cw:rough sex, fingering, marking, possessive language,enemies to lovers(??)
You and Katsuki Bakugo are a walking paradox, a collision of egos that somehow doesn’t implode. Nobody gets it. You’re a firecracker. loud as fuck, bold as brass, strutting around like you own every room you walk into. You flirt with a smirk, tossing winks at pro heroes who choke on their coffee, and you’ve got a mouth that could make a sailor blush. You’ve slapped Kirishima’s arm for calling you “bro!” laughed so loud it rattled windows, and sassed Aizawa like he didjt matter to you. fuck the status. You’re a live wire, sparking and untouchable, with a confidence that screams you could chew up the world and spit it out.
Bakugo’s no different. He’s a goddamn volcano. eyes like molten lava, voice like a grenade going off, hands that could blow a building to rubble. His temper’s a lit fuse. He’s all sharp edges and raw power, a storm in human form. You two should be a disaster, like gasoline meeting a match. But you’re not. You’re something else.. two jagged pieces that somehow lock together, grinding and sparking but never breaking.
It wasn’t always like this. Back at UA, you were rivals, always at each other’s throats. You’d outscore him on a written exam, he’d smoke you in combat training, and the cycle would repeat with enough shouting to wake the dead. He’d call you “dumbass” for missing a dodge; you’d call him “sparky” just to see his face turn red. But somewhere between the insults and the explosions, something shifted. A late night study session turned into you stealing his drinks, him yanking it back, and then his hand lingering on yours a second too long. A sparring match ended with you pinned under him, both of you panting, his eyes flicking to your lips before he shoved himself off and stormed away.
But that was before. Now? you’re pros. working the same agency, and the tension’s only gotten worse. You’re partners on missions, and it’s a fucking nightmare. He barks orders like you’re his subordinate. You ignore him and do whatever the hell you want. It works…mostly. You’ve taken down villains that make headlines, saved each other’s asses more times than you can count. But every mission ends the same.. screaming at each other, faces inches apart, the air between you so thick with heat it could choke you.
Tonight’s no different. The mission was a shitshow.
villains popping up like roaches, civilians screaming, and Bakugo yelling at you to “stick to the fucking plan.” You didn’t. You saw a gap, took a risk, and it paid off, but not without nearly getting your ass fried by a quirk that turned concrete to ash. Now, back at the agency, you’re both still wired, adrenaline pumping like cheap liquor.
You storm into the locker room, ripping off your gear with a snarl. Your accessories hit the floor with a clang, your bra and tactical pants clinging to your sweat soaked skin. “Chill the fuck out Katsu!” you snap, kicking your boots off. “You’re actin’ like I fucked up the whole damn op.”
Bakugo’s right behind you, his own gear half off, the scent of smoke and burnt sugar rolling off him. His jaw’s tight, eyes blazing. “You did fuck it up, dumbass,” he growls, slamming his locker shut. “I said flank left, and you went rogue. Nearly got your ass cooked.”
You whirl on him, jabbing a finger at his chest. “I saw a shot you didn’t, you cocky prick. I’m not your damn lackey, Kats. I had it handled.”
“Handled?” He steps closer, looming, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. “You were two seconds from bein’ a fuckin’ charcoal briquette.”
You laugh, sharp and mean, stepping right into his space. Your chest brushes his, and you feel the heat pouring off him. “Oh, please. You’re not pissed I went rogue. You’re pissed ‘cause I was out there lookin’ like this.” you snap the strap of your bra against your skin, the sound echoing in the quiet room, “..and you couldn’t stop fuckin’ starin’.”
His eyes flick down, just for a second, but you catch it. You always do. His jaw clenches so hard you swear you hear his teeth grind. “The fuck are you talkin’ about?” he snarls, but there’s a crack in his voice, a little too much heat.
You smirk, leaning in until your lips are a breath from his. “Don’t play dumb, Katsu. You were eye fuckin’ me the whole fight. Mad I didn’t follow your orders, or mad you were too busy checkin’ out my ass to focus?”
He doesn’t answer. His hand shoots out, grabbing your wrist so hard it stings, and he yanks you forward. Your back slams against the lockers, the cold metal biting into your skin. The clang echoes, loud and final, and suddenly he’s in your space, his body a wall of muscle and heat, his face so close you can feel his breath on your lips.
“You and your fuckin’ mouth,” he growls, voice so low it’s practically a vibration. His grip tightens, pinning your wrist above your head. “Always runnin’ it, beggin’ me to shut it for you.”
Your heart’s pounding, heat pooling low and fast between your thighs. You tilt your chin up, defiant, daring. “Then handle me, Katsu. Or you too scared?”
His eyes go dark, pupils blown wide, and for a split second, you think he’s gonna back off, storm out like he’s done a hundred times before. But then his lips crash into yours, hard and messy, all teeth and tongue and raw hunger. It’s not a kiss. it’s a fight, a war, his mouth claiming yours like he’s trying to prove a point. You bite his lip, hard, and he groans, deep and guttural, pressing himself closer until you’re crushed between him and the locker.
“Fuckin’ brat,” he mutters against your lips, his free hand grabbing your hip, fingers digging into your skin. “Always pushin’ my buttons.”
You grin, grinding your hips against him, feeling the hard length of his twitching cock through his pants. “Love it when you’re pissed,” you murmur, nipping at his jaw. “Makes you fuck me better.”
He snarls, yanking your pants and underwear down in one rough tug. The air hits your skin, cool against the heat of your core, and you gasp. He doesn’t give you a second to breathe, spitting on his two index and middle fingers and sliding them between your thighs right into your soaking wet pussy. His two fingers thrust into you, thick and unrelenting, curling just right to make your knees buckle.
“Fuck,” you gasp, head falling back against the locker. “Katsuki-!”
“Goddamn, you’re soaked,” he growls, pumping his fingers slow and deep, watching your face twist with every thrust. “Actin’ all tough, but this tight little pussy’s beggin’ for my cock.”
You clench around him, hips bucking, chasing the pressure. “Big talk,” you pant, smirking through the haze. “Hope you can back it up.”
His grin is feral, dangerous. “Oh, I’ll fuckin’ back it up.”
He pulls his fingers out, slick and glistening, and before you can whine at the loss, he’s shoving you down onto the bench. Your bra’s gone in a rip of fabric, and his mouth’s on your tits, hot and greedy, licking and sucking like he’s starving. His teeth graze your nipple, just shy of pain, and you arch into him, tugging at his hair hard enough to make him groan.
“Don’t stop,” you moan, voice breaking, and he doesn’t. His hands are everywhere, rough and possessive, gripping your thighs, your ass, spreading you open like he owns you. He pulls back just enough to shove his pants down, freeing his cock, thick, heavy, leaking precum that drips onto your ass.
“Fuckin’ look at you,” he mutters, stroking himself against your slick folds, teasing your clit with the tip. “Drippin’ for me. Needy little slut.”
“Then fuck me already!” you snap, locking your legs around his waist and pulling him closer. “Or you all talk?” Even at a moment like this you two can’t stop bickering.
He doesn’t warn you. He slams into you in one brutal thrust, stretching you so wide it steals your breath. You cry out, nails raking down his back, leaving angry red lines. He grins, all teeth and triumph, feeling prideful knowing he’s ripping your insides apart just by him sticking it in.
He starts moving. Hard, fast, fucking you like he’s trying to break you and rip you into two pieces.
“Still talkin’ shit?” he pants out, commenting as he noticed you haven’t let out a word unless it’s for him to move a certain way or to let out a weak whore type of moan from the feeling of his cock drilling into you. His voice rough with effort as he thrusted into you. “This pussy’s takin’ me so fuckin’ good, shit..feels like you were made for my cock.”
You can’t answer, not when every thrust is hitting so deep it’s like he’s rearranging your insides. His filthy words drip into your ear, each one sending a fresh wave of heat through you. “Fuck, you’re tight! grippin’ me like you don’t ever wanna let go.”
Your legs tighten around him, heels digging into his ass, urging him deeper. “Harder,” you gasp, voice raw. “Fuck me like you mean it, Katsuki.”
He laughs, wild and unhinged. “Oh, I fuckin’ mean it.”
He flips you over, bending you over the bench, your hands braced against the wood. He doesn’t give you a second to adjust, just slams back into you, the angle so deep you see stars. His hand wraps around your throat, not choking, just holding, his thumb brushing your pulse as he fucks you into the bench.
“Say you want it,” he growls, voice thick with need. “Say you want my cock.”
“Fuck, I want it,” you moan, pushing back against him, meeting every thrust. “Katsu!, come on fuck me stupid! don’t stop-!”
He’s relentless, pounding into you like he’s trying to carve his name into your core and cervix. The bench creaks under you and his weight combined, your nails scratching into the wood. Your first orgasm hits like a freight train, ripping through you, your walls clamping down so hard he hisses, hips stuttering.
“Fuck. gonna milk me dry, huh?” he groans, but he doesn’t stop, just keeps fucking you through it, dragging it out until you’re shaking, whimpering, oversensitive and begging. You try to push at his chest, but he grabs your wrists, pinning them behind your back.
“Nah,” he pants, leaning in to lick the sweat off your neck. “You wanted this, brat. You’re takin’ it.”
He folds you in half, one leg hooked over his shoulder, and thrusts deeper, hitting that spongy sweet spot that makes your vision white out. “Katsu-!” you scream out his name in a way that wasn’t in anger right now, and he bites your collarbone, hard enough to bruise, marking you as his.
“Fuckin’ bitch cum again,” he growls, voice breaking. “Wanna feel this pussy squeezin’ me.”
You do, faster this time, your body betraying you as another orgasm tears right through you, leaving you trembling and limp. He’s losing it now, his thrusts sloppy, his breath hitching, and when you clench around him one last time, he’s done. He buries himself deep, cumming with a low, guttural growl into your neck, filling you up as his lips crash into your neck, messy and desperate.
The room’s quiet now, just your panting breaths and the faint drip of sweat hitting the floor. He’s still on top of you, heavy and warm, his arms shaking as he holds himself up. Your body’s buzzing, fucked out of your mind and marked by him, his cum dripping down your thighs as it overflowed from your spent cunt.
He lifts his head, eyes softer but still smoldering. “You good?” His voice is rough, almost tender.
You nod, too fucked to speak properly replying only with a hum and a mumble of words.
He doesn’t answer, just stares, like he’s memorizing every inch of you and the work he’s done making you his. Then he smirks, that cocky edge is back again. “Told you I’d handle your ass.”
You, still weak and hoarse, shoved at his shoulder with your remaining strength. “Fuck off…”
i hate baku-bitch BYEEE YALLLLL 😭❌
errrmmm this isn’t my best work…. it’s a draft actually…. i wanted to finally post something in the return of my presence huzz👀💕🤭
feel free to reblog,like,comment, and also you can request any ideas you have and my blog is a safe space to all my followers! (#freakspace...) I hope you guys like my posts and that i can make your day a bit better with my content(i love all of you🥹)
