The Secretary

agedup! Katsuki Bakugou x (Fem) Reader

MDNI!! (18+)

description: Your entire world flips when you become the explosive hero’s secretary. In the world of high stakes and even higher tension, will you be able to resist his pull, or will you find yourself lost in the heat of it all?” (this bitch is loooooong)

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Pro Hero Dynamite has always been known to overwork at his agency.

Go above and beyond until something is perfect. Every file, every mission plan, every recruit—flawless or you’re wasting his damn time. He doesn’t do breaks. He doesn’t do patience. And he sure as hell doesn’t do mistakes.

People line up to work for him.

Because once you’ve worked under Dynamite, you can work anywhere. You’ve been sharpened by fire. Agencies compete for people who survive even six months at his side.

But just because everyone wants the job doesn’t mean they keep it.

He doesn’t notice most of his staff—doesn’t care to. The only people who get a fraction of his attention are his sidekicks and his PA team. The rest of you? Replaceable. Background.

That’s what you were. Just background.

A newly hired secretary brought in to replace the last one—fired, rumor has it, for leaving a single classified folder out overnight. You were pulled from a random list. No connections, no special qualifications. Just a name picked in a moment of desperation.

And from the beginning, you kept your head down.

Did your job. Stayed quiet. Didn’t try to get in his way. You figured if you didn’t bother him, you’d survive longer than the last girl.

And for a while, it worked.

Until he looked at you.

⸻

It was barely a glance, the first time. You were handing him a folder, and your fingers brushed his. That was it.

But the next day, he asked for you by name. “y/n go to this next meeting for me in 40 minutes and take some notes have it on my desk by 3”

The day after that? He called you into his office to retype a document you knew damn well his PA could’ve handled. He started showing up at your desk more. Asking questions. Staring a little too long when you answered.

No one said anything, but the change was obvious.

Your name started circulating in whispers.

Not in a good way.

Because Dynamite had a reputation. Not just for being a perfectionist or a hard-ass—but for being a flirt. The kind who smiled in interviews and left parties with models on his arm. He was cocky, crude, and didn’t hide the fact that he could get whoever he wanted. He was in the tabloids almost as much as he was on the news. You weren’t his type. Not even close. So whatever attention he was giving you? It had to be temporary.

⸻

Recently one of your male co-workers had been interacting with you a little more than usual lately. He’d stop by your desk for small talk, lingering longer than necessary and dropping subtle hints of flirting—hints you quickly brushed off.

One afternoon, as he stood by your desk chatting about the new coffee shop that had just opened a few blocks from the agency, you heard the unmistakable sound of heavy, aggressive footsteps echoing through the hallway. The air shifted. The floor seemed to still as the explosion hero’s voice cut through the buzz of conversation like a blade.

“Kato,” Dynamite said dryly, voice low but so loud and commanding that it echoed across the entire floor. “Leave my secretary alone and get the hell back to work.”

Everything went quiet.

You could feel the eyes of your coworkers flicking between you and Bakugou, the tension thick in the air. Kato blinked, visibly flinching before muttering something under his breath and practically scrambling away. After that? Silence. No more desk visits. No more awkward compliments. He disappeared.

A few days passed, then a week. You hadn’t realized just how quiet it had been until you were in the break room, talking with Yumi, one of the only people you were actually close with at work. She was leaning against the counter, sipping her tea when you brought it up.

“Hey, Yumi,” you said casually, trying to sound nonchalant as you stirred your drink. “Have you seen Kato around? Last time we talked, he mentioned grabbing coffee at that new place nearby.”

Yumi gave you a look over her cup. “Oh? You don’t know?”

You blinked. “Know what?”

She lowered her voice, leaning in slightly like she was about to share a secret. “After Dynamite yelled at him, Kato got transferred to the other floor—support tech. Apparently he asked for it himself.”

Your eyes widened. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. Word is he went to HR the same day. Said something about ’not wanting to interfere with higher-up dynamics.’” She raised an eyebrow meaningfully. “You ask me? I think he got the message loud and clear—and maybe a little scared. Bakugou doesn’t exactly play subtle.”

You felt your cheeks warm, not sure if it was from embarrassment or something else entirely. You looked away, but Yumi smirked.

“He’s totally territorial over you, you know.”

You rolled your eyes, though your heart was beating just a little faster. “He’s my boss.”

Yumi laughed. “Right. And I’m just here for the free snacks.”

⸻

Things started getting more odd after you grabbed your paycheck, scanning it quickly. Your eyes widen. There’s an extra $200 in there. What the hell?

You head straight to HR, a bit confused. “Hey, I think you guys messed up my pay. There’s, uh, an extra amount in here.”

The HR rep looks at you with a raised eyebrow. “No, we didn’t mess up. You got the raise from the boss yesterday. Didn’t you know?”

You blink. “A raise? From Dynamite?”

They nod. “Yeah. He approved it. It’s all there. So… enjoy the extra cash?”

You stand there for a moment, trying to process it. He didn’t say anything about a raise.

Later, you march into Bakugou’s office. He looks up from his desk, not even bothering to look surprised.

“Aren’t you supposed to be re-organizing those files? I told you I needed that done today y/n” he grumbles, like it’s just another day.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were giving me a raise?” you ask, arms crossed. “I went to HR, and they said it’s from you. You just… threw in a $200 bump like it was nothing?”

He shrugs, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Yeah, and?. You’ve been working hard, so you get a bump. Don’t make it a big deal.”

You stare at him, trying to hide the confusion. “But you couldn’t have just said something, I thought it was a true and honest mistake? I didn’t want to get in trouble or anything.”

“Not my problem. It’s in your paycheck. Deal with it,” he grunts, turning his attention back to his papers.

“But I-“ you were quickly cut off by his desk phone ringing.

“y/l/n can’t you just fuckin’ thank me? now get back to work don’t ever question me again” he says before answering the phone.

You stand there, a little speechless. You eventually turn around and leave his office just to sit at your desk still confused as ever.

⸻

work had been piling up, you started staying later than usual at nights. But this night was different.

It was supposed to be simple—just a few files left to organize, highlight, and prep for tomorrow morning. Everyone else on the floor had cleared out hours ago. You liked the quiet. No one breathing down your neck. Just your thoughts and the occasional creak of the building.

Then the elevator dinged.

You didn’t look up until you heard the crash—something hard slamming against the wall near the lift.

And then, there he was.

Him.

Pro Hero Dynamite. In full gear. Hair still wild from battle, jaw tight—and in his arms? A woman.

Not just any woman. A model. One you’d seen in magazines, ads, maybe even a billboard or two. And they weren’t just walking. They were clawing at each other, lips locked, her dress hitched halfway up her thighs. His hands all over her.

He didn’t even glance your way—until he did.

Right as he shoved open his office door.

His eyes locked on you. Smoldering. Unbothered. Maybe even a little amused.

And then he shut the door behind them. Click.

Seconds passed. Then minutes. Then you heard it.

The moaning. The banging. The desperate, ugly sounds of sex through that too-thin wall, and you didn’t even hesitate. You gathered your things, barely breathing, and booked it for the elevator before your face could give anything away. You didn’t look back.

But you couldn’t stop thinking about it. The way he stared at you.

Like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

⸻

The next morning, you came in earlier than usual—half-hoping, half-praying you wouldn’t have to see him.

Your desk felt different. Like it had absorbed last night’s shame. The pens in your cup were crooked. The light too bright. You reorganized your files twice just to stop your hands from shaking.

You told yourself he wouldn’t bring it up.

He wouldn’t have to.

Because it meant nothing.

To him, it was just another Tuesday night. Another random girl. Another fuck.

And then… you saw him.

Striding across the hallway from his office—jacket slung over his shoulder, hair freshly wet from a shower, and a goddamn coffee in hand like he hadn’t just traumatized you twelve hours ago.

He didn’t even look at you. Not at first.

He passed your desk with that same practiced indifference, talking to a sidekick about an upcoming mission, barely blinking. You exhaled. Maybe it was just another night. Maybe he really didn’t care.

Then, without warning, he stopped mid-step. Turned his head just slightly. Your blood ran cold. But he kept walking. That was it. That tiny little jab, buried so deep it wouldn’t make sense to anyone else—but you knew.

He knew. And now he was watching to see what you’d do with it.

⸻

You didn’t do anything. What could you do?

You buried yourself in your work. Avoided his gaze when he passed your desk. Ignored the little smirk that tugged at his mouth every time your fingers trembled while handing him a report. You told yourself it would fade—that he’d get bored and move on.

But he didn’t. He kept finding reasons to come by. Most times it was work-related. sometimes it wasn’t.

“Where’s the file from yesterday? The one you highlighted.”

“There’s a typo on this one. Wanna tell me where your brain was?”

“You always jump when someone groans, or is that just me?”

“do you always wear skirts that short?”

And the worst part? He never looked guilty. Never embarrassed. Just amused. Like he’d found a new game to play—and you were the only one who didn’t know the rules.

⸻

The next night came.

You were once again the last one in the office, filing mission reports. This time, you double-checked the elevator schedule before staying late. Dynamite had a press conference that evening. He wouldn’t be back until hours later—if at all.

You let your guard down.

Big mistake.

Because when the elevator dinged around 10:43 p.m., and you turned expecting to see a janitor or a delivery guy—

It was him. Alone.

No model this time. Just Dynamite. Loose black tee, sweats slung low, dog tags catching the hall light. He didn’t say a word. Just walked down the hall, slow and deliberate, until he was standing at your desk.

You blinked up at him. “…Can I help you, sir?”

He stared for a moment—eyes hooded, lazy. Then leaned a forearm on your desk. “You’re always here late.” Your throat tightened. “There’s a lot to do.”

“Mhm,” he hummed, gaze dipping briefly to your lips. “That why you stayed last night too?”

“I—I didn’t realize anyone else was—”

“Oh, you realized.” That smug look returned. “You saw everything, didn’t you?” Heat crawled down your spine. He tilted his head slightly. “And what’d you think, secretary? Get a good show?” You stood up abruptly, your chair scraping against the floor.

“I’m—going home. I’m done for the night.”

But as you tried to slip past him, he didn’t move.

Just let his fingers graze the edge of your desk—then yours. Soft. Barely there. Enough to make you stop.

And his voice? Lower this time. Quieter. Laced with something darker. “I fucked her thinking about you all alone out here” he said under his breath, not loud enough for you to hear.

As you took the bus home after work, his words lingered in your mind. he made you feel like some dirty pervert.

⸻

The following day came, you were a nervous wreck coming to work and praying to whoever was up there to not see him again. But for some reason lady luck was on your side because word got around that Dynamite wouldn’t be in office due for a little to an over ran mission a couple of cities over. You felt the weight of what was like an elephant lift from your shoulders hearing it. The next couple of days you could breathe and get your work done, until the night he came back. You weren’t planning to stay late again but the mission reports were a mess, your inbox was full, and your brain was too fried to say no when your team lead asked for help. Plus you wanted to get it all done so you could go home early for the weekend tomorrow.

Everyone else had left. The sun was long gone, the sky a navy blur behind the tall glass windows. You figured he was still out. Same patrol mission or high-level meeting.

You were so fucking wrong.

The elevator dinged at 11:36pm. You didn’t even look up because you just KNEW. you heard the heavy bootsteps crossing the hall, slow and measured—each one landing like they meant something.

You slowly looked up. There he was.

Hair messy from the wind, shirt clinging to his frame, jaw sharp with tension like he’d been gritting it for hours. He didn’t say anything—just stood there, watching you behind that massive front desk like you were the one interrupting him.

You swallowed. HARD. “…e-evening.”

A low hum left his throat, his gaze staying on you like you were the only thing in the room.

He didn’t walk away. Just shifted his weight slightly, his eyes scanning your desk. You could feel the pressure of his stare, like he was seeing right through you.

You followed his line of sight—realizing too late that your files were fanned out everywhere. Messy. Color-coded. Your pink highlighter cap left open next to your now cold coffee.

Shit.

You scrambled to get up and gather everything, heart thudding harder than you’d like to admit. “I—I’ll get these off before I leave. I just wanted to finish highlighting—”

He didn’t let you finish.

One step closer, without warning.

His body moved with purpose, no hesitation. He didn’t lean in, didn’t raise his voice, but somehow his presence swallowed you whole.

He just tapped twice—once, twice—on the corner of a sticky note beside your hand.

Then, his voice came, low, clipped, a little too calm for your liking.

“Next time you highlight mission details…”

“…don’t use pink.”

he paused for a moment looking at you while his finger was still resting on the sticky note.

“I fucking hate pink.”

You stiffened, trying to shake off the irritation that bubbled up in your chest.

“Well, maybe I’m not here to impress you,” you muttered under your breath, your annoyance pushing you further than you meant to go.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t even react at first.

You tried to ignore the sudden heat crawling up your neck. It was just a comment—nothing more.

But then you saw it.

His lips curled into a faint smirk, that signature cocky grin of his. He leaned in just a little more, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket like he was too relaxed, too calm for the situation.

“Not here to impress me?” His voice was smooth, almost condescending. “Then why the hell are you even still here, huh?”

Your jaw tightened. You were about to fire back, but he wasn’t done.

He took another step forward. This time, there was no space left between you.

His eyes narrowed, gaze dropping from your face to the pink highlighter in your hand. He reached out, slowly, deliberately, taking the cap from the table and flicking it absentmindedly.

His eyes met yours, cold but sharp. He didn’t blink.

“You wanna talk back to me, huh? You wanna act like you don’t care what I think?” He leaned in closer, close enough for you to feel the heat radiating off his body. “You’ll get real fucking tired of that attitude real fast.”

You tried to hold your ground, but something in the air was shifting. His presence was overwhelming, suffocating in a way that made you feel small. Vulnerable. He was in your space now—too close. But you couldn’t bring yourself to back away.

“What, you think I’m scared of you?” Your voice was steady, though your heart was pounding in your chest.

His lips curled into a knowing grin, his fingers brushing the back of your hand like it was nothing. But the touch was deliberate. “No, but I think you like it.”

You inhaled sharply, your pulse quickening.

“Like what?” you breathed, not sure if you wanted to hear the answer.

“Like it when I call you out,” he replied, his voice dripping with something dangerously close to amusement. “Like it when I make you feel something you don’t know how to handle.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, he stepped back.

His eyes locked onto yours one last time, with a smooth, and mocking tone. “Not here to impress me, huh? Guess what? You’re not fooling anyone.”

You bristled at the implication, trying to pull away from the tension that was building in the space between you two. But he didn’t let up. Instead, he moved even closer, stepping into your personal space until there was barely an inch of air between you.

“Keep playing it cool,” he continued, his voice dropping an octave, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “But I know exactly what you want.“

His lips were only inches from yours now, and you could feel his breath warm against your skin.

Your heart pounded, and the words escaped you before you could stop them.

“And what exactly do you think I want?” you breathed.

His grin widened, a wicked, confident curl of his lips, and then, in a voice that was barely a whisper, he answered, “You want me to prove it.”

“fuck you” that’s all it took.

And before you could even process what he meant, he was on you.

His hands found your waist, lifting you onto the desk, making sure there was no space between you. The way he kissed you, with so much force and urgency, made it clear he wasn’t about to stop.

You gasped as he trailed his lips down to your collarbone, his hands already pulling at your shirt, lifting it over your head. You felt exposed, vulnerable, but in the best way. The heat in your body was building rapidly, your skin tingling where his hands brushed.

“I’m going to fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before,” he growled, his lips back on yours with a hunger you couldn’t resist.

You pulled him closer, urging him to take what he wanted, because deep down, you knew you were past the point of no return.

And when his hands moved to the waistband of your pants, you didn’t hesitate, lifting your hips to let him undress you completely.

He didn’t waste any time, his mouth back on your neck, his hands working to free himself from his pants, all while he never broke eye contact with you.

“Say my name,” he demanded, his voice thick with lust, the words slipping from him in a low growl.

You could hardly breathe, let alone think. But somehow, you managed to whisper, “Dynamite.”

He smirked against your neck, his hand coming down on your ass with a harsh smack, the sound echoing in the quiet room. You jolted, a breathless gasp escaping your lips, and he leaned back, his eyes narrowing.

“I said, say MY fucking name,” he repeated, his voice a little sharper this time.

You moaned, your body aching for more as you looked up at him with a pleading expression. “Katsuki,” you whined, your voice higher, desperate. The sound of his name on your lips, the way it twisted in the air between you two, sent him into a frenzy.

He didn’t give you a moment to recover—he grabbed your thighs and dragged you to the edge of the desk, his mouth crashing into yours again, hungry and unrelenting. You felt the hard press of his cock against your bare core, still hidden behind the fabric of his boxers, and you instinctively rolled your hips, chasing the friction you so desperately needed.

“You’re drivin’ me fuckin’ insane,” he hissed against your lips, pulling back just enough to look at you—flushed, panting, pupils blown wide. “Actin’ like you didn’t want this. Walkin’ around the office in those tight little skirts… lookin’ at me like that… like you wanted to be fucked.”

You whimpered, and he chuckled darkly, pulling his boxers down and letting his cock spring free. The sight alone had your breath hitching, and he noticed.

“Yeah?” he muttered, stroking himself slowly as he watched your reaction. “This what you’ve been needin’? Bet your fingers couldn’t even come close to makin’ you feel this full.”

And then he pushed in—slowly, almost teasing, stretching you inch by inch until your back arched and a breathless moan spilled from your lips, your eyes rolling in the back of your skull.

“Fuck—you feel better than I ever imagined,” he gritted, gripping your hips so tight you knew he’d leave marks. “Tight little pussy takin’ me so well.”

He set a brutal pace, snapping his hips against yours, the desk creaking beneath you both his as your body rocked with each thrust. You could barely form words—just whimpers and his name on loop like a prayer.

And then, just when you thought it couldn’t get filthier, he leaned in, his voice rasping directly into your ear.

“You know how many girls I’ve fucked the last two weeks?”

Each word was punctuated by a hard, punishing thrust.

“Every. Single. ONE of them—I thought about you.”

You gasped, your nails clawing at his back as your orgasm built dangerously fast.“Thought bout how beautiful you’d look bent over my fuckin’ desk takin’ my cock.”

Your eyes rolled back, the filthy words and his relentless rhythm dragging you closer to the edge. Your whole body trembled under him, your mind trying to deny it, trying to keep up, but your body had already surrendered. It needed him. All of him.

“And how amazing your tits would look bouncin’ in my face as you ride me.” he leaned down to your chest and sucked on your tit as he fondled the other with his free hand.

You gasped as his words hit you like a wave, the sharpness of his growl sending a tremor through your body. Every word he spoke, every thrust, made it harder to remember what it was you were supposed to resist.

His pace quickened, and you were helpless under him. Each snap of his hips felt like a jolt of electricity, shooting through your veins, making you gasp and moan for him. The desk beneath you scraped against the floor as he pushed you closer to the edge, and all you could do was hold on, your fingers digging into the wood as you clung to whatever semblance of control you had left.

“Say my name again,” he commanded, his voice thick with need. “Say it and mean it this time.”

“Kats-sukiiiiiaaa,” you breathed, your head thrown back, the sensation of him inside you almost too much to handle. You could feel your walls tightening around him, your body already on the brink of breaking. You were so close—so close you could taste it.

His lips curled into a wicked grin as he saw the desperation in your eyes, his pace never slowing. “That’s it, princess,” he growled, his hand snaking down to rub your clit, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. “You’re mine now. All mine and not any of these shitty extras around this place”.

You could barely respond, your mind clouded with the pleasure he was giving you. Every inch of your body felt like it was on fire, the tension coiling tighter and tighter in your core until you were trembling with the effort of holding back.

And then, with one last, forceful thrust, he drove you over the edge. Your body arched against him, your moans a desperate mixture of his name and incoherent sounds. His name tumbled from your lips again, this time louder, as your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, leaving you breathless and weak.

But Bakugou didn’t stop. He wasn’t done with you yet.

He kept going, pushing you through your orgasm with a brutal determination that had you gasping for air. His thrusts grew erratic, faster, harder, as his own release approached. His breath was ragged in your ear, and the sound of his skin slapping against yours filled the room.

With one final growl, he pulled you closer, his hand gripping your hips as he buried himself deep inside you, his release spilling over as he held you against him, each shuddering breath making it clear just how much he needed you—how much he’d been holding back.

For a long moment, you both stayed like that, tangled in each other’s arms, breathless and spent. He kissed your forehead softly, a rare moment of tenderness after the storm, but the fire in his eyes never fully faded.

“Next time,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous, “I’ll be fuckin’ you in my bed not some flimsy office desk.”

You smiled, your fingers tracing the muscles in his back as you both tried to catch your breath. This… this was just the beginning.

my boyfriends...? A CAT ?! - K! BAKUGOU

a bakugou birthday special

wc - 4.6k

skipping some classes to help fight villains wasn't something new to bakugou; in fact, it's become a routine. he'd heard the news that there were some villains in the area and would join the pros with a couple of his classmates.

however this time, the only thing different was that the villain was someone new, and their quirk? a mystery. none of the heroes at the scene could figure it out, as the quirk kept changing! it was truly mind-boggling.

"how the hell is that bastard doing this? he must be a quirk stealer," bakugou muttered to the boy beside him.

kirishima could only break out into a smirk at his friend's claim, "yeah? then we better test that out. i say we charge at him; if he's a quirk stealer, he might steal only one. you in, dynamight?"

"tch, you challenging me, red?" that was all the confirmation the redhead needed to set off with an attack.

the pair worked well together, always meeting each other halfway. whether it be with studying, sports or fighting, the duo complemented each other; everyone could see how well their dynamic was.

bakugou on one side and kirishima on the other, the villain was cornered. just as they were about to attack, their nemesis mummbled something under their breath, blasting an attack at the hot-headed hero, causing him to disappear.

kirishima gasped in shock, quickly tackling the villain down. around him, chaos erupted; the pro heroes were jumping around trying to find bakugou.

the villain was taken from kirishima, immediately put in handcuffs and questioned on what happened to bakugou.

"where did dynamight go?" one of the civilian onlookers said in shock.

the red-headed boy glanced around in search of his best friend, his eyes hopping from place to place. just as he was about to turn around, kirishima caught sight of some movement under bakugou's hero suit.

"huh...?" he slowly crept towards the suit, ears catching a strange sound.

'is... is that a cat?'

as kirishima inched closer, the sound got louder. oh yeah, it was definitely a cat.

lifting up the black pieces of clothing, kirishima was greeted with the unexpected sight of a cat hissing at him with a scowl.

"aw, what a cute kitty! what're you doing under bakugou's clothes, hm?" kirishima cooed, grabbing the cat.

unfortunately for him, the second he lifted the cat towards his face, he was attacked by scratches.

"what the hell — ack!" the cat growled, yowling at the boy.

kirishima pulled the cat away from his face and met the icy stare of its vermilion eyes. oh.

bakugou was the cat.

"THE FUCK?"

cat bakugou scratched the boy again, letting out an aggressive 'mrrowr. the heroes and civilians stopped their actions, glancing at the two boys with dropped jaws.

"wait, is that... dynamight?!" a young girl called out from the crowd, invoking havoc.

all might jumps in, quickly saving kirishima from the assault.

"young bakugou... or cat bakugou? I'm not sure, but stop attacking red riot!" now it was all might's turn to receive a beating from the sharp claws.

a sigh escaped your lips as you patiently waited against the wall for your boyfriend, who was late. bakugou was never late, but because he had been roped into a sudden villain attack, you gave him the benefit of the doubt.

your eyes trailed around the area, swinging from the wall to the vending machine that finally had your favourite drink.

"i guess one wouldn't hurt," you mumbled to yourself.

just as you punched in the code for the drink, the phone in your pocket started vibrating intensely. turning your attention away from the machine, you grabbed your phone, opening it to see messages from the class-1a group chat.

'what nonsense are they talking about now?'

the chat loaded, immediately bombarding you with cute pictures of a fluffy, persian cat with what might've been the softest fur you've ever seen. all the pictures came from kirishima and sero, causing everyone to gush over the cute bundle of fur.

letting out a small 'awww' at the kitty, you quickly type back a response.

Y/NNIE awww kiri, where did you find the cat? ROCK HARD um.. you see, that's kind of what i need to talk to everyone about... IZU-KUN go ahead kirishima! CUM SQUIRTER (MINA) can we save whatever u wanna say for later? rn js come back to the dorms with the kitty!! im sure momo could make some cute clothes for her!!! ROCK HARD ykw sure, but its a boy and he scratches so be careful KIRBY (uraraka) im sure we'll be okay we deal with bakugou on a daily basis YNNIE speaking of kats... where is he? he was supposed to spar with me after the villain attack ROCK HARD he's here with me now, but it's a bit confusing. i'll explain better when we reach the dorms. YNNIE okiee, I'll head back up and meet everyone in the common room!

kirishima didn’t reply after that, which only made your curiosity spike. something was off, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. quickly grabbing your drink, you headed towards the common room.

the walk wasn't too long, but the thoughts of the cat and your boyfriend clouded your mind. thinking of the way the two of you could look after it and play with it! just the thought of your big, burly boyfriend playing with such a small animal had you blushing.

you couldn’t help but imagine him as a dad, married to you, holding your kid with that same grumpy face softened just a little.

the train of thoughts ended when you had finally reached the common room door, and it wasn't exactly quiet in there... i mean, when was it ever?

upon entering, you could hear screams coming from denki, accusing the cat of biting him. 'the cat might be dangerous,' you thought, entering the chaos. the couches that once sat in the centre of the room were now standing upright on the walls, the coffee table was tipped over and everyone looked a mess.

"what the fuck happened?" you questioned, appalled by the state of the room and everyone inside of it. your eyes darted to the feline, taking in its appearance. it was a blonde persian cat, with vermilion eyes glaring at every individual. the moment the cat heard your voice, it let out a loud wail, darting towards you, pawing at your clothes.

nervous, you leaned down to pick up the cat, mentally praying that it doesn't attack you. the moment your arms wrapped around the animal, you felt it nestle into you, softly purring, shocking your classmates.

"huh- wha- ... HOW?" denki cried, arms flailing around dramatically.

"we've been trying to calm him down for so long! kirishima, where did you get the cat from?!" momo's question made you turn to the redhead, suddenly noticing your blonde boyfriend was missing.

a frown washed over your face. now you were really worried. what had happened to your boyfriend?

almost as if it could read your thoughts, the cat in your arms meows softly, nipping at your neck. giving the cat a small smile, you moved your hand to caress its soft fur.

"i'd also like to know where katsuki is," you piped in. you stared angrily at kirishima because he wouldn't get to the point.

kirishima let out a sigh. "bakugou got hit by the villain's quirk-"

"what?! is he okay? where is—"

"he's fine." kirishima grumbled, clearly overstimulated from this whole situation. "as i was saying, bakugou got hit by a quirk which ended up turning him into a cat."

'huh?' now you were super confused.

"if bakugou's a cat, then where-" you paused, looking down into your arms and at the cat. "oh?"

suddenly, a crash was heard.

you fainted.

BAKUGOU'S POV

being a cat was so fucking annoying; first off, everyone wanted to touch me, and second off, i wouldn't even speak! all i could let out were aggressive hisses and stupid meows; don't even get me started with those god-embarrassing purrs. i felt like a fucking freak.

it's even worse that i scared my girlfriend so badly that she fainted. god, what if she hates me or, worse, breaks up with me? i'd kill myself.

initially, when she took me down to the floor with her, i was pissed, but when i noticed she wasn't moving and shitty hair was picking her up, i started panicking. which, obviously, the others took as me being jealous.

fucking idiots. in what world would i, bakugou katsuki, future pro hero, be jealous of that red-haired freak?

as i collected my thoughts, i felt y/n start shuffling on the nurse's bed under me. quickly, my hands paws kneaded at the soft, plush skin of her stomach.

she let out a groan at my movements, fingers slowly coming to pat my fur.

fuck, this was so weird.

"katsuki what are you doing?" her mumble slowly turning into a giggle as my teeth nipped her fingers.

"meow." was the best answer i could let out, and it pissed me the fuck off.

her hands cupped either side of my furry frame, pulling me up so i was resting on her breasts. thank god i was a cat; otherwise my 'embarrassment' at the current position would be clearer than day.

my cat nose infiltrated with the sweet aroma of her perfume. it was my favourite, the one that always had me on my knees. the woody fragrance had my tail swishing, tickling her skin, eliciting more giggles from her.

i could listen to her laugh every day. hearing it made me feel like i was a prince, lying in the flower garden on a warm sunny day with the love of my life beside me. it was the epitome of perfect.

this cat shit made me sappy as fuck, holy shit.

"oh you're up! the cause of your sudden fainting is nothing too serious; it's just a result of surprise by bakugou's current situation. would you like me to call in kirishima to help you get back to the common room?" recovery girl blurted out, kind of intimidated by bakugou's glare.

i hissed at the mention of kirishima. like hell id let him help her.

almost as if sensing my unease, y/n picked me up, cradling me in her arms. "i think im okay, thank you!" and with that, we were off.

BACK TO SECOND PERSON POV

finally nestled back into the poster-covered walls of your room, you collapsed on your bed. the sudden action caused the cat in your arms to yelp, flailing about.

"mm, sorry katsu," you said, softly grazing his head. 'woah he was so soft'

katsuki just stared at you, face softened and eyes bleary. "you know, i don't think i'll ever get used to seeing you as a cat. but you gotta admit, it's nice having you like this."

at your confession, he let out a quiet, but mean, meow. nipping at your shoulder blades.

"ouch! c'mon you know what i meant."

the two of you laid in silence for a few minutes, with the occasional sounds of purrs coming from the cat.

katsuki eyes slowly started feeling heavy, body relaxing on the comforter of your bed as he slowly drifted off to sleep. however sleep never came, the sound of a camera flashing jolted him wake.

quickly sitting up, he pounced on you, attempting to grab your phone. fortunately for you, you were faster. moving out the way, you used your quirk and let out pheromones, which made the cats actions slower.

"kats," you whined, feeling his rough tounge lick at your neck. he hissed, pawing at you as if to telling you to delete the photo. "i'm only keeping it for myself... and maybe for your mom- aak!"

the blonde persian cat continued fighting with you for the phone until he eventually gave up, realising he couldn't do anything while he was a cat.

you glanced at your cat/boyfriend/whatever-he-was, watching him pout and sulk. your heart couldn't help but melt as his appearence. he was so cute, even as cat.

as much as you loved being able to talk with your boyfriend, you found youself loving him as a cat even more. the irritated wails, the soft purring as you stroked his fur and the quiet nips of affection he'd randomly give. but it was also weird, you missed him. the real him.

sighing, you got up, placing him in your arms as you left your room to venture into the kitchen. "come on kitty, lets get you some food."

you received another nip at the nickname.

the trip to the kitchen was fairly quick, but what you hadn't expected was the others also being there. at the sight of you and katsuki, mina shot up immediately running towards you.

"y/n, you're okay!" she squealed, embracing you in a quck hug, crushing the blonde cat between the two of you.

"yrowl," bakugou whined at the sudden compression. you quickly moved away from mina, checking to see if katsuki was alright.

mina gave a sheepish smile, "oh... i forgot about him... sorry bakugou!" she chirped, before continuing. "actually, the girls and i were just talking and thought it'd be pretty cool if we could put bakugou in some clothes, momo already made a few." she rambled.

"oh, um... im not sure mina. i mean, i dont think katsuki would like that." the cat backed you up, letting out a quick meow, glaring at the pink girl.

"c'mon please~ it'd be so cute! we have an allmight cat shirt made for him." she pressed.

katsuki was now getting aggitated, maybe it was the cat hormones but he had the urge to run off and hide. he did not want to be here. and so, he did what he did best.

he leaped out of your arms, scratching mina's legs before running off. "ah, katsuki!" you exclaimed, running after the feline. "sorry mina, ill be right back," you yelled as you continued running.

that damn cat really knew how to run. he turned ever corner until he was at the door of his dorm room, scratching at it, desperately wanting to be let in. he heared footsteps behind him, quickly turning around and baring his teeth, only letting up once he saw that it was you.

sighing in relief that you had finally found your boyfriend, you picked him up, leveling his eyes to yours.

"katsuki, what the hell was that! you can't just run off randomly, you scared the hell out of me." you scolded, watching as his ears flopped down. "i get that this is new for you and you're struggling but come on; so am i. i'm trying my best to make sure you're comfortable so please, don't run off like that again."

to your words, katsuki let out a soft whimper, feeling bad that he caused you to feel this way. he slowly lifted up a paw, reaching out to ur face. you smiled at the action, no matter what body he could be in or what animal your boyfriend was; you were always able to read him.

"i know, i know. i'm sorry for dragging you with me to the kitchen, i didn't know the rest would be there, but for now, lets relax and maybe get you some sleep." you smiled, opening the door to his room, settling him on his bed.

for the next hour, the two of you basked in each others presence. you showed him funny tiktoks (to which he just meowed at), took pictures of him and sending them to his mom and of course, petting him.

turning to katsuki to show him another tiktok, you realise he'd fallen asleep beside you. a small smile crept it's way to your face as you looked at the kitty.

"cat or not, i love you so much katsuki." you whispered, placing a kiss onto his face, letting sleep take over you.

the following morning came quick as you shuffled in bed. you let out a small whine at the sun shining over your face. turning onto your side, your hand slapped something hard and hot.

"stop moving so damn much." the body besides you muttered, trapping you into his arms.

the voice made your eyes flutter open, staring at the boy with your mouth agape.

"kats, you're back to normal look!" you squealed, slapping his bare chest to wake him up.

a groan escaped his lips that made you feel things you probably shouldn't be feeling. "what are you talking about woman." he snarled.

giggling, you push yourself on top of him, wrapping your arms around his neck. "kats, you were a cat for the whole day yesterday and now you're finally back to normal." sleepy katsuki was turly a cutie, he could barely even remember his own name.

katsuki finally opened his eyes, glancing down at his body and yours before letting up a huff. "fuckin' finally, i was getting sick and tired of being a dirty cat." he grumbled, but you knew he was just saying that.

"i'm glad you're back, but i'll miss being able to coddle you like a little baby." you whined, playfully pouting.

"damn woman, you already do that enough." he muttered, cheeks flushing at the memory of how you treated him.

you pressed a small kiss to his cheek, smiling up at him. "well i do love you more as a human, so a win is a win." you placed a soft, innocent kiss on his lips, to which he replied with wrapping his arms around your waist.

as the kiss began to get more heated, you felt something hard and wet poke onto your thigh.

"uh kats...?" you questioned, breaking away from his lips.

"what," he whined, chasing after you.

"um... are you naked?" silence filled the air at your question.

"..."

thats when he felt it too, the hard-on pressing onto both of your thighs.

"oh what the fuck!" he scrambled up, accidentally throwing your body off of the bed. "shit- sorry!" he yelled, wrapping his sheets against his waist, trying to save face after he'd just popped one out infront of you.

a roar of laughter filled the air at his expression. you just couldn't help it! he looked so ashamed of himself it had you rolling on the floor.

"okay, i get it. now shut the fuck up and get out so i can deal with this," he grumbled, a wave of heat flowing over his body at the situation.

"pfft- katsu, you're so easy." you laughed, getting up and placing another kiss on his sweet lips. "i'll leave you to deal with katsuki jr. if you need me, i'll be making breakfast." you teased.

"oh fuck off." he yelled, throwing a pillow at the door as you left.

katsuki might be back in his human form and you might miss his doting cat-self, but you knew, no matter how rough he was, he really loved you. and that was all that mattered.

500 notes View Post

dynaxplosion

2 weeks ago

hello! So far you have made really good post, and it made me think, what if you made one about bakugou x y/n, they JUST started making out and started this thing where after class and even the cafeteria hours they would go to the roof top and make out, and then come back to class and act like nothing ever happened. Also somtimes he would throw a paper and secretly desk her under the desk where they would meet up. 😍

when katsuki wants to make out during class

something soft hit your back, causing some giggles to be heard from around you. you raised your eyebrow, and when mister aizawa faced the chalkboard, you turned around to see nothing. a hand waved in front of your face, kaminari’s hand, to be exact, and his finger then pointed at the ground.

a crumpled-up ball of paper lay on the ground, so you bent over to grab it, opening the paper under your desk. maybe it had something in it. on on page, nothing was there, so you turned it to see the words ‘ask to fill up your water bottle’ with a little explosion drawing at the end, which is how you figured out it was katsuki who wrote the note.

you grinned and raised your hand, throwing the paper into your backpack.

mister aizawa finally turned back to you and asked, “yes?”

“can i please fill up my water bottle?” you held it up and shook it, and when no sloshing around was heard, he nodded.

you picked it up and walked outside the classroom, katsuki soon followed behind after he asked to go to the bathroom. he stomped after you, placing your water bottle next to the fountain before giving you a sly smile and gripping your hip. he shoved his lips onto yours and softly groaned, kissing you repeatedly, strings of saliva still connecting your lips after parting for a short period.

he lifted up your thigh, pressing it against his hip as he continued to kiss you. words haven’t even been spoken yet, but it was clear what the two of you needed.

even after that, he continued to ask you to leave during class or lunch to spend time with you. he didn’t just love you for your body, he didn’t just want pleasure, he wanted you as a person. katsuki knew he wasn’t good at expressing his emotions or love for people in a healthy way, but this was the only way he felt he could do it. it would always leave the two of you breathless, red, and even more in love.

to him, this was one of the most intimate acts someone could do, and he loved you with his whole soul. he never regretted skipping class to make out with you, besides when you heard a loud yell and chuckle from someone across the hall.

an annoyingly familiar voice rang in your ears, “hey, class 1-a! did you know two of your students, bakugo and l/n skip class just to make out in the halls?” monoma loudly chuckled, “class 1-b would never—“

he would always be smacked in the head by kendo, who would apologize and ‘leave the two of you be.’

that was one of the only times katsuki had felt embarrassed after making out with you.

hope you enjoyed this! i’m so happy you love my writing, your compliments mean the world to me. also, i gained around seven asks in one night so im trying to catch up, i apologize that i am not posting as often

845 notes View Post

dynaxplosion

2 weeks ago

let me see what you have!! 🔪

486 notes View Post

dynaxplosion

2 weeks ago

↳ ❝ TWITTER PORN LINKS | KATSUKI BAKUGO ! ❞

"you like humping my thigh that much? cute. you gonna cum just from this, yeah? grip my shoulders, there you go. use me however you need, pretty girl."

"shit, you’re so fucking hot while touchin' my dick. god—you feel how wet you get when you see me like this? wanna cum together like this, baby?"

"i can’t stop lookin’ at your tits, sweets. just lookin’ at them makes me wanna fuck you senseless. bet you love it when i nibble on them, huh?"

"goddamn—so fuckin’ sweet. my favorite fuckin' meal. could eat you out like this all fuckin’ day. love you, baby. love makin’ you feel like this."

"you think you can get off without me, huh? fuckin' brat, you didn’t even wait for me. you like it when i spank you, don’t you? fuckin' turns you on, huh? that’s what you get for jerking off without me."

"shit—so tight. so goddamn tight. you gonna squeeze me dry? so fuckin' greedy. you're doin’ so good, baby. so good for me. fuck, can’t believe you’re mine."

"fuckin’ hell, you just squirted all over my hand. tch, and now you’re shy? fuck that. ’m gonna make you do it again. gonna fuck you so good after."

“’m too fucking hard for this shit, just let me fuck you. please, baby? i need you so bad, it hurts. fuck this—just leave it on. i don't care if we make a mess."

"you just gonna let me eat you out like this, huh? makin' such a mess on my face, pretty. can’t handle it? your boyfriend's addicted, so shut up and take it."

"where’d all that attitude go, huh? you were actin’ all tough earlier. fuck, pretty—look at yourself. look how pretty you look, ridin' my dick. fuckin' made for me, aren't ya?"

"you like it when i'm rough, don't ya? little brat. bet you been thinkin’ about this all fuckin' day. shit—gonna fill you up. you want that? want me to fill you up, sweet girl?"

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ hiii im sorry for delaying this lmao, busy with school and shit 🤕 consider this as a late valentines day gift, and also another 2k special!! ohmygod!! i cant believe so many of you like what i write omgomg, lmk if any of the links arent working nymore!! and i hope you guys enjoy more of what i post💜

2K notes View Post

dynaxplosion

3 weeks ago

Sure, why not? I know it's only been 6 months since I last shared any art here (I wanna maintain my aloof mysterious persona, after all) but I'm feeling generous. Join me on Patreon and BSKY coz that's where I live.

3K notes View Post

dynaxplosion

2 weeks ago

Shoutout to sleepy selfshippers. Reblog if you’re a selfshipper and also tired as fuck.

[ Dividers by @/kodaswrld ]

2K notes View Post

dynaxplosion

3 weeks ago

HAPPY BIRTHDAY

BIRTHDAY SUIT | Bakugo Katsuki

synopsis: Bakugo never made a big deal about birthdays—just another day in his book. But you're not letting this one slide. As his partner, you know better than anyone that under that explosive exterior lies a man who deserves to be worshipped. And tonight, that’s exactly what you plan to do. Dressed in nothing but a gift-wrapped surprise, you give him a present no one else ever could—you.

content: smut, shameless smut, established relationship, lingerie sex, birthday sex, reader takes the reins, blowjob, sloppy, cowgirl , orgasm,

Bakugo never cared about birthdays. For once, he'd let you celebrate him.

No grumbles, no sarcastic muttering under his breath about “dumb-ass traditions” or “waste of time.” No disappearing off to train. No flinching when his friends shouted “Happy Birthday, Katsuki!”

He actually stayed. Enjoyed it.

The apartment had been buzzing earlier with close friends, laughter, drinks, and too many snacks. But now, it was just you and him. The glow of warm lights filled the room, soft music playing low from the speaker. The scent of buttercream and spiced candles lingered in the air.

“Sit,” you said, nudging him down onto the couch.

He dropped onto it with a tired, satisfied huff, one arm slung over the backrest as he watched you crouch beside the small stack of gifts left on the coffee table.

“Ya didn’t have to do all this, y’know,” he muttered. “Just havin’ you around is—”

“Shut up,” you smirked, passing him the first box. “You can get sappy after we’re done with presents.”

He rolled his eyes, but the blush on his ears gave him away.

One by one, he opened them. A couple of gag gifts from Kaminari, a surprisingly thoughtful book from Todoroki, custom gloves from Kirishima. A shirt from you he’d side-eyed in a store window a few weeks ago but pretended not to like. He’d mumbled, “Not bad,” when he saw it then—but the way he smiled when he saw it again tonight? That soft, flickering look in his eyes?

Yeah. He remembered.

But the last gift made him still.

He turned the box in his hand like he didn’t quite recognize it, even though you knew he did. You watched his fingers move slower—more careful. He lifted the lid and saw it:

A first edition, limited-run All Might training journal.

Something he’d mentioned in passing once during a midnight walk months ago. Something he said he always wanted but could never find.

He stared at it in silence, thumb brushing over the embossed edges.

“…You remembered that?” he asked, voice suddenly quieter. His eyes lifted to yours.

You smiled gently. “Of course I did.”

Bakugo swallowed hard, cheeks pinking up in a way that had your heart blooming in your chest. “You’re insane,” he muttered. “You know that?”

You kissed the corner of his mouth. “A little.”

He blinked hard, then cleared his throat.

“Alright, alright—cake. Let’s get this over with before I start feelin’ like a damn Hallmark card.”

You brought over the cake, candles already lit, your face glowing in the soft flicker as you sang the most off-key, dramatic “Happy Birthday” you could manage. He groaned, but he didn’t stop you.

He blew out the candles.

You sliced two pieces, handed him a fork… then stole it right back.

“Say ah.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You really gonna hand feed me right now?”

“wedding reenact,” you said, lifting a bite to his mouth.

He opened it, still scowling—but barely—as you fed him a chunk of cake. He chewed, crimson eyes on you the whole time.

“Good?” you asked.

He gave a slow, appreciative nod. “Yeah. sweet.”

"that so..."

You leaned in, swiped a little frosting from the corner of his mouth with your thumb. His lips looked so soft, gilding your frosted coated thumb onto them, then kissed it off his lips, pressing your own into the softness of his. It started soft.

But when your lips brushed his again—slow, warm, and just a little longer—his hands naturally found your waist, pulling you closer until you were nearly in his lap. He kissed back, gentle but hungry, lips parting to taste more of you.

You murmured between kisses, breath hot against his mouth: “Birthday kiss.”

He blinked slowly, his lips still parted from the kiss, eyes dazed and focused only on you. His hands stayed warm on your waist, thumbs stroking slow, thoughtless circles into your skin through the thin fabric. His gaze trailed over your face—your lips, your flushed cheeks, your eyes so full of mischief and adoration.

“You’re everything,” he murmured, almost like it slipped out without permission.

You kissed the tip of his nose, giggling softly. “Thank you.”

And then?

His grip tightened. Just slightly. And he pulled you into his lap.'

“You keep lookin’ at me like that,” he muttered, voice thick and low, “I’m gonna forget we were takin’ things slow tonight.”

You leaned in, straddling him without hesitation, your thighs hugging his hips as you settled against him. His body welcomed you instantly, his hands sliding up your sides, fingertips dragging the fabric of your top slightly—like he wanted less of it between you.

“I was never planning to go slow,” you whispered, brushing your lips just barely against his jaw. “Not tonight.”

His breath caught—sharp, audible. You felt it in his chest, the way it stuttered under your palms. His reaction was subtle, but every part of him twitched with anticipation: his hands, his legs beneath you, the slight lift of his hips like he was already imagining how this night would end.

“Got one more present for you,” you murmured into his ear. “The real one.”

Bakugo’s brows lifted, suspicious. “Thought that damn journal was the real one.”

You grinned, climbing off his lap for just a moment—enough to walk toward the bedroom with that sway you knew drove him wild.

He watched, chin propped on his hand, eyes darkening the second your fingers dipped beneath the hem of your top as you disappeared down the hall.

“Oi,” he called. “What kinda present needs you to change for it?”

You didn’t answer.

But when you reappeared in the doorway—lingerie clinging to your curves like a second skin, chosen with him in mind—Bakugo sat up so fast he nearly knocked the fork off the coffee table.

Your name left his mouth like a groan.

“Holy shit…”

You were wrapped in delicate black lace, the kind of thing he never thought he’d see outside a magazine, and even then—never on you. Never just for him.

His mind blanked.

No words, no witty comeback. Just the shape of you silhouetted in the soft golden light. The way the sheer material clung to your curves, catching every dip and swell like it had been tailored with him in mind. The way your thighs moved when you walked, slow and sure, like you knew what that sight alone was doing to him.

His mouth had gone dry.

And still, he sat there—frozen on the couch, like his body had been rooted to the spot. Only his eyes moved, dragging over you with almost painful reverence.

Your presence wasn't just seen. It was felt. In the sudden hush of the room. In the way the air itself seemed to shift as you crossed it. There was a softness to it—like watching a flame flicker behind glass. Dangerous, but so goddamn beautiful.

Something in his chest ached.

It didn’t matter how many times he saw you like this—wanting him like this. That wide-eyed, breath-stolen reaction always snuck up on him.

His gaze caught on your collarbones, then drifted lower—hesitating on the swell of your breasts barely veiled by lace, down the soft line of your stomach, until it settled between your legs, where the thin strip of fabric left far too little to the imagination.

The sight knocked the wind out of him.

One of his hands, resting uselessly on his thigh, curled into a fist. The other—he didn’t even realize—had wiped itself discreetly on his jeans, sweat clinging to his palm.

Not from nerves. No. Never that.

Except maybe this time, it was.

Because you were walking toward him now, hips rolling, eyes locked onto his, and he could feel his body respond before his brain had even caught up. His mouth parted. Breath shallowed.

God, the way you moved. Like you were pouring yourself into every step. Like you weren’t just walking to him—you were offering yourself.

It made his pulse stutter.

And when you climbed back into his lap, warm skin settling over the growing heat in his jeans, he couldn’t think. All he could do was feel. Your nails dragging against the nape of his neck in ghost trails feather-light, his body withered under the touch. Your perfume mingling with his senses what scent was that? and why cant he stop sniffing you.

"You smell really good baby...really good" his nose ghosted your neck, hips pulling you closer. Your thighs oh so soft to him, bracket him so warmly.

He didn’t speak. Couldn’t.

He just looked.

Admiration wasn’t something Bakugo handed out easily—not to friends, not to strangers, and definitely not out loud.

But he was looking at you now like you were everything. Like you were a dream made real. Like he didn’t know whether to kiss you, worship you, or fall to his knees for you.

He couldn’t stop drinking you in.

How had he gotten this lucky?

You kissed him again. Slowly, reverently. The kind of kiss that curled toes and short-circuited nerves. You would use a hand to pull him by the shirt, and when you pulled back just enough to murmur, “Happy birthday, Katsuki,” his lashes fluttered low, heat gathering in his face as he let the words sink in.

His breath hitched when your hands found his chest.

Just fingertips at first, dragging over the fabric of his shirt like you were memorizing him all over again. You didn’t rush—just let your palms glide across solid muscle, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath as your thumbs brushed the edge of his ribs.

He was already warm under your touch. And you hadn’t even done anything yet.

Leaning in, you pressed a kiss just beneath his jaw.

Then another—lower, slower. Your lips parted against his throat, leaving open-mouthed kisses in a trail that dipped down the curve of his neck. His skin twitched under each one, the breath in his lungs turning shallow, rough.

“Knew you’d do something like this,” he murmured, but the strain in his voice made it sound more like a confession than a tease.

You didn’t answer. Just smiled against his skin, your teeth grazing lightly before you sucked. Gently—just enough to make him feel it. And then again, lower. His hands tensed at your waist.

You tilted your head to kiss along the other side of his neck, scattering another series of soft hickies—like you were branding him in lace and affection.

A groan vibrated in his chest.

Your fingers slipped to the hem of his shirt. He didn’t resist. Didn’t even move.

He just watched you. Quiet. Obedient in a way only you got to see.

You peeled his shirt up, inch by inch, revealing the planes of his stomach—warm, lightly flushed, his abs tightening beneath your gaze. You kissed his chest slowly as you exposed it, lips brushing across firm muscle, leaving kisses that lingered just a little too long.

You didn’t break eye contact.

Not once.

Even as you sank further down, mouth worshipping the path beneath his sternum. Even as your nails lightly scratched up his sides, drawing out a low hiss from between his clenched teeth.

His body was buzzing now—caught between restraint and surrender.

And it was beautiful to watch him come undone like this. Strong and scarred and still, somehow, soft for you.

His head tipped back slightly, jaw clenched, one hand gripping your hip while the other fisted into the couch cushion. His thighs flexed beneath you.

“Fuck,” he muttered, the word half breath, half plea.

You hummed softly, letting your lips hover just above his waistband.

“You’re warm,” you whispered, voice sultry and low, like you were letting him in on a secret. “All over.”

And he was.

Buzzing. Flushed. Waiting.

With his chest bare, his breathing ragged, and his eyes glassy with anticipation—he looked up at you like you were the only thing that mattered.

Your lips hovered just above the waistband of his sweats, breath brushing against the faint trail of hair disappearing beneath the fabric.

The muscles in his abdomen tensed again.

And still—you didn’t touch him where he wanted you to. Not yet.

Instead, you lifted your gaze, locking eyes with him as your mouth curved in the faintest, knowing smirk. There was power in the way he was watching you. Tension in the way his thighs shifted restlessly beneath yours.

Every inch of him buzzed.

For you.

“Can I take these off?” you asked, voice honey-slow.

Bakugo grunted, half-dazed. “… yeah.”

He sounded so obedient watching every moment like a patient puppy. His beautiful crimson eyes shimmering under the soft glow of the room.

Your fingers dipped under the waistband and dragged it down slow. The fabric caught on the hardened outline of him, and he hissed through his teeth as you freed him from the restraint.

His cock sprang up, flushed and heavy, already leaking at the tip. His hips twitched upward involuntarily, like his body was pleading before his mouth could catch up.

You made a sound of appreciation in the back of your throat—soft, reverent—before leaning in to press another kiss, just above the base. Your tongue flicked out, tasting the warm skin there.

His whole body shuddered.

“Y-you're really gonna take your time with this, huh?” he muttered, voice rough, but low with awe.

You didn’t answer.

You just looked up again, lips parted, pupils blown, hands pressing to his thighs to steady him—before licking a slow, flat stripe from the base to the tip.

Bakugo cursed under his breath, his hand flying to the back of your head on instinct—but it never pushed, never forced. Just tangled in your hair, holding on for dear life.

Your mouth closed around him, warm and wet and unforgiving.

And he melted.

His head tipped back, jaw slack, a ragged moan slipping past his lips. You sucked him down slow—sloppy and deep—letting your tongue trace every sensitive vein, letting your spit drip down over your hand as you worked the base.

He was a mess.

Every time you hollowed your cheeks and sank lower, his thighs tensed. His breath hitched. His hips jerked upward before he caught himself, groaning through clenched teeth.

"Fuck... baby… you—goddamn."

You pulled back just enough to swirl your tongue around the head, then sank down again, deeper this time.

And he twitched in your mouth, body locking up as you moaned around him.

The sound went straight to his spine—he was pulsing now, barely holding on.

When you pulled off with a wet pop, spit connecting your lips to him in a string, you wiped your mouth slowly with the back of your hand, lips swollen, eyes hooded.

“Wanna ride you,” you whispered, climbing back up into his lap. “Can I?”

Bakugo was panting. Eyes glassy. Completely undone.

He swallowed hard, leaning into your chest to whisper "Please.”

You hovered over him, your hair framing your face so bewitchingly.

You lined him up with your entrance, already soaked and pulsing for him. And as you sank down, inch by inch, his eyes rolled back and his hands grabbed your hips like he needed something to anchor him to this earth.

You moaned low as he stretched you open.

“Shit—so full,” you breathed, resting your palms on his chest.

“Look at me,” he rasped, voice trembling. “Wanna see your face.”

You did. And when your eyes met his—when he saw the way you looked at him, like he was the only one you ever wanted—his whole expression softened.

His hands caressed up your waist, slow, reverent.

“You’re fuckin’ perfect,” he whispered, voice shaking.

You didn’t move right away.

Not really.

Instead, you hovered just above him, your entrance brushing the slick, sensitive head of his cock—barely letting him in, just enough to tease. Just enough to let him feel the heat of you. Your thighs flexed slightly, hips rolling in slow, agonizing circles that dragged your soaked folds over the tip again and again.

A soft, wet sound filled the space between you. Your juices clung to him, thick and sticky, smearing across his shaft with every grind.

“Fuck,” he groaned, head thunking back against the couch. “You’re—fuckin’ killin’ me.”

You smirked, gaze flicking up to watch him.

And god… the way he looked right now? His chest rising with every ragged breath, his lip bitten raw, his knuckles white where he clutched your hips. Every muscle in his thighs was trembling beneath you. Twitching with the restraint it took not to thrust up and bury himself in you.

You leaned forward, your chest brushing his while your hips stayed in motion—rocking slowly, teasing him with slick, hot friction.

“I thought this was your birthday,” you purred into his ear. “Shouldn’t I be giving you what you want?”

Bakugo grit his teeth, his jaw tight with tension.

“I do want this,” he growled. “You drivin’ me fuckin’ insane like this—teasin’ me—makin’ me feel like I’m gonna explode just from the tip—shit…”

You giggled, soft and wicked, and sat back just enough for him to watch.

One of your hands reached between you, guiding him so the head rested right at your entrance again. You gave a few slow bounces—just the tip sliding in and out, each time making him curse louder.

“S-shit! Baby—fuck—fuck, just let me in—” His voice cracked, his fingers digging into your skin like he was about to lose it.

You finally pressed your hips down a little more, letting him sink in halfway.

His mouth fell open, a deep, guttural moan ripping out of him. His head snapped forward to look at where you were taking him in, flushed and wide-eyed.

And you just smiled at the desperation in his gaze.

“are you feeling good baby,” you whispered, dragging your nails lightly down his chest.

“God—yes—fuck yes,” he hissed, eyes fluttering as you dropped down another inch. “You feel so fuckin’ good, baby. You always do. Always…”

You leaned in again, letting your breasts press to his chest as you kissed the corner of his mouth.

“Then you better hold on,” you whispered, breath hot, “because I’m not gonna stop until you’re a mess for me.”

And with that, you finally sank down fully. All the way. His entire body jerked like he’d been electrocuted.

He let out a strangled sound—somewhere between a moan and a gasp—his head rolling back, hands gripping your ass like he was holding onto sanity itself.

You didn’t move for a moment.

Just stayed there, so full of him, clenching around him until he twitched helplessly inside you. And then—slowly, sinfully—you started to ride.

Your hips began to move again—slow, like honey melting in warm sun, like a wave building over time until it crashes. You circled them, let your walls flutter around him just to feel the way he shuddered beneath you. His eyes opened halfway, heavy-lidded and glazed, following every sensual sway of your body like it was the only thing in the world that mattered.

And to him—it was.

“Katsuki…” you whispered, your palms gliding up his abdomen. “You’re so deep.”

A sharp breath hissed between his teeth. He looked like he was trying to hold something back, but his hips bucked once—shallow, needy. You kept your pace measured, deliberate, grinding down into him with that same velvet friction that made his head roll back again.

“Shit,” he groaned, the sound low and desperate. His hands were clutching at your waist now, not to guide, but to ground himself. “You’re squeezin’ me so good—I can’t—baby, fuck—please.”

You leaned down slowly, dragging your lips across his collarbone. Then lower—pressing open-mouthed kisses to his chest, his stomach. As you moved, your body rolled into his, your rhythm never faltering, hips undulating in a steady, torturous rhythm.

Every time you sank down, he twitched inside you, groaning louder.

“I love the way you sound,” you whispered, licking the salt from his skin. “All desperate and sweet. My perfect birthday boy.”

He looked at you like he’d melt.

One of his hands slipped up your back, tangled into your hair, tugging lightly as you nuzzled his neck. You licked a stripe just beneath his ear, then suckled gently at his skin, your teeth dragging slightly—leaving soft, loving hickeys along his neck and collar.

And every one had him groaning, his cock jerking inside you.

“Gonna mark you up tonight,” you murmured. “So everyone knows who you belong to.”

“I already do,” he rasped, voice nearly broken, “fuckin’ been yours.”

You smiled into his skin and sat back again, palms braced against his chest as you began to bounce now—slow, deep, full bounces that had him clenching his jaw and moaning through his teeth. His abs flexed beneath your hands. His hands gripped your hips tighter.

Your name left his lips like a prayer.

Your hips found a rhythm—delicious, sticky, sinful—and the way he filled you, the way he responded to every little grind, made your legs start to tremble.

He felt it. His hands slid down to cup your ass again, helping support your movements as he watched you from beneath heavy lashes.

“Baby,” he breathed. “You’re—fuck—you’re gonna make me come—just like this?”

You leaned forward again, kissed him deep, then pulled back just enough to whisper:

“Yes. Inside. Don’t hold back. I want you to come just like this.”

He let out a wrecked moan, his hips finally thrusting up to meet yours, matching your rhythm.

Faster now.

Deeper.

You clung to his shoulders, your mouth falling open as the coil inside you tightened and tightened—

And then he gasped—head thrown back, mouth open, cock twitching violently inside you as he spilled, deep and thick and hot, fingers bruising your hips while he cursed your name like a confession.

You didn’t stop.

Not even then.

Still slow. Still steady. Still riding out every aftershock as he moaned beneath you, overstimulated and undone.

His eyes fluttered open, glassy and soft as they met yours. His hair stuck to his forehead. His chest heaved. His hands slid up your spine, arms curling around you as he held you close.

Your chest heaved against his, his heart pounding against your ribcage like a war drum. He was still buried deep, twitching, oversensitive—but you didn’t move. You just cradled his face, tilted it up so he had no choice but to look at you.

“Listen to you,” you whispered, voice sultry and sweet as sin. “Mouth full of curses… all because I couldn’t help creamin’ all over that fat cock.”

Bakugo groaned through clenched teeth, face flushed and jaw tight like he was holding onto the last thread of sanity.

“You heard it, didn’t you?” you murmured, grinding just enough to make him jolt, to let another wet, obscene squelch fill the space between you. “God, the noise we made—bet our neighbors think I was drowning in it.”

He groaned louder, head falling back against the couch.

You leaned down, kissed the corner of his mouth, slow and lingering, then whispered, “Soaked you, Katsuki. You feel how messy I made you? Look at your lap—look at what you did to me.”

He peeked down—eyes glassy—and let out another hoarse, broken curse when he saw the slick still glistening between your thighs, dripping slowly down both of you.

You rocked your hips again, so delicately, and he twitched inside you, helpless. His whole body shivered with a groan, his head collapsing on your shoulder "fuck enough"

You grinned. “You liked it when I sat there and shook my ass on it, didn’t you? Teasin’ you right on the tip ‘til you were cussin’ like you were about to lose your damn mind, yeah?” you grind.

“You’re—fuckin’ evil,” he gasped, fingers twitching against your waist.

You kissed his jawline this time, biting lightly just below his ear. His hands gripped you tighter again, like he was about to flip the script—but he was still spent, still weak from how you dropped your ass on him, He just held you there instead, breathing ragged, letting you purr filth against his skin.

The Secretary

The Secretary

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