Car sex with an old friend or yours
There are two things Bakugo cares about the most: himself, and his new car. His friends were obsessed with it, always finding excuses just to sit in its luxurious seats like it was some kind of prize.
Bakugo and you had been âfriendsâ since your third year at UA, after the war. He wasnât as unbearable as he used to be. Just enough attitude left to keep things interesting. And somehow, youâd grown into the habit of teasing him right back.
After one of your shifts at Kirishimaâs agency as his coordinator and manager, you both spotted Bakugoâs car in the parking lot. He was inside already, scrolling through his phone â probably after a call with Eijiro, judging by the faint smirk tugging at his mouth.
You walked over, and Kirishima got there first, immediately opening the passenger door and jumping in.
âBro! Iâm never getting tired of this, I swear!â he laughed, shoulder-bumping Bakugo, who looked irritated in the way he always did, but didnât actually push him away.
You followed, slipping into the back seat without saying much.
âYou had to bring the bossy brat too, of course,â Bakugo muttered, glancing at you through the mirror.
You didnât bother answering right away.
The three of you fell into an easy rhythm after UA â rare meetups, short conversations, the kind of friendship that didnât need constant maintenance but never fully disappeared either.
Still⌠there was always something unresolved between you and Bakugo. Something left hanging since school days. Lingering stares. Conversations that ended too soon. That moment at graduation neither of you ever brought up again.
He dropped Kirishima off first, like usual. A quick goodbye, a laugh, and then it was just the two of you.
The silence shifted the moment the door closed.
It wasnât heavy at first â Bakugo was still focused on the road, jaw set, hands steady on the wheel. But something had changed in the way he wasnât talking. Bakugo never filled silence, but he usually didnât let it linger like this either.
You looked out the window, pretending not to notice how different the air felt. He exhaled through his nose, almost annoyed â not at you, but at something else. At himself, maybe. His grip tightened slightly on the wheel before loosening again.
âYou always sit in the back like youâre some damn princess,â he muttered, breaking the quiet.
You hummed lightly, leaning back. âAnd you always let me, so what does that make you?â
He clicked his tongue, but there was no real bite behind it. The car slowed at a red light, and for the first time since Kirishima left, Bakugo didnât immediately move when it turned green.
Instead, he stayed still for a second too long. Then he spoke again, quieter this time.
ââŚYouâre annoying.â
But he didnât sound like he meant it. His eyes flicked briefly to the mirror â to you.
And that was the moment something shifted. Not sudden or explosive. Just a crack in something heâd been holding back for a long time.
Not in the middle of nowhere, not dramatically. Just⌠off to the side, like it was a decision made too fast to fully justify.
The engine was still running. There was a lot left unsaid between you. A lot of things neither of you had ever put into words.
But right now, none of that seemed to matter. The silence in the car wasnât empty anymore â it was dense, charged, like it had been building up for years and finally had nowhere else to go.
Bakugo didnât say anything after pulling over. He just stayed there for a moment too long, hand still on the wheel, breathing slower than usual.
You didnât look away, and that was probably the mistake. Because the next second didnât feel like a decision. It didnât feel like something either of you thought through.
Suddenly, there wasnât any space left between you anymore. No words or warning, it was just the weight of everything unspoken collapsing into something immediate and far too close to ignore.
He was over you, kissing your neck deeply. One hand tangled in your hair, pulling your head back and pressing you firmly into the soft seat. Your arms were wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer still.
The two of you pulled apart for a moment, gasping for air.
âFuck... donât you dare say a word about this,â he hissed.
You struggled to find your voice, nearly fainting from the intensity. âI wonât...â
He didn't let you finish. He slammed back into you, the kiss rough, desperate. His hands were all over you, yanking your top down in one blurred motion, leaving you exposed. He didn't bother being careful â one sharp tug and your bra straps gave way, the fabric nearly shredding under his grip.
A soft moan broke from your throat the moment he squeezed your breasts, his hold was possessive and tight. Then he was back at your neck, biting and sucking, forcing your head to arch back.
He didnât stop. If anything, he doubled down, his kisses tracing a burning trail down your skin until he reached your breasts. In one second, he took you into his mouth, his tongue swirling against your nipple.
Your fingers tangled in his hair, gripping tight and massaging his scalp, pulling him closer as if you couldn't get enough. He groaned, a low sound of frustration that vibrated against your skin. He pulled back just an inch, eyes blown wide, pupils dilated with a hunger that looked almost like anger.
âDamn it... I canât wait any longer,â he breathed.
âPleaseâŚâ you whispered.
He gripped your waist, his fingers digging into your hips with a bruising force, hauling you upward until you were flushed completely against him.
He shifted, ripping his shirt off in one jagged movement to reveal a physique honed by years of relentless training. You reached for him, your fingers grazing his skin, but he caught your wrist in a vice grip and pinned it back.
âThose off. Now.â He jerked his chin toward your pants.
You nodded, completely surrendered to him, and slid your pants down. By the time you were exposed, he had already stripped his own, his bulge straining against the fabric of his boxers.
âAre you really sure about this?â you asked, a flicker of insecurity hitting you.
âI donât do things Iâll regret, dumbass,â he snapped.
You let out a shaky sigh just as he kicked off his boxers. He was exactly as you expectedânothing less than the best, fitting for Katsuki Bakugo. He descended on you again, one hand slamming beside your head, the other hooking into the side of your panties and dragging them aside. You were almost soaked, the heat of you staining the foam of the seat.
âTch. Youâre fucking dripping already? Youâre loving this, arenât you?â He smirked, his brows still knit in that familiar, aggressive scowl.
âS-shut up.!â you whimpered, flushing with shame.
He didn't give you a chance to argue. He gripped himself, rubbing his length against you in a slow, agonizing tease, testing your limits before he finally gave in.
âYouâre annoying... stop doing that...â
âAm I?â He kept rubbing against you, a slow, agonizing friction designed to provoke. âOr are you just desperate for this?â
âI am... so, please? Just...â
âThatâs better.â He smirked one last time before he pushed inside you in one heavy motion.
You gasped, your body arching as your walls stretched to accommodate his size. For a few breathless minutes, the sensation was sharp, a stinging intrusion that left you clutching at his shoulders. But as he settled, his thrusts remaining slow and deliberate, the pain dissolved into an instant wave of pleasure.
âFucking tightââ he groaned, the words almost a mumble against your skin. He tried to stay gentle, but his restraint was snapping.
The moment he saw your expression shiftâthe way your eyes clouded with heat and your breath hitched, he lost it. His thrusts became erratic, faster and harder, fueled by a raw lust. The summer air inside the car was suffocating, thick with heat and the scent of sweat, but neither of you cared. It felt wrong, reckless, but absolutely perfect.
âYou feel so good, Katsukiâ donât stop, ever...â you whimpered, looking up at him with a desperate pleading gaze.
âIâ I wonât stop, damn it!â he growled back, his voice cracking as he pushed himself toward the edge.*
He accelerated, his pace becoming frantic, the interior of the car filling with the pornographic sounds of your bodies colliding. His hands gripped your breasts with a bruising intensity, anchoring you as he drove deeper, harder, pushing you both to the absolute limit. Sweat dripped from his brow, sliding down your neck and matting your hair, but he never once broke eye contact. He wanted to see every flicker of pleasure on your face.
âCanâtâI canât hold it...â
His voice was broken, a ragged pant that barely sounded like him. He was shaking, his muscles coiled tight right before he hit the peak.
With a final groan, he tore himself away from you in one sharp motion, his release splashing across your stomach in hot bursts.
The silence that followed was heavy, filled only by the sound of your synchronized, ragged breathing. The oppressive heat of the car had cooled slightly, leaving a damp, clinging chill on your skin.
Bakugo didn't move for a long time. He remained hovered over you, his forehead resting against yours and his eyes closed. The dominating mask he usually wore had cracked.
Slowly, almost hesitantly, he shifted his weight. He didn't pull away completely; instead, he slid down beside you, pulling you into his side with a rough but careful arm. He reached for the discarded shirt and draped it over your exposed body, his movements lacking their usual violence.
âTch... youâre shaking,â he muttered, though his voice lacked any real bite. It was low, grounding.
He tightened his grip on you, pulling you against his chest. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his breath warm against your hair. For a few minutes, the world outside the car ceased to exist. There was no rivalry, no noise or expectations. Just the steady rhythm of his heart against your ear, telling you everything he couldn't put into words.
