The Pits of Hell
A NSFW commission for an anonymous benefactor.
A spiritual sequel to Tama v. Bakugo, where the latter gets plenty of pit tickles. Who knew that having a sweat-based Quirk had its downsides?
Lee: Pro Hero Katsuki Bakugo
Words: 4,003
Again.
That milky void surrounded him on all sides, an endless expanse of pearly nothing where gravity and mass were but sensorial illusions. That had been the arena of the pro hero's surreal humiliation at the hands of the buxom blonde who went by the name of Tama, who had tickled the ever-living crap out of his feet supposedly to extract information she did not end up getting... but not for want of Bakugo trying.
A part of him had always known that she, or someone like her, would be back. That time had finally come to pass.
To his utter relief, his combat boots were still on. That was the first thing he noticed. And so were his baggy pants, although his belt was missing. Figures, they wouldn't just let him keep his grenades. Unfortunately, everything else painted quite the concerning picture: his gauntlets, his mask, and every other article of clothing above his waist had been removed, and his lean musculature was on full display. The angle of his provocative V-line rhymed with the shape of his torso, even past the shoulders, as his arms were suspended above his head by padded magnetic handcuffs. They had some give, but the identical set of cuffs around his ankles prevented him from hoisting himself up. Naturally, his fists were balled up to prevent use of his Quirk.
"Fast-forward."
"Uh?" Bakugo knew that irritating voice, but he was momentarily distracted from looking for its source by the three walls and the floor that had suddenly appeared around and under him, looking like a television set rendition of an abandoned industrial building. The ceiling and the fourth wall were still missing, and in front of the latter stood a slimy, smirking figure: that of Phantom Thief. Neito Monoma. Fully decked in his hero costume, he was holding a ticking pocket watch as he leered at Bakugo's trapped form maliciously.
"YOU?! What the fuck do you want?!"
"Ssh," demanded Monoma theatrically. "We're on a word limit. Suffice it to say, that I remember who you used to be, and who you still are. And that you do not deserve to be a high-ranking hero. So I will ruin you. You will tell me the frequency of the top 100 heroes' secret communications channel, and everyone will know that you are the one who leaked it."
That sounded positively deranged, though it did kind of track with what Bakugo could recall about the way too slick-haired blond. And he knew he could do something better than rage.
"Ah?! How come you don't know? Don't tell me..." and Bakugo dug into his past selves to extract the perfect sneering tone, "your rank is too low?"
A vein in Neito's forehead visibly popped. "You know my hero rank."
"Why would I?" sniped Bakugo, wrestling back control despite his predicament. "You're a side character. An extra. All that is special about you, you just borrow from others. And you use it worse."
This time, Neito smiled. "So you do remember my Quirk. You nearly had me. Too bad I won't be using it today. No stealing the hard work of others, or whatever it was that you said. No, I will bring you to heel with these," he said as he wiggled his fingers at Bakugo.
"Fuck you," growled the blond, uncharacteristically subdued.ย
He had known this day would come. And he had prepared for it. Well, sort of. After what Tama had put him through, Kirishima had offered to tickle the sensitivity out of his feet. Bakugo didn't really feel like it had worked, despite the many, extremely embarrassing hours he had allowed the redhead to make him wail with any combination of his fingers, tools, and even his tongue and teeth, all of which his platonic roommate had enjoyed far too much. But following the trajectory of those digits, and mindful of his own state of undress, Bakugo realized that whatever dubious training he had undergone, had been for naught.
"I will only tickle your pits," announced Monoma. "And I will start with just two fingers. Surely you can handle two fingers, right?"
Forgetting all about his previous tactic, Bakugo thrust all of his weight backward, cursing like a sailor as the wiggling digits approached his hairless hollows.
"Surely one of the top heroes can handle this much."
Monoma easily avoided the explosive blond's attempts to bite the encroaching hands - how predictable - and reached their warm targets, the dull fingernails delicately scratching at the very center of Bakugo's underarms.
The explosive blond seized up as if he had been punched in the gut, but with his feet anchored to the ground, he wasn't going anywhere. He pulled at the chains, hard, and the manacles did allow him to bend his arms a little, causing his biceps, his pecs, and his abs to bulge. Not an unappealing sight, but a useless effort. So Bakugo had no choice but to try to twist and haft in place, never succeeding in dislodging the teasing digits for more than a few instants, and Monoma allowed it. Let him work up a sweat.
"You are fighting really hard. This must tickle a lot, already."
"FUCK YOU YOU LITTLE BITCH!!" spat Bakugo, all self-restraint obliterated by the dull nails teasing the impossibly smooth skin of his armpits, courtesy of his own Quirk.
"I'm not the one making a huge scene just because I have two fingers - two fingers! - tickling my armpits. So the little bitch would be you."
Bakugo's reactions told Monoma that the former had to be extremely sensitive, but there wasn't even a hint of a smile pulling at his lips, overshadowed by various grimaces of outrage.
How fun.
"Tell you what. I'll set a timer, on this pocket watch right here. Like I said, I will be using only two fingers. If you can keep still for an entire minute, I'll take it as proof that my interrogation method doesn't work, and I'll let you go."
"UP YOURS YOU COW-LICKED FREAK!!"
Bakugo could do it, no doubt about it, even though the two digits probing their way south from the center of his hollows to just above his ribcage sent worrisome signals to his brain. But he didn't want to play that sicko's game, even for his own sake. He wouldn't give him that much.
However, he had been flailing about a lot, and the first hints of a layer of perspiration were beginning to form on his skin; and, to his horror, he realized that even though there were only two fingers tickling him, the sensation did not appear to be decreasing in intensity; quite the opposite, he could already tell that it tickled more than when it had started.
"Damn, you can't even manage that much? How ticklish must you be, really?" teased Monoma. "I'll start in 3 seconds anyway. You decide what you want to do. And let me promise you, I will get so much meaner when you lose."
Lose? No way. That provocation, combined with the chance to make it out of that predicament before anything too embarrassing happened, however unlikely that seemed, actually caused Bakugo to still.
Which immediately proved a challenge, because the gentle fingernails went back to grazing the smooth center of his hollows, uninterrupted by struggle.
Monoma smirked.
"59... 58... Good boy, doing what you're told... 54... 53..."
Oh, Bakugo's grunting, boiling glare was priceless as he forced himself not to respond.
The fingernails started to hover up and down, less than an inch in either direction, just probing their surroundings.
"47... Ew, you're starting to sweat... How long till I start smelling you? 41..."
"Then get your f-fingers out of there you f-freak!" replied Bakugo, but his voice sounded almost uncertain. He couldn't afford to snap.
"Don't make me lose count... 36... 35... 34..."
The digits reached outward, starting revolutions around the very edges of the muscular ridges of Bakugo's armpits.
The explosive blond stomped his foot when they broke their pattern to linger on a spot where his hollows met his pecs.
Monoma looked way too pleased with his reaction. Time to turn up the heat?
"How can you expect to become the no. 1 hero when you're this ticklish? 22... 21..."
Bakugo had planned a much louder reaction, but the dull fingernails applying more pressure to the bottom of his underarms, so he opted for a more cautious, "Says the fucking extra."
The vein in Monoma's head popped again, and the digits rapidly cut across Bakugo's hollows, the teasing pressure stopping when they started to tease the soft skin at the bottom of the blond's bicep.
The sudden change in speed caused Bakugo's abs to contract conspicuously.
"17... Extra. 15... It's all extra with you. 12... Extra this, extra that..."
Monoma's smirk had turned into a grimace of contempt, his eyes even more unkind.
"9... You're the extra."
For the first time in nearly a minute, Monoma's index fingers left Bakugo's armpits.
But that was only so that the villainous hero would be able to wrap his fingers behind Bakugo's scapulae, solidifying his hold as his thumbs got into position.
"5... 4... Extra ticklish."
Bakugo didn't have time to process the shift in tactics before Monoma's thumbs burrowed into the bottom of his armpits, pressing against the bone of his ribcage.
The shock that ran through Bakugo exploded outwards as a dismayed "FUCK!!" before his entire body contorted as if electrocuted.
"AH! So close!" cheered Monoma. Bakugo could twist and turn as much as he wanted, his thumbs weren't leaving that torturous spot. "Too ticklish to win, how sad."
"I--!! IM NOT!!! TI-ACK!!" Fuck, it tickled so bad!
"Next you will laugh. And that's when I'll start using ten fingers," promised Monoma.
"NNNGH!!! INYOURDREAMSYOUSHIHIT!!!"
Bakugo flailed around like a madman, sinking all of his stamina into vain attempts to escape the torment, and even more to fight his natural reactions.
Soon, his hair started sticking to his forehead, and the sheen of perspiration highlighted the defined muscles of his torso.
SHIT! Wasn't it supposed to tickle less and less as time went on?! Why did it tickle MORE?! FUCK!!
He sounded like a snarling beast, but it was becoming clear that there was something pulling at the edges of his snout.
Monoma gloried in his appointed nemesis's inability to even hold his glare.
"You're gonna laugh..." he repeated softly, his thumbs vibrating into that spot at the edge of Bakugo's chest.
The electric blond convulsed, blindsided by the shift.
"SHITFUCKSHITFUUUUUCCK!!!"
No way. Was he... was he really that ticklish?
He flashed back to when he nearly broke Sero's foot with a dumbbell when the latter poked him under his arm while he was about to beat his lifting streak, or to how he couldn't even bear to wipe the sweat off his armpits with a towel, or even stand on one barefoot, at the end of a workout until after he'd showered.
How... What the hell...?
"GRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!! NNNNNHHH!!! SHHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIHI!!!"
Monoma's thumbs took turns digging into that spot, the bottom of his pits, and even in the center, which might have hurt someone whose nervous system wasnโt already overflowing with stimuli.
Not much longer, thought Monoma. Bakugo's face was fully flushed, his chest and shoulders also bright pink, as were his no-longer-pristine underarms.
"GGGGHHHHH!!!! YOUFUUUUUUHUCK!!!! YOU FREEEEEAAAK!!!! DIEDIEDIEDIEDIHIHAHAHAHAHHAAHHAAHAAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAIHIE!!!"
The floodgates had finally opened. In that moment of utter defeat, Bakugo tried to stare at his tormentor, curse him with a glare, only to find out he was no longer standing in front of him.
What he did notice were the two hands poking out under his raised arms from behind his back, wiggling fingers poised to strike.
"You're fucked," uttered Monoma before the ten digits began to burrow into the deliciously slick, supremely defenseless armpits.
"FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHACKKK!!!!" blasted out of Bakugo, as if to echo Monoma's statement, his entire body alight with horrendously ticklish sensations.
"AH! I knew it!! Does it tickle? Does it tickle so bad you want to cry?!" celebrated Monoma. "We can arrange that!"
"GHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!! NHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!!!"
Thos fucking fingers... there were too many of them!! They felt like twenty, thirty, they were too fucking fast!!
"SSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!! HAHHAHAHAAHAAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHA!!!!"
The center of his hollows, they had a fucking love affair with it. That's where the scribbling was the most maddening, or when Monoma started raking at them instead, FUCK.
"FAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA!!!! SHAAAAAAATT!!! GGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAA!!!"
Oh no, oh fuck, that was worse!! The hands were doing different things, one drumming its knuckles into the bottom of his pits, the other scratching all over the center...
Then one was vibrating its fingers right next to his chest while the other was raking all over without focus...
"NAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! STAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHHAAHAHPPP!!! FUUUUUHAHHAHAHAHAHAHACKCK!!! STAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHPPPP!!!"
Amidst the enjoyment, Monoma was slightly disgusted. A thin film of something oily had deposited on his fingertips... was that Bakugo's deodorant? Well, whatever it was, it allowed his digits to skate all over that preciously sensitive spot frictionlessly.
"It's like your pits were made to be tickled," he observed, and Bakugo didn't need to make sense of his words for his ego to be bruised.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCKKK!!!! GHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAH!!! STAAAAAAAHAHAHPPP!!! HAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"
Not the fucking knuckle massage again!
"Just say please," murmured Monoma, his breath reaching Bakugo's ear even as he whipped his head every which way. "And something will happen."
"AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHHH!!!!! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHOHAHHAAHAHHAHAA!!!!! SHHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAAHHAHA!!! STAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHHAAPPPP!"
"You don't even have to tell me the code," conceded Monoma as both of his hands resumed clawing chaotically at the raw skin. "Just admit you're broken. That I've broken you."
Unbearable. Un-fucking-bearable!! His nervous system was throwing up red flag after red flag, while his ego raged powerlessly - anything to end that torture, that humiliation, anything!!
It was moments after Monoma's fingertips resumed wiggling into the center of his left armpit while his knuckles were taking turns massaging the bottom and the inner side that Bakugo, as soon as he was done wheezing, caved.
"GHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!! NAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAH!!! STAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHPPPPP!!! PPLAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! PLEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHASEEE!!"
"Again, please. See, it's not that hard," teased Monoma, vibrating his digits into both armpits.
"RRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAH!!! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAH--STOPSTOPSTOPPLEEEEEEHAHAHAHHAAHHSSSSE!!!! PLEEEEHAHAASSEEEEEEEEEEEHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"
"Well, if you reeeeeally can't take it..." said Monoma very slowly, without pausing his fingers. "Fast-forward."
And just like that, the room was gone, the manacles were gone, and Bakugo was tied spread-eagle to a pink-quilted bed soaring through a milky expanse, his balled-up fists encased in socks... which also happened to be the only clothes he was wearing. Well, minus the ominous device secured to his dick and balls.
As soon as Bakugo pumped enough air into his lungs to take in his surroundings, "WHAT THE FUCK?!" he screamed, more out of shock than indignation; and as he struggled against his new bonds, his hectic breathing hitched as intense pleasure flooded his nether regions.
But where was Monoma?
Bakugo's attempts to look around injected more bliss into his senses, as any amount of movement seemed to trigger the device. But it took him less than a second to locate his captor, as he realized that the uncomfortable surface his nape was resting on was now nothing other than Monoma's crossed shins. Now wearing nothing but a pair of white boxers, the Copycat wielder sat cross-legged at the top of the bed, bearing down on Bakugo's restrained forms, his slightly raised arms ready to descend on the explosive blond's wide-open, inhumanly sensitive pits once more.
"WHAT IS THIS YOU F--!!"
Bakugo's expletives were cut short by a ball gag being roughly shoved in his mouth and secured behind his head.
"Ssssh," commanded Monoma, smiling down at Bakugo and patting his forehead. "From now on, only I get to speak. But you can drool all over yourself if you'd like." Which the firecracker proceeded to do immediately as he snarled, and his disgust triggered a second wave of spit and unintelligible curses.
He felt so exposed. And with all his flailing, the device kept on working its magic, and his body responded accordingly. Outward, it looked like some kind of fleshlight made out of plastic and light metal but inside, it felt like some kind of warm, ribbed goo, and every tiny movement of Bakugo's package created some kind of enveloping suction that was single-handedly the best thing his dick and balls had ever experienced.
"That wonderful toy," began Monoma, pointing to the device that swung in tune to the rocking of Bakugo's hips, like a mast on a rolling ship, "is the Pleasurer 9000. A little jewel, no pun intended. Even turned off it feels amazing, but then you switch it on, and wow. It has seven levels of intensity, which I can control with this remote. I have never managed to last more than 3 minutes on the fifth level."
That explanation prompted more outraged thrashing from Bakugo, which crashed into a wall of pleasure so intense that it caused his body to seize. That thing felt incredible, and in spite of the situation, the explosive blond was already fully hard inside; and the gel seemed to shift accordingly, creating a nook for his head that was tight in just the right place...
"Pay attention," ordered Monoma, and the fingers of his right hand fluttered into Bakugo's armpit.
FUCK! He was still at max sensitivity. FUCK! Why did that thing feel so good?!
"This is your new and final challenge," resumed the slick-haired blond. "If you can keep from having an... accident for 5 minutes, I will let you go, and I will never tickle you again, on your pits or anywhere else. That's a promise."
Bakugo growled and scowled. Sweet fucking deal. Where was the--
"UUUUNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!"
Bakugo arched his back and let out an animalistic moan as the Pleasurer came alive, unleashing an overwhelming massage on all the right parts of his genitals. And the suction... it had intensified tenfold.
"Oh yeah," added Monoma as he watched Bakugo squirm under him, for the first time that night from something other than tickling, "We are starting on level 7. Good luck!"
"NNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGHHHH!!!"
Bakugo tried to bend his knees, slam his heels into the mattress, clenched his toes and spasmed in Monoma's lap.
Unbearable bliss.
Which certainly was not helped by Monoma's digits starting to trace lazy paths in his armpits.
"When you lose..."
FUUUUUUCCCCK!!! No, no more tickling!
"Because you will. That's what you do."
It was just his fingertips, the touches feather-light, but still they tickled, goddamnit!
"So, when you lose, I am going to be absolutely merciless."
Would... Monoma resume tickling him at full force? No... No, he couldn't! Not like that! Not anymore!!
"You'd better hope you pass out quick, because I'm not stopping until you do."
Fuck fuck fuck, that device was giving him the best blowjob of his life, all of the best blowjobs combined... he could feel himself twitch inside of it, the lubrication of his own pre-cum...
"And maybe you'll wake up to me tickling you again."
Those fingers, shit! Why couldn't leave his armpits alone?! He was too ticklish, fuck!!
"You will be cumming over, and over, and over, and my fingers will still be right here. In your hypersensitive pits."
Another outrageous moan rocked Bakugo.
If only... If only those fingers moved faster, tickled harder, they would distract from what he was feeling down there...
"It's your Quirk, isn't it? It's based on sweat, and that's what makes you more and more sensitive."
His Quirk? No, not his pride, his strength...
Fuck, if only Monoma tickled harder... but no, his digits moved so slowly, as if scritching a sleeping cat...
"Well, you will keep sweating for sure. And I won't stop tickling."
How much longer?! It had to be close to 5 minutes... it had to!!!
Those fingers... If they stayed still, maybe he would be able to focus, regain his composure, resist the excruciating arousal...
"And did you know? You get even more ticklish after an orgasm."
Bakugo was no longer in control of his breathing, which was sending him hurtling toward capitulation... fuuuuuuck...
And those fingers, those fucking fingers... sapping whatever was left of his willpower, with the implied threat of so much worse to come...
"I wonder if you get even more so after two, and three, five, ten... I guess we'll find out together!"
Bakugo hated the guttural groans, the lustful whining that just spilled out of him.
The device sucked, vibrated, massaged... his glans was a burning star of want, his shaft engulfed with pleasure, even his balls and taint received the gentlest fondling...
And those fingers, reaching deep into the well of his weakness through his oh-so-sensitive pits, superhumanly so from his Quirk, they finally played the final chord.
"Because allow me to let you in on a little secret. I--"
"MMMMMMMMMMNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!"
Heat. Bakugo's groin felt warm, too warm, and the heat finally exploded, shattering his muscles and melting his mind with pleasure too intense to take.
He arched, clenched what he could, and accepted defeat as the bliss spread outward, and suddenly, even those lazy fingers turned into bestowers of pleasure, the sensitivity of his armpits repurposed...
"Oh, wow. Not even one minute?" scoffed Monoma, relishing the view of Bakugo broken by pleasure too great to withstand, utterly at his mercy. His sensitive, helpless, ticklish plaything. "You are pathetic."
Bakugo's mind stored the words for another time; at that moment, it was awash with blinding delight.
"NNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! NNNNNNNNNGHHHHHHHHHH!!!! NNNNNNNNNNNGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!"
Monoma wasn't kind enough to let him ride out that wave, however. His fingers picked up speed, and Bakugo's pained moans became interspersed with the most pitiful, muffled laughter.
"NNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! MMMMNNNNNNNNUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! GHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! NNNNNNNNNNNNHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!"
From his vantage point, Monoma looked down at Bakugo's flushed, tear-and-drool-stained face, at his own handiwork, his rapid scribbling inside the pink, glistening hollows producing too extreme an effect for the effort involved.
Glorious. Just glorious.
"Was the tickling distracting you? Ah, but I was barely touching you... It's too difficult not to tickle you. You are too sensitive."
Too much, too much! How... How did it tickle even more, now? Even through the mind-numbing yearning?!
"You're still going? I suppose you didn't hate this as much as you claimed. Does someone just looove to have his sweaty, stinky pits tickle-tortured?"
Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!
"GGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIHHHHHHHHHHHEHAHAHASSHHHH!!!! HHHLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLEEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!"
This time, however, no stiled "please" would keep the dull fingers from ravaging his defenseless underarms.
"Does he?"
"NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! NNNNNNNNNNNNNNIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIHHIIHHIHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASHSHSHSHSHHSHS!!!! HHHHHHHHHHHGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!"
"Lucky him, then," said Monoma as he tickled faster, short-circuiting Bakugo's brain.
Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. It was unbearable!!! Oh, how Bakugo would have loved to cough up the code, but how could he, with that damned ball gag in his mouth?! Wasn't... Wasn't that what it was all about? If not, then... *how could he make it stop?!?!*
He almost wished Monoma would speak - would he be able to hear - to understand? - just so the blond's undiluted attention wouldn't be focused on his armpits, on scratching, wiggling, vibrating...
And further down, not content with having extracted every single drop of pleasure Bakugo's body was capable of producing, the device massaged on, readying him for the next round, and tormenting him with a different kind of overstimulation until then...
"I almost forgot!" exclaimed Monoma, leaning closer to Bakugo's head, without lessening his tickling any. "The secret. Well. The code?" His voice was a subtle venom. "I already have it. I just didn't want to pass up on this opportunity."
Was Bakugo's mournful whine a reaction to this revelation, or was it just the necessary consequence of four fingers vibrating into the side of his chest while five more raked at his frictionless hollow?
"Oh, by the way, Iโve spoken to the writer."
Tickled into a thing, meant only to feel the burning ache of his lungs and another explosion of pleasure, one that would leave him even more sensitive.
Bakugo couldn't even see the blindfold descend on his face, didn't notice the tickling subside if it had at all.
Monoma whispered conspiratorially, "They say you have seven more of those in you.โ
