#sub bakugou

Today, you decided to spend extra time training on your own to blow off steam while everyone else left. Katsuki, however, stayed behind without you knowing. If you had, you would've gone to a nearby gym instead.

“What's this?” Katsuki swipes the chain sticking out of your bag. He stares at the charm dangling from it with curiosity.

“What the hell?” You step into the locker room with just a towel around your waist.

“Calm down. I just wanted to look at your girly necklace.” Katsuki smiles. “It's so pretty, did you steal it from a baby?” His smile grows wider as he sees your reaction. He can tell the necklace is well made and it definitely isn't a product made for children, he’s just taking the opportunity to piss you off.

You take a deep breath. “Put it down.”

“Worried I’ll break your precious little toy?”

“I’m more worried I’ll break you.”

“Oh yeah? Well put some pants on and we can find out whether or not you actually can.” If he's being honest, he doesn't really mind fighting naked…in a different sense though.

“Just put it down, Bakugo.” You rub your temple to soothe your oncoming headache.

“Fine.” He tosses it backwards. You rush over and catch it in the blink of an eye, losing your towel in the process.

“I’m getting tired of you.” You stare at the necklace to see if he made a scratch then turn around.

“Then figh—” He accidentally gets a glance of your length. He wasn't paying attention when you had your towel on but now, he can see that your dick is as big as your arm and your arm is huge. It's larger than what he's been imagining. He turns his head to avoid eye contact with what is probably better described as an extra limb. “Then fight me, loser.”

“You chose the worst day to bother me.” You strike his leg with your foot and force him to kneel. You slide the necklace onto him, it moves to fit over his hair and shrinks to fit around his neck.

“Wh- what the hell?” He tries to rip it off but it won't let him. “What the fuck is this?” He looks up at you, trying to ignore your dick.

“This was supposed to be my ex’s necklace but we broke up a few hours ago.”

His heart starts to thump dramatically. You're getting hard. You're going to take your breakup out on him. Today might be his lucky day, instead of the wrong day.

“It's something I made myself but we came up with the features together. We couldn't put it to use but I still need to see if it works as intended.” You grab Katsuki’s hair. He doesn't doubt that it can do whatever it is that it's supposed to. The support department has been begging you to join them since you showed off your skills a while back. Another thing he's jealous of.

“You're disgusting.” He grits his teeth and prepares to blow you up, only to further spur you on and see how powerful you truly are.

“Don't fight me.”

Katsuki looks down at his arm. It’s lowering itself on its own. He can't…he can't fight you. “You–” He doesn't know what to say. This makes things a lot more exciting.

“My ex always thought there was something fun about voluntarily relinquishing control, I even made sure to add the ability for it to deactivate when hearing the safeword, but I won't be giving you that choice. Open your mouth.” You slide your cock into his mouth and smirk as you watch him struggle to fit you.

His slightly chapped lips are starting to crack and bleed from your intrusion. You weren't being dramatic when you said you’d break him.

“God, you look sexy like this.” Your cock throbs at the sight of tears welling up in his eyes. You start roughly fucking his face. He's in so much pain and yet, he doesn't want this to stop. He wants you to keep abusing his throat and do the same to his pussy. He wants you to make him yours, own him.

He always hoped that his teasing would cause you to do this. Most of his insistence on sparring comes from his strong urge to make you angry enough to fuck him. None of the dildos he has at home are big enough to mimic you. He bought a few to slowly work his way towards the largest one in his collection, the one he thought would be around your size, but not a single one of them could've prepared him for this.

“Masturbate for me.” You order. Katsuki stuffs his hand down his pants and strokes his t-dick. He’s relieved that you won't be able to tell how horny he is, his briefs are already soaked. He wants you to think he hates it, for now at least. “Your mouth feels great too, ‘s making me wonder what you feel like down there…”

Katsuki’s eyes twitch as he comes. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, Katsuki chants in his own head.

You slow down your thrusts and come in his mouth. “Swallow it.” You groan at the feeling of his throat tightening to swallow your thick load of cum.

Katsuki’s eyes grow wide as he watches you pull out. You're still hard. Perfect.

“Take your clothes off and lay down on the bench. On your back.” You turn around and lock the doors. You walk over to him and raise his legs high in the air while your cock rests on his pussy. There's no way he can fit all of you.

“Please-” His body twitches as you start rubbing against his pussy. “It won't fit-”

“We’ll just have to see, won't we?” You grope his small tits. He shakes his head pathetically. “How about this: if it doesn't fit, I’ll leave you alone. Okay?”

God, please let it fit, Katsuki begs to all the gods he can think of.

“I like you better when you're like this. You make it so easy to come, you might drain me today.” You slide your cock backwards and rub the tip against his hardened t-cock until you coat his pussy with your seed. Katsuki’s body suddenly jerks as he squirts. He can see and hear how much more aroused you are now.

“No– no- ‘m gonna get pregnant-” Katsuki’s lips tremble.

“I’ll make sure you won't. You're too much fun to play with.” You grab his legs and start to penetrate him. He gasps as more tears fall down his cheeks. You push his thighs down to be on either side of his body to make it easier for you to enter him. His mouth refuses to close as you manage to get further inside him. “There we go, baby, fitting me like a glove.”

“It hurts-” His voice is cracking. It hurts and he loves it. He can see his stomach bulging, you’re making it so far inside him. He arches his back and moans when your cock bumps into his cervix. Katsuki quickly realizes that you're still not fully inside and nothing is going to stop you from trying to be fully enveloped by his soft walls.

“Jerk yourself off.” You order. Katsuki’s hand quickly flies to his t-dick and it never pulls away, not even as you roughly rut into him and eventually enter his womb. Looks like your invention is a success, he's completely at your mercy.

“Fuck!” Katsuki cries out, squirting. Not only did he not think this was possible, he also didn't think that it’d feel so good.

“See? I knew it’d fit.” You bite down on your lip and come inside him. You're still hard and evidently, very energetic. You haven't told him to stop so he's still touching himself while you fuck him. His brain is turning to mush.

“No! Stop!” He arches his back and whines with drool dribbling down his chin. He's not sure he’ll still be conscious when you're done with him.

“Go ahead and fight me, baby, I’ll give you the spar you wanted.” You reach for his throat and choke him.

Katsuki scratches your arms uselessly. He was already having trouble breathing but now…

“Poor kitty, you're weaker than I expected.” You smile at his pitiful attempts to hurt you. “Come on, try harder:”

He attempts to use his quirk but all he can generate are subtle sparks that feel more like pop rocks than explosions. “I ca— can't–” His face changes in color.

“Then surrender.”

“I give– hah– give uh~ up!” He gasps for air the moment you let go of his throat.

“That means you're mine now.” You make one final thrust and dump your last load into him. His walls squeeze your softening cock as you pull out. A mix of his blood and your cum spill out of his poor, sensitive pussy. He jerks in shock and pleasure as you smack his cunt, making him squirt one last time.

“Make sure not to tell anyone.” You tap the charm on his necklace, reminding him that he doesn't have a choice. You pick him up and graciously carry him to the showers. His vision is blurry and he's pretty much completely out of it. You turn the water on and rinse his body. He frowns as he watches your cum go down the drain. You thoroughly clean him up and then do the same to yourself.

unless it's one of those tough nights like the first time, he's still mouthy, his pride and self preservation instincts never fully disappear. and he doesn't outright plead— i see a degree of begging but it's SO specifically him and it takes a LOT for him to say it.

i'm talking "fucking please.." through gritted teeth followed by his brows scrunching up in relief and a breathy, self-satisfied "ffuck.. yeah…" when you decide to give him what he wants.

i totally agree with him now being suuper freaked out. kink is a huuuge spectrum, and while i don't think he's completely vanilla, that the things that he'd be into don't fall anywhere near the freakier end of the spectrum lmao

degradation and humiliation to an extent because seeing that you get off on it does something to him. and it's not all that "you're a dirty slut" type shit…. (that would cringe him out goodbye)

the way he does it is more teasing, making you feel embarassed for something you want, making you admit it, say it to his face. maybe even really beg for it if he's feeling especially mean. but in the end he's very, very willing to give you what you want and do it well. he takes a LOT of pride in being able to deliver you the best.

i'm also gonna throw in praise as a kink because (begrudgingly) he does need reassurance, and he knows that his words of praise to you mean a lot— because what he says, he completely means.

i can see him dabbling in some bondage (handcuffs or the like), a degree of breathplay (like a hand at your throat perhaps), and some rougher sex in general at times (his fingers digging into your hips as he moves them to his liking, your nails raking down his back…) but he doesn't want to hurt you.. like honestly that's probably his worst fear, being at fault for your harm, so nothing too far ^^

may blabs: ok looking back at my prev post on this i def simplified and slapped the bratty sub label on him... which leans on just generically typing him buut it ok that was my first time (heh) posting smth smut-adjacent 🥹

so imma give myself sum slack. i keep things silly on here but TRUST ik there is always nuance and a lot of depth🤞

Only once have you encountered Bakugou Katsuki. Three years ago, if you recall correctly. At the time, you’d been running from the law, too; robbing and gunning your way through the never-ending desert until you'd found yourself on the same cross-country locomotive as the infamous outlaw himself. You were planning on looting the passengers blind. Now it’s not a memory you like to linger on; the sting of a humiliatingly quick defeat is all too easy to dredge back up. 

Anyhow, that was the proverbial kick in the head that started you on a new path. One on the right side of the law (not that the law was ever going to find out you’d been on its wrong side). And now you hunt down folk unfortunate enough to wind up with a bounty on their head, just like Bakugou Katsuki here. 

Not long have you been in this town and yet you’re itching to escape. To most people, you suppose it could be considered quaint–the long-lived rotting buildings, weary livestock, and the way everyone seems to know each other as one might a family member. To you however, it’s suffocating and you can already feel the curious stare of the townspeople wedging into your skin like a splinter you can’t remove. Behind you, disordered piano notes spill out from the saloon and into the night air. Drunken patrons cheer as though they recognise the song but you find that hard to believe.  

$100,000, you muse. A hell of a sum of money. Enough to retire, if I wanted to. 

Although scrawled above the money, the outlaw’s fierce red glare pierces straight through you like an arrow. Somehow, you’d wager that capturing him would be a prize worth more than every penny combined. You spit your toothpick out and push away from where you’re leaning against the boardwalk paling. 

See you awfully soon, Bakugou Katsuki.

—

“Howdy, old friend,” you call, shielding the sun’s low glare with your gloved palm. 

Bakugou thrashes, dust kicking up in plumes around him from the impact of his fall. There was nothing he could do when your lasso landed true, tightening around his torso like a noose. All it took was one small tug and he was tumbling down, no different from the tin cans you line up for target practice. 

Sat atop your horse, it isn’t hard to relax into the familiar triumph of a capture singing through your veins. You’ve gotten real good at this whole right-side-of-the-law shtick. 

Bakugou throws himself onto his back, and light slices across his face through the cloud of dust. Sweat and dirt is caked into his every nook and cranny. 

“Friend?” he snarls, affronted. 

Palming your Stetson from where it’s hooked on the flank of your horse, you tug it down to your brow. A second later, you swing a leg over the saddle and jump, boots thumping on the dry dirt gracelessly. 

“Now, now,” you tut, meandering closer. “Don’t be tellin’ us you ain’t recognise little old me?”

“Fuck no I don’t,” he spits. Although he clearly means to sound threatening, it's undermined by the way he’s shuffling on the dirt like a worm in fresh rain as he struggles to put more distance between you. You chew on your new toothpick, smothering a grin. “Nobody’s make as much of an impression as wind on water.”

Huffing a laugh at his jab, you ask, “You a humorist, outlaw Bakugou Katsuki?” 

Your worn boot finds its home on Bakugou’s chest, halting his escape. 

“I don’t make a habit of it,” he says, glaring at you. 

“Could’ve fooled me,” you remark, absently fingering the pearlescent gun that’s tucked in your holster. “Perhaps you need a helpin’ hand.”

“Hell no! I am mighty fine without your help, I assure you,” Bakugou protests, wriggling under your boot. 

Below you, smeared in dirt and coiled in your rope, he looks strangely pathetic. Nothing of the big, bad outlaw you remember meeting on the train—the one who proceeded to strike you down as though you were mere reeds under the blade of his scythe. This thought sours the high you’d been riding and you frown. 

“C’mere girl!” you yell, and click your tongue until your horse trots closer. 

From her neck, you snatch a deep red banana. She snuffles your hand with wet lips before walking off to chew on a nearby tumbleweed. You lay the bandana across the bridge of your nose and secure it behind your head. When you glance down a moment later, Bakugou has his face thrown back as he strains to watch the horizon, clearly searching for the gang you’ve heard he often rides around with. You kick him to get his attention. 

“This ringin’ any bells, cowboy?”

Bakugou squints up at you, mouth already curled as though to instinctively hurl more barbed words your way. But then his face slackens and his eyes flare wide. 

“Yeah,” you croon. “You remember me now, huh, hotshot?”

“Who let you in law enforcement?” Bakugou asks, bemused. “Last I saw, you was tryin’ to rob my train.”

“Times change,” you say, a finality to your tone as you pivot the conversation. “Where’s your pals, hm?” 

Miles of desert stretch in every direction and there isn’t a soul to be seen. 

“They’ll be here soon enough,” he says. “And trust me when I say, you’ll want to be gone with the wind by then.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” you agree, pressing your boot down harder just to hear Bakugou growl. His leather vest creaks under the pressure. It’s fancy, that much you can tell, and you wonder who’s back he stripped it from. “I better be gettin’ you back to town, then.”

“You ain’t gettin’ me nowhere,” Bakugou barks, bucking up to dislodge your foot. It’s wildly unsuccessful, and you stare impassively to say as much. “Yellow-bellied lawdog, actin’ as though you ain’t stained down to your roots.”

He spits at you, but it misses its mark and splatters on the stained cream of his shirt. Your gaze flicks from the damp spot up back up to his wild eyes. 

“Now that is just plain mean,” you say, feigning hurt. “You hardly above the snakes yourself, cowboy.”

Bending at the waist, you peer at Bakugou under your boot. Rope digs into the bare skin of his forearms where they’re plastered to his sides, and you know from experience it’ll chafe into blood and bone unless he stills. With a hundred thousand bills hot on your mind, you grab a fistful of rope and yank him up to his feet in one swift movement. You don’t even have time to react before Bakugou kicks you hard in the shin and legs it west towards the setting sun. 

“Shit!” you shout, stumbling back a step and spitting out your toothpick. 

Within the blink of an eye you’ve unsheathed your gun and fired off a warning shot in the cracked mud of the ground nearby. Bakugou ignores it, running like your fate for him will be much worse than a bullet in the calf. At your feet, rope slaps the dirt viciously as the spool unwinds. Suddenly amused, you step atop the knot signifying the end of your lasso and let Bakugou run until the slack tightens. He jerks back harshly and lands in a crumpled heap. 

“Slow as molasses in January!” you jest across the desert, relishing in his frustrated shout. 

You tighten the cuff of your leather gloves before snatching a length of rope, bracing your feet, and yanking Bakugou back in yard by yard like a fish on a reel. 

“Fuckin’ prick!” Bakugou doesn’t decide to make your life easy—twisting and struggling and hollering at you all the while. “No good, bottom feeding, sidewinding, son of a gun! You an’ your god damned rope! My gang’s goin’ to hunt you down! Peace won’t meet you ‘til you rollin’ in your grave, I’m fuckin’ tellin’ you!”

It isn’t hard to tune out his screeching and you grunt rhythmically each time you wrench him closer, content to let Bakugou tire himself out. When the rope runs out, you stare down at his flushed face below you, unimpressed. 

Sunlight drips from him and his red eyes seem to dance in it, coming alive like a cave gem unearthed for the first time. Oddly transfixed, you find yourself lowering your knee to his chest and, forcing your weight onto Bakugou, you leer at the sight. When the barrel of your gun gets tucked under his chin, digging into the meat there, he falls silent. 

“You think this’ll scare me?” he asks carefully. 

“No I don’t,” you answer truthfully. The mottled gold of your gun flashes as you twist it deeper. “But I’m bankin’ on it aidin’ some good behaviour here. Because we both know you’re gettin’ locked up for a long, long time, cowpoke. Ain’t no amount of strugglin’ in the world gon’ get you further than you just ran there.”

Bakugou kisses his teeth and regards you disdainfully. 

Just for the hell of it, you jab your gun harder under his chin and force his head to tilt backwards. You’re not usually this vindictive but you almost welcome the change of pace. Leaning over him, you let your words drip onto his face. “Show’s over.” 

“Ain’t over ‘til I’m in jail,” Bakugou mutters, “even then, I’m sure I’ll find some lawdog willing to roll over for a handful of bills.”

You laugh, humourless. “I’m quite sure you will. That don’t matter to me though, not when the bounty will be already fat in my belt.”

You yank your bandana down and let it pool around your neck, licking at your dry lips. Bakugou follows the movement scrutinisingly and you frown. 

“Problem?” you ask calmly.

“Hell of one,” Bakugou states. “You’re ugly enough to back a buzzard off a gut-wagon.”

Of all the things you expected Bakugou to have an issue with, your appearance is not one of them. You bark a startled laugh, veering closer to his face just to get under his skin. 

“Well ain’t that unfortunate for you. I suppose it’s a mighty good thing you won’t be starin’ at my face for long.” 

“Thank the Lord for that,” he says, squirming under you. 

“Right then, cowboy,” you say, figuring you’ve manhandled him enough. You move to stand, fingers tightening in the rope to hoist him up with you.

“Hey now!” Bakugou calls, panic lacing his voice. “What’s the rush?”

“‘What’s the rush?’” you repeat incredulously. 

Bakugou nods, dirty blonde hair falling over his eyes. “You got me, alright! I clearly ain’t goin’ nowhere—”

“I know that’s right,” you cut across him, smirking. 

“And, I’m…” Bakugou looks around, searching for his words in the air. “Injured!” he says triumphantly. “It’d probably be best if I lay here for just a little while.”

“This is quite an act you’ve got going, outlaw Bakugou,” you scoff. You’ve been in the desert long enough, dust settled uncomfortably in the back of your throat. “And I ain’t buying none of it!”

Quickly, you lift your knee and scan his tensed body for a firearm. If anyone would find a way to shoot your head off on your own damn horse, you don’t doubt it would be Bakugou. Humming carelessly, you tug at his waist to roll him towards you slightly and bullseye: a surprisingly non-descript gun is wedged under his jeans on the small of his back. You snatch it and tuck it in the back of your own. 

“Prick,” Bakugou mutters as you drop his body back to the earth. 

“Yeah, yeah, you think I ain’t heard such shit from the likes of you before?” you say mildly, glancing down at the spurs on his boots and contemplating if he could find a way to use those as a weapon. “You’ll find I’m a well worn path of unkind words that—”

The words lodge in your throat, frozen there like a deer staring down the barrel of a hunting rifle. You stare perplexed at the unmistakable sight of Bakugou’s hard cock tenting his jeans. The man in question growls and bucks again, trying to free himself from your restraints as though he will have renewed luck in such an endeavour. It takes a few moments before you feel brave enough to glance at his face. He’s flushed a bright, sun-burnt red.

“Manhandlin’ your thing?” you find yourself asking, though you can’t explain why for the life of you. 

Bakugou sputters indignantly, kicking a leg out at your face. You catch his ankle with ease and jail it in the air before he can have a second attempt. He screws up his face. 

“No!” he yells. The leather of your gloves squeaks against the ankle of his boot; your hold is punishingly tight. “No it certainly isn’t!”

“Then what has you…” you trail off. “I heard some people enjoy rope business but I ain’t never encountered it myself.”

Bakugou is too busy to reply, twisting on the ground like a dying bug as he attempts to dislodge your grip. 

“Or maybe it’s my face, ugly enough to back a buzzard off a gut-wagon?” you mimic in his low growl, pleased when he reacts in kind and swears under his breath.

“Yeah,” he finally pants, “your ugly face got me hard.”

You hum, taking the slight in your stride, and watch him curiously. He fidgets before abruptly slamming his head back against the dirt to avoid your gaze. Gun still in hand, you trail the barrel down his chest until it stops just above his cock.

“Ain’t this curious,” you drawl. 

Against the dark, dirty denim Bakugou is wearing, the flare of your polished gun is blinding. He hisses in warning when you run the muzzle from the root to the tip of his cock. 

“I ain’t never met an outlaw who likes being caught.”

You grind the cylinder into him, listening to his shaky breath. 

Bakugou growls in protest. “You ain’t caught me.”

“Oh?” you say, punctuating the sound with another particularly harsh dig of your gun. “Well, then. I suppose you’ll be makin’ your great escape soon?” 

Bakugou huffs, avoiding your eyes and that’s all the confirmation you need. 

“Now, you goin’ to keep runnin’ your mouth, cowboy, or should I find a better use for it?”

Bakugou’s eyes shoot to yours, flaring wide. “Like hell you will! You ain’t sticking anythin’ near my mouth you prick.” 

You chuckle at his expression and cheerfully lift your gun from his cock to nudge at the side of his face. “Open up.”

Bakugou squares his jaw and stares at you defiantly. You raise your eyebrows in retaliation. 

Realistically, you ought to be slinging him over the back of your horse and riding into town to turn him in. There’s absolutely zero benefit to lingering out in the open like this. But you can’t bring yourself to resist. And you don’t recall triggering the trap Bakugou seems to have snared you in. 

You break the staring content and surreptitiously flick your gaze across the horizon. Still no sign of his friends. 

“I won’t ask twice, buck,” you say carefully, directing your attention back to him. 

“I don’t know who you think—” 

But the rest of his sentence never comes—your gun shoved deep in his mouth. He chokes around the intrusion in surprise and you ease back the pressure to let him adjust.

Look, you wish to say. I can be nice. 

“See,” you murmur instead, eyeing the dry stretch of his lips around the barrel of your gun. “Wasn’t so hard, now, was it? God knows a loudmouth like yourself needs to be shut up every once in a while.”

He’s gone suspiciously still, muscles drawn tight like a bow. You lower his leg back to the ground though you don’t release his ankle. Bakugou breathes slowly around the gun and his gaze never wavers from where your gloved fingers wrap around the grip. For a brief moment, you wonder if he’s actually scared you might blow his brains out. 

Dead or alive, the poster read after all. 

“Relax, cowboy,” you say. “You ain’t fit to shoot if I wanted to unload and clean my gun.”

Bakugou makes an unpleasant sound in the back of his throat and shoots a deadly glare your way. But he relaxes ever so slightly. And unable to help yourself, you release his ankle and brush a finger up the length of his cock. You finger at the button of his jeans, his hips cant up and you fit the warm breadth of your palm over him. Nearby, your horse huffs before throwing her head back impatiently.  

“You really oughta tell me to stop, cowboy,” you murmur. Wind whistles through the desert and Bakugou remains silent, unable to reply with the gun shoved halfway down his throat. You really wish that little fact didn’t turn you on. “Tell me to stop,” you repeat. 

Should bounty hunters derive this kind of pleasure from their catches? Should you really  be gloating in the compliance you’ve forced onto him? You’re not sure you want to know the answer, and guilt sharpens in your mind, feeling much like drugged up sparrows zipping aimlessly from tree to tree. 

Bakugou makes a rough, choked noise and the hair on your arms stands up on end. You give him a breath, two, and then he’s kicking his hips up into your palm as though the battle is lost. Smiling, you undo the button of his jeans and slide your hand under the hot denim, tracing your fingers through the wiry hair at the base of his cock. You take him in your hand and he grunts sharply.

Moving your finger away from the trigger, you pull the gun back to rest on his bottom lip and Bakugou takes in a gasping breath.

“Suck it.”

You expect him to kick up a fuss again, yet he only leans forward carefully to fit his lips around the barrel at your demand. It’s sure to taste like gunpowder, seeing as though you fired it only a matter of minutes earlier, but Bakugou doesn’t flinch. His tongue flicks into the muzzle. You groan lowly at the debauched sight of him straining to take it deeper. 

Arousal leaks from the tip of his cock, and you smear it along his length. The slide of your fist turns smoother. Bakugou must appreciate it because he keens, eyebrows scrunching in embarrassment at the sound. 

“Actin’ like you ain’t like this,” you say softly. “I never knew a cowboy to be so stupid.”

At your undressing, Bakugou grits his jaw again and locks his teeth around your gun. He flattens his expression. The attempt to remain unaffected is pathetic. All it takes is a twist of your wrist and a dig of your thumb in the slit of his cock for a strangled noise to worm its way from behind his clenched teeth. 

You watch as his face flashes through emotions too fast for you to place, and then as though making a sudden decision, Bakugou plants his feet on the earth. You startle, realising you have no free hands to defend yourself against his boot this time. However, he only uses his new hold to buck up into your touch. 

Bakugou doesn’t see the satisfied smirk you bear, nor the warmth you can feel in your cheeks. The outlaw is too busy thrusting into your fist like a dog in heat. Broad shoulders are planted in the dirt. Rope squeezes his chest. And his shirt, untucked from his open trousers, is getting rucked up with each movement. You bite your lip as the bare, flushed skin of his stomach holds all your attention and you find yourself wishing to bend down and drag your canines along the sweat-lined muscle there. 

“’s pathetic, really,” you insult, desperately trying to distract yourself from giving into the impulse. “Fuckin’ my hand when your friends could come back any minute now.”

When you shove your gun deeper to draw forth his acknowledgement, he gags. Fat tears clump at his lashline, and you rub a thumb cruelly over the sensitive head of his cock just to see if they will spill. 

“I could leave you here,” you continue conversationally. Acting as though you weren’t the one to take advantage of his predicament. “You’ll be all tied up, hard dick greetin’ sky when your pals come to save you. That is if no mountain lion nor coyote finds you first.”

“Mphff—” Bakugou's muffled voice is panicked. He means to say no—you can tell that much—and it’s gratifying how he can’t manage to speak a word around your gun. 

“I don’t think I will, though,” you drawl. In the empty desert, the slick squelching of your hand pierces the air. Heat flashes in your core. “You look much too nice under me right now to offer you up as some other beast’s meal.”

Bakugou is panting now, short and quick breaths that have condensed around the muzzle of your gun. You can see the gold metal shining. 

“You look awfully close,” you say, speeding up your hand and watching his jaw clench in response. A low, gravelly moan rings in the air. “Considerin’ I barely just put my hand on you an’ all, buck.”

“Mmn—!” Bakugou grunts, unable to do much more.

You nod pensively as though you understand him. Bakugou writhes, hips bucking up with every pass of your fist. 

“It’s a real shame that I’m goin’ to have to clean my glove after this,” you sigh, eyeing the wetness covering the leather. “Public appearance and whatnot now that I’m runnin’ with the law. Won’t have nothin’ to remember this by.”

Bakugou outright moans at that, his head thunking back onto the dirt. You scowl, squinting down at the man when you have to twist your wrist at an awkward angle to keep the gun pressed deep in his mouth. The expression doesn’t live long on your face. 

“What d’ya say to a givin’ me a little keepsake, cowboy?” you ask, the corner of your lips tugging up. 

Finally interested in hearing from Bakugou, you yank the gun free and slow your hand.  He heaves in a laboured breath. You drop the gun atop his chest as a taunt—it would be within reaching distance if his arms weren’t trapped. At his sides, his fingers twitch; fists clenching and relaxing rhythmically. 

The first thing Bakugou says to you is, predictably, an insult. 

“Callin’ me a loudmouth is rich!” he barks. “I ain’t never heard someone talk so— ah— much in my damned life, thought my whole ear would soon fall off!” 

“I know, I know,” you concede. “I really oughta find somethin’ better to do with my mouth, don’t you think?” you murmur, echoing your earlier threat. 

Bakugou presses his lips together in suspicion, but the expression unravels when you swipe a thumb over the head of his cock again and his mouth drops open in pleasure. You rub it in quick circles. He hisses, and his jaw tightens. One of his feet slips on the dirt and splays out as his hips spasm. 

There is no warning to be headed when you dip your head down. You don’t tease. And your hot breath on Bakugou’s cock is all the notice he’s allowed before you take him into your mouth. A moan punches out of the outlaw as you sink down. And pre-emptively, you place a strong hand on his hip to pin him in place. It’s a good job too—his hips kicking up immediately.

His cock is warm and heavy in your mouth; you can taste the sweat from his attempted escape and the sun that’s been beating down on him since. 

It should be unpleasant. Somehow it’s not. 

Maybe you’re sick. 

Bakugou pants into the air, words lost to the way your warm heat envelopes him as you bob your head up and down. Ever so strangely, you find yourself thinking that you’d wager your horse just to hear him hollering again. 

I’ll go to the doctor when I’m back in town, you decide; Bakugou’s cock halfway down your throat, nose buried in the thatch of hair at the base. 

“Oh— hell! You— you… Mmn— Shit—!”

Bakugou comes with a shout, loud as he appears to be in every facet.

You swallow the warm spurts of come and fight not to wince at the sensation. Gradually, his moans taper off, and you swirl your tongue to clean him before lifting your head up. You drag the back of your hand across your mouth harshly to rid yourself of the saliva that’s pooled on your chin. 

“Well then, cowboy,” you breathe heavily, breaking the silence that has fallen over you both. For a long moment you simply consider him, taking in his ruby red eyes and the matching flush crawling over his handsome face. How irritating it is, that you find him handsome. “Thank you kindly for the souvenir.”

Bakugou makes a non-committal noise, laying limp in the dirt like a crippled animal.

A faint symphony of overlapping hoots and hollers catch your attention, the sounds drifting on a breeze from the horizon. Far away, a splatter of black spots are backlit by a deep red sun dripping from the sky. 

“Clean yourself up,” you say simply, nodding towards the view. Bakugou follows your eyeline. In one clean motion you loosen the lasso and it sags around his chest. Rolling his shoulders, Bakugou drags his eyes back to yours. “Looks like them friends of yours decided to turn up.”

You swipe the gun from his chest and tuck it back in your holster. A few seconds later, you’re swinging a leg over your horse’s flank and sitting atop her saddle. As you fix your stetson, tugging the brim to your eyebrow in a force of habit, you regard how Bakugou is still splayed out on the floor. It’s difficult to ignore the arousal still brewing low in your gut at the sight. 

Bakugou doesn’t say a word, and you don’t either. 

It would be strange to say goodbye, you contemplate as you study him. We’re not friends, after all. 

Yet—when a command falls from your mouth, when your horse quickly kicks into a gallop, and when you’re riding off with the wind whipping past your cheeks—Bakugou’s sunset gaze doesn’t leave yours for a moment. You let him fade from your vision until he’s barely a smudge on the dark horizon. And then on your empty-handed journey—bar Bakugou’s gun, still tucked in the back of your jeans—back to town, your mind reminds you of one peculiar little fact: the outlaw didn’t turn back to look at his approaching friends. Not even once. 

‹‹ KINKTOBER 2025 | GENERAL MASTERLIST | READ ON AO3

"katsuki if you dont shut up now I will seriously fucking kill you."

you felt his dick twitch twice rapidly before he whined and threw his head on your shoulder. it was just above a whisper, and way too loud for kirishima's thin walls.

your jaw clenched at the sound- as much as him being pathetic and needy turned you on, it pissed you off equally so. you hope they aren't correlated he was widely regarded as one of the strongest, and most who met him shuddered under his harsh gaze for months after meeting him.

"fuck. please. m' sorry, i swear m' sorry. just need it so bad, you get it, right ?" no. you didn't get it. at all. a few minutes ago, he was cussing out his friends for throwing such a 'stupid' party for his birthday, and looked so mad you assumed his dick was probably shrinking in on itself.

not to mention, you arent a submissive bitch. he clearly is. with the way hes pressing you against the bathroom door, hands threatening to bruise your lips, you'd expect him to be on a power trip. but no. all you had to do was sit around, look at him, and laugh when he came up with a particularly witty insult, and he was asking you to help fix his hair in the bathroom.

he hasn't fixed his hair since interning with best jeanist.

you sighed, a defeated one. you felt him perk up just a little bit. god, no matter how submissive he was, he was still just a little demanding and subtly controlling. of course, you notice this. usually this would've just resulted in you stepping on his dick and going back to the party, saving the group the tension. usually its only awkward because kaminari also gets hard, but if you ignore that they can honestly get past it.

but.. its his birthday. you sigh even louder, mostly just teasing him at this point. before he lets his guard down and gets too playful, you grab a fist of his hair and pull his head to look at yours. a louder, choked moan falls from his lips. you're genuinely weighing the pros and cons. youre trying to rationalize it by saying he deserves it for his birthday but.. the two are definitely correlated.

the more he begs and leaks against your shorts, the more the idea of shutting him up gets maddening. "fine." you roll your eyes and pretend you aren't looking forward to it just as much as he is.

he looks at you with the softest saddest eyes, an expression you wouldve never believed you'd get to see from him when you first met. "if you really dont want to, we dont have to." he began to pull away, but the rawness and vulnerability stirred something so deep within you you almost felt guilty. even more so, his genuine care for how you felt and what you wanted despite of how badly he clearly needed you melted your heart.

"no." you let go of his hair and caressed the back of his neck, gently playing with the small hairs that lead up to the spikes. if he knew any better, hed call the contrast in your touch terrifying. you pulled him closer, so close your breath was fanning against the shell of his ear. between his soft gasps, you said, "i like it when you're like this." you considered your words carefully, you usually wouldnt say something so traditionally submissive, but you didn't want him to feel like what he was doing made you uncomfortable. "please, dont go." you stared even deeper into him, hoping your eyes werent betraying how genuine you were trying to be. "i want you too."

you knew it was probably a little manipulative, acting so mean then throwing in a bit of how you really felt to keep him from leaving. but you also knew he wasnt stupid. the way his eyes lit up and pierced into yours like you were the only person on earth. the way his breath hitched and his dick was finally pushed fully against your stomach. you'd always sugarcoat it when putting it into words, but you knew it was downright manipulative and a pattern, but youd always do it because it made him so fucking happy.

because just like him crying and whining, being pathetic and bitchy made you want him, you being cold, calculating, manipulative, and mean made him feel so painfully good. "fuck. fuck i love you oh my god." his hips circled and humped into you with small but quick moments, and his voice became much more stuttery "thank you, oh fuck thank you. this was all i wanted today. only this. only you."

"you're so dumb." you hum, but theres not a hint of malice in your words. "youre welcome, baby" your hand slides down his neck, down his clothed chest, and over his pretty waist. you press a heated kiss to his mouth. his lips are soft like a girl's, and he always opens his mouth a little first, inviting you in. your hand is eventually at the waistband of his sweats, teasing the skin under it.

hes not quiet, just muffled. and as much as youd love to take your time and ruin him slowly and excruciatingly, the growing anxiety of kaminari playing dumb and trying to come in to 'make sure you guys are okay' was getting to you.

reluctantly, you pull away from him, but your hand stays provoking him. "here are the rules. if you want me to touch you, we have to finish it up quickly before it ruins the mood of that stupid ass party."

"so you do think it's stupid." he grins boyishly, eyes glinting with the same mischievousness that made you fall in love with him. his hips are leaning way more into your hand now that you're finally giving him the attention.

you sigh, but you can feel yourself smiling. you can't help but adore his antics, "sure, katsuki. if you think its stupid, then i think its stupid too. now tell me, how long are you going to let kaminari fantasize and add further details to what he thinks we're doing ? dont forget midoriya's puppy crush on you either, he might break and join in." you smile wider, but now its much more condescending.

if it weren't for how conniving you were, he wouldve been turned off just at kaminari's name. "yes, fuck, yes. i promise." he whined out, delirious at this point, "anything for you, pleasedontsayhisnameagain, anything. ill do anything please, please, please just touch me."

you laugh, you can't tell if he's trying to be funny, but youre amused either way. finally, you pull his pants down just far enough to reveal his boxers. the fabric was strained and stretched from trying to contain his hard on for this long, and you could see the distinct outline of his tip through all the precum leaking through. "soooo prettyyyy" you coo, praise being the ultimate form of humiliation for him. the pad of your thumb is circling his frenulum just soft enough to start building him up. his whining is just a little high pitched and slow but long. it almost sounds like he's in pain.

for whatever reason, a cord of reason and composure snaps within you. his eyes are gazing into yours like you just told him you put every grain of sand on the beach just for him, like you've given him the air he breathes. beads of sweat drip down his neck and forehead, while his ears and face are burning up. its all too much.

"fuck!" he's practically yelling as you suddenly switch your actions to fully pull cock out, letting your hand roam freely over its full body. he really didnt expect you to go for it just like that, even when you were keeping others waiting, you prioritized teasing him until he was as dazed as possible. "holy shit, thank you oh my god. thank you so much."

hes not even trying to whisper, and unlike most people, he doesn't really differentiate talking voicing and screaming. you kiss him roughly, letting your tongue roll over him and press his own around. you're basically bullying him. at this point, your fully jerking him off, using a harsh fast pace.

you're letting your hand go on autopilot, mainly focusing on collecting all the noise he was making with your own body. your other hand is cupping his cheek, holding him firmly in place, even though you know he'd never pull away. you want to feel him in your grasp, and he likes being held in it.

between breathes and small breaks hes crying out a small "i love you" with every one. his hands grip and massage wherever he can, flying from your chest, waist, hips, ass, thighs, anywhere he can find balance. his breath is getting broken and scarce, with his heart beating out of his quickly rising and falling chest.

the room is spinning, and you don't think there's any oxygen left anymore. for just a moment, it feels like its just the two of you laying together in your bed, only you, him, and this overwhelming feeling. you dont know why, but your chest feels so tight. like its about to explode all on its own, and you pull away just to admire katsuki as if it would help.

hes so pretty like this, cheeks stained with blush and tears, hair even more fucked up from getting dragged around and tugged. you move your hand down to the bottom of his shirt, and reach back up but under the material to his bare chest. you scratch relatively harsh down one of his bigger boobs, trying to imagine how the red marks look under his shirt. suddenly, his head tilts back, and your blood runs cold as you realize hes about to cum and his lips are totally not on yours.

well fuck ? it was worth it no matter what, how could it not be, when he was screaming your name for everyone to hear. now that shutting him up and killing him was out the window, you decided to focus on palming at his tip. it did nothing to stop his release from dripping down to the floor and onto your shorts, but atleast you saved your shirts from being totally ruined. you could probably figure out how to deal with that atleast.

relishing in his moans, you gave up on saving him the humiliation. it would make for an even hotter round at home anyway. "oh my god. i love you." he sobbed, throwing his head on your shoulder again.

you untangle your hand from its placement and softly but tantalizingly rub his shoulders. "what a pathetic whore, you can beg for me to touch you cant even look at me after you cum ? stop being a bi-"

before you could finish insulting your boyfriend, a knock was heard behind you, "oh god fucking damnit" he muttered. you were being so mean and of course it was getting interrupted.

"hey, are you guys okay ?" you hear kaminari's voice ring out, not a hint of concern to it. "I just wanted to make sure that you guys were okay you know, and.....