Fly Hunny From The Westside

when you find your release, it’s not a show or an act. in the moment, katsuki can tell you feel free. letting pleasure ripple at your shoreline and wash away the day, your sounds are quiet and breathless — a sign that you’re not performing for anyone other than yourself and your body. juices run down the expanse of the toy in which you quiver around, but you don’t stop grinding and humping at it until your aftershocks pass. you end the stream with a crackly giggle and a small thank you. no shout outs, no mentions of donors every few minutes. just you and quiet bliss.

so every wednesday night — dynamight finds himself staying late at the agency to catch your streams. wondering what toy you’ll use next or if it’ll be something mundane like a pillow or your fingers with the cute silver ring you never ever take off. his eyes commit everything about you to memory, the beauty mark on your inner thigh which matches the one on your collar bone. the tattoo on the inside of your right arm and the curve of your Cupids bow which stretches when you mewl. every orgasm he has with his cute little cam girl is harder than the last, thicker and hotter — grunted out into the quiet night like a secret shared between just two.

wednesday nights become off limits, no plans with friends or other heroes. just time with his fist down his pants and wrapped around his aching shaft — until his assistant complains of team morale and his sidekicks not seeing the big boss enough. one Wednesday night becomes reserved for wannabe heroes and coincidentally — no stream notification from you. amongst the flowing alcohol he doesn’t drink and the de-shelled peanuts scattered across the table, katsuki notices you.

bright eyes, shy demeanour and a voice he seems to recognise just a little bit. the cadence you speak with is sweet and familiar, sends a tingle down the spine and to his erection pulsing tucked behind kevlar. your laugh makes his tip ooze. katsuki’s smart, he’s perfect for recon missions and pulling the pieces of a villain’s plan together before it’s even been properly revealed. so there’s not a doubt in his mind, that you’re the girl he jacks off too when he needs a moment alone. a pause in space and time to relieve his stresses.

however, it’s not like he can just … confront you. there’s no proof. except for the sanrio tattoo revealed to him during a sidekick sparring session. aside from the familiar bounce of your breasts when you bound up to dynamight to hand him reports and ask him for advice on your hero moves. he’d know that body anywhere, picturing you while grinding against sheets between missions in foreign countries — imagining you sinking down on the meat of his cock like you do with your array with vibrators and dildos that seem like more than you can take.

proof doesn’t land until bakugou catches you. a late night at the agency when everyone’s been sent home leaves the building void of noise except for the third floor. curiosity killed the cat but this time curiosity rewarded the pro hero with the sight of his dreams — you’re obviously trying to film something. perhaps the pre recorded content you share with higher paying customers — but you’re spread out on a meeting chair with your blistering hot mound on display and your favourite glass toy pumping in and out of you with a crude schlik noise.

“knew my mind wasn’t playin’ tricks on me, sweet girl,” he purrs like he’s caught a mouse in a trap — his tongue rolling over his teeth in satisfaction at the teary and fearful expression lining your features. the hero rounds the wheelie chair you sit on, legs spread either side of its arms and that same glass toy pressed up against your sensitive walls. he’s watched you fuck yourself on it a dozen times before, take the beaded end and smooth dull tip all the way to your womb with the glass growing foggier the more you gush on it. however, absolutely nothing compares to the real thing. the way your spread thighs quiver and your bottom lip trembles. “so pretty, who would have thought you’d be right under my nose this whole fuckin’ time.”

there’s a surge of confidence he feels that he wouldn’t have experienced before — the great dynamight slides to his knees in front of your chair, sun-burnt blush spreading far down his neck as he comes face to face with your sticky, sparkling cunt and greed settles into the fine lines of his handsome face. “d-dynamight!”

“s’katsuki, to you, sweetheart,” he groans, letting lust take the lead on his actions. he’s been picturing you in the back of his mind for weeks, he only associates you with a crazy sense of hunger and the buzz of an earth shattering high. the blonde leans in, sun-kissed hair tickling the soaked skin of your thighs where he licks the inner crease kisses the inside of your knee. he inhales deep, the thick heady scent of your arousal enchanting him and dragging him in. “smell so good… don’t stop on my account.”

katsuki tongues around the toy slipped past your entrance, slurping up what your body drools as though its finely aged wine from a silver chalice. calloused fingers spread you wide so he can see, lapping at the pink hidden between your pudgy pussy lips. “c’mon baby, fuck yourself for me. just like you do on your cams.” he goads you gruffly, especially when you whine at the unrelenting attention from his teeth and tongue raking over your unattended beating clit.

it’s easy to do as told when it’s your boss sucking on the length of your slit like his life depends on it, pink muscle curling around the glass that you push and pull in and out of your cunt — lewd suctioning noises echoing throughout the meeting room and twisting with your whimpers that grow a pitch with every thrust. katsuki bobs his head with the rhythm, cursing against your folds sworn slow sweeps from your clit to your squeezing hole trying to milk the toy as though it’s his cock.

he doesn’t dare hold you down, katsuki’s got the real deal rutting against his hot, silken mouth — just like you do when you’re alone. he lets you smother his nose and his tongue in your sweet honey juices, switch from suffocating him between your thighs to twisting your hips away for some respite from the stimulation. and when you cum, you feel the weight of his ruby jewelled gaze on you — drinking in the way your chest bows towards the sky, nipples sore and peaked and your head pussy streams clear around the musky glass toy pressed against your gspot.

tufts of blonde loll against your trembling thigh, katsuki’s palm smoothing over your belly and between your breast as your breathing quickens because you’ve never cum that hard before. not on your own, not with someone for a collab. he presses down, guiding your heart rate into something normal whilst kissing your doughy flesh.

“next time, you’re gonna let me fuck you for real,” the pro hero promises with a smug and lazy smirk — the ring of his mouth shining with your slick. “put it in one of your pretty streams too.”

end ! likes are appreciated, but just liking doesn’t do much on tumblr! to support and motivate myself and other writers, reply, reblog and comment if you'd like to see more!! — asks are open to thirsts and thoughts! join my taglist ! love you!

“and can i hit it in the mornin’? the sun risin’ while you’re moanin’…”

“baby, do you have any idea what time it is?” you murmured sleepily, your eyes closed yet your brain half-awake, as Jimmy slightly tightened his arms around your body and pulled you closer to him, his chest pressing flush against your back while your body fit against his like a puzzle piece.

“it’s 8 somethin’,” Jimmy muttered, pressing soft kisses against your shoulder, as you hummed softly and sluggishly nodded, your body instinctively leaning into his kisses while his hand splayed across your stomach, “time for you to get your pretty ass up.”

“mm-mm.” you huffed, your refusal coming out as a soft whine, as Jimmy grinned a little and let out a soft chuckle, his hand on your stomach sliding to the waistband of your pajama shorts.

“not even for me?” before you could question what he meant, you felt him shift his hips and your eyes fluttered open at feeling his erection press flush against your ass, your breathing catching a little from the sensation.

“…Jimmy.” you didn’t even know why you said his name, but the way you said it — all breathy and soft — told him everything he needed to know, causing a smirk to spread across his face.

“you gon’ take care of me, baby?” Jimmy cooed softly, kissing up from your shoulder to your neck, as he gently nudged your bonnet to the side and pressed an open-mouthed kiss against the side of your neck while simultaneously sliding his hand inside your shorts and underwear in unison, his middle finger wasting no time colliding with your clit and rubbing it in circles, “hm? you gon’ take care of your man?”

your lips slightly parted and a soft whimper fell from them as your head tilted a bit to further expose your neck and your hand reached down to hold onto his arm, a small furrow forming between your eyebrows while you spread your thick thighs a little more to give him room to maneuver.

“use your words, mama, c’mon. talk to me.” Jimmy’s middle finger slid down your clit and slipped between your slick folds as he pushed it inside you real slow, eliciting a gasp from you and causing your mouth to part further.

“oh, fuuuck— i-i’ma take care of you, baby,” you whined, rolling your hips against his finger, as you felt Jimmy gently nip at your neck and you moaned at the feeling, his other hand sliding under your top to fondle your breasts, “mmh, i’ma take care of my man…”

“uh-huh, that’s what i like to hear, pretty.”

and just like that, Jimmy had your chunky leg lifted and sat snugly in the pit of his elbow to spread you open for him while his other hand sat wrapped around your neck to slightly tilt your head back, his grip not tight enough to cut off your airflow yet enough for you to feel tingles all over.

his hips rolled into yours into a steady yet deep pace, your ass rippling with each of his thrusts while your body melted further into the mattress. his mouth sat right beside your earlobe, allowing you to hear his groans, ragged breaths, and salacious sentences that had you whining out for more of him.

“you feel so fuckin’ good, mama,” Jimmy groaned in your ear, his teeth lightly tugging at your earlobe, as a whimper fell from your mouth and your hands firmly clutched his wrist, needing to hold onto some part of him to ground yourself before you lost your mind, “love gettin’ into my pussy this early in the mornin’… feel like she been marinating overnight for me, baby.”

you were about to call out his name for what felt like the millionth time this morning, but it came out in a broken squeal instead once you felt Jimmy subtly shift his hips and hit something inside you that had your hips jerking and your vision going starry.

noticing the change in your tone, a knowing smirk crossed his face and he maintained the angle as he continue to thrust right at your erogenous zone, eliciting all kinds of sharp cries and desperate whines from you while one of your hands left his wrist and went to hold onto the mattress instead.

“J-Jimmyyyy—”

“i know, pretty girl. i know,” Jimmy cooed, planting a wet kiss against the side of your neck, as his mouth descended until he reached your shoulder, his dark eyes flickering up to watch your face, “go ahead and cum, mama. i feel you clenching around me.”

and cum, you did — your jaw went slack and your lips sat agape as your eyebrows furrowed and your eyes rolled back, the bridge of your nose slightly scrunching up while your nails sunk into Jimmy’s wrist and the mattress.

“shiiiit, o-oh, my G— Jonathan!” you cried out the government name of your boyfriend as your orgasm crashed heavily down onto you, your legs trembling and your pussy spasming around his dick while your body struggled to handle the aftermath of your intense climax.

“that’s it, baby, there you go. look at my good girl takin’ this dick like a pro.”

jey’s confidence was shaky at best, fragile and in need of constant tending. he sought validation in the quiet moments, stolen glances, encouraging words from his peers and sometimes even the gentle press of a kiss to his temple from those who knew the man behind the “main-event” persona. you loved that about him. crash-out jey, the steel chair wielding fighter, who could tear through opponents with crisp white air force one, was, at his core, just a sweet baby, craving warmth, reassurance, and a place to rest his weary heart.

you waited for him outside the locker room, leaning against the cool, gritty concrete wall, its surface rough under your fingertips, the lingering scent of liniment, rubber mats, and the sharp, metallic bite of adrenaline clung to the backstage corridors. distant sounds echoed through the arena’s underbelly, the clatter of equipment being put away, the muffled banter of crew members, the low hum of fluorescent lights flickering overhead, casting jagged shadows across the tiled floor. your lips curved into a polite smile as bron walked by, he and jey were actually good friends outside the ring; but it was much harder for you to compartmentalize. at the moment, his face reminded you that his overused spear made him the victor of the match.

your body lifted instinctively when the door opened, your eyes landed on your man, and the innate feeling to take care of him welled up in your chest. his hair was a wild mess, curls matted with sweat, sticking to his profile, some strands curling rebelliously against his temples, right above the band-aid that covered his fresh stitches from the last ple. his hand hung limp at his side, fingers twitching restlessly, while the other clutched an unopened water bottle, the plastic crinkling faintly under his grip. his silence was a heavy, brooding cloud, wrapping around him as he replayed every moment of the match in his mind, every missed cue, every botched move, every second where he thought he could’ve been better.

“joshua…” you murmured, your voice a soft, velvet thread cutting through the haze of his thoughts. you reached for his hand, your fingers slipping between his, warm and calloused from years of gripping ropes and slamming bodies. his skin was red hot, the pulse of his heartbeat thrumming faintly against your palm.

he didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on some invisible point in the distance, but he let you lead him, your touch a lifeline pulling him from the depths of his own head. you guided him through the labyrinth of backstage corridors, past crew members hauling equipment, their boots scuffing the floor, past flickering exit signs and stacks of folded chairs. the loading bay waited ahead, where a blacked-out suv idled, waiting for the two of you, as you climbed into the backseat. jey slid in beside you, his body heavy, his head leaning against the window, eyes half-lidded as the city lights streaked across his expressionless face.

the driver pulled away, the hum of the engine blending with the distant sounds of the city, a low, almost hypnotic buzz that filled the silence. jey’s silence wasn’t unusual, he was always like this after losses, his mind going in and out of what-ifs and should-haves. you watched him for a moment, taking in the way his chest rose and fell, slow and deliberate, his t-shirt clinging to the contours of his body, the fabric of his sweats stretched tight over his thighs, his biceps, the hard planes of his chest. you noticed the constant faint tremor in his fingers, the restless energy of a man still fighting a battle no one else could see. he was beautiful, even in his defeat, raw, vulnerable, a man carrying the weight of his own expectations.

you couldn’t let him stay there, lost in that spiral of self-doubt. with a gentle shift, you climbed onto his lap, your thighs bracketing his hips, the heat of his body seeping through your clothes, warming your skin where it pressed against him. the sudden closeness made his breath hitch, a soft, ragged sound that broke the silence. his eyes flickered up to meet yours, raw and searching, a mix of hunger and need shimmering in their depths. you tugged your cotton top over your head in one slow, deliberate motion, letting it fall to the floor of the suv in a soft heap. the cool air kissed your bare skin, raising goosebumps along your arms, your collarbone, the curve of your waist. your full, heavy breasts spilled into his line of sight, catching the fleeting glow of streetlights, their weight swaying slightly as you settled against him. jey’s gaze softened, the self depreciation in his eyes giving way to something you could soothe — need, vulnerability, a plea for the comfort only you could give.

you cupped the back of his head, your fingers sinking into the damp, fluffy curls of his mullet, the strands soft and slightly tacky with sweat. your nails grazed his scalp, slow and deliberate, and you felt the faint shudder that ran through him, his body responding to your touch like a taut string finally plucked. “c’mere, baby,” you whispered, your voice a low, honeyed purr, thick with affection. you guided him closer, pressing his face against the warmth of your chest, the soft curve of your breast brushing his cheek. no words were needed. his lips found your nipple, warm and reverent, closing around it with a gentle suction that sent a shiver racing down your spine.

the sensation was electric, his tongue soft and warm, circling slowly, teasing the hardened nub with a tenderness that made your breath catch in your throat. you exhaled shakily, your head tilting back, eyes fluttering closed as you surrendered to the warmth of his mouth, the faint scrape of his beard against your skin adding a delicious edge to the pleasure. the suv’s motion rocked you gently, the hum of the engine a distant lullaby, amplifying the intimacy of the moment.

“there you go, papa,” you murmured, your voice a soothing balm, threaded with adoration. your fingers massaged slow, deliberate circles into his scalp, nails grazing just enough to make him hum softly against your skin, the vibration sending a ripple of heat through your core. his hands found your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh, anchoring himself to you as if you were the only thing keeping him from sinking. he moved to your other breast, his tongue flicking over the sensitive peak, slow and teasing, while his calloused fingertips grazed the one he’d left behind, rolling and pinching gently, coaxing a quiet moan from your lips.

the dip in your back deepened, pressing yourself closer, your body a soft, warm offering to ease his troubled mind. the leather seat creaked beneath you, the sound mingling with the soft, wet sounds of his mouth against your skin. “such a good boy.” you purred, pulling your bottom lip into your mouth as the sensation shot straight to your aching core.

“you’re the fuckin’ best at this shit,” you whispered, your words dripping with conviction and a double-entendre, each syllable a lifeline to pull him from the depths. you leaned in, your lips brushing the shell of his ear, your breath hot and teasing, tickling the fine hairs there. “they can’t fuck with you, baby. they never could.” your voice was a low purr, laced with adoration, and you felt his body relax beneath you, the tension in his shoulders melting under your touch. “mami is so fucking proud of you,” you added, your tone thick with emotion, a promise sealed with every word. you pressed a kiss to his temple, tasting the salt of his sweat, feeling the faint pulse of his heartbeat beneath your lips, steady and strong despite the weight he carried.

his breath hitched again, a soft, ragged sound that fanned across your collarbone, warm and damp against your skin. his arms wrapped tighter around your waist, pulling you flush against him, the heat of his body radiating through you, a furnace of need and vulnerability. you rocked your hips gently, not to ignite but to soothe, the slow rhythm syncing with the hum of the suv, grounding him in the moment. his lips parted against your skin, a soft, open-mouthed kiss pressed to the curve of your breast, then another to the hollow of your throat, each one a silent thank you, a quiet surrender to your care. the faint scratch of his beard against your skin sent a shiver through you, a delicious contrast to the warmth of his mouth, and you felt the low, rumbling groan in his chest, vibrating against your ribcage.

“you don’t need their approval, papa,” you continued, your fingers trailing down his back, tracing the hard lines of muscle beneath his damp skin, the scars and bruises that told the story of his battles. each ridge, each mark, was a testament to his resilience, his heart, and you loved every one of them. “you got me. always.” your nails grazed the nape of his neck, slow and deliberate, and he shivered beneath you, his breath catching again. you pressed another kiss to his forehead, then his cheek, tasting the salt of his sweat, the faint musk of his cologne lingering in the air, wrapping you in a cocoon of him. “you’re my champ,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion, cracking slightly under the weight of your love for him. “my everything.”

he let out a low, shaky breath, his face burying into the crook of your neck, his beard tickling your skin as he nuzzled closer, seeking your warmth. “love you, mami,” he mumbled, his voice rough and barely audible, but the weight of it settled deep in your chest, warm and heavy, like a stone smoothed by years of river water. his hands slid up your back, slow and possessive, fingers splaying wide across your skin, holding you like you might slip away if he let go. you felt the faint tremor in his grip, the vulnerability he rarely showed, and it made your heart ache for him.

“love you too, pretty baby,” you whispered, your lips brushing his ear, your breath warm against his skin. your hands cradled him close, one hand stroking his mullet, the other resting against the small of his back, feeling the heat of his skin, the steady rise and fall of his breaths. “mami’s got you. always.” you rocked against him gently, the motion soothing, a silent promise that you’d carry his burdens, lift him up when the world felt too heavy. the suv rolled on, the city lights blurring into streaks of color outside the tinted windows, but the world beyond faded into nothing. it was just you and jey, wrapped in the heat of your bodies, the steady rhythm of your breaths, the soft hum of your voice as you poured love and life back into him. “you’re more than enough, joshua.” he exhaled, a shaky breath that fanned across your skin, and his hands tightened around you, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.