Bakugou Birthday Bash - Blog Posts

Bakugou’s head pounded as he struggled to fit his front door key into the lock, roughly smashing it against the cold metal until it clicked. Practically falling into his house as he strumbled to regain his balance, fuckin’ dunce face and his happy hour strawberry daiquiris. He’d always told him that those drinks were the most lethal, the ones that would really get you in trouble.

He hadn’t planned on going out to celebrate his birthday, perfectly content with spending the evening at home cooking his favourite mapu tofu and watching reruns of the American All Might documentary; but instead he’d found himself at a dingy dive bar surrounded with all his friends who insisted on plying him with drinks. Practically groaning at the puppy dog eyes Kirishima had given him when he’d returned with a tray of shots, “You need to let yourself relax and unwind a little, Bakubro! It’s not good keeping yourself so pent up.”

And perhaps his best friend was right.

Collapsing onto his bed as he attempted to struggle out of his jeans, barely able to unbutton them before giving up with his chest heaving. For fucks sake, the room was spinning. It didn’t help that his cock was stood proudly at half mast, bulging beneath the denim and desperate for some sweet relief. He’d spent the entire day bricked up, and the alcohol had only worsened the sensation.

Bakugou unlocked his cellphone to check for the time, wincing when a bright 1:49AM flashed across the screen. But even more glaringly obviously was the influx of notifications that had caught his eye, a multitude of them replying to a post that in his drunken stupor he hadn’t even realised he had sent.

Replies:

Reply from @kweenkatsuki-fics just head, king?

Reply from @kingkatsuki who knew Dynamight was such a slut?

Reply from @saturnsorbits thought you said you weren’t that desperate, huh?

Reply from @bakugotrashpanda video attached, hit me up

Reply from @strafepanzer anyone will do huh?

Reply from @katsukikitten picture attached, location shared, cum here

A Bakugou Birthday Bash Collab!!!!! A mix of smut and crack fics we've whipped up and hope you enjoy! Please be sure to check back for the fics on the mentioned blogs! Fics will be posted around Bakugou's birthday! 420 blaze it 🍃

Intro written by @kingkatsuki

One-Shot: Conjugal Visit

Fandom: My Hero Academia Pairing: inmate!Bakugou x fem!Reader, slight Kirishima x fem!Reader Rating: R / 18+ Word Count: ~8K Summary: You meet Bakugou for his monthly conjugal visit, on what happens to be a very special day. Warnings: Swearing, smut, dub-con, oral, overstimulation, unprotected sex, spanking, spitting. Please let me know if I missed any. Notes: A birthday celebration fic for our resident angry boy, Bakugou. Inspired by that one Prison Break episode.

Last minute addition to the Bakugou Birthday Bash Collab. Thanks @lady-bakuhoe and @jodrawssmut for letting me join. Be sure to check out all the other entries in this Masterlist.

I think my ambition got the better of me when writing this, and I bit off more than I could chew. I have never written anything so explicit - risqué yes, but nothing to this degree; nevertheless, I hope you enjoy my first attempt at writing smut, and any advice for the future is welcome.

Conjugal Visit

You sat in the driver’s seat of your car, gripping the steering wheel in a tight, sweaty grip, while watching the digital clock on the dash like a hawk.

14:28

Thirty-two minutes to go.

Taking a look in the rear-view mirror, you assessed your appearance. You had chewed your lips so much you had removed most of the lipstick you had painted on before leaving your house this morning.

Shit! He wasn’t going to like that.

You grabbed your purse from the passenger seat and rifled through it for your lipstick; Blood Poppy. It wasn’t your usual colour, preferring more neutral tones, but you had been told to wear this specific shade. It was wildly expensive, out of your price range, and you were thankful you were not footing the bill. The same went for your new outfit, a matching red, high-waisted dress that flowed around your thighs and ended at your knees; opened-toed shoes finished the ensemble to show your red pedicure.

After pulling off the lid, you twisted the tube and adjusted the mirror down to your lips. You applied a generous helping of the rich, red shade across your anxiety-bitten lips. After blotting the excess on a tissue, you smacked your lips together and fixed your hair, before giving a brazen wink and air-kiss to your reflection.

You looked the very definition of a ‘Scarlet Woman’.

It didn’t lessen your nerves.

14:36

Twenty-four minutes to go.

Hands back on the wheel, you closed your eyes and took some calming breaths. You needed to get your head in the game.

It was not every day you were required to visit a prison, and you had hoped and prayed you would never have to. However, life was known to have a cruel sense of humor, and had not been especially kind to you in the past six months.

You were here to visit your husband.

The infamous Amber Dragon.

One of the leaders of the Sousei no Ryuu Clan - The Twinborn Dragons. The other was his brother-in-arms; The Ruby Dragon.

They were notorious and well known throughout Japan for their criminal activities; from extortion, to racketeering, to gambling and drugs. Moreover, they were most infamous for the violence and murders.

If you were unfortunate enough to cross their path, you were unlikely to be found again, not in one piece anyway. One poor sap, you had heard, had inadvertently insulted the Ruby Dragon’s mother. Months later the man's hands and eyes had been found way up north in Hirosaki, his feet down south in Osaka, and his torso in between in Saitama. They never found his head. The police couldn’t pin the murder on him and he walked away scot-free.

His brother, on the other hand, had been caught red handed. He had shot and killed a rival Yakuza boss known as Deku, of the One For All Syndicate, a moniker your husband had given him when they had been childhood friends. It had happened in broad daylight, starting a war between the two groups, and The Amber Dragon had taken the fall to stop the bloody massacre of killings on both sides.

Surprisingly, he was incarcerated in a medium security prison for the crime; and you supposed that's what money could buy you when you were incredibly rich and powerful.

You shimmied your shoulders to adjust your brassiere and clear your head. You hated breaking in a new bra; and the thong wedged between your asscheeks was not helping matters. You resisted the urge to dig it out.

14:42

Eighteen minutes to go.

You had been told to arrive fifteen minutes early.

So, it was time to leave.

You put on your peacoat, pulled your keys from the ignition and snatched up your purse. Exiting the car you clicked the button on your keychain to lock it and then threw it in your purse and closed it with a snap.

After taking one last look at your appearance in the reflection of the car’s window, you gave your hair one last adjustment, and morphed your features into what you hoped was confidence.

The armed guards on duty had been trying to be nonchalant with their staring since you had pulled into a parking space, but as you made your approach, they openly stared at you in interest.

One of them banged on the door when you were within a few feet and the gate opened.

You didn’t look at them as you passed, but you felt their eyes follow you as you walked into the building that housed the visitors entrance.

There were a number of women seated in the waiting area. They had made an effort too, to dress up for their men, with fancy clothes and painted faces.

You didn’t stop to chat though, you had zero interest in their lives, instead, you made your way to the window and tapped it to get the officer's attention.

He didn’t even look at you as he asked, “Inmate’s name and number.”

“Bakugou Katsuki, 17042019.”

That got his attention and the rest of the occupants of the room, as all the wives stopped their chattering.

He looked up, and immediately diverted his eyes, but not before you caught the fear in them. It seemed The Amber Dragon’s reputation even held weight here. He typed something on his computer. “Mrs Bakugou, please go straight through,” he said, pressing a button under his desk and the buzz of a lock releasing echoed throughout the room.

As you made your way to the door, you caught snatches of whispering.

“She’s married to that monster.”

“He is a looker though, I wouldn’t mind spending an hour locked in a room with him.”

“Why does she get to go straight through? I’ve been waiting for nearly an hour.”

“I prefer the Ruby Dragon, to be honest.”

You let it all flow off your back. They could say what they wanted, however, they knew nothing of your life.

A male and female officer were waiting for you on the other side.

Just like going through customs at an airport, you emptied the contents of your purse into a tray, which the man checked, and you walked through a security arch. There was no beep, but the woman patted you down anyway. You held your breath as she ran her hands over and under your beasts; and when she reached between your thighs, you resisted the urge to cross your legs. You got the feeling that she was being a little rougher than was necessary, but you kept your mouth shut and your expression blank; refusing to give her the satisfaction of seeing you so uncomfortable.

“Clear,” she said to her colleague, with a glare at you.

“Clear,” he replied.

You grabbed your things and returned the woman's glare with smug satisfaction. You knew she was dying to find something, anything, just to have the excuse of locking you away just like your ‘evil’ husband.

A third correctional officer appeared and escorted you through a maze of corridors with locked doors; each one having to be locked behind you before the next could be opened.

The officer said nothing throughout your journey, avoiding eye contact with you. Only the clanging of the barred metal doors and the jingle of his keys kept you company. However, with each clang and jingle, your heart rate picked up as you came closer and closer to your destination.

Eventually, you stopped before a plain looking door with a large ‘#3’ plaque set in the center; you entered at his command and heard the lock click behind you after he said the prisoner would be escorted to the room soon.

The room had one barred window, set high into the wall, and the scuffed and dirty walls were painted in a bland magnolia. A large double bed took up most of the space, it’s sheets discolored and wrinkled. An old CRT television from the eighties sat on a stand in one corner, its antenna twisted and bent; and a small, round plastic table and chairs sat to the side of it. You scrunched up your nose. It looked like a scummy motel room, and you didn’t want to think of the activities that had been going on in here before you had arrived.

Taking off your coat and laying it on the back of one of the chairs, you took a seat and resisted the urge to pick at your red manicured nails.

After a few minutes, you heard the jiggle of the lock to the door you had come through, and it caused you to stand and whirl around with your heart in your throat.

He was here.

He was led in by a big burly correctional officer, who undid the cuffs that locked his hands and feet together with a restrictive chain.

He never took his eyes off you, or even acknowledged the other man’s presence, as he was released; even when the officer left with a reminder that he only had ninety minutes, and a final turn of the lock after he left.

For a man who usually wore a black suit and tie with a white shirt, the orange prison jumpsuit oddly suited him. He was known for his impeccable taste in fashion, and his vest of white flowers had flown off the shelves, sold out within minutes, after he had appeared in court for his trial. You couldn’t see the sleeve of tattoos decorating his arms but you knew they were there, you had stared at them enough in the pictures of the newspapers. His hair was a mess, but suited him also, reflecting his explosive personality. But his eyes….

His eyes were still watching you, sweeping up and down your body with an unreadable expression.

Bakugou Katsuki.

The infamous Amber Dragon.

Leader of the Sousei no Ryuu Clan.

You unconsciously took a step back.

His smirk in reply was devilish.

“My brother out did himself this time.”

His voice was gruff and gravelly at the same time, and it sent a shiver up your spine.

You didn’t know how to respond, and you probably looked stupid standing there like a dumbfounded deer caught in headlights. Seeing him on the news and in the papers was nothing compared to meeting him in the flesh.

He cocked his head to the side and licked his lips as he walked towards you with long, purposeful strides, and you started to back away from him.

Before you hit the wall, he grasped your hips to spin you around. You steadied yourself by bracing your hands against the wall. Panic welled up in your chest and the urge to scream out bubbled in your throat.

You shouldn’t have agreed to this.

He shushed you with a kiss on the back of your neck and a finger to your lips. “Shh, we gotta make it believable.”

Your heart was thundering now, ready to burst from its protective cage. You had been prepped extensively by his brother, Kirishima, beforehand, and you knew that for this to work you had to play along, but not like this.

What were you supposed to do? You were trapped in a room with a convicted killer.

You did the only thing you could; you nodded with a whimper and felt his grin against your shoulder.

His large hands came up to cover your own, dwarfing them, as his Callused fingers stroked over the backs of your hands and down to your wrists, where he encircled them in a loose grip.

You whimpered again.

“Good girl,” he whispered, as his hands trailed over the sensitive skin of your inner arms to your elbows. Goosebumps followed in their wake, and you shuddered at his ticklish touch. He didn’t stop though; his fingers continued their invisible path up towards your collarbones, only to dip over and under your shoulders to rest above your breasts.

You understood now why men feared him and why most women wanted to bed him; he emanated confidence and mystique, like a panther stalking its prey.

You watched as your chest heaved up and down and his hands moved to the rhythm as you waited for his next move. He moved his body closer and you felt every inch of him at your back, every hard, sinewy muscle contoured perfectly for you to fit inside his caging embrace. Your breathing stuttered when he hooked his chin over your shoulder to look at your face, and you dared not meet his gaze.

“Relax.”

Closing your eyes, you wished he would stop whispering, it was doing unspeakable things to your insides.

They then snapped open, as his hands made a gradual descent over the swell of your breasts to cup them in his palms, and your breathing picked up again.

This was going too far.

Yes, you were told to fake having sex with the criminal, so that the correctional officer standing outside the door would not suspect anything suspicious, but being manhandled had not been a part of the deal you had made with The Ruby Dragon for the cash you needed.

The Amber Dragon must not have gotten the memo.

You knew it was a risky move, but you pulled his hands away from you and manoeuvred around him to put as much distance between you and the murderer.

Bakugou looked pissed at first, but decided it wasn’t worth the effort of causing a scene, so shrugged and put his hands in his pockets instead.

“So,” he tsked, “you want to do it the boring way.”

“Yes,” you breathed through clenched teeth, thankful that little manoeuvre had not signed your death warrant, as you gripped your coat on the back of the chair. You needed to stay away from him, no matter how much his touch ignited a fire in your belly.

He shrugged again and sat himself down on the edge of the creaky bed. “Well,” he waved at you. “Get on with it.”

You felt your face burn with embarrassment, remembering back to when you had been practising with his brother. Hours spent moaning and groaning to simulate sounds of intercourse until he was happy.

“Now?”

“That’s what conjugal visits are for, right? Or did you want a chat and a nice cup of tea first?” he drawled.

Doubting he was the type for small talk, you straightened your spine, closed your eyes and took a deep breath in.

You didn’t think you were very good at it, but if the tent in the redhead’s pants at the end of each session was anything to go by, you thought it was pretty convincing.

You could do this.

As you exhaled, you let out a long, breathy, and drawn out moan.

Peeking an eye open, you found Bakugou watching you curiously, with a raised eyebrow and a smirk on his face. He was finding this amusing.

You refused to be belittled by the infuriating blond, and vowed to get this over and done with as quickly as possible; and if you could elicit an embarrassing response out of him by the end of it, all the better.

Closing your eyes again, you put on a show for the officer outside, and more importantly for Bakugou. You moaned, whimpered, keened, mewled and whined your way to an orgasm. You used his actions earlier to make it more believable as you imagined what else he had hoped to get away with as he groped you. Would he have taken you against the wall, over the table, on the bed, or all three?

As you imagined the various scenarios, you felt yourself getting warm with arousal, and began to throw in little bits of speech as your imagination went wild; ‘yes’s’ and ‘please’s’ and ‘more’s’ started falling from your parted lips. His wet mouth on your nipple as his thumb played with your clit, fingers dipping into your cunt to coat your inner lips with slick. Him pushing your head down to watch as his cock kissed your entrance only to disappear inside, feeling the stretch of his girth.

At the crescendo of your climax, you pictured him furiously pounding into you with that infuriatingly smug smirk of his.

Coming down from your high, you smiled in satisfaction. You had done well, if you did say so yourself.

“If you thought anyone would believe that pathetic little performance,” he said, bored, “you’ve got another thing coming.”

“But I-”

“Kirishima taught you didn’t he?”

You nodded, “Yes, but-”

“This won't do.” He stood from the bed. “That idiot watches too much porn; you sounded like a back-alley whore.”

You glared at him, offended. “I am not a whore,” you bit out.

“Fuck this! You won’t be able to keep that shit up for another five minutes, never mind an hour.”

You didn’t even have time to catch your breath before his mouth was on yours. You hadn’t even seen him move, he was so fast.

“Wh-”

“Just shut the fuck up,” he mumbled against your lips his hand firm against your jaw, “and go with it.”

No, no, no, no, no.

Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong.

You weren’t here for this, but he had given you a taste when he had first walked in, and your body did not agree with the protests ringing inside your head.

What would your mother think?

You were trapped with no escape. If you didn’t comply and decided to call out, you knew Kirishima and his henchmen would hunt you down like a pack of wolves, and you and your mother’s fate would be sealed; that is, if Bakugou didn’t kill you in this very room first. It didn’t matter that you had used his image for your fake orgasm, this was wrong on so many levels.

His grip on your jaw tightened. “Don’t think,” he grit out. “And I promise you will want to come back next month.”

He continued to kiss you more thoroughly, his tongue forcing itself inside your mouth to do battle with your own.

Stuck between a rock and a hard place, you decided to put any thoughts of your mother aside, and kissed him back. A tear falling from your eye.

“That’s it,” he whispered, in a husky tone, as he pawed at your hips and scrunched the soft material covering them. “Be a good girl for me, it’s my birthday after all.”

You knew what day it was, which is why Kirishima had insisted on you dressing up for the occasion. Apparently, the blond had a thing for the colour red; ironic, considering his brother was so closely associated with it.

You couldn’t deny that the danger was alluring to you though; every time you had turned on the TV to see his handsome profile broadcast on the screen it had had you rubbing your thighs together in want, and wondering what he would feel like between them.

He was powerful, not just in strength, as he demonstrated when he picked you up to deposit you onto the bed, but in confidence and charisma. He exuded it from every pore of his body, without saying a single word; and you found it wildly attractive.

Leaving you to catch your breath, he stood in front of you, pulled down the zipper of his jumpsuit and shook his arms out of the sleeves. Underneath his wore a plain white wife beater shirt, which allowed you to feast your eyes on the exhibit of tattoos that adorned his arms.

His right arm displayed a golden, orange dragon; its head tilted back in flight, its wings spread wide as it breathed fire into the sky, and its barbed tail wrapped around his forearm to end at a point on his inner wrist. The red dragon, that was inked onto the skin of his left, looked like it was crawling down his forearm, leaving deep, bloody scratches in its wake with a snarl on its lips as it showed its pointy teeth; this time, its spiky tail wrapped around Bakugou’s bicep.

They were an exquisite piece of art, and you thought they should be presented in a museum with how beautiful they were. It only added to the fact that he was incredibly ripped like a bare knuckle boxer, and the scars that littered his torso only added more of an edge to his incredible physique.

After he had removed his shirt, you used an arm for balance as you reached up with the other to trace a finger down the tail of the gold dragon. He stopped you before you made contact, and bent over your form, forcing you to lean back. He grabbed your wrists and tugged, causing you to lay back on the bed with a yelp.

He tutted in annoyance, “Only good girls get to touch.”

With your wrists still in his clutches he pushed them over your head, as he guided your legs apart with a knee and settled himself between them, the mattress squeaking as he went. “Do as you’re told and I will pay you double what my brother is,” he said before claiming your lips once more.

You moaned, your head spinning like you were in a fever dream. He was dominant and controlling in his touches; you dared not complain as he had his way and transferred both of your wrists into one hand as he reached beneath you to undo each of the buttons at the back of your dress. When you felt him finger the hooks of your bra he pinched them together and you felt the release as the elastic contracted, and the cups around your breasts became loose.

If there was one thing you could say about this explosion of a man, it was that he had no problem with multitasking; he hadn’t stopped his assault on your mouth, or let go of your wrists still in his grasp, as you felt his thumb pressing into your pulse point, throughout the undressing.

It made you think of the other women he had taken to bed to get so good at this.

Before any jealousy could rise in your gut, he switched gears and bit and sucked at your neck, while pulling down the straps of your dress and bra. You shivered as your nipples puckered when they brushed against the heated skin of his chest, and he groaned in return.

“Fuck,” he exclaimed, looking down at your nakedness and moving to cup one and feel its weight.

You arched your back when his mouth descended and laved his tongue around the darkened areola. While massaging the plump mass, he alternated between sucking and licking at the nub at the centre.

He had released your wrists to grope at the neglected breast, and you took the opportunity to thread your fingers through his hair and pull him closer, with a throaty keen. Your legs also widened when you felt his thighs push at the back of yours and he encouraged you to wrap them around his slim waist.

The next thing you know, you were being lifted into his lap as he sat back on his haunches and you felt how hard he was for the first time. Without even seeing it, you knew he was big, and you gasped at your predicament, realising how deep you really were in this mess.

You knew where this was going, and you mentally slapped yourself for giving in so easily. You shouldn’t be wanting this. But there was no going back. You knew he wasn’t going to let this visit end with heavy petting and dryhumping; you were going to have sex with a criminal, but not just any criminal, a cold-blooded murderer, the head of a dangerous Yakuza empire.

Just as you were coming to this realisation, you felt his digits glide along the smooth expanse of your inner thigh and tease at the edge of your lace underwear. They traced along one of the thin straps at your hip to follow where it dipped in between the mounds of your ass. Your grip tightened in his hair and he moaned at the action, taking a handful of your ass and squeezing roughly, causing you to grind against his erection, and let out your own moan.

“Yes,” he hissed. “Such a good girl.”

You bucked your hips against his with his words of praise, and he encouraged you to move more with a smack to your ass.

His lips found your neck again, and this time you gave him encouragement as you tilted your head to give him more access.

“Been too long,” he whispered between nips.

You whimpered in reply, and he answered with another smack before tugging at the string of your thong, causing friction along the folds of your sex.

Oh God, did that feel good.

And when he bought his hand back around, to cup the heat between your legs, you were lost. Your mind was gone; and when his middle finger drew a line along your clothed slit, it short circuited.

“So wet and needy,” he whispered. “No man at home to keep you satisfied?”

You shook your head in response when you realised he was waiting for a reply, and he had paused in his ministrations.

His smile was self-satisfying as he said, “Better remedy that then, eh?”

Your nod was all the answer he needed, as he flipped you onto your back again and kissed a line from your mouth, and between your breasts, bunching your dress around your waist as he made his way downwards along your stomach, and came to a stop at your aching center.

He made quick work of removing your underwear and dived straight in without premiable.

No part of his mouth was put to waste, everything was used; his lips sucked and slurped at your essence; his teeth nipped and tugged at your folds; and his tongue flicked at your clit and probed at your opening. And with each lewd sound you made he went faster and harder, spurring you on towards your end.

Heaven, was all you could think as he devoured you.

You had died and gone to Heaven.

He didn’t stop; not even after you had released your climax all over his face; he kept going. Faster, deeper and harder. When the overstimulation became too much, you tried weakly to push him away with a hand on his shoulder, but he growled and slapped it away.

When he started to use his fingers, in conjunction with his mouth, to explore your innermost regions, you were sure he was going to kill you, if he hadn’t already. Instead of Heaven, you now found yourself imprisoned in the second level of hell, being punished for your lust-driven desires.

His fingers were long and reached places you could only dream of, and with each new finger he added the more you felt that knot in your belly coil and tighten. He was talented and knew just where to touch to get you calling out for more no matter how much it hurt.

“Again, cum again!” he commanded.

You wailed and screamed in agonizing ecstasy as a second wave of pleasure crashed through you, spreading from your core and working its way through every limb; you felt your back arch and lock with the electricity zapping through your nervous system, and a tingling sensation was left in its wake as you came down from your high, prickling along your sweat soaked skin.

Warm breath fanned across the heated skin of your face, as you tried to remember how to breathe, and you opened heavy eyelids to see Bakugou watching you fervently.

You blinked in shock at his closeness, and a gasp of surprise left your mouth when he kissed you again, sharing your taste. He lifted you up to remove your dress completely and lay against the pillows with you positioned above him.

He smirked that smirk of his and said, “Your turn.”

You choked on a second gasp.

He wasn’t expecting you to… Was he?

“Oh yes, Princess, I am,” he smirked. “And I expect to see that lovely lipstick smudged, and a ring of red around the base of my cock by the time you’re finished,” he added, as he touched your lips and smeared your lipstick across your cheek.

You gulped and looked down at the bulge in his jumpsuit.

“Well,” he said, gesturing to his state of arousal, “Clocks ticking.”

You snuck a quick glance at the clock on the wall to find you were already more than halfway through your allotted time.

How long had he been eating you out?

“Oi! It’s my fucking birthday. Get on with it,” he interjected, pulling you from your reverie to look at him again, and he raised his hips to urge you on.

Taking a steadying breath, you took the plunge and tugged down his jumpsuit, taking his prison-issued boxer shorts with it.

Your eyes went wide at the view of his impressive length and thickness resting against the ‘v’ of his toned abdomen. He was so big you didn’t know where to start, and you contemplated on whether you could get away with giving him a handjob.

Bakugou was having none of your hesitance though, as his hand gripped the back of your head and pulled you down towards his crotch with a growl.

Bracing yourself with one hand against the bed, feeling the springs dip, you gripped his cock with your other, feeling the coarse hairs at the base tickling the edge of your palm.

It only took five strokes for him to become impatient with the lack of mouth action, and took it upon himself to remove your hand and grasp it in his own palm before pushing your head down further.

“Open up,” he ordered.

You could do nothing but obey, as the tug on your hair was becoming painful, and as soon as your lips parted and the pink of your tongue peeked out, he shoved you down on his length.

Too far down; you gagged and spluttered around him, struggling to breathe, hot tears brimming your lashes. However, he did not let up; he held you there as you felt saliva and precum pool in your mouth, and like the melting wax of a candle, it dribbled down his shaft to puddle around his hand.

He groaned in satisfaction as your throat constricted around him, your tears burning a line down your cheeks. Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, he grunted as he took pity on you and pulled you off, only so he could stroke your spit along his erection.

Gasping for air, you coughed, and wiped at your tears, while you watched as he pleasured himself. You had never seen a man masturbate so brazenly in front of you before, and it only aroused you further to know that you were a stranger to him, and that he was a dangerous man to you.

“Ready now?” he asked, catching your eye.

You looked between his face and his still moving hand.

It didn’t matter what you said, you knew he was going to take what he wanted any way.

You can do this, you told yourself. You were no blushing virgin and had sucked plenty of dick before; granted, they weren’t as big as him, but you could do this. Nodding in acquiescence, he removed his hand as you arranged yourself more comfortably between his spread legs.

He folded his hands behind his head and settled back to enjoy the show.

This time, you started by scratching your splayed fingernails up his thighs as you mouthed kisses from the base of his resting cock, along the bulging vein on the underside, and up to the swollen, circumcised tip, leaving blood poppy lipstick stains in your wake. You repeated the action on your second pass, and on the third, you stuck out your tongue and gave the full length of him one long, flat, languid lick.

Bakugou hummed at that, so you did it again and watched his expression to gauge his reaction. His chest was heaving and beads of perspiration were trickling down the valley of his pectorals with each movement; his face was flushed and the ends of his hair were sticking to his forehead. What got your attention though, were his eyes, they were heavy lidded but burned bright, like molten lava, as he watched you.

Keeping eye contact, you took his cock in hand again and licked another long stripe to the tip, where you fixed your lips around the head and gave an equally as long suck.

He seemed to like that, as you felt the muscles in his thighs tighten, and his head fell back onto the pillows. You smiled and sucked again, like you were enjoying a deliciously bitter, cum flavoured lollipop. Two could play at this game.

When you felt confident enough, you pulled away and Bakugou’s head snapped back towards you with a glare, wondering why you had stopped. You gave him a smirk of your own before you steeled yourself with a large, deep breath, and engulfed him in your moist cavern. You hummed loudly, sending vibrations down his shaft towards his testicles.

“Fucking hell!”

The buck of his hips, shoved him further down your throat, causing you to choke, and you pushed a hand down on his abdomen to prevent him from going any further, as you pulled away from him.

“Don’t fucking stop,” he hissed.

You complied and continued to bob your head as you sucked, licked and hummed around his cock, and palmed his sack, going a little lower each time you went back down on him.

His panting and moaning became louder the longer you pursued your goal of getting him off, and taking all of him in your mouth; until, unexpectedly, he pulled you off him.

“Why’d you stop me?” you frowned with a wipe of your chin; you had just found your rhythm.

He snarled like an angry animal, “Too close, gotta have you now.”

You yelped as he pushed you onto your stomach, lifting your behind into the air, your spine curving like a stretching cat. He took position behind you; and as you felt the first brush of his cockhead at your entrance you panicked.

“Wait!”

“What now?” he did not sound amused at the interruption.

“What about protection.” You looked towards the bowl of condoms sitting in the middle of the table on the other side of the room.

“Too far,” he ground out between clenched teeth, “and not enough time.”

You raised yourself up slightly, and twisted your head uncomfortably to look towards the clock over his shoulder.

There was still twenty minutes left!

“A girl like you has got to be on the pill, right?”

You nodded, “Yes, but-”

“Then that’s good enough for me. Now take my cock, like the good girl you were when you blew me.”

He never gave you the chance to reply before he entered you.

All the breath was knocked out of you in that one swift motion, filling you to capacity. You fell forward with a strangled exclamation at the intrusion, and if he hadn't had a firm hold on your hips, you were sure it would have been enough to dislodge you and send you tumbling off the bed.

His pace was brutal, and you held tight to the discoloured sheets beneath your bent form as the metal frame of the bed screeched across the floor with each thrust. It was painful, no matter how wet he could make you, or how much he prepped, you don’t think you could ever be ready for him.

This was not how you had imagined how your day would have unfolded. Your job was to pose as Bakugou Katsuki’s wife, and meet him for a conjugal visit so that it was easier to smuggle in something from his brother-in-arms - what that something was, you didn’t know - but you had agreed to the whole scheme for your mother’s sake; she was ill and needed an expensive, life-saving drug to help her get better.

Now you were on your knees getting the pounding of your life from The Amber Dragon himself; and you couldn’t believe you were enjoying it.

Were you a whore for this? Technically you were being paid, and Bakugou had said he would double your fee.

“Better than the others he’s sent,” he grunted over your compromised form.

There had been others? How many fake wives had Kirishima sent into the proverbial lion’s den, or in this case, dragon’s. Bakugou had been here for almost a year now. Did he know this would happen? Had the smuggling just been a pretence and you really were just a paid whore?

You had a sneaking suspicion he did, if what Bakugou said next was anything to go by. And Kirishima had had his little fun out of you too, before sending you off to his brother.

“You taste tart like lemons, suck cock like a pro, and have the tightest pussy in all of Japan,” he moaned, going even deeper with each thrust. “Gonna have to ask for you again, when the next visit rolls around.”

Well, that boosted your ego somewhat; and the thought of coming back to see him next month made you groan. When you pushed back against him and he hit that sensitive area deep within you, your groan turned into a mewl.

“That’s it, Princess,” he murmured, stilling his pistoning hips. “Fuck yourself on my cock.”

Raising up on your elbows, you followed his instructions and looked behind you to find him watching the lewd sight of you pleasuring yourself, his hands spreading your cheeks apart to get a better view. All shame had flown out the window now as you grinded against him, and swirled your hips to find that friction you felt earlier against your delicate spot.

There, right there.

“Yes,” you cried out in triumph.

You watched as he spat where your bodies joined, and you felt the trickle as it mixed with your combined fluids.

He spanked you. “Keep fucking going,” he barked with another slap.

A few more swivels of your hips and you were in Heaven again, shaking and stuttering as your third orgasm of the day sent your head spinning and your bones melting in rapture.

Before you could collapse, Bakugou’s strong hand grasped your neck and pulled you flush against his chest with an arm wrapped around your waist.

“You’re not done yet, Princess,” he growled into the shell of your ear.

“I- I- I can’t,” you stammered, grasping at his colourful forearm for dear life. “It- It’s too much.”

“You’ve got one more in you.” He punctuated his remark with a jolt of his hips, which had you arching away from him - taut like a bowstring - with a squeal, which only made him penetrate deeper.

He held you firmly in place by your throat as he continued to plunge into your, still dripping, cunt, hitting that sweet spot each and every time.

“Take it,” he growled. “Fucking take my cock.”

Your eyes crossed when the callused pads of his fingers joined in on the abuse, and rubbed against your neglected clit, adding a new sensation of torture into the mix.

“Pl- Pleash,” you slurred, dropping your head back against his shoulder. You had no idea what you were begging for - for him to stop, to continue - you had no idea, your brain had long since checked out, and had left you a slobbering, sobbing mess.

He smirked at your plea.

The hand at your throat turned your head to face him. “Say it again,” he said with a firm slap to your abused cunt.

You felt your hot tears burn a path across your temple as you looked into his lust filled eyes, and he licked them up slowly. “P-pl-please,” you whispered.

“Good girl.” He rewarded you with an open-mouthed kiss.

You squealed in both pain and delight when he resumed his assault; your nerve endings were on fire, sending an inferno running through your bloodstream.

Forget Heaven and Hell, you were no longer in this dimension, you weren’t a part of this world, you had transcended. Your shell of a body didn’t belong to you anymore as Bakugou played you like a well-tuned instrument and claimed ownership over it.

He had your mind in the palm of his hands too, erasing everything you knew until there was only him. Bakugou Katsuki. He took up every corner, leaving no room for anything to get past his all-encompassing presence.

You were his. And no man would ever compare.

He had ruined you.

You no longer registered the creaking of the bedsprings or the fact that the bed had moved almost two-foot across the room. You focused on his arms wrapped around you, his hot breath on your neck and his desperate pants against your skin, as a final tsunami of ecstasy drowned you in waves and waves of euphoria.

You screamed as your release flooded out of you.

“FUCK!”

You felt him fill your spasming cunt; a torrent of life-giving essence flooding your insides and squelching as his hips continued to hammer against you, and you felt his cum leak down your thighs from your conjoined bodies.

You both collapsed forward, Bakugou having the foresight to hold himself above you, before rolling to the side, so as not to crush you.

The bedsprings settled their squeaking as the sounds of heavy breathing took their place, filling the silence of the room.

“I think that was enough of a show to keep that fuck-wit of a guard off my back,” he breathlessly said.

You felt your overheated cheeks burn hotter with embarrassment at his implication. You had forgotten all about him.

A moment later, Bakugou leaned over the side of the bed to retrieve his jumpsuit, and pulled out a packet of cigarettes from the pocket; after lighting it, he took a long drag and blew the smoke towards the ceiling.

You shook your head at his offer of a turn on the stick, too exhausted to even lift your head, when you noticed he had also picked up your bra, and was rubbing the lace between his fingers.

It was a pretty bra, one you intended to keep at the end of all of this.

“Hey,” you shouted, when he began to rip open one of the padded cups. “What are you doing?”

“Getting what you came here for,” he mumbled around his cigarette.

You blinked in disbelief.

So you were here to smuggle something. You had been confused when Kirishima hadn’t given you anything to hide, thinking the underwear he had handed you was just another part of the blond man's particular tastes.

“Hah,” he said when he found what he was looking for.

He lay back down beside you and raised a plastic, black chip into the air, twirling it between his fingers.

“What’s that?” you asked.

“A birthday present.”

It didn’t look much like a birthday present to you. It was just a small black rectangle, the size of a memory card. “Huh? What’s it for?”

It must have held some meaning to him, as the next thing you saw was him giving you a hard, penetrating stare. “That’s between my brother and me.”

Ok, it was important, and he didn’t want you to know about it. It seemed he was particularly tight-lipped when he wasn’t trying to seduce you.

“Fine, keep your secrets,” you replied in defence, remembering who you were talking to.

He clutched the little chip in his palm, as you tried your luck and tentatively reached towards his arm and traced the lines of one of his dragon tattoos, like you had wanted to do earlier. “What?” you said to his disapproving stare. “I was a good girl.”

He took another drag and smirked knowingly, “Yes, you were. The second best birthday present I’ve had today. Kirishima really is too fucking nice for his own good.”

“Did you really mean it when you said you wanted to see me at the next visit, or was that a ‘in heat of the moment’ kind of thing?” you asked with a frown, as your finger passed over amber wings. You didn’t want this to be it; you only had five minutes left.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” he replied. “I think we’ll be seeing each other sooner than you think, Princess.”

He twirled the chip again, focusing all of his attention on the thing, and you watched mesmerized at how dexterously he handled it.

“Much sooner.”

You believed him when you saw the self-assured smile he wore from the corner of your eye.

References:

Yes, I did take Sousei no Ryuu (Twinborn Dragons) from Yu-Gi-Oh! I do not regret it.

Alternate Ending - Warnings: Dark Content.

“What’s that?” you asked.

“A birthday present.”

It didn’t look much like a birthday present to you. It was just a small black rectangle, the size of a memory card. “Huh? What is it?”

“The key to my freedom.”

He gave you a look you couldn’t decipher before he was on you, pushing your face into the pillows forcefully and wrapping his hands around your neck.

When he began to squeeze too hard, you came to the realisation that this wasn’t round two of love-making, and you panicked and started to thrash and scream for help.

He didn’t let you though, he flipped you over and shoved the chip down your throat, before you could alert the guard outside. You choked as he placed a hand over your mouth preventing you from spitting it out.

His grip grew even tighter and you clawed at his hands, trying to get him to release you. You reached up to scratch at his face and arms, leaving deep welts behind, like the red dragon inked into his skin, but it had no effect, it only caused him to add more pressure.

“Yes, fight back,” he laughed maniacally. “I love it when they do.”

Your head was becoming fuzzy from the lack of oxygen to your brain, and when you tried to swallow, the chip lodged in your throat and blocked your air way and you began to violently convulse.

You could do nothing.

You were going to die.

Bakugou was smirking again, but this time it had none of the flirty undertones from before, this time it was sadistic.

He was enjoying this.

He was enjoying killing you.

Black spots began to obscure your vision and your hands dropped from their clawing to fall at your sides.

Why had he done this? Why you?

He leaned down and placed his lips against your ear, “It’s nothing personal, Princess. You’re just a means to an end,” he whispered and kissed you behind the ear. “Thanks for the unforgettable birthday.”

Your last thoughts were of your mother as your vision faded completely, and you stilled.