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seiwas · 3 months ago

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cw: pro-hero bakugo, reader has boobs, kind of explicit/nsfw? idk i describe boobs, reader is smaller and shorter than bakugo, unedited sawry

bakugo's muscle tee looks as ill-fitting as it'll ever be draped over you.

there are reasons for this, perfectly founded and logical reasons for why that is—the main one being that, it's, well, his; two, maybe even three sizes larger than what it should be to fit you properly.

but, he can't stop staring, and there are reasons for that too—the main one being that, it's his, and yet, the only way he can ever imagine it now is when it's being worn by you.

your hips sway to the song you've been humming for the past five minutes. it's the same one, the chorus on a perpetual loop. he's sure it's the only part you know; you do this often enough that it's the only part he knows now, too.

the hem of his tee hits right at the top of your thighs, concealing just enough to tease, but he’s confident that if you reach up even the slightest bit for the cupboard overhead, there'll be nothing to hide.

he feels a little bit like a creep like this, watching as he stands in the middle of your shared living room, but it's impossible too look away—you've got to be doing this on purpose, right?

heat flares inside of him when you turn your body ever so slightly, the armhole of his muscle tee large enough to give him the clearest view of skin—

he gulps.

it's smooth, sloping just right; the side view of your under boob curves into its perfect shape and he can imagine it, feel—

(is this considered perving if he's been with you for years?)

the pan in front of you sizzles as you plop in god knows what. you pour in something from the side and wait, one hand propped on the hip you pop out. then, you pick up the pan, attempting to flip what's inside (probably a pancake, now that he thinks about it).

it’s hard to focus on what you’re cooking though, especially when all he sees is plump flesh jiggling, bouncing as you further agitate the pan.

he just got the pants of this suit readjusted, and now they're fucking tight.

bakugo normally runs hot; it’s kind of part of his dna. but this warmth is different, flushing him from head to toe. it creeps up the side of his neck, painting the tips of his ears a blooming red.

you turn around then, plopping the pancake on the plate atop the counter behind you.

"oh! you're done," you greet him with a smile. so. fucking. casually.

as if your tits aren't fucking peaking against the gray fabric of his tee.

as if you think he buys the fake innocence poorly concealing that sly, conniving look in your pretty eyes.

as if you aren't standing in front of him in his muscle tee, wearing nothing underneath it like you didn’t do this on purpose. like you don’t know what it fucking does to him.

his eyes squint suspiciously, deep vermillion staring straight into yours.

you tilt your head, the tips of your lashes kissing the top of your cheekbones as you blink. you reach for a bottle of honey.

“everything okay?” you ask, voice syrupy, sickeningly sweet.

your movements play in front of him languidly, the corner of your lips curling up slightly as you smirk. honey catches on your finger as you pop open the bottle cap.

he’s supposed to be out the door in five minutes if he wants to make it in time for a meeting at the agency. technically, he should already be there if he wants to keep up his track record of consistently being fifteen minutes too early.

but you start to approach him, rounding the kitchen island. there’s a narrow space between him and the slab of marble, but you slide into it like it was made for you.

he’s certain it was, from the way the tip of your nose brushes against his as you tiptoe. your tits are right fucking there, brushing against the skintight material of his suit.

there’s too much fucking fabric if you ask him, between cotton and spandex.

your grin widens, and he feels hot, the heat from his cheeks radiating.

then you whisper, still saccharine, “breakfast is ready,” before kissing him on the lips lightly. a short peck, soft in the way that promises more before you slip away, giggling in your retreat.

he huffs, watching you leave. his feet shift as he thinks.

five minutes, huh?

like hell he’s going to eat these damn pancakes for breakfast today.

#bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #ALWAYS GOING TO PUSH FOR THE BKG CLOSET PERV AGENDA 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭#he HAAAAAAAAATES that he feels this way BUT LIKE ALL HERO STORIES START WITH: his body moves on its own 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️#he tries to restrain it sooooo hard #but i think when youve been together a while something shifts in him #he still gets flustered!! still gets so hot and embarrassed about it!!! but i think he grows comfortable #with the idea that he /can/ act on it. that it isn’t shameful if he does.#so i think the big difference between a pining bakugo and being in a relationship w him #esp a long term one #is the fact that his reactions are still very much the same #but his actions become more proactive when he feels more secure in the relationship #and i adore the idea of a reader who loves teasing him for it #who looooves pushing his buttons #who looooooves seeing how far they can take it #and it's all fun and games and he's blushing and everything when you do it #but he gets you back so good for it. SOOOOO good. oh my god.#ok bye this was my brainrot at the gym today #rated #shotorus.bubble #bnha #katsu

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becca-e-barnes · 2 years ago

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"Here comes trouble."

Getting back to the 'Shit He Said' series because I've been missing it and you've said some truly wonderful shit recently.

This one is pure fantasy. I'm fully just indulging myself and I'm okay with that. I've thought about this way too much.

Pairing: CEO!Bucky x Female Reader

Word Count: 1.8K

Warnings: Semi-public, vaginal fingering, dom Bucky, sub reader, power imbalance, degradation, choking, penetration, creampie, this is bound to be so unhygienic irl but I can enjoy the thought leave me alone 😩

Summary: You manage to find some time for a quickie with the CEO

For some extra vibes: “Out Of My Mind” by The Killers

Minors, do not interact

Heat meets you the second the door opens but you only feel the true intensity of it when you’ve stepped inside and closed the door behind you.

Everything is hot. Stiflingly, oppressively hot. Even the glass panel of the door is warm under your touch. Between the humidity and the ambient lighting, your eyes struggle to focus. Taking a seat inside seems like a good idea. Sit down before you fall down.

It’s impossible to get a deep, satisfying breath. The air feels so heavy, water droplets forming on your bare skin, clinging to your eyelashes and dripping from the ceiling onto your hair. As the seconds pass, you feel your body begin to adjust. Your breathing starts to regulate, albeit faster than usual. You succumb to the weight in the air, taking a seat on the wet bench to the left of the door. You close your eyes for a few moments in an attempt to shield them from the heat, breathing in the fresh scent of eucalyptus essential oil.

��Here comes trouble.” Fuck. You hoped this might happen but you hadn’t fully let yourself believe it was actually a possibility. Your eyelids flutter open again, looking in the direction of the voice but you don’t need to see the silhouette of the person sitting at the back of the room to know who had spoken.

“Hello, you.” He speaks again, low and soft and this time you’re more focused on ensuring you’re alone. A quick scan of the room and it’s empty, save the two of you.

“I didn’t think you’d be down here!” You feign innocence. It’s a lie. You knew he would.

He’s always been wonderfully talented at seeing right through you.

“I mentioned earlier that I might go try out the steam room.” He’s right; he did. These work trips get awfully long sometimes and it’s hard to keep your head in it without giving yourself a break. In fact, you’re surprised more of your colleagues aren’t down here taking some time to themselves.

“Might. I had no way of knowing you actually would.” You’re not wrong. Nor is he. It’s an elaborate dance around the fact that you’re both now exactly where you want to be.

God, he’s gorgeous. His usually soft, fluffy hair has drooped under the weight of the steam, curling a little. Droplets of water roll slowly down his bare chest, meeting at the waistband of his swimwear but the condensation gathering on his body makes his skin look slick and kissable. Your thoughts wander, daydreaming about how you’d love nothing more than to trail your tongue down his chest in the wake of those droplets until you’re able to sink to your knees in front of him and find a better use for your mouth.

“Stop thinking. Get over here.” He perhaps doesn’t mean to sound as sharp as he does but with time being of the essence, he’s not wrong to be demanding. Anyone could walk in any time now so you might as well use the time you have wisely.

You’re so eager it’s difficult to slow yourself down. Within seconds, you’ve moved to the bench at the back, beside Bucky and his lips are on yours before you even realise it. They’re soft and plump, his mouth tasting faintly of the coffee you saw him drinking earlier. His tongue rolls gently against your own and you feel yourself moan against his lips more than you hear it.

Your heart is speeding up, thumping in your chest and with your elevated body temperature, it feels like it’s pounding against your ribs.

Once you start touching him, it’s impossible to stop. His chest is wet against yours, your bodies pressed together and your hands wandering with an urgency that would have you thinking you’ve never touched him before. You’re desperate and the humidity does nothing to help you both think coherently. You aren’t thinking about what might happen if someone walks in. You aren’t thinking about the fact that if they did, they’d catch you and the CEO all over each other. You certainly aren’t thinking of any of the consequences that would follow.

“Fuck, you’re desperate.” He rumbles out a low groan against your lips, his fingers pulling the bottoms of your bikini to one side to let his fingertips graze your soft folds. You’re soaking wet but it’s very distinctly nothing to do with the fact you’re currently in a steam room. The slickness of your arousal is unmistakable, not to mention the all too evident desperation in the way you roll your hips into his touch, silently begging for more. “You could take me right now.” His fingers tease your entrance, testing the resistance from your body and it’s delightful to feel him slipping into you so smoothly.

“You’re filthy, you know that? Getting fucked in a steam room knowing anyone could walk in and see you. Anyone could see what a slut you are for me.” His ‘for me’ hits you hard because this is only for him. You wouldn’t do this with anyone else. You wouldn’t ask anyone else to do the depraved things you ask him to do. All of the darkest, filthiest thoughts you have are about the man who’s now got you seated in his lap, your back to his chest with your swimwear tugged to the side so he can tease your cunt with his throbbing length, rather than his fingers.

“Beg me for it.” Confidence drips from his tone and he’s got every right to be this confident. You’ve never wanted sex as often as you have since you met him. Your sex drive goes through the roof when he’s around, a testament to how comfortable and confident he makes you feel. He makes you feel desired and God, you want to be desired.

The head of his dick strokes the softest part of your body, teasing from your entrance to your clit and back again. You have no doubt he’s smearing his precum over your cunt, claiming you. The thought alone makes your walls flutter.

“Please fuck me. Hurry up, Bucky, please.” You sound pathetic and it only makes you wetter. Only he gets you like this. There’s not a hope in hell you’d beg anyone else for anything at all. Anything you need, you can do for yourself. Except this. He’s let you feel safe and able to live out your wildest fantasies and that’s not something you’d experience with just anyone.

You feel him hum, kissing your shoulders, lowering you down onto his tip and stopping after the head has just slipped inside you.

The first glide into your body always leaves you breathless but this isn’t it. He isn’t fully inside you yet and he’s stopped already. “Just the tip, sweetheart. That’s all you’re getting. Unless you act like the little slut I know you want to be.” He kisses down your neck, as far down your spine as the angle allows him to reach before licking back up and the shiver it sends through your body feels like a cold electric current.

“You’re delicious. Go on, be a good whore for me. Take what you need.” You don’t need to be told twice, lowering yourself to take the rest of his length. He glides into you beautifully, sliding into the wet, inviting heat between your legs.

“Oh God, that’s it. Stupid girl. Acting like you’re just a hole for me to fuck. Maybe you are?” He knows that will get to you. You’re more than that.

Your head shakes, your hips rolling mindlessly, your body enjoying his presence inside you of it’s own accord. “I- I’m not just a hole.” You argue, trying to stifle your own moan at the feeling of him rubbing against the soft little sweet spot inside you.

“You’re not. I know you’re not. But for now, sweetheart, that’s all I want you to be. You’re just a pretty little hole and I’m going to make you cum like it’s all you’re good for.” You didn’t expect the punch to your chest that his kindness delivers but it’s appreciated all the same.

His hand cradles your throat, applying just a nice amount of pleasure. The humidity was already dizzying but Bucky’s grip on your neck adds another dimension.

“God, the way you gripped me when I put my hand on your neck. Pretty little pussy just doesn’t want me to pull out.” He’s rutting into you, groaning against your shoulder but he still can’t drown out the obscene sounds of wet skin on wet skin.

“Feels perfect.” You feel your eyes rolling back in your head, barely able to string more words together than that.

“No sweetheart, you feel perfect. Fuckin’ made for me. Pretty little stupid fuck toy.” His free hand squeezes and massages your breasts in turn, giving each of them the attention they deserve while he fucks himself into you. “You’re dripping. Fuck, you were made for this.”

You grip the wrist of the hand that’s massaging your breasts, trailing it down your body to settle between your legs. “Can’t even tell me what you want, can you? Can’t manage the words anymore. Did my cock make you that stupid already?”

You nod and it only makes him chuckle, rubbing your clit almost entirely out of sympathy.

Deep breaths don’t help. The steam feels like it’s catching in the back of your throat with every breath but it only heightens the pleasure.

“I want you to cum. Now. I want to fuck you full while your cunt is trying to milk every drop from me. You got that?”

“Faster.” You plead, right on the edge of slipping into an unbearably intense orgasm. Bucky obliges, rubbing your clit faster, tightening his grip on your neck just a little and it sends you spiralling, your walls clamping around him so tight, it coaxes him to spill his release into your body.

You hardly notice his climax until the crest of your own subsides. “Such a perfect cunt. Fuck, I can’t stop.” His forehead rests on your damp shoulder, panting and groaning as he fills your body with ropes of cum. It’s messy and rushed but it’s an overwhelming ecstasy and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

When he’s entirely spent, he lets his hand fall from your throat but that does nothing to help you take a deep breath. Water drips rhythmically from the ceiling onto the bench beside you both while your bodies separate and you allow yourselves a few seconds to enjoy being together.

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