Mete0ra's Orbit

it’s a sight that makes zuko feel like lead, molten rock that’s set in place and can’t be moved without effort. he feels out of body, watching you swallow — the haze of his own gaze finally clearing enough to see the way your throat bobs and your breathing finally evens. your chest, beneath falling blue and aquamarine robes, heaves at the smokey air down pouring into your lungs and you manicured fingers curl over his knees for steadiness. you stay there, on your own knees,  like a faithful follower of the fire nation despite the colour of your clothes and the power you possess — licking the cum, his cum, from your plush lips like it’s your first taste of heaven, putting on a good show for the man that usually has his wits about him. 

zuko’s soul still struggles to stay put amongst the working muscles of his body.

“that burned, zuko,” you squeal — a childish air about you. your annoyance is by all means faux, your mirthy eyes give you away, but you push your lips into some kind of irresistible pout nonetheless. leaning forward, you nuzzle against his softening bulge, half hard and dripping with opaque white at the tip. bright red, burning, blistering. your finger slides through the slit despite his sensitivity, before you peer up at him expectantly. 

it was hot when he came in your mouth. 

he’s barely recovered, static ringing true in his ears — clear hearing but a distant memory. “sorry, ‘m sorry,” zuko slurs and reaches for you at the same time, an ecstatic drawl extending the space between vowels and consonants. “know it gets hot, c’mere. does it hurt? you okay?”

even while trawling through the mugginess of his own mind — he still finds reason to pamper his princess. keep it gentle. caring. much more merciful than any fire lord before him. without any bother and a testament to his strength, zuko pulls you from your knees over the spread of his thighs, ensuring you stay open. that your barely clothed cunt can ooze directly into his lap from underneath your unnecessary abundance of robes. 

“it hurts,” you stick out your drooly tongue because you know exactly what you’re doing — breasts practically spilling out into his heated face, bright red enough to make the scar match the rest, pink muscle drooly, and your cunt so warm over his growing erection as you lean into him like a trust fall. “kiss it better.” 

demanding. much like the princess of a water tribe.

zuko tilts his head upwards, mouth finding yours as though you’re a magnet pulling him into orbit. like a soothing balm, his tongue rolls over yours in an attempt to heal a burn he knows your bending is more than capable of handling. his large palms, calloused from a lifetime of stoked flames, span up your spine and pull down the mast of your dignity. the furry collar of your robe now at the dimples of your lower back. 

“better?” he sighs into the kiss, breath warm where your noses nudge. “‘m sorry, mouth felt so good. should have pulled out….”

“you don’t mean that,” there’s no rush to your movements despite the feverishness that builds against your bodies, but you’re not undetectable either. the slightest rock to your hips causes a hitch in the firelord’s breathing and a hiccup in the way he clings to your kisses like a life line. he knows,  by the way your fingers dip into a sea of obsidian locks and pulls just enough to make him whimper, that you’re yet to tire and finish with him. “you’re not sorry.” 

an abundance of slick trickles into his lap, a small stream that could soon turn into a rushing river. you grind down against zuko’s cock in circular, sinful motions — enjoying the press of his thick shaft between folds that swell with arousal. the veins that spiral down him pulse against your puffy clit — he’s almost surprised at how much swallowing him down your throat turns you on, the wet pull and push of your sexes against one another echoing across the four walls of his chambers. you lick over rows of perfect teeth and he sucks the drool from your tongue, he’s never been one to waste a good meal.

“i am.”

it’s a quiet, determined statement that tapers into a pathetic whine. a sound too pretty to be kept a secret, which is why you draw back from the sloppy exchange of kisses to watch a flurry of dark hair fall back against the wall behind him — fire sealed eyes rolling away into the shadows to meet the dusk behind his eyelids. 

“then prove it.” you murmur carefully.

like you’ve placed your chess piece dangerously on the board. like you’re daring him. like you’re a little trickster come out to play.

you find your place, face nestled into his neck and curtained by dark hair. zuko is steady, warm, heavy-set and firm beneath you by all physical means — but his restraint is fragile, like it’s something burnt to ashes seconds away from flaking into a gentle summery breeze. surprise unfolds neatly in your lower belly swirled with wanton when his palms splayed against your back turn into a hardened grip at your waist. his eyes remain locked away from the word, his breathing as even as the seas back home in the tropics just before a hurricane, his cock kicking against your syrupy cunt that falls to him in a tune familiar to those fallen victim to a mythical siren. 

the wisps of a soul leaves you this time. 

for similar reasons, for the way zuko grinds up to meet you just at the right time — the blunt tip of his cockhead nuzzled against your clit unlike strangers and more like soulmates. a lock and key that fits just perfectly. your lower lips spread to accommodate the size of his girth, chubby and long enough to keep you satiated. for a princess, your appetite remains largely, inappropriate, improper — not that you’d ever cared for behaving yourself and not that zuko couldn’t handle it. couldn’t handle you. 

the fire lord hauls you back and forth over his lap, fingertips pressed into the fat at your waist — their prints seared earnestly into your skin without fully meaning to. the marks darken, deepen prettily against the tone of your skin once your fluttering hole catches deliciously on his bulbous cockhead — milky against the gooey ring of muscle. zuko doesn’t push, he teases, deciding that he’s spoiled you with so many riches you can at least play nice for once. ask politely. he knows you can.

“does it feel… feel like i’m sorry yet?” midnight hair tickles your cheeks as the side of his head cuddles up against yours — searching for a kiss that he knows will soon come. on instinct to squirm down, try to steal an inch or two like a thief searching for jewels with a blind reach into the dark. zuko doesn’t withdraw, too used to indulging you, one hand moving to grip your falling robes — using it to tug you down into the rhythmic pulse of his dick just begging to breach your silken walls. he’s so hot, yes physically, but the torridness of his shaft against your weeping mound nearly burns you from the inside out. your organs tangle from the salaciousness of it all, the only way to loosen the knot would be to have the firelord dig it out with his cock himself.

you pout into the crease of his neck, lips balmy on his skin. “zuko…”

you clench against the rigid veins decorating him, pulsating with blood rush, carrying lustful hormones straight to his sticky arousal soaked tip. 

“princess…” he matches your warning.

“fine,” you divulge, petulant and petty. “i forgive you. you’re sorry.” 

the fire lord lets his mercy rain down on you, at the end of his own patience, and fills your needy hole with a single — calculated thrust. zuko knows how much you can take and when, you’ve been wet through your clothes from the start and this build up has left you sodden for far too long. once more, his lips find yours like a practised tune, the notes easy to find again, the song of mouths meeting familiar to two. its deeper and full of an unwavering promise of pleasure, the broad stroke of his saliva spewing tongue against yours sends brilliant sparks ( like stones to start a flame ) through your entire being, aiding the lustful lurch in your stomach where zuko practically hits.

skin meets skin, damp with sweat and essence of ruin, there’s so much precum and slick he thinks you might have bended the fluid out of him. “does it still hurt?” he manages to speak, words insistent as he presses them behind your teeth like a secret exchanged between lovers that only meet under moonlight. the rest of him, burly arms and burning limbs, gather you up as if you weigh nothing — holding you inches above his cock as the pace turns febrile and delirious, to be expected of someone who plays with scalding temperatures on a daily basis. 

“mn— n-no!” you babble, hugging his head now, anything you say or do muffled by luscious locks or overlapped with sounds of sex. your ass ripples against the tops of his thighs, your breath mingles like a puff into cold air, foggy, and zuko never stops plunging deep into your silken walls to kiss your cervix, knock at that one spongy spot that has you wailing at a whistle tone only the finest of singers and entertainers can reach. 

“better, see?” zuko hums into your mouth, pouring in praises he can hardly find the brain function to say. it’s shaky but pleased. a short response because he wants to spend more time  drinking in your fractured mewls, the ones that come with the stacks of pressure building within you, cemented into place by powerful bucks of his hips upwards, into that dreamy core of yours. he drops you down a few inches on his girth, yearning for that high pitched little cry you do when you’re close and suddenly those fiery fingertips belonging to him flex against your cute clit. “can you cum like this?”

a meek nod from you, a clench from your creamy cunt. “yes — zuko please!” 

a crack at your bratty resolve, one that dissolves like sand in water. you’re a princess through and through, made to be pampered, easy to break once indulged. at least you’ve said please. your nerve endings are ruined and raw, your stomach muscles taught from attempts at working yourself down to zuko’s base, you quiver with every rise an squeak with every fall, bounced about like a useless little toy on the length of one of the most powerful men in the world all because you asked him to prove it. that he loved you, that he’d never hurt you; even though you’re entirely too aware of the fact. 

you had goaded him into something he’d excel at, something he looks so disastrously handsome at doing. fucking you with mussed black locks that tickle your temperate skin, disheveled red robes that pridefully boast the fire nation emblem as opposed to the delicate water tribe symbols you’ve known since your birth. his chest tinged pink with a blush zuko can never help when he has you like this, dripping into his lap enough to warrant a flood warning and crying his name like its word of worship. a testament to your faith. golden irises warm with tender love, something so soft and valuable that only you are able to set your sights on it.

something once in a lifetime, something rare like an eclipse.  

the thought alone is enough to have you undone. if not for the ravenous circles on your clit and the unrelenting pounding at your abused, flittering entrance. it’s his devotion and dedication for fighting your made up wrong, soothing the burn from the inside out. zuko senses the crescendo of your peak before you can even begin to think of announcing it, lifting you high from his lap when you gush obscenely and cry out to whatever higher power might be watching you make a mess on him right now. your sobs are choked and his groans are loud, whimpery and simpering as your honeyed nectar rolls in warmed waves down his stomach and pelvis. 

“there you go, love,” zuko praises you through your twitches and aftershocks without a second thought — breaching your rippling walls so that they milk a second orgasm out of him, selfishly he may admit. “you’re so pretty, so beautiful. i love you.” he says, apologetic when he doesn’t need to be, when he’s given you the stars and hung them amongst your whitening vision. 

he whimpers whoreishly, filling you to the brim with a frothy layer of his white seed — lining your entrance with a claim you refuse to let leak. you grip him tightly, both with your cunt and your shaky arms locked around his head for stability.

and even after all that, zuko’s shot of cum is just as hot lining your womb as it is landing on your tongue.

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“can’t believe you’ve been to this shithole before,” bakugou grunts. he can’t stop fixing his hair, rubbing his nose, then adjusting his dick. there’s no clothes to fiddle with or pockets to stuff his hands into.

he’s following kirishima down this smoky purple led lit hallway and he can hear bustles of conversation and slow jazz getting louder with every step.

“denks took me once last summer. it was fun, everyone’s so friendly and it’s definitely not a shithole. if anything it’s pretty freeing, very clean. nothing to hide.”

he’s got no clue what that’s supposed to mean, not until he follows behind kirishima through these red velvet curtains and analyses the scene before him.

there’s a minty smell in the air, a thick layer of smoke so you can only make out details of someone once they’re beside you. the room is coated in that same pale purple light with people everywhere. multiple body shapes, genders and the only accessories being earrings. 

bakugou’s never had nudity before him at this amount. he knows his friends have taken part in threesomes, a few foursomes but bakugou’s only ever been intimate with two people in his life. sex has never been a focus, not when he was so busy with saving the world… and his drunk friend who’s somewhere wallowing about his ex girlfriend.

“some people have their fuckin’ underwear on. i coulda kept mine!” bakugou whispers in his red headed friend’s ear even nudging him in annoyance.

it’s intimating. there’s women lounging in sofas, legs crossed, legs spread. arms cuddling another in conversation. two women was making out against the wall, her fingers snaking down her stomach and stuffing into the others pussy. 

bakugou’s eyes widen, swings around so his back is facing them.

only to be facing a woman straddling a man’s lap, kissing down his neck, wrist flicking between their bodies. he looks to the bar and there’s three men talking, one with his hand on the others lower back pinging at his underwear band. then the third pops a pill in his mouth and swallows it down with an orange liquid. the men giggle, a palm on a chest, a leg between another, a tongue in an ear and—

kirishima shrugs, though bakugou can tell he’s not fazed by anything, in fact he’s interested. looking at the lean man against the wall, swishing a drink by the stem of the glass. he chews down on his bottom lip once he locks eyes with him.

“okay, let’s split up, he last said he was at the back? incase he’s moved, you stay at the front.” kirishima orders, seemingly now in a rush to get everything sorted. 

bakugou eyes the man who’s staring down his friend. then the man looks at him, gaze slinking down his body, his cock. winks. bakugou’s eyes go to golf balls.

“you’re gonna leave me?”

kirishima laughs, already ducking out of the conversation, “i’m sure you’ll be safe, bro. you’ll get hit on a few times just say whatever you usually say.”

“how the fuck are you gonna find me again?”

“this place isn’t that big. i’ll check upstairs.”

“there’s a fuckin’ upstairs?” bakugou mumbles to himself once kirishima disappears within the purple haze. 

bakugou knows he could be paranoid but he can feel people staring at him. it’s unlike the usual stare he gets as a hero, fans impressed with his quirk, who have been following him for years and are excited to see him in the flesh. instead the stares he’s getting now, as he wanders through this faux house gathering are charged.

people are eying him like fresh meat, as if they can feel that this is his first time being naked in a public space. his anxiety stinks, but smells good, only brewing arousal in these people.

a man ogles his arms like they’re chunks of chocolate. a woman stares straight at his cock and smiles when it twitches. he’s about to beg a security guard, who stands in a suit at the door for his jacket until he remembers why he’s here.

to find his stupid fuckin’ friend who’s drunk himself in a sad stupor. nobody else here seems to be on that wave. chatting like they’re at a casual houseparty but lacking all their clothes.

bakugou circles one room, ignoring the whispers of two women sitting cross legged on the carpet. one is leaning on her hand behind her back, breasts out and perked.

“hey handsome,” she says and bakugou can only bring himself to nod.

he scatters into the next room. people making out on a sofa. a group of five are playing spin the bottle around the table. a woman with blonde hair is in heaven, moaning with her head flung back as everyone watches on. a few men touch themselves to it but pull away when another man springs from under the table, wiping his mouth. 

“fuck, i’ve been wanting to do that!”

“spin the goddamn bottle, i wanna try!”

one of the guys notices him looking, “oi! wanna play? i think your my friend’s type.”

bakugou doesn’t even bother to reply, glancing away with the snap of his head. one step forward and he bumps into a body.

soft and shorter than him. skin on skin, his hand brushing against a breast as he stabilises himself and clutches on your arm so you don’t fall in the process.

bakugou has to blink a few times to get his vision straight. just so he can be sure what he’s seeing is correct.

bakugou’s not sure what word to describe you but the first word that comes to mind is glittery. you’ve got a light glitter across your perfect chest, your arms, your— he stops once he sees a tuft of hair below your stomach. heat rises to his cheeks faster than ever before and he knows, he fucking feels the rush of blood to his cock.

you’re so fucking pretty.

“you’ve got glitter on me,” is the first thing he says but makes no move to wipe it off. instead he looks at that spot where your neck meets your shoulder, how smooth it looks. then, the plain gold hooped earrings in your ears and your shiny watery eyes. nothing about you is symmetrical, not the shape of your eyebrows or your breasts. your lips are luscious, clearly moisturised and he wonders if you’ve kissed anyone tonight. 

bakugou katsuki has never met anyone naked for the first time. especially not the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid his eyes on. nothing could have prepared him for this. nothing kirishima prepped him about in the car, definitely nothing in his hero education.

you giggle, butter smooth, hands at your waist and your head cocked to the side like you’re analysing.

“gives something for people to remember me by,” you grin, your teeth are not perfect but your smile is so insanely adorable. bakugou steps forward. “it’s also a hack for any married men. their wives get to find out what they’re doing in the evenings.”

bakugou’s brows rise. “that’s smart.”

“yeah, it happens more than you think.”

bakugou inhales. it’s a little shaky when he inhales your citrus perfume and the mint that feels like it’s being pumped in the air. you must be able to tell how on edge he is right now, overwhelmed and even more so now with your presence. he’s grateful you don’t look past his adonis belt, because then you’d understand exactly how he’s feeling.

“can i touch you? you’re so built. i’ve never seen anyone who looks like you,” you murmur, transfixed by his body. your eyes dart across his pectorals, his brown nipples and then his abdomen. bakugou can’t distinguish whether it’s interest in a biological way or sexually. especially when you stare at the soft tissue pink scar right in the centre of his chest. 

bakugou swallows a gulp of his spit. he’s supposed to be finding… they must be pumping pheromones in the air because somehow he’s willing to get on his knees in front of everyone and stuff his head between your legs.

“fuck,” he sniffs abruptly, “y-yeah, you can.”

the little “yay!” that tumbles through you surprises him, creates a whole new folder in his head of how you’re endearing. right beside how sexy you look.

you flatten both your palms on his pectorals first causing bakugou to inhale sharply. his chest is falling and rising hastily just from that, from you being fucking pretty and naked and interested in him. you squeeze, lips in an o shape in shock.

“they’re softer than i thought. wow, you’re beautiful,” you say with a smile, thumbs brushing over his nipples. bakugou is forced to grip a bookshelf beside him. “you must be in the gym everyday.”

“n-not exactly,” he manages as your finger strokes the smooth scar on his chest, then the two darker brown fleshy scars at his side. they don’t hurt him anymore, haven’t hurt him for years but somehow you touching them so inquisitively has sparks flying through them. “i’m a…”

does he say his job? can you guess?

“you don’t have to tell me now if you don’t want to. maybe later.”

you draw your fingers across his eight pack, a finger dipping in every curve. he feels firm, hard, undoubtedly strong. like consistency, persistence and pain was needed to look like this. he doesn’t notice you press your thighs together but he does notice how you bite your lip when you finally gaze down at his cock.

leaking, red and prominent against his lower stomach.

“even your dick is pretty. where the hell are you from?” you laugh, “i’m surprised nobody has snatched you up yet.”

he wouldn’t want anyone to talk to him but you.

“i think you’re pretty, too.” 

bakugou cringes as soon as the words leave his mouth. how childish running around the sandpit to not catch cooties did that sound? 

but again, to his surprise, you coo at him. your hands still haven’t left his body, pressing down on his sides, up to squeeze his shoulders. bakugou feels like he’s on fire, raging from unburied tension. he grits his teeth because he thinks he could come from you just touching his upper body, staring at him with your little smile.

“that’s so cute. thank you,” you reply honestly and bakugou gives a soldier like nod, “is this your first time here? you’ve got the first time nerves.”

“‘m not nervous,” but all the blood from his head is rushing right down to his crotch. you're massaging his shoulders now and bakugou is sure he’s about to loose stability in his knees.

“okay,” you don’t argue, “but it’s your first time?”

he wants to say he’s not a fucking virgin but he knows that’s not what you mean and it does feel like his first time all over again. definitely reminiscent of his first time watching pornography back in his room as a teen. over interested, horny but refusing to touch himself yet. 

“yeah. my friends are here somewhere.”

it’s as if you’re magnetic, unable to take your hands off him. now they’re on his biceps, squeezing every couple seconds like you’re checking he’s still there.

“oh i know what that’s like. my first time here, i found my friend sucking this guy off less than half an hour in. she wasn’t even on anything.”

bakugou blinks, standing there dumbly like a mannequin that needs to be clothed. his cock aches.

“are you on anythin’?” 

you shake your head, “no! my usual guy who i get stuff from isn’t here today, so just a few shots earlier.”

usual guy. this isn’t the place for him to feel jealous, it’s not, but he wonders if there’s anything you’d like him to give you. anything. 

two girls and a guy walk past you and him, first acknowledging you with a little wave and giving him those same hungry eyes as everyone before. with his attention away from you, he realises how many people aren’t only staring at him but you. were people getting off on you touching him? there was a girl and guy on the sofa clearly talking about you, did they want you too? one of the men around the spin the bottle round table had an envious look in his eye and bakugou wasn’t sure if it was towards him or you. he shifts his body so that guy wouldn’t be able to see you.

“what’s your name?” bakugou asks. though he eyes your wrist.

a red stamped 47.

“yn,” bakugou’s not sure if you’re telling the truth. “you can touch me too if you want. i’d like it if you did.”

he didn’t come here to talk to women, he didn’t come here to fondle women, even if they’d like him to do so. kirishima has probably found kaminari right? they’re both grown ass men and kirishima has been here before. it’s fine.

you can sense the carousel of revolving thoughts in his head. so slowly, as if he’s a sensitive kitten that will run away at any loud noise, you remove your hands from his body and wrap them around his wrists. you drag his hands half an inch away from your chest. “it’s okay, i promise.”

there’s the space for him to decline, your grip loose so he can pull away. but he wants too, he just probably shouldn’t be.

“f-fuck,” he whispers, pressing his hands on your clavicle. you’re real, alive and letting him touch you. “if i touch you anymore, i will come and i can’t fuckin’ come like this.”

you frown playfully, a little laugh, “why not?”

bakugou stills, “what d’you mean? shit’s embarrassing, i need you to come first—,”

your hands are back on his wrists, sliding his palms down to the fat of your breasts. his hands are massive, able to grab both in a single hand. you exhale softly as if you just took a hit of endorphins. 

“what’s your name?”

“katsuki.” 

he doesn’t even have in him to lie.

“nothing is embarrassing here, katsuki. maybe if you fall flat on your face. that still applies.”

he squeezes your breasts, tender incase he hurts you. it only makes you step in closer to him, your arms wrapping around his neck. “you’ve got such warm hands.”

bakugou’s thankful you’re cautious to not press your body into his cock. “i’ve never seen a woman like you.”

your eyes are fluttered shut once he starts to massage, glitter from your body transferring onto his palms. it’s all over his body too, like you both are born from the same star.

“i wanna take you home and squeeze you. you’re so adorable.” you whine, opening your eyes to give him a pout.

he doesn’t get this reaction from women, usually he’s the one in charge throwing them on a bed, kissing them first. he’s definitely never been called adorable or cute but you’ve got him tied around your finger, pressing for more attention.

“you guys look gorgeous together, by the way,” a rather pretty man says in passing and your smile beams.

“thank you, honey!”

then your attention is back on bakugou like you knew he was crumbling without you. 

“you can pinch them if you want.” you offer, taking your fingers through the hair on his nape. 

bakugou looks at his hands on your breasts. his hands are ugly he thinks. always too sweaty, scarred all over though he always keeps his nails clean and cut. they drown your body, your flesh spilling between each of his fingers.

“you’re so…,” he’s out of words to describe how angelic you are, rolling your perked nipple with the pad of his thumb. you’re so reactive, bubbles of light delighted exhales. when he pinches your left bud you moan and bakugou is forced to squeeze the base of his cock.

you laugh at the flush of red in his cheeks, his jaw sharp as he grits down. he’s taking heavy controlled breaths, looking up at the ceiling to calm himself down.

this man, katsuki, is stupidly gorgeous. walking around this event like he’s so unaware of himself. it’s what drew you to him. you’ve figured out pretty quickly that he’s ridden with anxiety, pent up with arousal and is so determined to not come.

“i’m sorry, katsuki. it’s not because of me is it?” your hand flies to your mouth, but the giggles spill out. 

he should be embarrassed at your laugh at his clear inability to control himself over your naked body and touching your breasts. about to nut in a room full of people over some half-baked fondling. but he isn’t, it feels like you’re both in this together.

“‘course it’s ’cause of you. i just need to—,” he runs his hand up and down his shaft twice, before letting go. he blinks at you, your pointed nipples, your confident smirk. he wonders how you smell if he dipped between your legs. “i’m good now.”

as good as he can be in this situation. he’s fucked.

you give him an understanding nod, biting down your smile. “if you want, we can sit down. talk a little?”

you’re like a fairy. not those dainty petite ones out of those fairytales but a real, glowing one with your palm out for him to take. you almost feel like a figment of his imagination, like he’s suffering from object permanence if he isn’t touching you. he can’t tell if you’re laughing at him just a little bit, he’s not sure if he cares. he’s out of his depth here, getting whiplash with his limits adjusting by the second. 

there’s no chance he’s having sex with anyone in public. he’d do anything you ask him to and you don’t even have to say please.

bakugou slides his palm into your smaller one and allows himself to gaze down your back as you drag him away somewhere. your back is smooth, curved and he imagines kissing down your spine. your ass, he glances away, then he looks back. two round globes that ripple with every step you make. he wants to see his fingers gripping your flesh, how it shakes when he slaps a cheek.

he glances at your face to find you smirking at the fact he was so clearly checking you out.

“s-sorry, it’s—,”

“you can look at me, katsuki. we’re all naked here.”

you stop him in front of an empty maroon leather sofa though there’s still other people in the room. a group of four playing a card game on a blanket. a compulsory couple making out on another sofa, always someone making out somewhere. he should be used to it now but beside that couple there’s a man with a man and a woman licking his dick.

bakugou rips his eyes away from the scene when you drop yourself into the sofa, sitting sideways with your legs curled. you perch your arm on the back of the sofa, head resting in your palm. you tap the space beside you.

“sit, gorgeous.”

he does because he can see your pussy when he stands. was there a shine there? is it because of him? bakugou flops down, apologising abruptly when the weight of him causes your side of the sofa to bounce.

“it’s okay, you’re a big guy after all,” you say, snuggling up close to him. your hand is back on his chest but he notices your eyes widen.

“what?” 

your finger swipes at the precome that’s brushed at his abs from how he’s sitting. you’re quick, eager, like you’ve been caught with your fingers in the peanut butter jar.

bakugou’s never been so hard in his life, his head is a bulging red though the colour dimmed down under the purple lights. he flings his head back on the chair but his hand finds your thigh. squeezes.

“you’re killin’ me. i didn’t expect this when i came here. i was supposed to be in and out.”

“that’s honest. you didn’t expect to be turned on in a room full of naked people.” there’s a moan in the background, a couple. “or you didn’t expect to find me?”

bakugou opens his eyes to look at you, you’re clearly more presentable than he is right now. his eyes are watery, pupils blown out like just taken something and he already looks like he’s been run through tonight. fucked in all types of ways. his lips are parted, staring at your smiling ones.

“you. i don’t even know what to say to you.”

he doesn’t know what’s appropriate in this context. with people fucking and sucking all around him, how honest can he be?

a gasp gets stuck in bakugou’s windpipe when your hand cradles his cheek, thumb brushing the blushed apple right under his eye. the movement presses your breasts together, has bakugou once again wondering how the hell you’re real right now.

“tell me what you’re thinking. your first thought.”

he feels as if he’s about to start salivating. he can see every one of your eyelashes, curled up and batting against your cheeks with every blink. your eyes are caring, looking at him softly like you know he needs to be looked after here, a little push of confidence. bakugou’s never been treated like this in his life.

“i wanna eat you out. feel you come on my tongue. so fuckin’ bad, i feel like i’m going insane.” 

he notices your thighs press together now, how your body shivers, how you snuggle closer to him with your breasts against his bicep.

“hearing you say that is going to make me drip onto this sofa.” your voice is like silk, weaving in one ear and out the other. 

bakugou’s hand slides from your thigh to your ass, squeezing you roughly, arousal uncontrolled. 

“i was thinkin’ how the fuck is everyone able to just fuck in public here and now i’m close to beggin’ you to let me. just a taste.” he can barely pronounce a consonant, all his words slurring together, drunk on everything you are. 

“you sure you want to? you don’t have to,” but you’re just taunting him. you can see how much he wants to, if not in his eyes but in his raging cock slapped against his chest. you stretch a bare leg across his lap and this large, beautiful man moans for you. 

this is probably your favourite type. hot and ready after some touching. wanting to please you just from the sight of you alone. definitely helps that he’s built like a god and looks as if he can back up whatever he puts down.

“please let me,” he groans and you watch as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, “i’ll do it here, let me do it here for you.”

you don't say a word, laying back on the sofa and slowly opening your legs. 

bakugou feels like he’s about to shut down. your shine catches the light, gloss covering your lips, trickling down to between your ass. you’re pretty everywhere and he can smell how much you need a release. his heart raps against his chest like he just finished a sprint and he grabs the base of his cock whilst gritting his teeth.

“fuck, sorry. i’m tryin’ so hard not to bust. i fuckin’ can’t,.” he’s blubbering away, unable to take his eyes from between your legs. you’re so fucking pretty. “so perfect. where the fuck have you been all my life?”

you’re laughing again, propping up your head at the arm rest as bakugou adjusts his body to have his head between your thighs. you ruffle his hair, tugging it lightly before letting go.

“you’re so adorable. i knew you’d be good for me.”

that has bakugou dragging his eyes away from your pussy to your face. “i’m good for you?”

he isn’t the submissive one in sex, in his life. he takes control of everything, he’s the one telling others where to go and what to do and… here he isn’t. here he’s waiting for your next word and there’s a couple people watching it happen. fuck, more people are in the room now. sitting on other sofas, staring at him staring at you like you created the stars in the sky.

“yes katsuki, so good. you said you wanted me, have a taste.”

the permission has him purring like a new shiny engine, both his thumbs spreading you apart and bakugou feels rewarded. thick sweetness pouring from your hole and he’s quick to lap it up so it doesn’t get on the sofa. he can’t waste any of you, how disrespectful that would be. your exhales are bubbling with every lick bakugou makes, firstly careful like he’s testing the waters before he dives in.

he grips your thighs like a man starved, the first piece of meat he’s seen in days. then he starts to rock his face into you. messy like nobody taught the man any manners. licks stripes across you so everything’s contained, moans sending vibrations through you because you taste even better than he could imagine. a sweet tang, that has him rolling his eyes to the back of his head. 

bakugou is so consumed by you, by taste, scent and sight, that he forgets about his own hard cock and the crowd that has formed. 

“can i touch you—,” it’s another voice, one said to your katsuki but he’s busy.

“don’t touch him,” you bite, grinding your hips up into his mouth, back arching when he suctions his plush lips over your clit, “fuck, katsuki! you’re doing so well, baby. you’re going to make me come.”

bakugou’s too engrossed, focused on your sounds and words to guide him, to ensure he’s doing the best he can. but you notice, you notice the jealous eyes, the aroused ones, even the curious ones in the corner. there’s even word spreading round to other rooms of what’s happening, of this sexy newcomer that has his head between your thighs. 

“she’s so hot, she’s never let me do that.”

“who is he… who are they? d’you think they’d want me as a third?”

“i’m getting hard again just watching this.”

everything here is lewd, this is a protected place for your wildest fantasies to come true. the attention only encourages your orgasm, the teary red eyes of this stranger dragging you to the edge.

“need you to come on my face,” he grunts like a raging beast, lifting up on his knees to push yours by your head. 

he needs a better position, one to get right inside of you, have your orgasm stretch as long as possible. 

you mewl at the burn in your thighs, but it’s welcomed as his wet prodding tongue circles your clit again and again before sucking harshly. he’s created his own rhythm. a paw clutches at your breast as he grunts, ruby eyes staring at you for a reaction.

“we’ve got ourselves fans, katsuki,” you whisper to him and he can tell you are close, eyes fluttering, almost completely gone. 

he slips two fingers into you and pre from his cock leaks onto his chest at how wet you are. now, bakugou finally pays attention to all the eyes in the room with his mouth slick with you. the couple that were making out have pulled apart to stare at you. there’s a man running his fist up and down himself. there’s groups of people just watching, more coming in as his fingers pump in and out of you.

how the fuck has he gotten here? a new flush of heat floods him, pride at everyone seeing how well he treats you. that you’re moaning and wailing for him.

“you like everyone watchin’ you, huh? you want everyone to see how pretty you look when you come?”

you look delirious, biting down on your lip as you nod, trying to lock your knee around his neck to bring him back to you.

“yes. i want everyone to see me come because of you.”

he doesn’t understand a thing about right now, just that he needs to take you there. 

so he does, loud squelches of his fingers curling along your walls and his lips sucking your clit like he needs it for his survival. your orgasm rocks through you, bursts of come seeping from your hole and bakugou tries his best to keep it in his fingers, clicking around them and grunting when some spills. 

your body vibrates, legs tensing in the air as sweat gathers at your temples. you’re murmuring swears with whines and your grip on his head gets stronger to keep him there through your orgasm. 

there’s multiple other moans through the room, conversation about you and katsuki but it’s gone mute as white flashes your vision. once bakugou’s sure he’s lapped you all up, sucked you completely off his fingers, he kisses your stomach lightly, fixated on the empty pulsing between your legs. 

“you good? wasn’t too much?” he asks you as your chest falls and rises.

you can barely manage to lift yourself up so you take his hand, “loved it. i knew you’d be good with your mouth.”

you still notice the urgency in his eyes so you look over at his cock, about to reach for it.

“you both are hot. mind if i join?” a man with dark hair, toned. 

“no. fuck off,” bakugou snarls, lifting you up so you’re wrapped under an arm, tucked to his side. “you’re lucky we’re lettin’ you even watch.”

your smile blooms, awarding bakugou with kisses along his shoulder, a soft bite where his neck meets. “it’s your turn now, katsuki. need to take care of you before you pass out on me.”

you’re both sitting so intimately. you look exhausted after your orgasm and your skin is tacky with sweat against his. yet he holds you tight, skin to skin, your arms circling his neck.

“you don’t have to. i can sort this at home,” he doesn’t know why he says this. is he being polite? he’s now aware of the eyes around him. some people have dispersed since he stopped eating you out. others now just littered around the room.

“no,” you whine, a kiss on his jaw. he’s yet to kiss your lips. “i want to make you come. want to say thank you.”

your face is a few inches from his, hanging onto him like a koala. he’s committing this all to memory, the red printed 47 on your wrist. how your eyes are glassy like you owe him more than just an orgasm. how you gripped his hair once you noticed how many people were watching.

“can i kiss you?” his fingers run down your sides.

“so cute,” you whisper against his lips, sliding onto his open mouth and thrusting your tongue inside. 

the kiss is amazing, sexy. has your hips moving against his side without warning. you can feel his boost of confidence as he sucks on your tongue, tilting his head to get deeper down your throat. he bites down on your bottom lip, hating to be away from you for a second before his lips land on you again. he tastes like you and something sweet and it’s all effortless as he begins to push you back down onto the sofa, thick forearms by your head so he can begin to grind between your sensitive legs. 

bakugou doesn’t last long at all, he knows he wouldn’t be able to. as your legs wrap around his waist, all he wants is a pussy job. to feel you wet and soaked around his cock. but three thrusts from you with your tongue in his mouth and bakugou bursts all over your chest. his groan is incredible, has you clinging onto him in necessity.

it’s one jolt of come, then his face goes slack, grunts of “fuck, couldn’t stop myself.” hating how he couldn’t go on for longer, even though he’s been burning since he saw you.

“it’s okay baby, it’s all for me. i love that it’s all for me,” you say to him, working him through his weak thrusts as he’s unable to even kiss you, just transferring his hot breath into your mouth. another jolt and his seed pours. “you’re so sexy. i’ve missed you.”

that makes bakugou laugh, his come gathering in your tummy button, under your breasts and through the hair on your mound. “i’ve fuckin’ missed you too. where have you been?”

bakugou’s barely conscious as he lays beside you out of breath and out of any will to move.

“sorry, i know i’ve made a mess—,”

you tut, but you only mean it sweetly when he glances over at you, “stop apologising. there’s wipes and tissues under the chair.”

“that was so sexy, if you guys are ever looking for two more—,”

“no!” you and katsuki blurt, “we’re good.” 

as the girl walks away, bakugou sighs delightfully, reaching for the pack of wipes to clean up. 

“wait, wait,” you say, scooping up his come from your stomach on your finger and stuffing it in your mouth. 

bakugou stares with a slacked jaw, reaching over to kiss the corner of your lips as you swallow.

“are you gonna let me see you again? maybe out of here?”

you cock your head to the side as he wipes over your stomach, then your thighs. 

you take longer than needed to reply, enough time for bakugou to mumble, “please?”

“what the fuck!? there you are!” kirishima bustles in, stomping over with kaminari behind him still looking heartbroken but now considerably more interested in whatever's just gone down. “no way, kacchan? seriously?”

kirishima’s eyes flicker over you still laying on the sofa as bakugou wipes you down, very obvious about everything that’s happened.

“good for you man,” he says solemnly, slapping his hand on bakugou’s shoulder.

“kacchan?” you ask.

“short for katsuki,” he says into your hair and there’s something inside you that bursts in delight that he trusted you with his actual name. 

“this is yn,” he blurts, knocking his head with yours. the fuck is he supposed to do, caught just having sex in a sex club with a beautiful woman by his two friends, “she’s sweet.”

kaminari laughs wetly, “course she is. how did he find someone and i lost someone. the love of my life.”

“sorry about him. still distraught. i found him asleep upstairs—,”

“then i woke up to him sucking off this guy—,”

“shut up,” kirishima whines.

“was it that same guy we saw when we walked in?” bakugou asks and he’s met with a slow nod, that becomes a small smile in remembrance.

the dynamic of katsuki and his friends wasn’t what you expecting. you weren’t sure what you were expecting really, but it wasn’t this. light laughter between them both, all three of them jacked and muscled like they have the same hobbies.

“anyway we’re heading out now, you coming with kacchan? or you wanna stay with yn here?”

bakugou looks to you. he wants to be anywhere you are. maybe do more with you, talk to you. find out what you do for work, your dreams, your family. he wants to touch you in his bedroom, without a crowd.

“i’ll meet you at the cloakroom in fifteen.” 

with two waves to you, you look over at bakugou with a pout. “you’re leaving?”

“you can come with me? this isn’t my thing,” he looks around the room, “not at all. but i wanna spend more time with you. maybe outta here?” 

it’s the same nervousness from earlier but instead of coming out jumpy he’s unable to make eye contact, hands unable to leave your thighs. 

“okay… i’ll say goodbye to a few people and meet you outside?”

bakugou doesn’t hide his shock at you agreeing. he was expecting push back, this being a once in a lifetime situation where he meets the most beautiful girl of his dreams and never again. but you rise to your feet, taking his hand like you’re helping him up.

on your tiptoes, you kiss his cheek, “i’ll be quick okay?”

he shakes his head, “take your time.”

with kirishima and kaminari clothed an seated at the front of the car, bakugou sighs for the fifth time.

“it’s been ten minutes bro, she said she will come, she’s coming,” kaminari says through the window, his eyes closed. “you won’t be let down. not like i was.”

bakugou stands leaning with his arms crossed against the car, kicking a rock.

“maybe she doesn’t notice you without your dick out,” kirishima laughs, which only makes kaminari laugh too.

“fuck off, we all had our dicks out—,”

“sorry for taking so long, they couldn’t find my clothes!”

you look completely different yet completely the same, under the harsh yellow streetlight compared to the fuzzy purple haze from the club. you look real, beautiful, in reach for him to kiss with a clear head. and clothed, you’re adorable. dressed nothing like the minx that enjoys having an audience when she orgasms.

you’ve got a fluffy striped jumper on and baggy denim blue jeans with your bag over your shoulder. you look like you’re dressed to do a food shop, a student going to university. fuck… he cannot even wrap his head around the fact came over your chest a mere half an hour ago.

“you look adorable,” he blurts and you give him a grin, stuffing your hand in his face. 

“shut up katsuki, that’s my word for you,” though he only grabs your wrist, kissing the faintly stamped 47. 

he continues holding it when you peep your head to the open window to his friends. “thanks for dropping me off guys!”

“no problem!”

bakugou opens the back door for you, “d’you wanna come back to mine?”

he asks before you get in and like before, there’s an extra second pause. then, “are you going to tell me what you do for work?”

“he’s a pro hero, we all are,” kaminari groans, his hangover settling in as well as his urge to go home.

your eyes widen, your hand back on his chest like feeling him will reveal the truth. he’s now coated in a plain black tshirt. “oh wow.”

“guys we really can be horny in the car instead of outside. get in.” kirishima says and it’s a quick scramble of you sliding in and then bakugou after.

it’s inevitable, an attempt to be appropriate but straying from it at every corner.

another kiss shared in the backseat between you saying how many siblings you have, bakugou gripping your thigh as he says where he grew up. kaminari sharing an embarrassing tidbit about bakugou growing up and bakugou threatening to snap his neck. then the blonde apologises to you for saying that while kaminari whines in the background. 

when kirishima drops you and bakugou outside of his skyrise apartment the only thing you can think to say is, “you’re a really good friend.”

bakugou huffs a laugh, slinging his arm around your shoulders, “not really. i was eatin’ you out when i shoulda been lookin’ for him.”

likes don’t do anything on tumblr! but reblogs, comments and asks mean the world! i delete comments asking for another part. thanks xox