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lucky bearhugs

summary: you made peace that you'd sneak into the rival university’s swimming pool to sabotage their star captain—the almighty Katsuki Bakugou himself. Though things might not go as you planned… tags: profanities. sexual activities, and terms. vanilla sex. foreplay. aftercare. no use of y/n. mdni. two-shot. (9.2k) swimmer!b.k x f!reader navi for part 1

Chapter 2: lucky charm

“This is Pool Instructor Hizashi Yamada of Musutafu Aquatic Center—paging the tournament participants. I repeat—paging the tournament participants. Please be by the main pool in 10 minutes. Thank you!”

The public address speakers broadcast from the center's locker room, earning a glance from Bakugou. He was about to close his locker. However, his eye seized something. He froze on the spot, and a playback of memories from two days ago surged before his eyes. The tiger trunks. The sole reason for a dispute with someone. More so, a one-sided dispute he'd never gotten to explain himself. Now, it'd be a damned grace if he ever got to—without being run away from or shoed at that. Just a day ago, he drove to Shiketsu himself, in hopes of speaking with that someone. And being a track and field athlete, the moment they've seen each other, he had to chase the stubborn running mouse, like they were in a damned lost episode of Tom and Jerry. Eventually, he lost track. Again.

All of a sudden, Kirishima in Yuwei's sports attire popped up from behind and jumped in between him and Todoroki. “Goodluck, Yuwei's aces! We'll cheer for you!” his solid arms wrapped over their exposed shoulders.

“Mhm. Now, get off, m'not in the mood.” He shrugs off the redhead. Todoroki expressed his appreciation, then returned to wearing his swim cap. Kirishima just laughed it off, commanding his captain's wish. He sat down on the benches. Til a thing on Bakugou’s nude back caught his sight.

Nail scratches. Deep, deep ones. Bakugou's never a cat person, nor is he an animal lover, the redhead mused to himself. So—

“Bakubro… you finally got a girl?” Bakugou stopped—then shut his locker, deafeningly. Todoroki shot him a knowing look.

In a locker room full of shirtless athletes, the sole mention of Bakugou and a girl rang in the ears of the male participants from other colleges in the room. Not the aggressive way he closed the locker. Definitely not. It's the girl. Even if not all of them really knew him well, they know a thing or two. One. He's the golden boy of Yuwei and the emerging Michael Phelps of Japan, as per the say-so of swimming professionals. Two. He apparently loathes women. Aside from the one he calls old hag, of course. Its campuses’ open secret—the great Bakugou Katsuki never had a girl before. Greater rumors say—he'd never had one kneeling for him. Better yet, no one he'd ever allow to kneel before him.

Some say it's his true secret to victory—being laser-focused on swimming and swimming only. Not those stupid lucky trunks he owns.

Although—who truly knows? Not once did the bombshell confirm any rumors. Not even to his closest peers. They'd just concluded that he's one selfish arse for gatekeeping the secret to consecutive gold.

Inasa chuckled boisterously from across them, arms crossed over his buff body. “Hey champ—you know what they say about love? It just makes us athletes weak. Ha! Looks like I'mma beat you this time!”

“Sure,” Bakugou faced him, with a demeanor of confidence. “Say, your team. My team. The loser's got to pay for later. Y'know, your usual job, baldie!” He said with a shit-eating grin.

“CALL!” Inasa energetically pointed at him, a firm look in his eyes. “I won't lose to you this time! I swear!” He declared, for the nth time. Some of them just shook their heads. Worn out from the two tops, avowing the same childish bet all over again, like they were witnessing deja vu via live.

The door burst open, and it unveiled a staff member. They guided all of them into the main pool, as they all sauntered in a relaxed gait.

Bakugou stood before the fourth diving board. He knows, within him, that it's uncertain. Still, in the midst of all the booming cheers and roars, his ears searched for a sole sound—a voice. It's missing, he mulled. He looked up to the stands in a twinkling, his carmine eyes searched for that sound. That voice. And for the very first time—

There's none.

Todoroki, by the fifth board, suddenly uttered, “Bakugou,” while stretching, catching the spikehead's attention. “I get it now—on why you're always looking up at the stands before every competition. Your true ritual.”

“The hell are you on?” A scowl etched on his features.

“I helped you because I feel bad for spilling out your secret when I was drunk. But—” He halted. Eyes now fixated on the stands. “I realized now—You won't go far that much for someone you'd never care for. So, if you're the reason why she's a no-show—”

“Fix it,” Todoroki said, reaching his feet. “You know what I'm on.”

Todoroki's words made him stop. But after a brief interval, he spoke. “I know,” Bakugou grumbled. “You didn't have to tell me—”

“YOU TWO!” Inasa perched from the third board, bellowing, echoing throughout the open vicinity along with the loud squeals from a variety of students, all coming from their respective colleges. “Of all places, really?—Stop chatting in the middle of the competition! Get on the board!”

Though with a scowl and a poker-faced expression, the two hopped on their assigned diving platforms, posing their diving form resembled that of the others.

The timer countdown began.

10… 9… 8…

“Baldie.”

7… 6… 5…

Inasa shifted his gaze to Bakugou for a curt. “Later, man.”

4… 3… 2…

Just before the timer ended—

“Congrats.”

1…

Bleep!

It was faint. And before Inasa could react, all of them dived into the water, instinctively so, like it's carved down their systems to plunge into the water the moment the horn starts to reverberate.

Just like that, the swimming tournament commenced.

Sake or beer, which is stronger?

You held up, high and proud, one of each bottle of ShigaSake and Mighty Beer in each hand, surveying the bottles on their contained alcohol content. The higher, the better. “Sake it is!” you beamed, the bottle of sake raised in mighty as though declared a winner in some mad, serious fight. Doing so, all whilst in the middle of the convenience store in broad daylight.

Cringgg!

Your little stunt was cut off short by a sudden phone call. You placed the beer back in the glass door chiller and answered the caller, your brother, Inasa. “Hey, big guy, what's up—”

“SISTA! WAHHH! I GOT GOLD! I can't believe I won!!”

A strained smile instantly appeared on your lips. “So, so happy for you—so sorry I wasn't there to witness it myself,” you said, fetching a couple of bottles of sake and paying for them at the counter.

“Hey—I don't really mind! Just be sure to be home later! We should celebrate with Mom tomorrow!”

“Inasa, Is that Yoarashi?”

“No, it's not—Hey, you promised me!”

“Mhm, I promise—wait, what's that noise? Are you still in the center?” The sensor door opened up in half, and you left the convenience store, strolling by the sidewalk to arrive home at once.

“Them? No, we're now off to a bar! I'm with the Yuwei guys—”

“Heyy~ Yoarashi!”

“Not my sister, Denki! Back off!”

“Shut the fuck up, you two—I'm driving!”

That voice… Bakugou?

“…I should go. See you later—” Without waiting for Inasa's answer, the line abruptly turned dead. A scoffed involuntarily let loose, “Bar? In broad daylight?” The bottles of sake clicked together as you walked, as though they were all mocking you. In your mind, you'd hear them say, And you? Sake? In broad daylight? You swore in your wildest dreams. It seemed they spoke. “So what? Yes, I’ll be drunk as fuck in broad daylight—I'm hurt, so what?!” Whispers and laughs emerged from those around you, throwing looks of discernment your way. Right, you were in public. You lowered your head in a heartbeat, “I should shut up sometimes.”

You were walking home in silence, but still, after the phone call with Inasa, a thought wouldn't quite get off your mind. “If Inasa got gold… that guy must've won silver.” The thought voiced itself out loud. Bakugou hadn't reclaimed first place, despite his lucky charm still in his grasp—then, it must mean the ritual’s fake… “I wasted my time—so stupid,” you said. Truthfully, you knew deeply. You should be in bliss, with steps that should feel as though you're walking on air, after all, Inasa finally got the victory you'd always hoped for him. Instead, every step was heavy as you strolled, carried by the weight of your wounded feelings for a man who's probably having the time of his life, drunk in the arms of some model-like lady in a bar.

You knew. It's not the spikehead's fault for your feelings. It's not his fault for trying to trap a sneaky thief. It's not his fault you consent to him. It's not his fault you willingly spread your legs for him. It's not his fault you got hurt.

It's that he knew and still chose to fool someone already foolish for him.

That's his fault.

And it’s yours for being that damned fool.

“He loathes women, my ass,” you jeered, a bitter taste in the tip of your tongue.

Time passed in a scoot, before you could pay attention to it, your feet long dragged you to your home. You forced a beam, one lip stretching curve, and then opened the door.

“Mom, I'm home! Let's drink!” A woman in her forties looked back at you from the living room’s sofa, her face resembling Inasa's sharp-featured one. She beckoned, her mouth too full with chocolates to talk. You ran, and sat beside her, setting the bottles of sake atop the coffee table filled with all kinds of chocolates, one your mother would insist would be the perfect pair with alcohol, sake especially. You'd beg to disagree, though, it would take for world peace to change her mind.

“Yah—You bought too many!” She complained after the chocolates in her mouth completely melted.

“You're seeing stuff,” you said, eyes narrowing on a newly released show she's been watching intensely. A coming-of-age show that tackles grief, love, family, friends, and topics about life all at the same time. You find it too reflective. Too dramatic. Too many feelings and shit. It's personally not your cup of tea. Oh well, it seems your mother likes it. “I heard—the male lead there's an A-grade asshole.”

“You've got no taste in men.” She immediately shuts you down. You'd only return a laugh and open two bottles of sake, for now. You placed one for her and yours. No need for plastic cups. It's environmental waste. “Will you sleep here?” She asked, her eyes still locked to the screen. You only hum in return, before drinking down a chunk. “Your bed got used by your auntie's kids last time, and they were jumping on it all day. I think it's broken—forgot to have it fixed. Sleep in the guest room.”

“Your wish is my command,” you offer her cheers and your bottles clink as one.

Then another clink.

And another one.

One more clink.

Clink after clink.

Until your world started spinning.

Final clink.

Before your vision turned black.

THUD!

A series of bangs from the door, your consciousness stirred up from the thundering sound as you got up from the couch instinctively, vision spiraling. “Fuck, my head,” you ran down your fingers through your hair, wincing in pain. Too torturous, it's as if your head was smashed against a wall, repeatedly. The door slams blasted once more like it's one tambourine, “WAIT!” You passed by the mountain of emptied sake bottles, and your mother, who's snoring soundly, long out in her deep sleep. Too hazy for her own good. You'd even bet your lucky charms she won't wake up if the world were ending. If heavy sleeping were a competition, her opponents would be damned.

You reach for the door, puffy-eyed. When it opened, it spat out a mountain boar carrying his food, and he—

“You smell like shit,” you said.

“You look like shit,” he said.

Oh. It's my brother. Your vision turned clear by the sound of his voice. It's Inasa carrying an unconscious blonde guy on his back. A hair too similar to a certain spikehead.

Inasa wouldn't bring him here. No way. A light grin appeared on your lips, nodding to yourself. “Who's that?” You crane your neck, getting a better glimpse of the guy's face—

Bakugou Katsuki. Peacefully resting on your brother's back. The single reason you've drowned yourself with alcohol. Your heart palpitates, too fast, too loud, as though you've drunk caffeine. It's not love, nor is it pleasure—It's wrath.

“Motherfucker,” you blurted out, eyes seeing red.

He didn't seem to notice your displeasure—instead, he returned a wide and proud smile. “Yes, my dear sista, it’s the infamous golden boy! Surprise! Surprise! I've been quite close with him, you know—”

“INASA!” He stopped talking, and confusion spread on his face. “I know that thing! I've seen that thing tons of times! And I don't want that thing in our house! Make that thing sleep on the streets for all I care!”

His furrowed brows deepened with no hint of a beam on his usual friendly face. “Yoarashi,” That face. The one he makes when he's dead serious. “That's not nice. Just because you don't like him, you'll say things like that. This thing—Bakugou, is my friend. You don't catch me being disrespectful with yours. Mom didn't raise us like that. Watch your tongue.”

Your face went sour at once, as you watched him walk away inside with that thing clinging to his back without a word. Last thing you saw, he was walking by the first-floor hallways leading to two rooms. Yours, and a guest room. Great. Looks like I'll be sleeping on my broken bed.

You strolled back to the coffee table, cleaning up bottles after bottles. After a short while, he's back in the living room. “He’s passed out, you know? I can't just celebrate knowing my friend isn't doing so well,” he exclaimed, far behind you.

You carry on cleaning up, and without a glance, “Why did you even bring him here? Doesn’t he have other friends? A house?”

“I've got no choice. I don't know where he lives. That guy, I don't really know why he got drunk—he's not the type to pass out with just three bottles. And since he got drunk, he won't get off me. He's been clinging to me all around the bar and refused the Yuwei boys when they offered to take him home. So… here we are,” You just listened to him as he explained. So he's a clingy drunk, huh…

For quite some time, you've been cleaning up the mess you and your mother made. Inasa carried Mom to her bedroom upstairs, and as you were washing the soap off the last plate, he rushedly said, “Hey—I'll be back in a while! Shoto suddenly called for me! See you—” And the door closed with a thud. Shoto—I've yet to talk with that snitch.

After leaving the living room spotless, you left to weakly stroll to the hallway leading to your room. As you passed by the guest room, the door was slightly hanging open. You closed it neatly at once, knowing fully well who's behind that door. I swear—if I could just lock him there eternally… You mused, walking past the guest room, and entered your room beside it. As you shut the door, suddenly—

A calloused palm clads atop your mouth. His other hand clicked your door locked in a swift, and wrapped around your waist in a steady hold. “Shhh,” you tried to resist, yet the grip was too firm, and your voice was muffled. In a dark room with only your lamp as the source of light, even if you look back at his face, there's no way of telling who the guy is. His smell, it hits you first, an oddly familiar caramel scent you knew of. Don't tell me—

“It’s me, baby.” You flinched, feeling his warm breath tickling your ear.

“Fugk yuu! Shince whee awe we on baby tehms?!” you yelled through his hand, though, it came out muffled.

“Okay—wait up. Hold your horses—” He let go of your mouth and quickly spun you around, facing him, your arms instinctively resting on his shoulders. In his hold, his hands locked on your waist, trapping you with him. Yet again. As though to teach you, no matter how fast you'd run away, he'd always catch you. “—There, much better,” he uttered with a smirk.

A fucking beautiful smirk you swore was meant to distract you, again. Looking up at him with your brows furrowed, you can see that even in dim lights, he's just so frustratingly handsome. A literal devil hypnotizing you with his looks. His spiky locks were disheveled, and yet he looked good. His cheeks were slightly flushed from all the alcohol, and yet he looked good. His gaze fluttered, and yet he looked good. Too good. And it's you who's not so good right now. No strength to resist. No energy to run. So you stayed. There's no point in running, you mused.

“Please… just go away…” You pleaded with a faint voice, hands falling off his shoulder. “If you keep showing up, it makes me think you meant what happened that day…”

The silence clouded the two of you, suffocatingly, filled with words you've refused to utter. His mouth partly opens up, ready to speak those words you've refused to listen to, words you've run miles away from—you cut him off, again. Afraid of those words. Of him. If it makes you a coward. So be it. You mulled, you'll choose to be a coward rather than find out you're just used. “You don't need to worry. Because you never did report me to anyone—In return, I won't tell a soul about what happened between us. I won't taint the reputation you've built—”

A scowl immediately replaced his smirk. “Taint? Who's the dumbfuck who told you that?”

“Bakugou, you've got this clean reputation—”

“Do you really think I'd fucking care about my reputation?” You just stare up at him, his face now closer, sharp eyes intensely forcing contact with yours. “Is someone who'd chase you through the ends of your campus, suck up to fucking baldie of all people, and show up shitty in your house—someone prudent to you?”

“I don't know. You tell me, Baku—”

“Katsuki,” he said firmly. His fingers crept to your lips, rubbing in motion. “I’ll tell you—only if you'd just shut that pretty mouth and let me talk.” Vacuous remains etched in your face, unwavered. He must've noticed you weren't having it—he kept his hand against the back of your waist, and sighed. “Just… give me a bit of your time. I won't bother you after, if that's what you want.”

No. That's what you want. That he's just doing this to shun his own guilt, you tell yourself. In your eyes, there's no glint, no hope, only a void. To you, there's no right explanation. No excuses for his actions. You were dead set—you were used. So even though he'd explain, it felt as though it was senseless. You'd listen. Though—you won't hear it.

“Ten minutes.”

“That’s enough.” All of a sudden, his hands shifted to your hands, holding them as if they're precious—as if you're precious. He drew you to your vanity and made you sit. There, still holding your hand, he dropped to one knee, again.

“Why do you keep doing that?”

He gazed up at you, unreadable. Albeit his eyes, there's been a lingering glint—somber. Even when he flashed a smirk, his eyes told a different story. It must be my imagination.

“I like it here,” he said, earnestly—even that must be imagery. “Reminds me of what I've been doing—looking up at you.” You were about to ask, but then his finger hushed you up. “Let me—just let me. If you keep interrupting, you're using up my time.”

So you did. You actually shut your mouth.

Bakugou sighed. “I wasn't always called golden boy or any of that shit,” he started. “One year ago, it was my first competition with Baldie.” He paused, thumb drawing imaginary circles on your hands. “Then I heard you—” he laughed, a quick and aggravating one. “Shit, you were so loud. I could hear you screaming over everyone. I even thought you were damn annoying then.”

Your brows furrowed, deeper. Is he trying to woo me or what?

“I won that day, and I thought, as annoying as you were—” A small, almost timid smile appeared on his lips. “I wanna hear it again.” His carmine eyes called for your attention. “I wanna hear you again. I don't know how the hell, but I slowly catch myself looking for you. In every competition. Not just your voice—”

“You.”

Something in you warmed, a tad. It's as if the ice inside kept being forcefully heated. You thought you were only going to listen. But—why am I hearing him…

“Then somehow, even in our mutual social shits, I only see you…” He held your hands lightly, rubbing his thumb over your fingers. As a speck of moonlight glowed over him for a brief, seeing his eyes clearly—

And they seem… real.

“You could’ve just talked to me at those gatherings—”

“And tell you what? Hey, I listen to your voice during competitions. You'd see me as a fucking creep. I don't want to be seen as that. At least—not to you,” he mumbled.

There it is—your heart. It began to skip a beat. You don't want to believe him. Because just a tinge of hope can ruin one's mind. Critically so, the heart. Though as he kept talking, his words clicked through lost puzzle pieces you'd never thought existed, and you became more and more at ease. It's scary. Why am I not counting his time?

“Until one day, Shoto came running to me. Said he drunkenly spilled my secret to a girl—about that stupid ritual.” He emphasized the word with disdain. “I don't give flying fucks if that ritual goes out, frankly. I'm used to rumors. But then, he said, it was you. And that he speculated you were on to somethin’.”

Your gaze descended, and a heat of embarrassment rushed through you. God, that was really petty of me, huh?

“I thought… I wish you were. I truly wish you were. I told him to help you,” your gaze immediately onto him, as his hold slightly tightened. As if, any minute now, you'd let go, and shoe him away like some damned dog. “I planned the whole thing. Dismissed my team early. Planted that expired condom to mess with you. Wore my trunks. Everything.” His eyes found your wavering ones. Demanding attention. “Then you showed up. I wanted you to. Because I'm a coward. But if you came to me? I'd take it.”

“Still… that doesn't change the fact you knew how I feel—”

"I didn't." He cut you off, firm. "I knew about the sabotage—Shoto told me that. But your feelings?" He shakes his head. “Fuck, I just hoped you were interested. You were always cheering for your brother. How the fuck was I supposed to know you were eyeing me, too? I just know you were bold as hell for trying to sabotage me.”

You stared at him, dewy-eyed, lips parted, processing his words.

"When you confessed that night—" His jaw clenches at the memory. “I like you. Too fucking much.” He quotes your words. “I fucking froze. Because I thought you hated me. That you came to mess with me because your brother kept losing, and we somehow ended up flirting. Not because—” He looks at you intensely. “Not because you felt that way.”

“But I was so obvious, someone should have told you…” You whisper.

“Baby…” a small smirk. “Those are mere stupid rumors. You should've asked me.”

He exhaled deeply. “I never intended to make you feel used—I'm sorry.” You remained tight-lipped, scowl remained etched. The barrier you built—they're collapsing slowly each second he speaks.

“You wanna know why I lost today?”

A small pause. It's as if he's taking in every sight of you.

“You weren't there.”

Your heart skipped a beat, eyes looking for signs of his deception. There must be—Somewhere—

Until you find none.

“Every gold I've won—all of them—you were in the stands. I'd look up, search for your voice, and once I heard it?” He squeezed your hands. “I knew I'd win.”

“There, I realized—” his thumb traces your knuckles. “You've been part of my life for a year, and I didn't notice how much until now.”

Suddenly, it's as if there's no air, and you find yourself breathless.

“The ritual was never the fucking trunks. It was you. Your voice. Knowing you were watching—that's what made me undefeated.” His hands hiked up and found your cheeks. With gentle caresses, he led your eyes to him. Only to him.

“You're my lucky charm. Only you.”

“And even if I may not win—I just hoped you'd be at least watching… that's enough for me.”

Just like that—the ice inside you completely cracked.

You just stared at him, lips parted, eyes dewy. For a minute, you're just staring. Your heart—it's palpitating, for too much. “You…” your voice breaks. “You're telling me I've been your lucky charm for a year and you never—”

“Never had the balls to tell you. Yeah.” A dry laugh. “You don't have to say anything. I know it's all too much right now—”

“Katsuki,” you whispered his name. Just like he wanted. If you found out this man was lying, then he's a damn good liar. You swore to yourself, if he really is, then may the gods bless him with their graces for what might happen to him. For now…

Your hands moved before your mind caught up. Cupping back his face, you leaned down. Close enough, you're practically inhaling each other's drunken breaths.

“Yeah, baby?” he rested his forehead against yours.

“Shut up.”

You planted a deep peck on his lips in need, and pulled back, a little too long. He's a bit taken aback at first, catching his breath, as his carmine eyes examined your face under the moonlight. “Are you sober enough?”

“I should be the one asking you that, Kats.” The mere sound of his nickname made the blonde grin.

“So good. My name.” He mumbled before his palms slid to the back of your hair. He pressed your mouths, entangled, wet tongue, asking for an entrance that you oh so granted immediately. He cocked his head, deepening the kiss, as his tongue swirled around yours. His kisses were softer and unhurried, as though he was savoring you. In contrast to his hands, under the hems of your shirt, gliding haughtily back and forth on your bare skin.

But your gentleness didn't last. It never did.

You answered his tongue with a faster pace, your hands roughly pulled his neckline, and your legs spread to bring him close. Closer than he can be. His warm hands explored your back, to your waist, to your thighs, sending you chills down your body. Touching everywhere, but never the parts you needed to be touched—Ached to be touched.

Despite your evident need, he still kissed you slowly, his thumbs gently rubbing your waist. You bit his lips, hard. “The fuck—” He pulled back, looking up in his tousled spiky hair.

“You,” a pause, as you gasp for air. “I'm not gonna break—Stop holding back.”

His hands stroked down to your inner thighs, caressing them teasingly. “You sure ‘bout that?”

“If you're gonna touch me—do it right.” His brow furrowed in confusion. You didn't say anything and just completely yanked your shirt off. Topless before him, again. This time, with no bra on.

His half-lidded eyes lewdly dragged up then down to your exposed tits, leveled with his face. “Yeah? Where do you want it then?” His jaw clenched.

You slowly lead those teasing hands to your breasts at once. “Here,” you force a proper tone, but it comes out needy, feeling the warmth of his hands. He palmed your breasts, gripped, and kneaded them firmly as if playing with some dough, then he swallowed a lump. Cute, so innocent, you thought, it's like watching a man feel tits for the first time.

You were about to tease him when he suddenly squeezed harder—a soft whimper escaped before you could stop it. “You asked for this—” In the blink of an eye, his mouth was on your nipple, lapping his tongue over, wetting your hardened nipple. While his fingers pinched and twisted your other nipple. “Like that?” His tongue swirled around your nipple, teeth grazing lightly.

You gulped down, “Y-Yeah,” nails raked into his hair, scratching the back of his head, as if to encourage him. He sucked on it—having your breath hitched, arching into him for more access. It was as if he was sucking the life out of you. He would lick, twirl, and suck it hard, all while massaging both your tits. In a twinkling, he released your nipple with a pop, then his hands cupped both breasts, pressing them together. “What—” your breath hitched, feeling sensitive, too sensitive, as he sucked your nipples at the same time. Feeling a rush of electricity, you'd gripped his hair tightly and let out muffled whines—biting back a full-blown moan, almost bruising your lips. He'd play with them—with you, his darkened gaze flickering up to watch your face as he licked and sucked both your nipples in filth. Nipping them oh so expertly, you'd wonder how this is the same man who'd apparently never had a girl—

“Katsuki,” you pulled his hair back, as his mouth left your tits.

“Somethin’ wrong?” His head tilted, brows raised.

“I wanna—” You stopped, and stood abruptly, hands on his shoulders, switching sides, as you sat him down in the vanity, standing between his legs. Your hands slowly slid to those bulging biceps. “C'mon, be fair,” you said with a small pout. Bakugou grinned, yanking off his shirt immediately. Your fingers splay over his hard chest at once, before your teeth swiftly tug on his outer earlobe, earning a hiss from him. Your lips peppered down to his neck, down to his chest in chaste kisses, sinking to your knees, your kisses trailed down to his abs, never breaking eye contact. Bakugou's breaths were heavy and deep, knuckles clutched to the armrests, too firm, you'd think he'd pierce holes in your vanity chair. You smirked, before fleetly stopping— “I wanna know something.”

“Tell me—anything,” he rasped, looking down. You licked your lips, eyeing him from beneath, and god forbid, he looks good, before your fingers ghostly brushed over the jut under his pants. His jaw clenched, clearing his throat, boomingly.

“Rumors have it—a certain someone here, never had a blow job,” you rest your head on his inner thigh, the tip of your nose barely brushing against his bulge, feeling them grow by an inch. “I can offer this pretty mouth, you know?” You stared up, lashes fluttering. Your eyes met, the look in his eyes darker than ever.

Bakugou’s fingers tangled atop your head, his lips parted, “Think they're good enough?”

“You can be the judge of that.”

His fingers tightened around your hair. “Then show me.”

Your hands hastily found his belt, unbuckling it. He jerked his hips forward, breath hitched as you pulled the zipper down, leisurely slow, and watched his face the whole time.

“Needy much?” you grinned.

His fingers ran across your lips and rubbed them. “You're the one who's fucking whimpering for me.”

You gently bit his thumb. “Careful, you might be next,” you purred, pulling his pants and boxers down at the same time, all the way. His veiny cock sprang free—hard, thick, already leaking precum. Your eyes went dewy, and your mouth parted slightly. So the double XL wasn't an exaggeration, after all, you mused.

He smirked. “See somethin’ you like?”

You hummed, wrapping your hand around the base. Seeing his jaw clench, “My lollipop,” and wrapped your tongue around the tip. With a long wet lick on the tip, cleaning off the precum, he bit back a groan. You looked up, maintaining eye contact. “You good?”

His hand gripped your hair. “Less talking—Mmm,” you took him deeper, hollowing your cheeks with each suck. His hips bucked involuntarily as a hoarse moan fell from his lips.

“Fuck—” His head fell back against the chair. You pulled back, swirling your tongue around the tip, before sinking again, as saliva dripped down from your mouth. Your hand stroked what couldn't fit, twisting his dick, up and down. He groans, breathing heavily, while you glance up through your lashes. His throat exposed, Adam's apple bobbing deep, completely lost in heaven.

You hummed around him, placing a hand atop his thighs, feeling his muscles tense. “Do that—shit—do that again—” And so you did, taking him deeper while you worked faster around his slick dick. As the wet sounds filled your room, feeling lewd and impure.

His grip in your hair followed the rhythm of your head bobbing on him up and down. “That’s it—fuck—just like that—” His voice was wrecked, and so was he. You didn't pull off. Your eyes met his, doubling your efforts. “Shit—I'm—” His warm load shot down your throat. It was a tad salty, and yet, you swallowed, never looking away. He slumped back in the chair, his chest heaving. “Damn…”

You pulled off and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, smirking. “So? Am I good enough?”

He let out a breathless laugh, raking his fingers through your hair, slick in sweat, pushed back. “You look so fucking smug right now.”

You licked your reddened lips clean, “I deserve it.”

His hands cupped your jaw, thumb tracing your lips. “You're—” He stopped, then swallowed. “You're incredible.”

You grinned, “I know—You're welcome.”

“C’mere,” he rasped, pulling you on top of him. He pressed you closer, before he engulfed your lips together, softer now—caressing your tongue with his slowly. He stood abruptly, lifting you with him. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he walked you to the bed, never breaking the kiss—

Until—his lips slid down to your neck, craning it to give him access. Your legs melted on their own as he swirled his tongue and nibbled on your collarbone. He sucked hard enough to leave a mark, as you let out a soft moan, feeling shivers rush to you. He slowly dropped lower, lips trailed down soft kisses on your body—to your tits, waist, as he stopped to your tummy, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

He glanced up through his lashes, and he gripped the waistband of your shorts. “Tell me to stop.”

You looked down with a small smile, as your hands lay atop of him, and helped him strip down your shorts. Unhurried. Leaving you in bare panties behold him.

“Good girl,” and he spun you at once. A full-length mirror stares back. You've never seen yourself like this—flushed all over, completely undone. And he's watching you watch yourself, that smug bastard. He pulled your hips down to his lap and made you sit on him, his smirking face resting on your shoulder, feeling his still-hardened cock jammed in between your ass. Your breath hitched as his rough palm hiked in between your legs.

Before abruptly spreading your legs, with your wet panties out in the open. “Wha—What are you—”

“Giving you what you deserve,” his hands fold your legs on either side of his thighs, stretching your covered pussy as it already was.

“Watch what I do to you.” His finger began faintly rubbing your clothed clit, teasingly. Holding his gaze through the mirror. “Fuck—you're too goddamm soaked for me,” he rubbed harder. A whine escaped past your lips as your back arched, pressing your ass against his bulging dick even more. Your hands scrambled on anything to hold onto. Anything. Your fingers find his thick thighs underneath, and gripped onto him, almost digging your nails into the muscles. He faintly hissed as he watched your face through the mirror, a dark look on his face, fingers continuously rubbed against your slick panties, your clit throbbing with every rub—growing needy with every rub.

“You dick, just—fuck—put a finger in—” He laughed, then nibbled on your earlobe. Before a hand suddenly pulled your panties aside, as the other rubbed circles onto your clit. You bit your lower lip, still whining, watching your cunt make sounds as his fingers expertly played with your cunt drenched in your juices. “How do you—” you gasped as he rubbed faster, jerking your hips to his fingers. “Mmm—You said you never—”

“Never had a girl,” he smirked, his hot breath sending shivers down your neck. “Doesn't mean I don't watch porn—” his finger circled your entrance, teasing a finger inside. “Told you, I don't half-ass shit.”

Bakugou slid a finger in, slowly—freaking painfully slow—as he watched your face from the mirror the whole time. Then he crooked it, finding that spot—until he fingers a spot, making you whine.

“There?” His thumb circled your clit, as his finger continuously pumped in you, hitting that spot again and again, yet keeping his teasing pace.

“Fuck—yes—there—” Your hips rocked with his finger, whining the whole time. He grunted, feeling the slit of your ass repeatedly bump against his hard dick with every hip rock. He added a second finger, stretching you. He built a rhythm, in and out, curling up as his thumb worked your clit the whole time. Then need built inside you with every agonizing slow pump of his fingers, your cunt throbbing as it gushed juices, engulfed around his fingers. “Katsuki—please—faster,” you purred with your whines, head thrown back, eyes half-lidded. He pecked your shoulder blades. Before pumping his fingers swiftly, hitting your pleasure spot at incredible speed. “Kats—” you fully moaned, rocking your hips in his pace, fully closing your eyes, dizzy from it.

The lewd wet sounds from your pussy filled the room, along with the moans you let out. Bakugou exhaled sharply behind you. “Watch, or I'll stop,” he threatened, slowing down yet again.

You whined and forced yourself to watch. “Fuck you.” His eyes filled with carnal desire, and he flashed a grin. Before adding a third finger, he curled his fingers, then pumped all three intensely fast, building pressure. A moan escaped your lips, curling your toes, and digging your nails deeper into his thighs. As you felt a building knot in your abdomen.

“Katsuki—I'm—” Your thighs trembled, trying to close, but his legs kept you spread out in the open.

“I know, baby. I can feel you—” His fingers pumped faster, cunt juices gushed with each thrust. “Let me see you—Don’t you fuckin’ hold back—” before the hand pulled your panties aside, ripped them apart, and threw the fabric somewhere in the room.

Your head fell back against his shoulder, eyes squeezing shut—

“No, no. Eyes open. Watch yourself,” his hand on your jaw turned your face to the mirror. “Fucking cum for me—” His thumb pressed hard on your clit, fingers hitting that spot inside—as though shattering you inside in pleasure. Your whole body tensed, feeling the knot come untied, as a lewd moan shrieked from your throat, combusting your sticky liquids on his fingers, watching yourself unravel in the mirror.

You collapsed your back against him, bare chest heaving for air as your cunt still pulsed in sensitivity.

With his eyes on you, he pulled off his fingers, sticky and slick from your juices, and sucked them clean.

“Kats…” your voice shudders. “I—I can't take it anymore—” you lifted yourself, a hand lay atop his knee, as the other grasped the base of his cock. Then rubbed his tip against your wet cunt, both simultaneously moaning.

“Baby, enough—we've got no condoms,” he groaned, protesting, and yet his hands held your hips, guiding you as you grind against the tip of his cock raw.

“It’s fine—I'm on IUD,” you reassured, breathless, rubbing his tip against your slick entrance in slow, deliberate strokes. His hands tightened on your hips as he released a low grunt.

You met his eyes through the mirror.

He met yours.

Something shifted in the air, something—new. Not just want. Not just lust. Something heavier. Quieter. The kind of thing neither of you would say out loud. Not yet. His thumbs pressed into the flesh of your hips. Steadying you.

You exhaled.

And sank his cock.

Slowly.

You took him in painfully, agonizingly slow—inch by inch, feeling every inch of his cock stretch your walls. Your fingers dug into his thighs, as a shaky breath left your lips, mouth falling open.

Neither of you moved at first. You stared at him as he stared back through the mirror, jaw clenched, muscles flexed.

His hands gripped your hips, too tightly. A shaky breath left your lips, watching his cock disappear inside your cunt fully, while he let out muffled groans.

I wanna hear that more, you mulled.

You shifted experimentally—rolling your hips forward, adjusting to the stretch. Once again, a groan emitted past his lips. “Fuck—”

There it is.

You smirked, eyes on him through the mirror, and leaned back into him, your back flushed against his chest, and rolled your hips again. This time, deeper. Then— “Ah—” Your head dropped back against his shoulder, eyes fluttering.

“Right there?” he rasped, breathing hot against your ear.

“Mmm—let me—” You rolled your hips again, chasing that spot. It was unhurried at first, teasingly slow. His hands stayed on your hips, pressing your cunt deeper on his cock. Then you picked up your pace—

Your hands braced against his thighs as you started to ride him properly—up and down. With the wet sounds sounding erotic, as the mirror shows you everything.

The way he grips you tighter. The way his chest rises and falls unstably. The way his head tipped back, throat exposed, Adam's apple bobbing deep with every thrust.

You were watching him fall apart. And he was watching you do it.

SQUEAK.

The bed started to creak as you mounted him like a damned animal. Once—Twice—Then continuously, protesting every single thrust you made in rhythm. Your eyes shot to him through the mirror, whining helplessly. “Good shit music—” he said, as the corner of his lips curled up—with that shit-eating grin you've always loved from his stupidly handsome face. That face that avowed—he's up to no good.

“Don't you dare—” you warned.

He briskly bucked his hips up at once.

SQUEAK.

The bed creaked, boomingly. “Katsuki—my Mom—”

He still thrusted up his hips to meet your rhythm, harder this time. A powerful, cruel thrust that made your breath stutter as his fingers dug into your hips. “Then be fucking quiet,” he rasped.

Oh. You're surely not quiet. Not an ounce.

The squeaking grew louder with his every thrust, your every bounce, and at some point, you were drunk, lost even—stopped thinking about anything other than the way he filled you, the way his hands gripped your waist as he pressed himself deep inside you, the way he watched your face through the mirror every single whiny moan escaped past your lips.

“Kats—” your voice came out in shivers, “I'm close—” His arm snaked around your waist, hand pressing flat against your lower belly, full from his cock.

“That's it—” His other hand found your clit, thumb circling at ungodly speed.

“Fuck—Katsuki!” Your body tensed up, as your visions started spiraling, seeing through a blur the way your tits bounced excessively, both of your thigh muscles tensed, in every slam against his cock.

SQUEAK.

“C'mon—let go—with me,” Your thighs trembled, attempting to close. But his thighs forced you open, guiding your hips to mount, as he bucks up at full tilt. He pressed your hips to his harder—as your cunt clenched around him and—

SQUEAK.

With one last bed creak—White. Everything went white. A moan escaped from you, loud and unrestrained, back arching off his chest as you came undone around him. Your walls pulsed, clenching around him, as he grunted behind you. He slammed one last time upwards, shooting his load deep inside. You collapsed back to him, chest heaving, state completely wrecked and undone. With his arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close—still buried deep inside you.

Neither of you spoke at first.

Suddenly, he brushed his lips against your ear, barely, and blew faint breaths, tickling you. “Good girl,” he muttered. You huffed a low laugh in return, resting the back of your head on his shoulder.

A beat of silence has passed. Only the low breaths and the ticking of the clock filled the room.

But then—he shifted, carefully pulling his bare cock out. You made a low whine, protesting. He only grinned before carrying your worn-out body in bridal style in his arms, the sweat from his bare body mixing with yours.

“Shh, baby, you'll be fine,” he murmured as he placed you in the center of your bed—still creaking with every movement. “Lie down.”

And so you did, without a protest.

His eyes filled with need, explored every inch of your nude glory freely. He took a moment to appreciate the naked sight laid out before him, “You're… Beautiful”

“I know,” you rasped. He lightly smirked as his hands trailed down atop your upper thighs.

“Kats, I need a minute—Too sensitive—”

“I know,” he mimicked your tone, before swiftly shifting and settling between your legs, pushing your thighs apart gently at ease.

You blinked at him. “What are you—” He suddenly dipped his head down between your inner thighs, spreading you completely open with both his hands. And yet, you don't stop him.

“Cleaning you up.” He said, matter-of-factly, like it was the most obvious thing to do. Before you could respond, his breath fanned over your inner thigh. Your pussy was still sensitive from all the stimulation, but his face was just inches away from your cunt—already all sore and tingling.

His tongue pressed flat against your pussy, his eyes never leaving yours. Just one long, slow lick.

He's cleaning me up, so sweet—

But then another lick. Longer this time. His tongue continuously lapped your juices. You're quite sure, a lick or two will do to clean up, but then—

He didn't stop, continuously still lapping his tongue on your dripping cunt. As he pushed your legs further open.

“Katsuki—” you purred, starting to moan softly. “That's not—Ahh—you don't have to—”

His tongue circled, then sucked, before flickering his tongue on your clit, establishing his routine. The fucktard knew what he was doing, after all.

“Kats, I literally just—I can't—” Your hands flew to his hair, not sure if you were pushing him away or pulling him closer—

It was the latter.

He looked up briefly, “Tell me to stop.” His carmine eyes darkened in lust, his lips covered in your juices. You didn't respond. Just scratched the back of his hair, subtly pushing it forward. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Thought so,” before immediately burying his face in you. His tongue lapped and circled your clit, intensely, making your back arch. His tongue rubbed you ever so expertly—you'd dare to ponder if this man really never had experience. It didn't seem so, from the way he licked, the way he sucked, the way he delved into you deeper, making you completely drunk in the moment—drunk in him rather. His mouth was just too much and not enough simultaneously.

“Fuck—” Your fingers tightened in his hair, gripping and pressing him closer. He groaned against you—the vibration shooting straight through your clit—and that sound alone made your hips jerk. He sucked your clit, and flickered his tongue rapidly. His hands pinned your hips down when you tried to writhe away, keeping you there, keeping you open and exposed, for him. Just for him.

“K-Kats—I can't—I'm too—” Your voice broke into something between a whine and a sob. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes—not from pain, but from the sheer overwhelming pleasure. Your body was betraying you, chasing another high even as your cunt screamed that you were drained.

He pulled back, barely. Just enough for you to breathe. “You can,” he said against your skin. His lips pressed a kiss to your inner thigh. Soft. Achingly soft compared to that cruel tongue of his.

Then he delved back in.

It didn't take long. You were already trembling, teetering. His tongue did something—licked, sucked, delved in you, all in rhythm you couldn't quite track through the haze—as fire pooled low in your abdomen. “Fuck—Kats—I'm—” Your whole body shuddered, thighs clamped around his head, fingers pressed his head deeper, as a shaky moan fell from your lips while you ride him out.

He didn't pull away until you stopped shaking. When he finally looked up, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, as you were staring at the ceiling, completely demolished.

“...That was not cleaning up,” you managed to let out, breathless.

He crawled back up, settling beside you, chin propped on his hand. That fucking smirk.

“Wasn't it?”

You wanted to argue. You did. But your limbs were jelly, and your brain was dead. All you could manage was a short glare. His expression softened as his smirk faded into a thin line.

“Hey,” he called quietly. “You good? Like—actually fine?” You blinked at him. At the genuine glint in his carmine eyes.

“I'm—” You swallowed. “I'm extremely good—too good. You freaking destroyed me,” as you let out a weak laugh.

“Shit.” He sat up slightly. “Did I hurt you? Was I too—”

“No—” Your brows buried deep, eyes on him. “No, Kats. You were—” Feeling your cheeks blush. “You were perfect.”

He just stared at you for a long moment. Then exhaled.

Before sighing in relief. “Good. That's—good.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I wasn't sure—it was my first time doing any of that, so—”

“I know.” His sharp eyes snapped to yours. “And you were incredible,” you said, softly. “Every single thing. I mean it.” He looked away. But you caught the faint color on his now flushed cheeks.

Katsuki Bakugou. Blushing.

You just both fucked, and this is what makes him blush.

“Stay there,” he muttered, getting up. You watched him disappear into your bathroom. The sound of running water. As he returned with a warm towel, he fetched it from wherever.

“Kats, you really don't have to—”

“Shut up,” he snapped, though his voice was gentle. “Let me,” and so you did.

He cleaned you carefully, gently, actually cleaning this time, and not whatever he had done earlier. His touch was soft. Almost reverent. When he finished, he tossed the cloth toward your bedside and crawled back beside you. He pulled you into him, with your back against his chest. His arm around your waist. You didn't protest. After all, he was fragrant, warm, and—

Safe.

You felt safe.

"Katsuki?" you said after a beat. He only hummed in response. “How are you? Actually.”

His arm tightened around your waist slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean—” You turned around in his arms, hands pressed against his bare chest, facing him eye-to-eye. “That was your first time, and I just—I want to make sure you're okay. That you don't regret—”

“I don't.” He said it immediately, firmly, locking his arms around you, pressing closer. “I don't regret anything.”

“No?”

“No.” His hand found your face as his thumb brushed your cheek. It stayed there for a while.

The silence lingered for a beat.

And yet, your heart was already at peace. You'd expected it to palpitate. To beat too fast. But no—

It was silent.

“Do you mean it?” He asked out of the blue. “You said you liked me—Do you mean it?”

“Duh!” You huffed a low laugh on his chest. “Though admittedly… It was only because of your competence—and face. I know, too shallow of me,” you broke eye contact, and let them wonder anywhere but him.

He sighed, “Baby.” He cupped your cheeks and faced you to him. Too close. With both your noses almost bumping. “To hell with your reasons, I don't shame you for that. And I…” His eyes met yours. “I've never shown you reasons to like me. So, I'll take whatever you've got. And maybe… we can find more reasons to like each other.”

Your chest did something. Something painfully good.

“Kats…”

It took a long exhale before, “I should've done this long ago, as a damned normal man would,” he spoke. “I want you. Not because of your body. Not because of your voice. Not even because you're my lucky charm. I just… want you.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means—” He pulled back just enough to look at you properly. “It means I want this. Actually. You and me. Not just tonight.”

At this point, your heart was practically wrecked, going through all kinds of feelings.

“Let's date,” he continued. “Officially. We can get to know each other and shit. But only if—if that's what you want to.”

“Katsuki—”

“I know it's complicated. Rival schools. Your brother. The competition bullshit. But I don't care. We'll figure it out. I just—” He swallowed a lump. “I need to know you're in this. With me.”

Your eyes lingered on him. At this man who'd been listening to your voice for a year. Someone who orchestrated an entire plan just to finally talk to you. Who just gave you the best night of your life and now wants to make sure you are actually fine before anything else.

No man treated you as this before.

Especially… him. You'd never thought the great Katsuki Bakugou would be the man to do it, of all people.

“I'm in,” you whispered. “I'm absolutely in.”

Something in his expression cracked open, before a small curl crept on his lips. Something you'd barely see under the faint moonlight glow. He kissed you. Soft and deep. Nothing like the frantic kisses from earlier. Savoring and taking his time this time. When he pulled back, he was smiling. Actually smiling.

“So where's our first date?” he murmured.

“By the pool,” you grinned. “I want you to wear those sexy tiger trunks.” You suppressed a laugh, an image of those trunks in the back of your mind.

“C'mon—it wasn't that bad!”

“Sureee—” He suddenly pulled you close, your face pressed into his neck, his caramel scent filling your nose.

“Quit the tease. Rest.” A soft laugh, before you buried your face in his neck, now without a protest.

The silence settled into the room. With the sound, only from the crickets chirping. His fingers traced patterns on your back, slowly and soothingly. As your eyes were getting heavy with each passing second.

“Hey,” you mumbled.

“Hm?”

“You sure you don't want to throw your tiger trunks?”

His hand stilled. “Baby…” he warned, quietly.

“Just a thought.” Before your arms tightened around him, completely engulfing him in a bearhug.

I love bearhugs.

The irony—who'd have thought?

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