesn’t pick up. He bursts out of the security room and ensures his keys are in his pockets before heading out the door. “Shut this shit down. We’re at Level 5.” He barks out to the men guarding the door, emulating his Captain. They immediately start talking in their earpieces and out of the corner of his eye, Kyle sees his men in the park close in on the Castle. Good. Someone needs to protect this place while he tracks down a fucking rat. Before someone harms the new angel of the Castle.

“Arthur, do you mind putting these away? I think my arms are going numb.” He takes the box from your hands with ease, winking as he walks away. You breathe out a sigh of relief, then trek to find Phil. He was finalizing the checkout desk, but now he’s nowhere to be seen. You really want to get his opinion on your ideas for wall decor. You head back to the office, thinking he might be there, but pause right before you walk in. Phil’s on the phone, and the walls are thin enough that you can hear his entire conversation.

“Yessir, copy that.” Who’s he calling sir? It’s like how Gaz addresses John, deferent and loyal. “Affirmative. Later today. We’ll get the van ready and-”, the rest of what he says is muffled, like he’s turned away from the door. Something isn’t right.

That’s when you realize you haven’t seen Terrance in over thirty minutes. He went to the bathroom, which he always tells you about, making you feel like a third-grade teacher, but he hasn’t come back. You dig in your pocket for your phone, then swear when you remember you left it on the cafe counter. When you turn to go find it, there’s a wall in front of you. A human wall. Arthur.

“Sorry ‘bout this.” You try to run but a strong grip captures your arms, holding you firmly in place. From the corner of your eye you see Phil, holding you tight as you struggle against him. “John will find you. My brother will find you. You’re going to-”, except you can’t tell him what he’s going to regret, as Arthur holds a rag over your mouth and everything goes dark.

Sorry this took so long! This semester has been crazy. Im thinking 3-4 more chapters and we’ll be done! I hope nothing happens to reader…

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a-ikuoliver · 1 year ago

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honing your kickboxing skills with pro hero dynamight can lead to a) insane improvements of your skills, becoming the best version of yourself with each critique you get, b) a crush like no other you’ve ever had in your life, or c) all of the above?

pairing: pro hero!katsuki bakugou x f!reader w/c: 9.3k warning/s: fem!reader (“girl”, “cunt”, “pussy” used) slight age gap but not a main plot point, a lil bit of violence, making out, brattish reader, choking (ish), hair pulling, dry humping, slight edging, public sex, unprotected sex, panty stealing, implied use of birth control notes: this post was fucking me up man, uh also ik bakugou is cracked in hand to hand, just have a fun make believe moment where this seems realistic LMAO also apologies for how long my sentences are :// im a yappy girl crossposted to ao3 • masterlist • wip updates & voting • kofi • askbox

sucking in a deep, controlled breath, you let the air slowly escape your lips as your head fell back, gently leaning on the mirrored wall of the elevator; nearly impossible to hear the ding of your arrival onto the gym floor over the blood still pounding in your ears. you always took this moment to yourself at the end of a patrol, deep meditative breaths to relax, to ease yourself into the mindset you needed for your evening training, clearing your head and trying to focus on your muscles instead of any unpredictable thing that happened on your patrol. tonight was different, the last time you would train without your favourite hero; it was impossible for you to calm your heart rate down, your body buzzing in anticipation, and you couldn’t even lie about why. excited, borderline desperate to work beside the one hero who had your cheeks flushing before your workout even began again. you were always happy to see some of the other heroes you admired, the high-end gym attracting plenty of rookie heroes like yourself, and even more pro heroes, but none catching your eye quite like him. tonight, it was empty, the timed lights flickering on the moment the elevator doors opened, revealing the long wall of mirrors, bouncy dark grey mats lining the floor, red punching bags hanging from the ceiling beside the free-standing ones, and weight racks further up in the room and a floor and cardio section around the corner of the wall.

the clean, structured gym reminds you of your high school gym where you first fell in love with kickboxing, although that had a far smaller blue ring for you to spar with your classmates in. much like the agency leader, you worked every spare moment you could to climb your way to the top of your class, never once missing a chance for training in high school, refusing to fall behind in your dream to become a hero, your reflexes and quirk growing stronger in the three years you trained there, your favourite teacher once reminding you they had needed to changed the worn down mats so often he’d lost count. smiling to yourself, you followed the wall and entered the showers just past the rowing machines, slipping out of the hero costume and into your comfortable gym wear, the dynamight agency logo embossed on the chest of your loose, airy shirt, one of the best agencies japan had to offer.

aside from the top-of-the-line gym being available to you at any time with your staff key, the best part of the dynamight agency gym was who frequented the gym. when you were first hired, the gym was crawling with fellow rookie heroes destressing after their first patrols as full fledged pros, all of your class scattering to agencies around japan right after graduation, some of your classmates joining you here in your first year, now, two years later, only a few of them remained at the same agency, and fewer staying on the same schedule as you. you still saw a few here and there, mostly while you were patrolling; but now your schedule finished your patrol at the quietest time in the agency, especially its gym, passing red riot only once as he was in the elevator going down, dyed hair still damp from his shower and dressed in a casual shirt that clung so tight around his forearms you wondered if he bought his shirts one size too small. you’d cooled down on the treadmill three times so far next to the cheerful chargebolt and cellophane, both of them egging each other on, hearing one bet the other on who could do more pull-ups every single time they were in here, the competition fairly even last you remembered.

but the one that kept you coming back night after night, excitement and nervousness bubbling inside you every time your eyes locked onto his carnelian ones, was the agency’s namesake, dynamight. you saw the hero at least once a week, always with sweat plastering ash blond to his forehead, his lower lash line smudged with leftover black face paint (he’d demanded you stop calling it his makeup despite his brand of eyeliner being the same as yours) and his shirt clinging to his skin if he kept it on, happening so often now your heart would stutter and your smile falter if you didn’t see the explosive bakugo.

you’d be lying if you tried to say seeing him didn’t do twice to motivate you, the ease with which the hardened hero consistently got you into submission had you working out for double the time you typically would, fixating on the way his thighs would pin your shoulders to the mat while he held your hand to his chest, forcing your head down until you gave up wiggling and would tap twice wherever on his body you could reach. you hated to admit it, but he had you submitting so often, you’d usually start complaining about his victory the moment you recognised the movement of his legs coming to wrap around your body, knowing without a doubt it would end with you panting, pressed to the mats and usually trying to get any sort of advantage over him that you could. he was the only one you lost to every time, the idea of one day having his body pinned beneath yours keeping you infinitely motivated, pushing yourself further and harder. you made your way home most nights with his glowing red eyes burned into your mind, his teeth bared in a crazed smile each time he got you underneath him, memories replaying in your head of the times the god-like man would joke with you, “who’s the best? who’s the king, sweetheart?”, waiting for you to agree before he’d release his strong hold on you, just to rub salt in the wound, always that stupid, arrogant smirk on his face.

god, he was addictive.

your determination to reverse the roles had you beating into the punching bag with everything you had, your hits landing in quick succession, the weighted bag hardly having enough time to swing back into place before you’d land another blow on it. you were distracted today, not being able to shake your longing for a proper spar with bakugou while swinging your fist forward again, pouting slightly when you connected with sand instead of muscle. you hated the way the bag couldn’t fight back, defend itself the way he would, hating that the bag didn’t stare down at you the same way he did, blond hair blocking the fluorescent lighting bearing down behind him, leaving his features hidden in the shadows; his ruby gaze all that was discernible. most of all, you hated that the punching bag didn’t keep you on your toes, no strong legs to sweep your own feet out from beneath you, no hands to catch your punches, the sand-filled bag made for nothing except taking the force of your punches.

with a grunt, you kicked the side of the punching bag where his muscular thigh would be, knocking it to the floor with an echoing thud, letting out a breathless laugh, imagining bakugou’s gorgeous face in its place on the ground, smug grin wiped off of his face, criticism dying on his lips in place of his submission. you felt your body flush with heat at the picture in your mind, looking forward to seeing him again, longing to hear the heavy panting and his echoing grunts whenever you landed a jab on him.

having gone without hearing or seeing him for nearly six weeks now, you were becoming more and more desperate to prove yourself and claim your victory over the one person you’d never beaten hand-to-hand, and just maybe, to hear his wolfish laugh and smell his addictive mix of spicy cologne and sweet sweat.

standing the weighted bag back up on its base, you flexed your hands before going back to hitting it with your all, the bag barely stabilising when you hit it again, your knee landing with an echoing thump moments before your fist connected in the centre of the bag, right where bakugou’s solar plexus would be if he were the one standing in front of you.

you watched the bag bounce back, waiting for it to settle on its base before you glanced up to the clock to see 3:02am blinking back at you. already here an hour later than you’d usually stay, you took a deep swig from your cold water bottle, deciding to stay one more hour before you’d go home, rationalising you didn’t need a full eight hours of sleep until you had bakugou beneath you, your thighs wrapped around him until he tapped your knee in submission like you’d had to do to him countless times before. the thought of beating your boss had a surge of adrenaline and endorphins pumping into your blood; your foot planted on the mat while your other swung forward, forcing the punching bag skittering several feet back across the floor. you finished your rotation, landing back in your defensive stance with your feet planted and your fists in front of your smiling face.

“that was better,” smiling, you breathlessly muttered praise, the same way bakugou would if you’d landed that hit on him.

you jumped, your head whipping around to face where a deep voice had echoed your words, the tone more matter-of-fact, compared to your high, excited one. you kept your fists high and just beneath your squared shoulders, elbows beside your ribs. your eyes narrowed to search the darkness near the edge of the room, worried the noise was simply part of the low, fast beat playing through the speakers scattered across the ceiling.

“settle down, extra, ‘m not here to hurt you.” his voice was rough, and thick with sleep, becoming more apparent when he stepped into the white lighting of the gym and you saw his mussed hair and slightly puffy eyes, dressed in loose, comfortable clothes and holding a plain black canvas bag in his left hand. your heart jumped into your throat at the sight of him, relaxing only as much as your thrumming veins could let you, a whole new electrical current surging through you not letting your shoulders slump or your thighs mirror his casual stance, his proximity already having your mind grow foggy despite the older hero still standing metres across the room.

almost as if he wanted your heart racing, he made his way to you across the room, his vermillion eyes dropping from your gaze to rake over your body, taking in your stance, “lazy, keep your fists in line with your shoulders, always expect ‘em to fight back.”

his voice was uncharacteristically gentle as he criticised you, muffled while his virile hands rubbed over his tired features, clearing his throat, his voice grew a touch in volume, “what are you even doin’ here at three in the morning?”

you ignored his question momentarily, fixing your fists to be in line with your squared shoulders, raising your eyebrow in a silent question of approval, dropping your arms and adjusting to a more casual position once he nodded, “gotta beat you somehow,”

bakugou laughed, no cackled, at your confident tone, not in a condescending way, but a more surprised laugh, your response seemingly catching him off guard, expecting a typical “i wanna crack the top 20!” rather than a personal mission to best him. returning his smile, you turned around to throw on your loose top, the fabric clinging to your slick, hot skin, figuring your boss was about to tell you to go home and rest and start some hypocritical lecture about burning the wick at both ends without any sleep. as soon as the shirt was pulled off your face and your eyes met him again, you continued, “what about you? did you get home last night?”

he nodded instead of speaking at first, his fiery red eyes tracking your every movement while you packed away your equipment scattered around the grey floor you were moving around between, keeping only your towel on top of your bag, your water bottle beside it and your phone next to that.

“just got back, was gonna drop some shit off,” he lifted the bag in a gesture to it, before placing it on the ground beside yours, the canvas rustling but no other noise coming from it to indicate it was heavy, the blond hero seemingly only dropping it because he planned to stay rather than follow his initial plan, “saw the lights, n’ then i heard that fuckin’ music you’re always listenin’ to.”

feigning offence at his distaste for your music, you held a still-wrapped hand to your heart, sure your eyes gave away the lovesickness you felt with him recognising the song instead of the faux venom you were aiming for. you turned back around after brushing off his insult, sliding the punching bag back across the grey mat to its spot between the countless others lining the wall, missing the way his tired eyes dropped to stare at the back of your thighs in your workout shorts, watching the way your muscles twitched when you planted your feet to push it the final foot into its place. his reflexes still fast enough to flick back to your face when you turned to tease him over your shoulder, “that’s probably the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, i never knew jet lag would make you such an angel.”

the blond hero barked out a too-loud laugh for the time of night it was, but it had you smiling widely, the look in his eyes a mirror to your own, all trace of sleep replaced with the easy playfulness you fell into together; the teasing, tension and challenge swirling in the air whenever you two were drawn into each others gravity. your stomach flipped at the look in his eyes, trying to ignore your carnal need to let your eyes roam over him after so long, wanting to commit the look of him so comfortable and relaxed to memory, much like how the view of his sculpted, muscular back was imprinted in your mind. somehow, the way he was dressed had you nearly drooling, his attire nearly as sinful as when he was half naked with a sheen coating his exposed skin, hair darkened and sticking to his face, gym shorts hanging low, but you were sure he could make anything look borderline lewd.

you loved when you were alone with him, not having to hold back your impish jabs to stay professional in front of fellow heroes who didn’t understand the friendship you’d built with the explosive hero; but it did come with its downsides, it was impossible to sneak glances at him when there was no one else to distract him from your drifting eyes. you especially loved the exasperated look he got when he was grappling in the ring with you and someone interrupted him, eyebrows furrowed and red eyes glaring at whoever announced dynamight had an “urgent” phone call, typically it being his pr team readying some statement for him on the other end.

he never looked at you that way. carnelian eyes always swimming with something else you could never place your finger on, but it was far from the disgruntlement he looked at everyone else with.

“you really think so?” his husky voice snapped you out of your deep thoughts, your eyes meeting his gaze boring into you once again, butterflies erupting in your stomach at the look. could he hear your thoughts? did he know the way you looked at him when he wasn't watching you? your mouth was bobbing open and shut with these questions swimming in your mind for a second before you found your voice again to innocently question him, “think what?”

“that you can beat me.” he quoted back to you, ruby red eyes staying on yours even while he dropped himself onto the weight-lifting bench beside him, his thighs spreading as he tilted his chin up at you, challenging you, “i already had to fix your stance, extra, you think you’ll ever land a hit on me like that?”

narrowing your eyes you spun on your heel to stalk towards the cushioned mats, the ring you were both all too familiar with, your fingertips buzzing at the challenge hanging in the air, “try me.”

“don’t threaten me with a good time,” bakugou teased, watching the way your wrapped hands twitched at your sides, fingers flexing to confirm the red wrap wasn’t going anywhere. you rolled your eyes in response, knowing his idea of a good time was kicking your ass.

he stayed on the bench, his nonchalant posture betrayed only by his eyes tracking you like a hunter, not a single movement you made went unnoticed by the seasoned hero, every single twitch, every breath caught by his expert gaze. you stood your ground, quirking an eyebrow in a silent challenge, not showing your tentativeness at what might happen if he did decide to stalk over to you; you’d been working your hardest in the past four weeks to try and shock him with your skills, who’s to say he wasn’t working, all the same, to be even less predictable in the ring with you?

“you scared?” you retorted, returning the smirk that was glued to his face when he did exactly what you hoped he would; standing straight from the bench to pull his shirt over his head, tearing his eyes from your hungry ones only for the split second the fabric shielded his face from you, throwing the black cloth to the ground beside his bag while he took long strides over to you. you’d never admit it aloud to a single soul, but your heart skipped a beat the moment he was in front of you again, standing to his full height, predatory eyes always observing. he was closer to you than before, the scent that was so him was radiating from him, invading your senses, any plan of attack clouded by the way you’d missed him. not even within a foot from you and he already had you mesmerised like that was his quirk, all your excitement of seeing him again twisting into nerves, your attraction to him hitting you like a brick wall.

you shook your head, trying to clear your mind, fixing your fists in line with your shoulders while bakugou circled the mat for a few moments before stopping again in front of you. with his heels planted and standing in a defensive stance, he waited for you to make the first move, he tauntingly stood still, looking like a carved statue, or maybe like the muse for one, perfectly still while artists chipped away to recreate his likeness. you took in one last calming, deep breath, willing your crush to subside for just a moment, just long enough to fulfil your craving.

with the older hero poised and waiting for your first attack, you decided not to keep him waiting any longer, jumping at him faster than you could dream of being capable of a month ago, catching a satisfying flash of shock across his features mere milliseconds before you landed your first blow; your fist connecting with his arms in front of his face in a block, forcing a grunt from his lips, the blow harder than he was used to from you.

bakugou tried to hide his admiration for your determination to prove to him that not only could you beat him, but you would. you landed one more hit on his stomach with a strong fist while he was lost in his thoughts, his elbows not swinging down fast enough to protect himself from your fist connecting.

any trace of apprehension you had disappeared after successfully knocking the breath from the fiery blond, stepping back with renewed energy, blowing on your fist to rub salt in the wound at landing a hit on him so quickly. he laughed wolfishly at your joking, his demeanour minutely switching, biceps flexing when he moved as he retorted, “oh, sweetheart, you’re in for it now.”

your smirk faltered, your swollen ego deflating like a popped balloon when he lunged at you, lifting your arms in a block when he was only inches away, landing punches on you every chance he got. the blows were little more than love taps, not exactly soft, but not enough to put you out of commission, serving more as a lesson that he would always be the king of kickboxing. you blocked another hit aimed at your face, baring your teeth as you finally remembered you could move, swinging your leg up, landing the harsh kick to the side of his thigh with a roundhouse kick, having just finished your rotation around before you kicked again, this time your heel landing squarely in his chest before he could recover enough to block you.

your kicks knocked him backwards, giving you only seconds to stalk over to him before he’d recover and have you half regretting the decisions that led you here; you landed only a few more hits to his chest and face, bakugou parrying and dodging nearly all of them, his vermillion eyes locked on you, watching the way you watched him, trying to predict the way he’d defend himself. he noted the way you weren’t focusing on landing one type of hit on him, evenly balancing kicks and jabs at him, one thing he was constantly pointing out to you, his biggest criticism was always your predictability.

inches away from the edge of the ring, you retreated only slightly, thinking for a split second before you decided to spin around with your elbow ready to strike, hoping when your elbow connected with his cheek he would be dazed enough for you to get behind him and get him to the floor. instead, your body jolted, being met with six feet of pure muscle, warm hands gripping your elbow, keeping it a mere inch away from connecting right beside his hypnotising eyes, you sucked in a surprised gasp, knowing his bicep would be around your throat in the blink of an eye, his mischievous eyes clear he thought he’d won.

“what was it you said?” you growled, swinging your your arm back with more strength than any of your previous blows, your free elbow landing into his solar plexus; the hulking man grunting more with shock than you knocking the breath from him and knocking his balance, but you took your chance to escape his grasp while you could. you whipped around once more, staring down at bakugo’s kneeling frame with an insane smile growing on your face, planting your heel to land your finishing kick to his chest.

“always expect them to fight back?” you were getting cocky now.

katsuki’s eyes widened, not having quite enough time to stand back to his full height and slip past you, choosing instead to block your blow, not pushing you aside but catching it; sliding one warm hand up your ankle, tugging you closer with a strong grip until your ankle was beside his hip and his other hand reached up in line with the centre of your chest, a powerful strike from his palm knocking you completely off balance and onto your back. winded, you landed with a grunt, staring up at bakugo’s ever-smug face hanging right above yours, his hips between your own, still keeping a tight grip on your ankle in his left hand, his free forearm pressing down across your heaving chest. you were effectively pinned beneath him, his entire body weight bearing down against you, preventing your free leg from kicking him off you, and your arms unable to reach high enough to land a punch with his muscular arm keeping your shoulders hard to the mat.

it was an undeniable win, even without having you in a chokehold.

“you’re so fucking–” you whined like a child, thrashing as much as his body would allow, wanting him off you before his gloating started and you’d have nowhere left to look except his soft, smirking lips.

“strong? mighty? the king? feel free to stop me when i’m right.”

“annoying.” your head fell back onto the cushioned mat in defeat, avoiding his garnet eyes, not wanting to see the addicting, animalistic look he got in his eye whenever he won. the hero still above you laughed in response to your childish whines, his chin falling to his chest and his body shaking with the rumbling laugh, your heart clenched at the sound. he readjusted his weight while still laughing, his hips and forearm lifting off your skin to leave you cold for just a moment.

long enough of a moment for you to blindly try to buck him off you again; your right leg still in his hold, but leaving your left leg free to kick his shoulder, doing little more than slide you backwards on the mat a foot or two, not nearly enough for you to stand up and attempt to disarm him. millions of thoughts were running through your head, every one a different strategy for your escape, to get behind bakugou and circle your bicep around his throat.

you lifted your leg again, your thigh flexing with the movement, about to kick out once more to free your ankle still trapped in his hot grip; interrupted by the blond diving on you, looking more like a panther catching its fearful prey in its claws than a human man sparring with a friend, his teeth were bared, pointed canines poised to tear you to shreds. landing back on top of you, he had his thighs between your hips again, the soft fabric hiding the pure muscle beneath it, the strength in his legs keeping you from moving again, and your legs caught beneath his arm, calves pinned to his ribs, immobilising your lower half. his thick fingers were looped around your neck, his chest so close to yours that if you took a deep enough breath, your chests would touch.

“you think you can get away from me that easily?” you held your breath, his voice the softest you’d ever heard it, deeper than when he barked orders or laughed like a crazed man, hot fingertips twitching against your racing pulse. his breath was fanning across your face as he whispered, his narrowed eyes flicking back and forth between your wide, shocked ones, your mouth dropping open to try and retort in the same second your thighs tensed around his body, pulling him closer in the most minute way. his heaving chest and stomach were pressed to yours, body heat becoming one, the only part of your bodies not joined were your heads, yours still resting against the mat, and his inches away, reading your face. without another word, bakugou’s face split into a signature grin, his head cocked to the side when he leaned impossibly closer to you; his muscular frame keeping you trapped under his heated gaze, whispering right to you, “is that what it is huh? never wanted to beat me, you jus’ wanted this?”

you stared dumbly up at him, unable to force your vocal cords to defend yourself in any way when his intoxicating, spiced scent was clouding your mind; trying to formulate a thought that wasn’t about the feeling of his warm abdomen against yours proving impossible, “tch, dirty girl.”

your heart stuttered in your chest, your breath hitching at his words, you closed your mouth, well aware that whatever sound came out of your mouth was not going to be something that would help your defence. his tongue darted out to wet his lips, your eyes flicking down to watch the way the muscle swiped across his pink lips before returning behind his teeth, eyes tracking his every movement while he tracked your stare. you tore your eyes away from his mouth, trying your best to harden your gaze when you looked back up to his eyes, your attempt to appear indifferent promptly failing when his sharp chin twitched, his lips only a hair's-breadth away from catching yours.

your chin twitches, desperate to close the space, to know what his lips would feel like pressed to yours with a fierce passion.

any attempts to close the space between you were dashed by his grip just tightening around your throat, keeping you at his mercy, unable to escape the way his blood red eyes bored into yours, as if he was reading your thoughts so clearly you may as well have shouted them from the agency’s rooftop.

his voice was husky, breathy, when he spoke again, “i fuckin’ knew it.”

it was a barely audible mumble, followed by him ducking his head to fill the tiny distance separating you, finally joining your bodies together entirely with his lips pressing to yours. he kissed you with the same ferocity he fought you with, something you eagerly returned, the feeling of his lips and exploring tongue had you nearly ready to snap, your body already wound tight from the last few hours already, his soft lips doing nothing to dull the electricity zapping between your bodies. he kept his smiling lips pressed to yours until he felt your taped hand snake around his wrist to hold him close, and your groans vibrated against his lips.

“i fucking knew it.” bakugou's deep laugh rumbled in his chest, repeating himself, his tone more relieved, more confident than his mumble before, although still breathless. his calloused hands still kept you under his control, glowing eyes staring down at your closed ones, your lips still parted and breathing heavily, your heartbeat fluttering beneath his fingertips whenever they tensed at all. you opened your glazed eyes to meet his hungry ones, only just catching the flash of his sharp smile at you again, your mind empty except for the need to feel him against you again and again.

ignoring the way his fingers dug into your skin to keep you still, you leaned up at the same time you reached your right hand up to bury it in the blond spikes at the back of his head, pulling him down to meet your lips in the middle again, not caring for the way you messily kissed him; lips bruising, spit mixing and teeth clashing. this time, you had him groaning against your lips when you nipped at his bottom lip, sucking it between your own, your hips jerking against his at the guttural sound.

almost as if your hips squirming against his brought him back to reality, he loosened his grip on your ankle, a warm hand gliding up your leg to roam over your thigh, abdomen and hip, roughly squeezing your hip in his hand, while the one around your throat caressed the delicate skin at your pulse point. moaning softly against his lips, you let your head fall back with your eyes squeezed shut, pressing your hips to his while sucking in deep breaths, kissing him was knocking the breath from your lungs more than his strikes did.

staring at the older hero with half-lidded eyes, you unabashedly admired him, addicted to the sensation of his fingers sliding down your chest, between your breasts, to rest at the hem of your shirt, flicking it off your hot skin, watching the way your muscles jumped at his every move.

closing your eyes again, an idea flashed in your mind, the mischievous thought cutting through the fog to land in the forefront of your mind; wasting no time, you took the opportunity to bring it to life while he was distracted by the feeling of your warm body pressed against his.

without wasting another moment, you tighten your loose grip in his hair, just enough to make him hiss in response to your fingertips scratching his sensitive scalp, his head falling backwards with a yank; your right hand reaching from his wrist to his shoulders with lightning speed, shoving him back with enough force, and with his distraction at your advantage, he lost his balance. he landed on his back with a quiet thump on the soft mats, his strong grip on your hips dragging you into his hold before you had the chance to adjust your body entirely, leaving you with no choice but to tighten your hold and land above him with your knees on either side of his hips. hastily, you slid your hand from his shoulder to pin him down with a forearm pressing at the base of his throat, pinning his shoulders, the same position you were in moments ago, this time your strong thighs either side of his hips and your forearm at his neck immobilising him.

you stared down at bakugou with a hungry look of your own sparkling in your eyes, leaning closer and closer to press your chest to his, your deep breaths mingling with his. any anxiety you felt about ruining the friendship you built fading with every passing second you stared into his carnelian eyes, fear pushed aside by the need to keep your lips pressed to his, and hands exploring each other's bodies, but you always made room in your clouded mind for one more snarky comment; “i always knew you’d look this good once i got you under me.”

the blond barked out a sharp, condescending laugh, your arm across his shoulders doing little to prevent him from reaching one of his hands up to grab you by the back of your neck, bringing your greedy lips to his again, pausing just before they connected to retort, “you haven’t done a thing i haven’t let you do, extra.”

a growl reverberated through your chest, your lip pulling back to snarl at him; his words had no bite but they still had adrenaline bubbling in your chest, any grumbling cut off by his lips slamming against yours in a rough kiss, sharp teeth dragging over soft lips, nearly cutting the plump skin. bakugou pulled your hips down to meet his bucking ones with strong calloused hands digging into your skin to keep your hot skin against his, guiding your movements while you sucked his tongue into your mouth. you revelled in the way his heart thumped under your touch, goosebumps erupting on the forearm you kept hard against his chest, refusing to let the experienced hero steal too much control back from you, the tight pectorals flexing under you giving you little reassurance you had any to begin with, aware he’d have you winded, several feet across the floor if he really wanted to show his strength.

tugging at his hair once more, you unceremoniously dropped your hand from his hair to glide down his body, dull nails dragging down his neck to the sweaty muscles of his chest, dipping into every defined divot of his abdomen you could reach, desperate to explore every inch of his body. reaching the elastic of his waistband, you paused, breaking the kiss but keeping the sensual, slow pace of your hips against his while you both gulped in deep breaths from the passionate kisses, your head lolling back with a high-pitched gasp when the seam on your gym shorts bumped your throbbing clit with a well-timed roll of your hips on his.

you had little power to stop katsuki from tightening his hold in the hair at the base of your neck, pulling you back to meet his lips with his teeth bared, your parted lips stopping just above his own when you caught yourself, your hand slipping from his throat to land beside his head with a slapping sound, keeping you only an inch above falling entirely onto him. as ravenous as you, he craned his neck to meet you halfway, his swollen lips latching onto your neck with hot, open-mouthed kisses, uncontrollable, breathy moans slipping from your mouth when his pointed canines grazed against your tender pulse points.

“that all it takes to get you moanin’?” he asked sarcastically, glassy, dark garnet eyes staring into yours when he dragged his teeth over the same spot once more, smirking against your skin when another sweet moan escaped you, the rhythm of your hips stuttering when he sunk his teeth harder into your skin, indenting your skin with his bite. your lust-filled eyes flashed with a playful glimmer, shoving his shoulders back until he was lying back on the mat, the bigger hero grunting at your show of force, half surprised by it, but mostly hard at your display of strength and determination to make him submit to you, even if he knew it wouldn’t happen.

“shut up,” you mumbled, your voice dropping lower and lower the closer you got to him, mirroring the kisses he’d placed on you; first pressing your lips to his adam’s apple, then another, harder kiss to the side of his throat, licking up the side of his neck until you reached just beneath his ear, sinking your teeth into the salty skin, the sound of his breath catching in his throat making your eyes turn to hearts. you opened your mouth against his skin, wanting to make your mark on his flawless skin.

“don’t even think about it, dumbass.” katsuki tried to sound venomous, threatening as to what would happen if you drew any blood to the surface of his skin, but his panting betrayed him, his glaring eyes lacking any meanness behind them, only lust reflecting in his blown pupils.

“oh please, katsuki, all your blood is rushing far from your head right now, i couldn’t get a drop out of you–”

your teasing and giggling were interrupted by the feeling of your weight shifting once again, his agile movements too quick for you to catch, unconcerned about restraining himself if it meant having you pinned under him again. once more, you were in the cliche position; your slick back on the stuffed mats, and the seasoned hero leering over you, this time he had your wrists pinned to your thighs with his knees holding them on either side of you, having torn them from his shoulders amidst flipping you off of him. thrashing again, you planted your feet and raised your hips to try and buck him off, stretching your neck off the mat, prompting him to pin your cheek back down to the mat, his warm hand holding your jaw to the side, while the other was sliding up the divot between your thighs, leaving tiny goosebumps in his wake until his thick fingers grazed over the heat radiating at the peak of them, “rich comin’ from you, i can already feel how wet you are n’ i’ve hardly touched you.”

his warm breath tickled your ear when he gloated, the hairs on the back of your neck standing when a shiver passed through your spine. noting your reaction to his gravelly voice, he pressed harder to your cheek to hold you still while he toyed with you, lazily circling his fingers over your clothed cunt, admiring the wet fabric beneath his fingertips. without even glancing up at the hero, you could picture the smug grin clearly on his face, crimson eyes monitoring every jump of your heart rate, every twitch in your hips, every flutter of your eyelids, lust-blown pupils honed into the way your bit at your lips, holding a deep breath in your chest to keep yourself from moaning salaciously.

“like you’re any bet-ter, i can feel your dick through those t-tiny shorts,” stuttering with every brush against your cunt, you tried to mimic his mean tone, your body revealing your true need to reach for him when your hands twitched against his muscular legs, desperate to dig your nails into him until he was melting into your touch, desperate to brutalise him with your affection.

“you get this hard with everyone?” you mocked his tone once more, trying, and failing, to keep your tone even as possible with your eyes mapping what the inside of your skull looked like at the euphoric feeling of his fingers exploring your skin, paying no mind to the fact you were entirely at his mercy. your hips bucked into his touch, betraying your attempt at indifference, a quiet moan escaping from your plush lips at his skilled ministrations, lightening jolting from his fingertips every time the pad of his thumb pressed against your clothed clit. sucking his teeth with disapproval, katsuki tore your shorts down your thighs in response to your restrained noise, the stitching of the garment straining to stay attached in his rough grip. shifting his knees to adjust your pinned hands, he cleared the way for the fabric to be yanked finally your ankles.

the moment your shorts were torn from your body, his strong hand returned to your wrists, snatching them and holding them above your head, taking advantage of your delirious, love-drunk state to manipulate your body exactly where he wanted it; knees knocking apart your own, his hand drifting from your cheek to your chin, tilting your head to stare back up at his sculpted face. he caught your lips in a searing kiss again, the tip of his nose pressed hard against your cheek while his hand fell from your face entirely to trail down your body, calloused fingertips sending electric shocks straight to your heart with every inch they travelled, only stopping once he reached the waistband of your panties. the older blond slipped his fingers between your burning skin and the elastic, flicking it against your skin to elicit a tiny gasp from you, taking advantage of your parted lips to let his tongue slide against yours.

he had you mewling within seconds, his two fingers rubbing your clit over your underwear getting you closer and closer to cumming without the satisfaction of his fingers even dipping inside the soaked fabric, already too sensitive from his barely-there touches and the feel of his tongue. stubbornly, you held your breath, tensing your thighs around his, refusing to climax after only a little petting and kissing, determined not to let him see what his skilled touch did to you. bakugou pulled away from you, your mouths connected for a moment longer by a string of shared saliva before you broke it with a garbled cry, his fingers pressing into your dripping pussy through your panties, the rough feeling of the fabric and his hard fingers pressing just inside you driving you crazy, the hero nearly succeeding in making you cream before he even had your panties off.

“i don't know why you’re trying to hide those pretty sounds, sweetheart, your pussy isn’t holding back about how bad she wants me.” you stared up at him with glassy eyes, the bright lights behind him haloing his head, leaving him looking like an angel despite his sinful words making your pussy clench. his ruby eyes locked on the way your cunt quivered the second he pulled his hand away to tug down the waistband of his gym shorts and briefs in one motion, leaving only your panties still separating the two of you. your gaze dropped from his face, watching instead the way his cock sprung from the confines of his cotton underwear to bob against his scarred, tanned skin, the moans you’d been holding in spilling from your lips at the sight. without another thought, you lifted your hips, rubbing your still-clothed cunt on his cock, his eyes squeezing shut with a deep moan of his own at the sensation of the cotton separating you rubbing over his sensitive cockhead.

“hurry up and do something worth screamin’ about then.” your voice hardly above a whisper when you pleaded, the blond smiling wolfishly, snatching at the challenge you dangled in front of him like it was a five-course meal served on a silver platter for him to savour. despite the arrogance radiating from him, he was squeezing the base of his cock staring down at you, trying to regain some semblance of control over himself while you writhed and sighed beneath him; ready to cum at the way you keened into his touch when he tore the waistband of your panties down your hips swiftly.

“not even a “please, katsuki”?” he bullied, tucking your plain panties in the pocket at his thigh while you were distracted, not wanting to hear your teasing at his perverted actions, he’d controlled himself for two years, he wasn’t going to give them up now. katsuki adjusted himself between your thighs, languidly fisting his thick cock, while inching closer to you, ending with your knees either side of his hips and your wrists still trapped above your head. your hard eyes were boring into his burning red ones, your mouth opening to retort with another insult, bratty words dying on your lips in place of a yelp when he bumped the head against your sensitive clit, teasing you once more, “what was that, baby?”

glaring up at him, your hips bucked again, growing more and more desperate for his dick inside you, “fuck you, kats–”

he had his cock bullying deep inside you in one easy, swift motion, cutting you off before you could finish spitting out his name. his laugh morphed to a deep groan the deeper he got inside of you, a quiet sigh escaping you both when his sensitive head jutted the lewd, spongy spot deep inside your cunt. with his hips flush against yours, your loud cry drowned out bakugou's own grunts at your tight pussy fluttering and squeezing his still dick.

true to your word, you lost yourself in your climax, with no hope of silencing your cries of pleasure, hips stuttering up against his, your cunt trying to suck him impossibly deeper. your head was swimming at how he felt buried in your guts, the sensation infinitely better than what you’d spent your days dreaming about since your first day at his agency, your fingers nothing compared to the way he had your endorphins pumping through your veins.

bakugou drank in the sight of you lost in your climax beneath him, your hair mussed and escaping from the elastic hairband desperately trying to hold it all still together, your shirt riding up to expose your sweating, heaving chest, your back arched perfectly, and a bead of sweat winding down your body like a road leading right to your dripping cunt, cream spilling down his veins to gather in a milky ring at the base. swearing, he adjusted himself, bumping your sensitive g-spot again, unable to wait any longer when you wiggled your hips further down onto him.

pulling his hips back, he sank slowly into you again, his gaze locked on your face for any trace of discomfort on your features, your pussy certainly wet enough for him to fuck you with ease, but still making sure you could handle the stretch of him in your tight pussy before ravaging you. he found nothing but undeniable pleasure swirling around in your eyes, clearly not enough to make you dumb yet.

“are you gonna fuck me properly, or just sit there staring at me?” you tried to sound apathetic, bored, to the feeling of his thickness stretching your cunt most deliciously, your voice cracking when he snapped his hips, your cum making it far too easy for the hero to reach an impossibly deep spot inside you.

with only a snarl as a reply, he released your hands above your head to grip your hips with both hands, pulling your hips up in time with his thrust forward into you, the sound of his hips slapping against the skin of your thighs muffled by your rhythmic, breathless squeals, barely having enough time to catch your breath before you’d be gasping out another moan. lost in ecstasy, you dumbly left your wrists above your head, oblivious they were unrestricted until his warm thumb swiped at your swollen clit, your hands launching to drag your nails down his bicep, revelling in his quiet hiss in your ear.

you'd never been more grateful for the soundproof walls of the gym, the main purpose for the music the heroes loved to play loud enough to deafen everyone else in the building, nonetheless thankful that anyone on the other floors would be oblivious that stoic, pro hero dynamight and his newest sidekick were wrapped around each other, lost in pleasure, your squeals growing louder and louder at every bump of his cockhead to your cervix, every agile slide in and out working you closer and closer to cumming around him again.

“god, katsuki, i’m so fucking close!” you mewled, your voice impossibly high and loud, echoing back from the mirrors for you to hear the debased way you sounded for him. your eyes were squeezed shut, muscles wound tight, mere seconds away from cumming on his dick, needing the slightest stimulation for the tight band inside you to snap, certain that if bakugou just blew his warm breath against your clit, you’d cum with a scream. groaning low in your throat, you dragged your hands down his chest, scratching gently at his abdomen, reaching between your bodies to swirl your fingers around the sensitive bud.

the same time you reached down, he stopped.

your hazy eyes snapped open, already glaring up at him, your voice little more than a whine, “you’re such a dickhead.”

“oh, were you about to cum?” he mocked with a saccharine smile, digging his fingers into your plush thighs, lifting one up and onto his chest, your ankle dangling over his shoulder forcing you to lie on your side with your sticky cunt spread and on display for him, positioned perfectly for the hero to watch you take him. he kept one hand on your thigh, bringing the other up your spine to bury in your hair, squeezing once to force your mouth open in a gasp, watching the way your features morphed from annoyance with him to borderline desperation, unable to grind against him the way you wanted now with his strong grip on your thigh and hair.

as if taking pity on your need to cum, he lined himself up again with your soaking pussy, fucking your slick back inside you, even deeper than you felt it before, feeling more like his dick was fucking into your stomach, reshaping the organ around his cock. clutching your trembling thighs, he grunted when your pussy hugged his cock like a vice, your soft walls fluttering around him, the new position forcing only short puffs of breath from the both of you as you grew closer and closer together.

“god, ka-katsuki,” your voice was nothing short of a squeal, “feels so good, ‘m gonna cum.” the words tumbled out of your mouth before you could have a second thought about it, your mind void of any thoughts other than how his twitching dick felt stretching you, shaping your cunt to be a perfect fit for him; the feeling of his sweating body sliding against yours, his fingers dipping between your bodies to finally have you seeing the blinding white you’d been chasing since he first spoke to you, your breathless squeals and moans drowning out any dirty talk he might’ve been murmuring back to you.

your hard breathing turned quickly to a soundless scream, his determined fingertips still circling your clit as you tried to twist and buck away from him, tears nearly welling in your lash line when you failed to escape him. you only felt relief when his hips jumped, rutting against yours. he pressed his chest to your side, dropping his hand to your thigh in a bruising grip, keeping you still and at his mercy while he tugged your hair, digging his fingertips into your scalp so hard you weren't sure if he’d broken the skin.

effortlessly, he had you seeing white in time with him, breathlessly moaning your delirious, cock-drunk praise, your pussy swallowing him deeper, until his warm cum was spilling in the innermost part of you, making your toes curl; his cum mixing with your own on his cock as he lazily, shallowly thrust into you once, twice more. you could already feel the mix sliding down your thighs, the only intelligible word falling from your lips being a weak, “wait,”

bakugou complied, nodding with his slick forehead pressed to your shoulder, his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to ignore the way your cunt was still spasming around his tender cock, as if trying to impossibly squeeze more cum out of him, a deep groan rumbling in his chest when he finally had to pull himself off of you when you nodded moments later. you tried to hold the whines that threatened to escape your parted lips, crying out at the loss of his body weight against you, and shivering at the cold air hitting the skin his body heat was burning before. you couldn't silence the whimper when he slid his thick cock from inside you. feeling full and stretched out in the best way, your body slumped, your muscles like jelly in his hands while he admired the perverted way your pussy looked used by him, gaping and sticky with cum, unable to stop the way his cock twitched again against his thigh at the sight. clearing his throat, katsuki mumbled an apology for leaving your skin cold, before placing you gently onto the mat, treating you far more delicately than he was minutes earlier when he was drilling into you, chasing his orgasm and unfalteringly working you to yours.

laughing, you muttered a quick response, dismissing his concerns; you sounded dreamy, nearly delirious, your voice still high and wavering, cracking at the end of the sentence, the smile on your face apparent in your voice, even with his back turned as he reached behind him to find your towel discarded nearby. you followed his movements, his body a magnet for your own, heart eyes zeroing in on his. together, you sat in comfortable silence for a moment, careful hands cleaning up the shared mess between you two, your head lolling to the side, your once tense bodies like goo on the floor.

bakugou shamelessly stared at you while you lazily searched for your panties, patting the mat randomly around you, your thin shirt still crumpled and creased above your navel, exposing even more skin to his hungry eyes, giving up quickly and turning your accusatory gaze on him. your face looked warmer, glowing, your eyes shining and glassy staring back into his, knowing the answer about your missing clothes before you could ask it. he looks similarly debauched, leaning on his elbow beside you with gym shorts haphazardly pulled up his hips, panties hardly obscured in his pocket, his sweating chest shining in the harsh white lighting, his abdomen tightening as he sat up entirely, stretching to lean over you, “i didn’t know you could look better than when you tap out under me.”

“just wait ‘n see how much better i look on top of you.” you jabbed his naked chest with your finger, not missing the way his eyes flashed with the need to feel you riding his cock, to let you take everything you wanted from him with every grind of your hips.

you sat up on your elbows, narrowly avoiding smacking your forehead against his at your speed, hissing quickly at him when you spotted the flashing clock over his shoulder, 4:48am blinking on the clock face, nearly obscured by the sunrise's reflection “c’mon, we need to get dressed before someone comes in here.”

you reach a hand up to smack his shoulder playfully when he doesn’t move off of you, his reflexes startling you again when he catches your wrist before you can even disturb the air beside him, the same fiery twinkle in his eyes proving his incredible abilities to you again and again.

“this is my agency, dumbass, no one’s comin’ in here if i don’t want ‘em to.”

© all works belong to @a-ikuoliver, @gwen0m, and dlirious on archive of our own, do not plagiarise, translate, repost, feed my works into ai or recommend my work on other platforms, or bind my fanworks for sale.

#banners/dividers by me #k-atsukibakugou #「mercury writes」#bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugou smut #bakugo smut #bakugou katsuki smut #bakugo katsuki smut #katsuki bakugou smut #katsuki bakugo smut #「kat <3」

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milksuu · 1 year ago

Text

Sorry, Mom. I'm The New Cleaning Lady For Heartsteel

Pairings: various!Heartsteel x f!reader

Status: on-going (Cross posted on AO3)

Content/Warnings: 18+ content, explicit themes, suggestive language

Summary: Identity theft was a crime—that was obvious. But when it meant paying off the bills for basically existing and your mother’s hospital expenses, committing a felony didn’t seem like a bad thing. It was like that one quote, from that one band, with that one hit song: “Two sides to a story but they never tell me side.”

Or…something like that. Wait, what was their name again? Heartsteel? Sounds like a dating sim game.

[Reader takes the identity of her mother, who had been hired to be the new cleaning lady for an up and coming boy band named ‘Heartsteel’. Obviously, there’s no way they would ever find out. But that was a joke. Because they’re definitely finding out: one by one.]

“You…brought your own cleaning supplies?”

“You always need to be prepared, young man,” you replied, adjusting your duck-yellow cleaning gloves. They squeeked and flopped comically around your hand and fingers.

“Ma’am, you do understand today is solely the house tour.” The man folded his arms neatly against his chest, white brow raised. “In order to rely on you fully, you’ll need to be familiar with the estate first. I thought we discussed this beforehand. That and…we have cleaning supplies to provide you with here.”

You paused at the grand modern entrance. You lifted your bucket full of sponges, brushes, and cleaning spray from the dollar store. 'Buy-one-get-one' on all cleaning supplies was the grand deal of the day. How could you pass a penny-pinching bargain? Swallowing your shame, you settled the cheap items on the pristine granite floors.

“Oh, is that so? Must’ve slipped my mind. Age will do that to you.” You forced a chuckle, adjusting your sterile mask across your youthful face. “That and, I have such a passion for cleaning. I can't help myself. I see the inside of a house, and I just have to clean it. I’m sure you could understand that.”

“I don’t believe I could,” your employer said dryly. “Anyway, if you will, follow me.”

You nodded and shuffled along accordingly. As you stared into the back of his immaculately pressed business attire, a new-found horror struck through you: you had no clue what your employer’s name was. Frantically, you scavenged your pockets. From it, you pulled out a business card, holding it so close to your face you smelled the tinge of clean cologne.

YONE

RIOT RECORDS

DJ / PRODUCER

EMAIL: [email protected]

TELEPHONE: XXX-XXX-XXXX

“The bottom floor consists of all of the amenities; gym, entertainment area, recording studio and so on.” Yone stated as he stepped into the open-kitchen plan. When he regarded you again, you awkwardly plunged the card back into your pants pocket. “The boys have their own scheduled chores every week. They’re expected to do it without you having to help them. I’m trying to keep them humble, but easier said than done. Refer to the chore calendar on the fridge. And try not to interfere with it too much.”

“Okay—who switched my protein powder with flour?” Behind an opened cabinet, a heavy-muscled stacked man growled. “Guys. Seriously. This stuff’s expensive. Where’d it go?” When he poured the contents out into the trash can, he plucked out a note from the bottom of the canister. The small print read:

‘Protein powder tastes like dog food.’’

The weight of realization punched him square between the eyes. He threw open the pantry, where dog kibble was stored in a tub at the bottom marked ‘Ernest’. Sett pulled open the container, and sure enough, found his protein powder and scooper. There was no mistaking his favorite smell of cinnamon crunch isolate, now mixed with the scent of dry-bacon kibble. Another note pasted the inside lid:

‘Woof–Woof ฅ՞•ﻌ•՞ฅ’

“A–phe–li–os,” the name gritted between his canines. His ears flattened against his untamed hair, and crumpled the note to dust in his palm. “Oh–Ho. Mess with me all you want; but never mess with my gains. I’m gonna’ prank him back so hard tonight, he’s gonna’ be begging me to stop.”

“Sett,” Yone coughed, grabbing the Vistayan's attention. “We have a guest today. Our new cleaning lady.”

“Oh, sorry about that.” Sett wiped his powdered hand against his sleeveless shirt. He reached and took your rubber glove with a squelch. “Hey, how’s it goin’, Ma’am. The name’s Sett.”

You swallowed hard, hoping your glove would remain securely covering your hand. You feared if he pulled back, he would reveal a hand that wasn't so wrinkled for someone supposedly in their late-fifties. And that was according to your mother’s age printed on her driver’s license. Thankfully, you could tell he restrained himself to a delicate shake.

“Would talk more but gotta hit the gym. Nice meetin’ yah though,'' Sett started away, and called back over his shoulder. “Mom, can you take care of Phel for me? I dunno' where he hid the dog food for Ernest.”

Yone exhaled a silent sigh, and part of you felt pity for your employer. He seemed like a parent with a tag-team of overbearing children running around the house. Being a single parent was difficult; you knew this first hand from your own up-bringing. It made you grateful for your mother’s patience and attention. It was the reason you were here in the first place.

“Let’s continue with the tour upstairs,” Yone said, motioning you to a loft-style staircase. “The second floor consists of all the bedrooms and laundry room. At the end of the hall is my room. As it stands, it’s completely off limits to everyone, including yourself.” He turned a sharp chin in your direction, “Am I understood?”

You gulped and pressed your shoulders straight. “Of course.”

“Mommy, help me!” A bed of green hair bounced to Yone’s side, tugging at his tailored suit. “Kayn’s bullying me again. But I didn’t do anything wrong, I swear.”

“You’re such a crappy liar.” The presumed assailant, Kayn, stomped out of the hallway bathroom. Magenta hair stuck to his furrowing brows. With just a towel wrapped around his steaming waist, his abdominal muscles tensed, pointing aggressively at his target. “I was trying to shower in peace, until bubblegum pop princess over here came barging in trying to take selfies of himself. Did you know people usually shower naked? I’d like my junk not to be posted on social media, unless I’m the one doing it. For cash.”

“It’s not my fault you’re always going over your shower limit. News flash: we each only get fifteen-minutes. But you’re always breaking the rules! You know I take my selfies at the same time, at the same place, every single day. So how about you do us all a favor, and get some better time management?”

Kayn raised a vein popping fist into the air. “How about I get you a better face instead?"

Ezreal cried fake sparkling tears, cowering further behind their producer.

“Enough. The both of you,” Yone tightened around his words like a leash, restraining the quarreling pair. “For once, I’d like for you two to at least pretend you get along in front of others.”

The two whined and grumbled under their breaths till they fell to a silent agreement. But the peace treaty wasn’t upheld for long. You saw a zap of yellow from the corner of your eye. The image was so fast, you thought you must’ve imagined it—Nope. You definitely saw something. Kayn’s towel knot popped loose. And it wasn’t caused by an event of divine intervention.

The towel billowed towards the ground. And the world felt as if it was turning in slow motion, like one of those car chase movies with excessive explosions. Except, the only explosion here would be your very own heart.

Sure, you took an anatomy class here and there. In high school, you remembered the penis joke’s and games, and they never flustered you. Heck, not even when your friends set your desktop screen to a .gif of dicks spinning in circles—you found that hilarious. And when anatomy classes began in college, they were all very clinical, rudimentary, and otherwise a snooze fest.

But seeing one in real life when you’ve never had a boyfriend or a one night stand, was truly groundbreaking. Earth shattering, even.

Penis (en)counter: 1

While you were stuck in your prison of naïve embarrassment, Ezreal laughed and pulled out his cell phone, camera light shuttering a mile a minute.

“You little shi—!” Time sped forward again. With fast reflexes of his own, Kayn whipped the towel and knot back in place. “That’s it. You’re dead.”

“Uh–Oh. Time to run again,” Ezreal quipped, zooming off down the stairs.

With all bark and full bite, Kayn vanished like a cloud of smoke in pursuit. You coughed against the smog, while Yone merely swatted his hand back and forth, dissipating the gray wisps.

“You’ll have to excuse them,” he commented. “They share the same room, but have vastly different personalities. I arranged most of them together, thinking it’d help them understand each other on a deeper level. And ultimately, help them perform better together in the studio and on stage. My efforts are…yet to be determined.”

“That’s alright. Can’t be easy for young men their age to share anything. Especially with them being full of energy, testosterone, and other things. O-Oh, to be young once more…ah-ha…” you laughed nervously. Oh, God. What the heck were you saying? Honestly, you had to give pardon to yourself. You were still trying to recover from seeing your first penis up close and personal.

The image would be forever burned in your mind.

You were pulled from your self-conscious thoughts. Down the hall, a pair of shadowed eyes peeked through a sliver of door and frame. When your gaze locked together, the other pair of eyes shifted shyly from side to side. As if a poltergeist existed within the room, the visage faded back into the uncanny crack of darkness. The door creaked closed, with an audible click and lock.

Yone pursued straight to the door, and you stood a few paces back. If there was any chance that a ghost was inside living rent-free, you wouldn't be the first it possessed. You weren't a certified Ghostbuster.

But you also weren't a certified Dustbuster, either. No one will know, know one will know, you chanted the comforting hymn.

“Aphelios. Open the door. I know you’re in there. I can see the computer light flashing,” Yone stated, rattling the door knob. “Where’s the kibble for the dog? Sett told me you have it somewhere.”

There was a beat in the air. From behind the door, you heard feet pacing back and forth, and the sounds of finger taps against a phone screen. Yone’s phone pinged with an alert. He pulled it out, and opened his text messages.

‘I can’t open the door all the way. I set the bucket of dog food to fall on Sett’s head when he comes in. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ’

“For the love of…no more pranks today." Yone pinched the bridge of his nose with a groan. "But I doubt you could even manage that. Whatever trap you’ve ensembled, take it down—now. And put the dog’s food back in the pantry. Unless you want to donate a cut of your earnings every month to Ernest’s pet store bill.”

Another pause, followed by begrudging phone taps.

‘Fine, m O T h E r…(¬_¬")’

“That might take him a few. Depending how intricate the set up was. I would be surprised if the only thing involved in this scheme was just the dog food.” Yone motioned you back down the stairs. “Last thing to see is the outdoor space.”

Continuing with the tour, you passed through the lower floor, stepping down a hallway decorated with awards and magazine clippings. From commercial modeling gigs to sold out venues, your eyes glistened at the polished look the group was slowly cultivating. Which you had to admit, completely contradicted their personal lives.

When you reached a sliding glass door that stretched from floor to ceiling, you stepped out onto a landscaped deck. Lush modern garden trims, a shaded outdoor lounge, and smooth sandstone pavement decorated the space. At the backend, an infinity pool rested in pristine stillness.

At the head of the pool, a person of sculpted bronze physique posed in swimwear on a lounge chair. When you approached along with your chaperone, he picked up his tropical drink, and tilted it in a cheering gesture.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Mama gracing me with his presence. And look's like someone else is with him, too.” The man basking in the sun's rays and oil slicked, shucked his sunglasses onto his dread locks. “Let me guess. This must be the new cleaning lady you hired to pick up after our mess.”

“To a certain degree,” Yone replied. “But not all of the mess, K’Sante. Out of everyone, you should know better.”

“I only joke, Mama.” He grinned smoothly, taking a sip of his frozen alcoholic refresher. “Say, have you seen Sett? I told him to come join me for a tan by the pool. If he wants his muscles to truly pop, he needs to use some oil and not be allergic to the sun. The man is whiter than the sky is bright today.”

As he laughed to himself, Ernest left his chew toy at the far side of the pool, and came to sniff your shoes. With a smile, you slipped a very small piece of your long sleeve up, allowing him to sniff at your skin. The dog lapped his tongue around his slobbering chops, barking delightedly and pawing for you to pet him. You were more than happy to oblige.

These gloves came in handy after all, you thought pleasantly as globs of saliva fell in heaps over your fingers.

“What’s this? Ernest taking a liking to the cleaning lady already,” K’Sante mused at the sight. “Barely warmed up to us when we first met. We won’t mention the illegal trespassing but, call me impressed.”

With a wink, he flicked his sunglasses back down to the bridge of his nose. “That or he has a ‘ting for older women. Can’t say I blame ‘em. An experienced woman has a certain power that’ll make any grown man cry. And from my own experience, it is never for mercy.”

Oh, boy. You couldn’t imagine your mother being interested in the cougar life-style. Not that you would approve of it. And you were certain your father would descend from the heavens and deliver the backhand of God to any young man who dared otherwise.

Before Yone could address the unsavory statement, Ezreal burst through the backyard sliding doors. Still possessed with laughter, he hopped and skipped over pool chairs and tables. The merriment stopped short when Kayn caught up to the cheeky idol, snatching his wrist which held the phone. From the staggering halt, the phone slipped from Ezreal’s hold, somersaulting towards the pool.

“M-My phone!” Ezreal paled at the thought of losing thousands of stored photos of himself—Oh, and the blackmail photos he was going to use against Kayn, too.

Yanking his wrist free, Ezreal pursued the device. But Ernest’s rubber hotdog toy squealed beneath him, forcing him off balance. Kayn latched an arm around Ezreal's slim waist, and pressed him safely against his bare chest.

He huffed against Ezreal's ear. “You can’t swim, you idiot. Remember? Just let it go.”

Ernest barked at the surmounting commotion. Being the valiant guard dog with the perfect pedigree, he bounded on his thick paws to catch Kayn by the towel, with all the intent to keep them both from falling in. What a good boy! Unfortunately for Kayn, Ernest bit a bit more than he could chew.

Kayn’s voice bass boosted ten-octaves lower. “MY DAMN ASS!”

W-Whose voice was that? Was that even the same person? The thought rattled through you.

A chunk of Kayn's soft meat condensed in the jaws of a furry devil. A shock travelled up the nerves of his spine, into the the muscle fibers of his arm, shoving Ezreal forward. Ezreal flailed his hands in the air, desperate to find some semblance of balance—with no luck, at all. Fumbling on his tip-toes, Ezreal plummeted into the pool with a splash. Kayn stumbled from the after-shock of his spirit being bitten straight through his buttcheeks. His feet met the cursed rubber squeaker, sending him following suit into the pool. Except, the towel had its own plans. It decided to stay behind and not get involved.

Penis (en)counter: 2

“I heard some commotion, fellas. What’s goin’ on?” Sett stepped out from the sliding doors. He caught witness of Ezreal’s face treading water, gasping for bouts of air. Sett’s muscles popped at the sight, barreling towards the scene. “Don’t worry, Ez. I’m coming for yah, buddy!”

Sett launched himself into the air, preparing the most athletic Olympic dive ever conceived.

Kayn inhaled sharply as he broke through the water's surface tension. Recuperating his breaths, he slicked his wet hair back from his face. Looking down at the waters crystal reflection, an odd shadow grew in size around him. And according to the forecast earlier; there was no chance in Hell of clouds or rain. Lifting his nose to the darkening sky, he blanched in sheer horror. A body, massive enough to eclipse the sun, hurled down like a meteor descending to Earth.

What day was it today, Doomsday? He must've forgot; Kayn never bothered to look at calendar's, anyway.

Back to the painful mistress that was his life; a weak, painful moan escaped him. “You can’t be serious. This isn’t the cool death I deserve—”

Those were Kayn’s final words. A wave rivaling a tsunami consumed him, a random pizza chair float, and the immediate surrounding pool area. Standing in the designated splash zone, pool water soaked your soles, leached into your socks, and dampened your pants to the knees. From K’Sante’s spot, a shot of chlorine or two spiked his drink. He snatched his sunglasses off and shouted the words; “This was the last bit of banana daiquiri mix, you aboas! Now I have to go down to the liquor store and hope they sell it frozen already.”

Yone, with all the grace anyone could hope to be blessed with, merely side-stepped away. A single speck landed on his polished shoes. He narrowed his steely eyes, flicking away the insignificant drop.

You caught something flashing on the second floor of the estate. Looking up, you shielded your eyes from the glaring sun. From one of the windows, you spotted someone holding up a sign. You assumed it was Aphelios. The poster read:

‘4/10 Ezreal. 6/10 Kayn. 10/10 Sett.’

With a dramatic burst through the water, Sett hurled Ezreal over his massive shoulder, and walked out of the pool. Placing Ezreal onto his soaking back, he coughed and gagged against the awful taste of treated water.

He smiled at his new-found savior. “Thanks, Sett. I’m fine, but what about Kayn…”

The group shifted their attention over the silent, lapping water. After a bubble or two, the sight of Kayn’s bare bottom surfaced to the top. Floating like a wet and rounded land-mass, with the additional landmark of a pink dog-bite.

“Kayn! Hang in there, pal!” Sett launched himself once more into the water, creating another wave of soaking magnitude.

Although the drink had already been spoiled, K’Sante reflexively covered the top of his daiquiri glass. “For God’s sake, Sett. Take your time. It’s not like you’re saving the life of an innocent man.”

As chaos continued to ensue around the gang, Yone placed himself at your side. With a shake of his head, he crossed his arms, and sent a ghost of a smile your way.

“Welcome to Heartsteel,” he said. “Your first day starts tomorrow.”

Looks like your identity was safe…for now, at least.

an: thanks for reading! the rest of the this story will most likely just be on my AO3. You can find me @ milksuu. comments and suggestions always welcomed. <3

#heartsteel #league of legends #Heartsteel x reader #kayn x reader #ezreal x reader #aphelios x reader #Sett x reader #K'Sante x reader #Yone x reader #reader insert #league of legends fanfiction #cross posted on ao3 #divider by @benkeibear

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