Your stuff is so good!!! The Bully reader is *chief kiss* amazing. Gordon Ramsay worthy.
I was wondering. Instead of Bully Reader bow about Bully Izuku? I wonder how that would work. Boy is slightly feral at times. Have you seen him throw hands during fights? Hands are rated E for everyone.
I'm getting weak in the knees just thinking about it 😵
bully!izuku laughing, watching you shakily get down on your knees, tears building in your eyes as you scampered to pick up the books he slapped out your hand.
"you know, y/n," he spoke, his name rolling off your tongue with malice showing in his tone, "you look so much better on your knees for me, how about you be my little cock slave?" a choked sob leaves your throat at his words.
he chuckled lowly at how pathetic you looked. he was never this mean to anyone but you, simply because he knew you liked him. he'd always catch you staring, your cheeks flushing if he ever caught you. you made your feelings towards him so obvious, and he wanted to see how much you could take— how mean he could be —before you broke.
you never once did.
his hand found your hair and you wailed as he tugged on your scalp hard, pulling you up from the floor and pushing you back against the wall where he had you cornered. his figure loomed over you. "I love seeing you cry, y/n," he whispered softly, brushing his fingers over your tear stained cheeks.
a moan fell from your mouth when he reached under your skirt, his fingers ghosting over your cunt before he pressed down hard against your clit, pulling a cry from you.
"you're fucking kidding me," he said in disbelief. he brought his fingers up to your face, his fingers damp from your slick. "you like this?!" he barked. "I had no idea you were a fucking masochist!" a wave of embarrassment flooded through you as he laughed.
"i-i'm not..!" you stammer, trying to defend yourself. "i,i,i— shut up," he mocked, tears streaming down your face freely as you whimpered. he hummed, his hands drifting to you ass, squeezing the plush flesh harshly before speaking. "maybe I should make you my cock slave, a desperate slut like you may actually enjoy it~"
okay this is so random and I am so sleepy so I hope this makes sense but like
it’s about barbarian Bakugou (I keep thinking about him I’m sorry). and you’re a traveler or something idk but you come across some ruins in an old forest or some abandoned land, where everyone warns you to stay away from because of some bad shit that happens there.
but all you see are old, weird shaped bones that must have been from some ancient animals. maybe some other really degraded weaponry n other old fossil shit. and then there’s a throne.
and it trips you out because, what the fuck, the throne is almost in perfect fucking condition. like it’s creepy how nice it looks. but all you can think about is the warning people gave you beforehand—that no matter what you do, don’t ever sit in that throne, because people who sat there, never returned.
but you don’t listen. just turn around and plop your ass right on that throne, and instantly the scene just changes. instead of the old forest or abandoned land that you entered beforehand, it’s now what looks like a palace filled with bustling servants and hunted trophies, and was that a fucking tail coming outta that red dudes pants—
and suddenly, the cushion of the throne got a lot firmer. you nearly jump out of your skin when the person who was already occupying the seat whispers,
“Now which will you be? A concubine, or a servant to your king?”
miggi. I’m half asleep on sleep medication rn but when I tell you. I can’t function. I genuinely stopped functioning. AND HER HAIR—
the size difference. the camera. his confusion. her excitement knowing she’s about to be knotted and split open.
can I just stop to say that I genuinely appreciate every single thing you send to me??? like not only are all of your ideas amazing, but your writing is as well, and you can even ART???? you’re just so talented through and through and I know we’ve only been talking for like two weeks now but I just really love everything you send me. talented bby and I’m proud like a mama every time your idea flourishes on the dash.
Tag list: @inuyasha330 @victoriaestein @bakugous-trauma @bkgwrites @akari180 @boooooooooom @namjoonswifeyy @missyredbean
this is so late bc I couldn't figure out for the life of me, what or how I wanted Bakugou to cross examine her lmao but!!! here we are now :))
cw: mentions of rape, kidnap, stalking, mindbreak, dark content, panic attack, Stockholm syndrome, non-sexual pet play, please let me know if I missed any tags!
Day One: Part Three
word count: 2.4k
Day 1 continued of the trial of Bakugou Katsuki vs. the city of Tokyo
9:56am
Katsuki could be seen as sweet and caring, even though he was still rough around the edges. To the media, he was a PR nightmare that consisted of screaming to innocent people and being an absolute brute. To his fans, he was simply a tsundere that was just too emotionally constipated, someone that only they could understand. To his friends, he was just regular old Bakugou with a bad attitude that means no harm. To his family, a brat that had been spoiled.
But to you, he was your world. Even though he didn’t start out as that, he made sure to ingrain it into your mind that he would be your entire world eventually. He would be your sun, your moon, your stars, your galaxies, your oceans, your sands, your grass, your breath. He would be everything to you. He would mean everything to you, in the same way that you were to him.
He didn’t understand it much in the beginning. Why his entire solar system revolved around you, a quirkless nobody whose face got swallowed whole in crowds, and why you didn’t feel the same about him. Why you didn’t let your solar system consist of him and his gruff voice and his thick palms and the occasional smile after a long tiring day. Why you didn’t worship the ground he walked on. Why you cried and screamed when he introduced and bullied himself into your home the day he took you back to where you belonged—with him.
Katsuki didn’t understand why you didn’t want him the same way he wanted you.
But after years of ingraining it into your mind, he would be your solar system. He would be your sun, your moon, your stars, your galaxies, your oceans, your sands, your grass, and your breath. He would be the only thing you needed in life eventually. He just had to break you in first, is all.
…
“Miss, could you explain how your quirk works to the court?” Katsuki’s voice booms louder than it needs to be. Instantly, your eyes snap down to your lap, to your wringing hands that cut tiny marks from your nails into the thick skin of your palm. Don’t look me in the eye, unless I direct you to. You listen, follow like the good girl he always told you you had to be for him.
You sit quiet though, let the answer of the question bounce around in your head for a few seconds. Quirk? Katsuki knew you didn’t have a quirk, it was one of the main things he had teased you about. Being a quirkless bitch that needed his help in life. A quirkless nobody that people wouldn’t give a fuck about after your disappearance. A waste of useless space that would be better as fucking furniture under his boot.
“I asked you a question, princess.” Daddy’s tone is biting, harsh and irritable. You flinch subconsciously, gnaw on your trembling bottom lip to keep from sobbing. He never liked it when you cried outside of the bed.
“Your honor, can you please tell the defendant to call my client by her name, and no other pet names he might have given her beforehand?” A familiar voice rings through the haze of your mind. But you can’t focus on that right now. Can’t focus on anything but him and his presence in front of you. How his hands squeeze into fist, the tiny spark of his quirk making his palms light up, the shift from foot to foot. Those are his telltale warning signs that he’s growing upset. You always tended to suffer whenever Daddy was upset.
…
“Make me feel better, princess. It’s hard being a hero. Not like you’d fucking know that, though.” He would snarl, press you deeper into the couch cushions until all that you could feel, see, and breathe was him and him only. Some days you would cooperate, some days you were too tired and sore from the days beforehand. Today was one of those days.
You pushed him off as much as you could, your hands seemingly so tiny compared to his hulking form above you. He pauses in his advance of kissing you breathless, neck craned and halfway to its destination of your trembling mouth, his own pulling down into a snarl.
“Hah? Fuck are you pushing me away for?” He had snapped, pushing against your hands, your wrists threatening to snap under his crushing weight above you. As he swooped down to lock his lips onto yours once more, he was met with the wet skin of your cheek instead. The most warning you had gotten was a growl before Daddy was snatching you up and throwing you over his shoulder.
You cried the entire way to the room, pleading and crying for just one break, you still couldn’t feel your lower half from the day before, but your cries were ignored. He just continued trudging his way to the room, angrily fussing the entire time.
You were thrown onto the bed, too sore to even try to run away this time. Daddy just rummaged through your toy chest, pulling out his favorite leash, grinning at the way you whimper and shake your head no. He stomps his way over to you, clips the leash onto the shock collar, doesn’t care about how much its choking you when he roughly pulls you from the bed to land on your hands and knees onto the floor.
“You wanna act like a bitch? Fine! I’ll fuckin’ treat ya like one! You can be my therapy dog for the day, since you can’t be my good little princess. How’s that sound?” He doesn’t stop choking you with the leash until you let out a broken and humiliated bark. He waits until your hiccups make you lose your breath to finally start walking you around the house. The short walk instantly makes him feel better.
…
“Sustained.” The judge’s words make you snap back to reality. You could still feel the ache in your knees, the burn in your throat, the pain in your wrists from being walked around like a fucking dog in his house. Your owner clears his throat to get your attention.
“Could you explain your quirk for everyone, miss?” The new name is spat through gritted teeth. Katsuki hates it. Wants to degrade you, call you his, call you his bad girl that never wanted to listen. Your mouth feels like sandpaper when you speak.
“I’m quirkless.” You whisper into the mic. You don’t know why he’s asking you this; he’s the main one that knows about your quirklessness. Your answer only makes him smile.
“So, did you feel safe in the world, out and open and all alone in your big apartment, knowing you were quirkless?” Your apartment wasn’t even that big. You swallow at his question, feel that same lump in your throat whenever he would interrogate you about your attempted escape while he was away.
“Y-yes,” you stammer, squeeze your eyes shut. “I was taking self defense classes and had a bat in my room and a taser and—”
“But that wouldn’t be good enough against a villain, would it? Was it good enough the day I first saved you?” He felt victorious at your shaking shoulders, at your clenched eyes, your lips pressed together to silence yourself.
“I-I was fighting back, he was just strong—”
“But you felt safe, though, correct? With your bullshit self defense classes, right?”
“Objection!” Your lawyer stands, sends furious eyes to your kidnapper, who only had eyes for you. Katsuki doesn’t move from his position, just stands stock-still a few feet away from you, hard red eyes scanning your form quickly. You’re embarrassed, terrified even. He wished he could smell the fear rolling off of your body, wished he could lick the tears straight from your cheek, make you taste your fear from his tongue. It makes his cock twitch in his pants.
“Sustained. Jury will disregard, so watch it, Mr. Bakugou.” The judge sends him a wicked eye, waits for him to remove his line of sight from you before narrowing her eyes at him. He shoots her a look right back, before huffing and continuing his line of questioning.
“Do you remember what you said when I saved you from that villain? The one with the body full of knives? Who tore your clothes open in broad daylight?” God, you didn’t want to remember that day. Didn’t want to think about how humiliating it was, how a hero had to step in and fucking rescue you like you were some helpless damsel in distress. You had completely blocked that day out, which in turn, blocked out your savior; Dynamight.
He would never allow you to forget him again.
“Not really,” you answer truthfully, your voice only a minuscule whisper. He’s asked you about this before, badgered you into remembering him. How could you not fucking remember him saving your life, when all he could fucking think about for days was you? How he had obsessed over you, stolen your dropped wallet, stalked you for days and weeks and months because of how unforgettable you were? How could you just brush him saving you off into the back of your mind to be forever forgotten?
Katsuki narrows his eyes at you, lips in a thin line as he tries to word his next thought carefully, before he steers into another direction.
“I would like to introduce evidence number 8; a video recorded from a passing civilian on the day of May 6, 2018, right after I had saved your client.” Even though he’s still looking at you, Katsuki turns his head slightly to indicate that he’s speaking to your lawyer. He watches your trembling form for another moment before he finally steps away, picks up a DVD from the neatly strewn evidence on his desk, and inserts it into the still open TV that displays your collar. You don’t want to watch the shaky video.
It’s of you, though. Dazed and slightly delirious from the panic that had set in beforehand, when that villain was about to touch you in broad daylight. The video is focused on your hazy eyes, how they stare lovingly up at Dynamight, who shields your naked torso from the leering crowd. The person recording is close enough to catch your words, as you smile up at the blushing hero.
“You’re my savior, Dynamight. Thank you for saving me. I’ll always remember this.”
You sound out of your mind. Sound shaky and breathy from your previous panic, you don’t even believe yourself after watching the video. Don’t believe that you really said it, yeah you just watched yourself say that, but you didn’t fucking saying that? You didn’t! The video was fucking edited! It had to be! That day never even happened, you hadn’t even met Katsuki until he had you at his home and you were washing the dishes and cooking him meals and sucking him off and—when had you guys actually met beforehand? Everything is a blur now, everything slurring together, until your mind forces you to remember the practiced speech he ingrained into you in case anyone asked how you met before:
Oh, he was working on the job. We just bumped into each other. I was a huge fan, I had been following his career since his first year at the UA sports festival! He asked me out, we went on a few dates, before I realized I couldn’t live without him. So, here we are!
So what the fuck was this video?
“That’s not me.” You blurt out quickly, your eyes frantic as you try to find a familiar face in the crowd. But the only one you can see is his.
“That’s not you?” Katsuki snaps, struts over quickly to where you sit, to where your body jerks up into a stand. The judge and jury jump, your lawyer gets to his feet, slowly starting to round his desk as you point to the screen.
“No, that’s not me! We didn’t meet like that, Daddy, we didn’t! We—we met when—when you were on the job! We bumped into each other—I was a huge—been following—your days—asked me out—can’t live—I can’t—here we—”
“Your honor, I would like to call a recess. My client can’t continue for today.” Your lawyer calls out quickly, rushing over to you, pushes Katsuki away so he wouldn’t be able to touch you. He looks worried though, worried like the time you had panicked because he said he would be leaving for a few days. Worried like the time you said you couldn’t feel your legs after he had gone too far. Worried like the time you told him you had so many weird cravings and kept throwing up and—
“She’s having a panic attack. We need to get her out of here.” Everything sounds like cotton in your ears. Sounds muffled, like the headphones Daddy would put on you to keep your other senses heightened. Where is he, anyway? He would usually hold you whenever you panicked like this. You just wanted his arms.
You can’t see through your tears much, but you know that big hulking blond form when you see it. You instantly reach out to him, make grabby hands that you know will be filled with him and his scent and his soft words and the tone reserved for when you couldn’t breathe.
He pushes his way over to you, grabs you up in his arms to hold you against his chest. And for a moment, you’re granted with peace. Granted with the calm satisfaction of being safe and being with the one person in the world you loved most.
But that peace and that satisfaction is cruelly ripped away from you when he’s pulled away. When you’re pulled away, as someone grabs you and holds you in their arms, as they lead you out of the door from behind where you sit. Someone yells for Katsuki not to touch you, and it almost sounds like your parents voice. But you don’t need them anymore. You don’t need their hugs or their comfort or their gruff shushes or their love anymore. All you need is him.
Pro-hero BAKUGO with his own agency obsessing over his new sweet perfect little assistant, just needing to have her all to himself, the JELAOUSY
yandere boss ! BAKUGO KATSUKI x assistent
Tip-jar
goodiebag WARNINGS: nsfw, misogyny, obsession, dubcon/noncon, profanity, this got looong, Kirishima is such a jock, abuse of power, not that much jealousy per se, but Bakugo being protective and obsessive and horny af, uhm slight mommy kink kinda
WANTS & NEEDS
Bakugo stormed towards the elevator, not letting the sliding doors of the entrance to his agency slow him down, making a dedicated beeline towards his office on the sky-floor.
Anyone else would have thought he was grumpy as per usual, therefor keeping their distance, but like always, it didn't stop Kirishima.
"I don't want another wide-eyed snivelling slutty ditzy assistant, Shitty-hair." The explosion-hero grumbled in the elevator, still visibly pissed off that he wasn't allowed to simply explode his way to the top, reduced to wasting a whole two minutes standing still, forced to listen to the makeshift red-head's yapping whining on about what he can and can't do, what he must and mustn't, what he needs and needn't, what's best of him and what's best for him, with a thousand means to no end.
"Give her a try-" The red-head pushed in a drawl, only barely having lost any of the enthusiasm he started off with when they were on the first floor. "I heard she’s supposed to be great!" He beamed, teeth shiny like razors in his mouth. "And pretty."
Bakugo didn't even bother giving him a glance, rolling his eyes beneath his eyelids, the toothy smile of his friend and coworker too bright an annoying light to face in the morning.
"I don't understand why you bother..." He allowed himself to calm down, knowing it was about another minute left in the tight space, and how no one else could hear his crude words, nor the insecurity hidden in them. "If it’s a lady she’s gonna be too sensitive anyway."
He always sent them crying, this one would be no different.
"One; you’re the one who’s too insensitive." Kirishima raised his finger, another one following, marking his additional argument. "And two; that’s wicked misogynistic, Bakugo."
"It’s been true so far." The ash-blonde grumped.
"Yeah, but please don't say that shit in front of anyone but me, yeah?" He urged. "At least not when we reach the top floor."
Katsuki turned to look at him for the first time that morning. "What's on the top floor?" He did not look amused.
Kirishima twirled his fingers innocently. "Well... I might have gone and taken the liberty of hiring you a new assistant-"
"Fucking dammit, Kiri, I told you! I don't want a new assistant!" The pro-hero groaned, whining like a child only with the growl of a man, trying to keep his breath calm while carding his fingers through his hair, yanking on it, feeling the need to rip it from his scalp to hold himself back from punching the apologetic smile off of Kirishima's face.
"Man, you need one!" The red-head defended, finally stopping at treating his friend like a piece of glass, seeing that his shell had already broken.
Katsuki only grunted in return, shaking his head, sighing. Giving Kirishima the cold-shoulder. Knowing that if he opened his mouth to say anything more, it would be far pretty. He instead opted for reducing his anger to mere growling and brooding for the remaining minute stuck beside the pest that was his bothersome friend.
"You'll love her." The sturdy-hero insisted, putting his fists to his hips while puffing up his chest, chin raised in a way that told Bakugo he couldn't be told otherwise.
The brute huffed as he folded his arms back over his chest, wordlessly disagreeing. Looking up with glaring alarm-red eyes to the lit numbers above the door while tapping his combat-boot-wearing foot loudly against the floor, frustrated with how Kirishima stood beside him optimistically drumming his fingers on his thigh to the beat of the brain-rotting elevator-music, yet slightly uplifted to see he was closer to being allowed to lock himself away in his office and stay there unbothered by the likes of pesky meddling friends and dumb fragile assistants.
.
She stood there, awkwardly awaiting her new boss where the red-head had left her to go receive him.
Kirishima was nice, a type of friendly she knew she shouldn't be expecting from the explosion-hero. Which is why her palms were sweating so embarrassingly much, making her wipe down her skirt, also in an effort to straighten it, where the ding of the elevator only aided in making her heart skip along faster, looking down to see if her blouse was still perfectly situated. She swallowed her anxiety as the two men neared her, trying to wipe her face free of timidity, knowing how such fragility would not survive here, in Pro-hero Great Explosion Murder God Dynmight's Agency.
She reached her hand out first, wanting to make a strong first impression, the intent almost leading to her leaping forward into the man. "Hie! I'm-" But her offered hand was disregarded before she could do as much as finish her introduction.
Without giving her so much as a glance, the tall muscular male didn't even slow down, but continued to walk straight past her, leaving her only one curt cruel comment.
"Listen, kid, I don't need another snivelling crybaby getting tears in my coffee. Don't bother unpacking." He grouched, cutting her off, trying to stomp off in direction of his office, yet stopped by the other male who had his mouth gaping in disbelief at his rude friend.
"He doesn't mean that." Kirishima assured. "He really needs you-" He tried defending, but it apparently was unneeded.
She was ambitious to prove she could handle herself.
"I'll be sure to put a lid on the cup, sir." She made her voice sound cool and unbothered, face relaxing nonchalantly though still with a small soft smile to compliment her pretty face.
Bakugo gaze went from glaring at the red-head to offering the snippy thing a side-look.
Kirishima looked stunned for a moment too before giving a loud grin, eyes glinting. "See? She can handle you!" He nearly shouted, enthusiastically giving Bakugou a punch to his shoulder. "Come with me! I'll help you settle in."
The man placed a massive gravely hand to the small of her back, guiding her, taking her box from her without asking in order to carry it for her. She would tell him she could manage on her own, but she'd already come to terms with his slightly domineering acts of manliness and opted for simply smiling in gratitude instead of going full feminist on his out-dated acts of chivalry.
"You'll be primarily Bakugo's assistant and receptionist. But, to be completely honest with you, you'll probably have to be a bit of a babysitter and maid as well."
The ash-blonde gave a sigh as he stalked on, leaving Kirishima to take care of the new office pretty addition, not happy with how his friend was describing him, yet not bothered enough to stop him.
"He's very needy, lazy in a sense, he can't be bothered with fixing his calendar and getting his coffee, addressing the public and that sorta thing, so you'll take care of it for him." He informed as he walked her to the glass desk placed lonely outside Bakugo's office.
"Of course-" She nodded her head, listening and agreeing. "I'm here to make his life easier."
"Exactly!" Kirishima said with a smile. "I knew you were perfect!"
Bakugo shook his head with little thrill.
Kirishima said that about every assistant he'd gone and hired on his behalf.
He looked at her before closing the door to his office, analysing what he saw with an uninterested face, taking in her straight posture, standing there like a doll with her knees together, hands on her lap, nodding her head pliantly to Kirishima's every word.
He allowed for his scarlet-eyes to judge.
Mundane pencil-skirt tight-fitted, yet appropriate, reaching just beneath her knees, showing off calves and nothing more as her boots hid her ankles. It was the first time he'd seen a woman in an office without stilettos or any other annoyingly loud power-heel on. Her blouse was modest too, no see-through fabric, no bright pop colour, no cleavage, just boring rose-beige reaching up beneath a set of pretty collarbones and an un-necklaced throat.
Pretty in a plain sort of way.
He made a note of how she wasn't dressed like a slut, how she looked nothing like those other assistants that came before her, who curled their hair to crispy meanders bouncing as they fake-laughed, with pink manicured nails curling around Kirishima's bulging biceps as he flirted with them.
Fucking disgusting.
He's pretty sure the red-head had banged about every bratty bitchy lazy assistant he's had, knowing how the toothy moron has it as some type of wager with himself, a goal to make each dumb pretty-girl even dumber on his dick.
This one looked sweet though.
Not at all like some brain-dead plastic bimbo hoping to be swept up by a sugar-daddy, or a power-hungry manipulative bitch looking for fame and publicity.
This one simply looked happy to be there.
No ulterior motives sept to do her job.
He nearly felt bad for her, knowing how his dumb-as-a-rock friend was going to abuse his popularity yet again and play her like a football match; first base, second base, third base, and home run, only to then kick her to the curb. Leave her as a crazy ex-girlfriend, bitter and sour with a thirst for vengeance, or a brokenhearted mess, whiny and snotty with mascara streaming down her face, ending up just a complete ghost in a shell, featherbrained and simply useless. Making him do the dirty work of firing a poor snivelling mess only because his stupid friend couldn't control his sadistic carnal urges.
Bakugo sighed.
With just one more glance, he clicked his tongue and huffed, closing his door with a mumble. "She'll be gone before the week's up."
.
First day went by without speaking to the boss, but she was adamant on making a change the day after. Realising she couldn't expect him to meet her halfway, she recognised how he needed her to do most of the talking and approaching all on her own.
So, she ran her hands through her hair a couple more times like a comb, straightened her skirt and fixed her blouse, cradled her tablet in her arm for quick easy note-taking and pulled her bag onto the other shoulder. Holding the boss' coffee in one hand, she took a deep breath and knocked on his door with the other.
He made a grunt, which could have just as easily meant go away instead of enter, but she decided on the latter.
"Good morning, sir."
She clicked inside the spacious office, allowing for just one brief moment to take in the breath-robbing panoramic-view of the entire skyline of Japan shown through his curtain-windows. Refraining from gulping at the vastness of it all as she placed his cup down on the clear glass of his desk.
"Coffee, snack, newspaper, agenda for the day." She listed, placing each item down neatly on his desk, having organised and printed out his schedule the day prior in order to come in prepared. Feeling slightly like she was baby-sitting, rethinking that the snack might have been a touch too much, giving he was a grown man and not a toddler. Yet, she couldn't shake the feeling he'd skimmed breakfast, her sixth-sense telling her he was hungry.
He didn't look up, busy studying his gauntlet, struggling with cleaning out the insides of his gloves, but took a second to reach towards the newspaper, face scrunched in concentration and mild frustration.
She'd picked up the inkling feeling that he preferred the paper-version news above electronic, something that seemed to prove as true as he wordlessly started flipping the pages.
Understanding she wouldn't be getting much more of a reply, she continued explaining the agenda. "Pro-hero Deku filed to have your ten o'clock meeting moved up to twelve. He's awaiting our reply." Short, sweet and impersonal is what she'd decided the best tactic when speaking to her new boss, leaving all pleasant but unnecessary chit-chat in the dust.
"Tell him to fuck off." He mumbled, still not looking up, however apparently listening.
Without much hesitance she replied. "Sure thing, I'll proceed to tell the number-one-hero to fuck off." She repeated, scribbling down the note on her tablet. "I'm sure he'll understand the meeting will be held at ten like originally scheduled, and no later."
At least she doesn't cry over curse-words, Bakugo thought, pretending to read with an unfazed expression on his face. She brought him a snack? That's kind of weird, no other assistant had ever done that... but he was hungry. Strange she knows how he prefers things in a physical form, both the newspaper and the schedule printed out instead of e-mailed to him. Kirishima had probably shared the knowledge.
He reached for the coffee, making a note how it wasn't poured in some flimsy plastic or paper cup, but a glass mug, just the way he likes it.
Her and Kirishima must have been talking about him for a long time if she already knows all this about him, or maybe it was just all on her whim.
That seemed unlikely.
But still, even with Kirishima's guidance, it was impressive how everything had gone strangely perfect so far.
He put the cup to his lips, taking a sip. What the.... hell?
The coffee tasted different. Good, but different.
But... really good.
"The HPSC has filed for a call at two-" She continued, not noticing the puzzlement hidden beneath his gruff expression, too occupied with quietly studying his fairly barren office, noting how it was just his desk and a bookshelf and an absurd amount of empty space. "But I believe I can handle the meeting on my own where we're most likely to discuss your public face." She offered, getting a feeling he didn't enjoy discussing trivial maters on call with a room full of suits. "I could tell them to fuck off as well, but I suggest we offer something that'll ease their worries."
Bakugo scoffed. "Who the fuck knows what they want? Nothing's ever enough for those asshats." He nearly chugged the rest of the coffee after his statement, setting the cup down with a bang on the glass table-top, going back to tweaking at the gauntlet leaking oil all over his desk.
She noticed the mess. Dirty clean-wipes scattered everywhere as though he were sick, but clearly made dirty by grease, crumpled and tossed aside when no longer useful.
Cringing, she decided to walk about and pick up after him while speaking, feeling awkward simply standing there.
"I could tell them that you're willing to colab more with pro-hero Deku."
He made a sound, but she decided to push on, dumping a sum of a dozen clean-wipes into the trashcan beside his desk.
"Unlike you, the public adores him. And lucky for you, he seems to adore you." She explained, fishing a new container of clean-wipes form her bag, placing it on his desk. "I would think giving the media a piece of your upbringing as childhood friends to rivals to coworkers will be an easy way of giving your likability a boost."
He scoffed, reaching for the fresh wipes she'd placed down in front of him, pulling out a handful to rub away the sweat of his quirk smeared on the insides and clogging up the mechanism of his gauntlet.
"Deku'd get a real fucking hard-on if I ever agreed to some pussy-shit like that."
She didn't pay his swears any mind. "It's just a thought. Perhaps something you can bring up at your ten o'clock meeting if you change your mind on the matter." She professionally dismissed his unprofessional choice of words. "I'll think of other less crucial options that you might favor until then." She made some more notes on her pad before continuing. "Other than that, Red Riot wished to relay a message: he's taking the one to five patrol, and requested you take the morning. I have already made arrangements for another hero to take on the patrol between nine and one where you'll be caught in your meeting with pro-hero Deku. I can do further arrangements to clear up you're entire day if you wish to prepare-"
"Nah, I'll do it." He stood up, stretching with a yawn. "Anything else people need from me today?" He grabbed the snack, ripping loose the paper before stuffing his face.
She watched the crumbs fall to the floor and made a mental reminder to vacuum while he was out. "Not at this moment, but I'll be sure to let you know."
"Fine. Leave." Mouth full as he ordered, giving a half-hearted swat of his hand in the direction of the door, shooing her off as though she were a bug buzzing about him.
She didn't take offence, rather finding her first day going off to quite the good start seeing how he hadn't yelled at her yet. "I'll see you at nine, sir." She turned, walking off just the way she came, opening and closing the door behind her with a soft click.
Bakugo watched her go.
That wasn't terrible.
.
"Fuck's this?" Was the first thing the boss said as soon as he walked into his office, back from his patrol, pointing a straight finger to the steaming cup on his desk while she was busy organising the documents stuffed hap-hazardously into the bookshelf, fixing the scotch bottles and glasses that laid hidden behind trash and other documents, fan mail and gifts she'd taken the liberty of opening, most of them written and drawn by little kids.
Looking back over her shoulder, she answered. "Tea." Refraining from turning around completely to acknowledge him, busy dusting the shelves.
"I ain't ask for tea." He grumbled, ridding his arms of his already dirty gauntlets on the table she'd just rubbed clean. In spite of it, she didn't let herself fret.
"Your nerves are static, tea will smooth them over before Pro-hero Deku arrives." She explained, finishing up with the bookshelf, turning around, taking in the muddled look on his face. "You needn't drink it, I just thought I'd give you the option of..."
She wanted to find a better word for it, but figured the straightforward boss probably favoured straightforwardness.
"A sound mind." She picked her bag from the floor, and started heading out. "Drink, if you wish, I'll go see to it that the conference room is-"
"What's this for?" She stopped, looking back to see him lifting the suit she'd picked from the dresser beneath the bookshelf, dusted free of rubble and other dirt, ironed to perfection by herself just half an hour before he arrived.
"The suit?" She tilted her head to the side, looking puzzled. "Well... it's a business meeting." She looked him up and down, smog coating his otherwise tan sand-coloured skin, some small cuts still bleeding red. Her brows furrowed. "You weren't planning on going like this, were you?" Her finger pointed at him, bobbing at his hero get-up, trashed and tethered and in no way presentable.
"I ain't dressing up for Deku."
She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Think of it this way. One picture." She looked him in the eye, needing to make sure he was listening, even though he'd hadn't proved himself to be one that doesn't pay attention. "One lousy picture on Pro-hero Deku's snapchat feed or instagram or facebook of the two of you in suits would do wonders to your reputation."
It was Bakugo's turn to sigh now, groaning out in exasperation.
"Don't get me wrong-" She defended. "Greasy sweaty pictures of you and Pro-hero Red Riot grant you many fans. The media loves your bromance, but that would double if you prove yourself civilised and friendly to the number-one-hero." She argued, fishing for his agreement, feeling as though she was loosing him to his irritation. "He talks of you constantly, how you were the inspiration for his hero-name, how you made him the man he is today-"
"I ain't gonna freeload of Deku's cheesy poster-boy smile." He insisted, throwing the suit to the desk and plopping down like a sack in his chair.
She huffed, small fists balling at her sides, not ready to give up and not done stating her case, stomping up to him.
"That's not what you would be doing." She denied. "As it stands right now, the way the public view you is as a bully who cares only for one thing-" She chastised. "But sit down with Pro-hero Deku, he'll ask for a picture, like he always does, probably an autograph as well, and all you need is just grin that trademark smirk that have the girls go weak in the knees and suddenly all of Japan will know that there are plenty of sides to pro-hero Dynamight aside from being an explosive in the field."
She picked up the suit so it wouldn't wrinkle, hanging it on the minimalistic mute servant by the door.
"Furthermore, the HPSC will get off your back and won't get back on it, because that one picture with Deku will have such ripple-effects in your carrier that no one can chastise you for being too scary or unapproachable or-"
"Fine." He stopped her rambling, seeing her point. "Where exactly am I supposed to change?" He had an attitude about his tone stating he didn't really enjoy being forced to see reason, despite it being for his own good.
"First-" She picked up the remote she'd found stuffed in one of the drawers of the bookshelf, clicking on the button she'd found out opened up for a built-in shower at the corner of the office. "Shower." She pointed like a strict mother, or a master ordering her dog around.
"You expect me to shower in front of the entire office?" He asked, tone rather childish in its aggressive sarcasm.
But she only giggled at his attitude, clicking another button on the remote he had no idea controlled anything more but the lights.
"I'll leave you to it."
The blinds rolled over all four of his window walls, the office carpeted and the lights of Tokyo city snuffed out, his glass-cage turned into a blackbox, dim moody lights brightening on their own.
She placed the remote on his desk and turned to leave.
"Call on me if you need help with your tie."
Why did she have to say that?
Almost as though she knows he couldn't tie one even if his life depended on it.
.
He hated wearing suits.
Too tight and constricting, too easy to rip.
And warm and sweaty. The cotton and wool doesn't breathe enough.
And it's loud. The polyester-lining swishing and rubbing when he walks.
It's the same type of embarrassing as when girls where heals that echo through the hallways with each pounding step.
He felt like a fucking show-pony.
An uncomfortable show-pony at that.
He thought of his assistant. How it had only been a day and she was already forcing him to act like some bloody dance-monkey, and succeeding no less.
Why the fuck was he taking advice from some brat in boots anyway?
Dressing up for a dipshit like Deku just because she told him to?
What the fuck has happened?
What the fuck did she put in that tea?
Calm his nerves?
What the fuck does that even mean?
He's always calm! He's never not calm!
He's the fucking definition of calm!
He stormed out, but stopped immidiatly at the giggling behind his door. "So, any plans for the weekend?" Kirishima sat on her desk, bright smile plastered on his face, the one that makes people feel as though they can tell him anything, as though they can trust him with their deepest darkest secrets.
"Why yes, actually." She replied, small secretive smile curling her lips, making her dimples pop.
"Hmm, let me guess..." The red-head chuckled a playful light-hearted laugh, wiggling his brows at her. "A date?"
She gave am impressed look, mouth slightly parting before giving him a smile. "How'd you know?"
"My excellent people-reading-skills." He boasted with a grin, before leaning down to her level, voice significantly lower, the voice Bakugo had heard him use too many times on countless poor unsuspecting ladies, each one hanging off his words like moths to fire, so quickly to burn themselves. "You've been smiling to yourself all day."
She turned red. "Have I really?" She hurried out in a whisper, eyes timid like a baby-deer, bashfully looking down at her lap. "Is it that obvious?"
Dorks are so fucking cute.
Kirishima had to stop himself from licking his lips.
"You're blushing like a schoolgirl." The goofy smile on his face turned sharper and sharper, almost amounting to that hungry smirk Bakugo knew always lied in wait like a predator, waiting for the moment he felt he'd played enough with his prey. "Been a while, buttercup?" He saw the way Kirishima's eyes gleamed, thrilled and basking in making the little assistant blush, flustered and embarrassed by his questions and flirty devil-eyes.
"No..." She said sheepishly, obviously lying, but Kirishima just found that cuter.
"But this one's different?" He pried, adoring the way she pressed her knees together beneath the clear glass of the desk, toes pointed inward at each other meekly.
"I don't know..." Her smile was gone, eyes shy under Kirishima's domineering charisma, resisting the urge to bite her lip.
But someone's had enough of their conversation to let it continue.
"Keep your fucking personal life to yourself." Bakugo barked, announcing himself, rescuing her from getting caught on Kirishima's teeth.
"Wow, Bakugo, dude-" The red-head feigned innocence, but Bakugo gave him a look.
"You got that?" He looked to the girl who wore an expression that seemed oddly happy to see him, relieved in some sense.
"Yes, sir." She nodded, feeling her heart slow to its normal pace.
"And quit taking up Kirishima's time, he's got better shit to do than flirt with you." He seemed angry, but she remained bright nonetheless.
"Of course, sir."
Red Riot rolled his eyes with a smirk on his face, throwing his head back with a laugh. "Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed."
"I ain't fucking around, Shitty-hair." The boss bit out through grit teeth. "If you're gonna stay at my agency, you gotta make yourself useful." Bakugo's voice was gruff and final, words spoken in a tone no one would ever dare defy.
All except Kirishima, of course.
"Grouchy ouchy." He commented, pushing himself off her desk with an unbothered chuckle. Giving her a wink while flashing a grin, eyes seeming a deeper more bloody shade of red than before. "See yah."
She only gave a stiff smile in return, finding the male's disregard for her personal space less and less charming for every moment she was caught alone, forced to share intimate moments with him, watching his mask chip and flake away revealing the man she got the unsettling feeling had less pearly-white ulterior motives lurking behind that perfected pearly-white smile on his face.
"You." Her boss's piercing voice cut her from her thoughts, making her take her eyes off the retreating bare-chested hero. Gaze snapping to the tall broad figure still standing in the threshold to his office, groomed free of his usual coat of battle-rubble and instead clad in a velvet-red silk-shirt, oblivion-black vest hugging him perfectly, tailored to perfection with vines of pale-roses adorning his sides.
His scarred calloused hand gripped onto the complimentary tie in visible frustration.
"Tie this."
She sprung to her feet, pondering whether or not she should thank him for chasing the rowdy red-head away, but deciding not to while fingering the soft silk tail to his tie.
She needed to tip back and forth on her heels and toes in order to get the height on him, still whole heads shorter, arms reaching almost as though she were to embrace him as she swung the tie around the back of his neck.
And, with having tied a couple hundred ties in her life, she made to look up instead of focusing on her handiwork.
"Your hair does that naturally?" She asked, viewing the way it had already poofed to all corners all without being gelled or blown with a hairdryer.
Looking explosive.
"Like a Pomeranian." She commented, getting the feeling he needed a distraction, where between being stuffed into a suit and awaiting the number-one-hero he seemed far too tense for her to simply ignore.
He made a grunt, but she swore his face softened just a bit. The knot set deep between his brows loosening, his gaze set forward, skimming the top of her head as she looped his tie once then twice.
"Don't ever say shit like that again."
A giggle bubbled from her throat as she smiled up at him. "Of course, sir." Tweaking his tie to sit perfectly beneath the collar of his burgundy shirt, brushing his shoulders down when she was done. "I meant a lion, obviously."
It was disarming having someone other than Kirishima be so calm around him, especially a person who wasn't even a hero, especially a woman.
A small cute woman who brought him snacks and tied his tie for him, who compared him to a cuddly fluffy couch-dog the size of a football and teased him when his pride was hurt by it.
He refrained from swallowing or coughing or stuttering on his words when she caught him staring at her for just a moment too long. He looked off to the side, serious frown returning. "What time is it?" He grumbled.
"The current time is nine forty-eight." She answered while walking to retrieve his jacket that was left back in his office, stopping abruptly in her tracks.
The floor was absolutely flooded.
He certainly hadn't bothered trying to maintain the water to one part of the giant space, but rather spread it out to every which corner of the room
He observed as she tiptoed about the puddles on the floor, manoeuvring to reach his desk in her cute flat-heeled boots, small delicate hands reaching for the last edition to his suit. Again looking to the floor to avoid slipping and falling on her butt, smiling once having made it back safely to the threshold of the door.
He was half-waiting for her to throw the jacket around his shoulders and help him into it, taking a moment longer than what he was proud of to receive it as she handed it to him.
He tread on the jacket by himself, but the nitpicky assistant followed shortly, coming to his aid with smoothing and straightening it over his shoulders and sleeves, pulling forth a pair of cufflinks she'd kept safe in the pocket to her bag, attaching them to decorate his wrists.
"You have about ten minutes before pro-hero Deku arrives."
He groaned, carding his warm hands through his still damp locks in hope to dry it faster.
With closed eyes he sighed, wanting to go punch something, but with the tiny assistant standing right there, so intimately close, and smelling so enticingly good while looking so adorable and pleased with her handiwork, he didn't want to disappoint her with ripping or ruining his suit with scorch marks.
So, he opted for a less nuclear option.
"What animal is he?"
Her eyes widened as she peered up at him, his question muttered but still clear, causing her smile to widen. "Animal?" She gave a false puzzled look. "He's no animal... he's a vegetable obviously."
Giggling, she kept tampering with the suit, making it sit perfectly, touching him so softly he wished she wouldn't touch him at all with how much he was beginning to sweat under her gentle hands stroking delicate touches over his tense and abused muscles, being so fearlessly careless around him despite his reputation for being a temperamental asshole, where aside from that, additionally, she was also doing something so daring as mothering her own bloody boss.
"Something between a celery and a broccoli." She mused. "Though-" She giggled, and his heart seemed to stutter in his ribcage at how endearing he found the fruitful sound. "There was this one time he'd been on vacation and came back looking like a carrot."
Bakugo cracked on smile.
"That fucking idiot." He laughed.
The boss was laughing.
And it wasn't at all in the same gut-wrenching manor the other pro-hero had chuckled when squeezing her thigh.
Sure, Pro-hero Dynamight was rough around the edges and a bit colourful with his language, but he was by no means the raging demon others had made him out to be.
She was left smiling like a goof, feeling as though she'd fully completely and utterly crushed it on her first real day as Mr. Bakugo's assistant.
.
She walked ahead, taking the express elevator straight to the bottom-floor in order to guide Deku to the destination of the meeting, having told Bakugo to go on ahead with Kirishima.
"The fuck was that about?" Kirishima asked with his normal jockish attitude, dressed in a grey suit and a black shirt, wearing his signature apologetic toothy grin, having his hands up in defence as he followed Bakugo into the elevator.
Annoyed, he didn't bother giving the red-head a glance, standing strictly straight, eyes locked on the closing elevator doors, hands balled at his sides, a growl in his tone as he spoke. "Keep it in your pants for once, will yah?"
Kirishima cocked his head, looking at his friend slyly. "So... you finally like the assistant I picked out for you?" He had that playful tone of voice that Bakugo hated, the one that was always so adamant on embarrassing him.
"She's fine." He answered curtly, still with his focus on the clean view of Tokyo city through the glass walls of the elevator.
"Cute too." The red-head pushed, just like he always did, pushing his buttons, pushing his temper, pushing his sanity. "Don't you think?"
The ash-blonde could hear the type of salacious, almost sadistic, mockery kept on Kirishima's tongue, how it seemed to drip with venom, those sharp teeth waiting to spot a weakness, only to pounce and sink them in deep.
"I guess." Bakugo offered, knowing ignoring the red-head was just as much use as indulging him, thinking that keeping his words short and arbitrary would help put an end to his friend's bloodlust, but the curt answer was more than enough to have the stars in Kirishima's red eyes go supersonic.
Kirishima smirked. "Come on..."
The boss was stupid if he thought the sturdy-hero was going to let his obvious lack of dislike towards the pretty little helper go on unchecked.
"You're subtle but I see you." His grin glinted, eyes shining with an eager will to tease. "The way you look her up and down when she isn't looking."
Kirishima chuckled.
"I always knew you were a momma's boy."
Bakugo sighed with a rust, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to tune the mocking jeering of the stubborn rowdy male out of his mind, trying to grab onto the calm he felt after talking to the assistant. The laughter of making fun of Deku now tainted by his own friend pulling his leg.
"You love seeing her clean up after you. Pick out your clothes, give you snacks... bet you wanna button up that blouse, give her tits a suck."
"For fuck's sake, Kiri, would you shut up?" The ash-blonde snapped and turned, brows set deep on his face, eyes narrowed to mere red slits as he glared at the grinning asshole he was stuck with.
"I worry about you, man!" Kirishima said in defence, worn hand coming to pet the seething threatening angry blonde's face, with no concern for being bitten, pinching and pulling on the chub of his cheek with a smile. "It's not natural to be this good looking and not fuck."
Bakugo pushed him off with a hand grabbing his collar, a snarl on his lips like the face of a wolf. "Maybe I just ain't a hyperactive hormonic spaz like you." He seethed, letting him go with another shove.
"Yeah yeah, insult me all you want, you angry dandelion." Kirishima pulled himself off the glass-wall, still bearing his smile. "But you know I'm right." He straighten his tie and pulled on his jacket to flatten the wrinkles made by Bakugo's split-second hands-on anger. "She's perfect for you, man. Sweet and nice, smart and tough, cute as a fucking button, and so professional, so eager to please..." The red-head listed, trying to get another rise out of the explosion-hero. "I mean... could you imagine her down on her knees-"
"Stop." Bakugo's voice was definite, carrying the type of tone that made goosebumps spring to the surface, but as usual had no effect on the sturdy-hero.
"Oh, so you have already?" He teased, smiling knowingly.
"I'm this close to punching you, shitty-hair." Bakugo showed two fingers that were touching, but his threats hadn't spooked Kirishima in a long time.
"I'm just calling 'em like I see 'em." The red-head said, knowing they were as thick as thieves despite all the empty-threats and crude name-calling, and how the elevator was their boys locker-room where they could share wolfish dirty secrets. He just needed to give the blonde a little nudge and he'd soon fold. "You wanna tap that, zip her out of that skirt, bend her over your lap-"
"I swear, Kiri-" Bakugo growled, but with less acute anger this time, a difference Kirishima had learned meant he was lowering his walls, granting him enough of an opening to cut him off.
"If you're scared, we can do it together, Kachan~" He laughed, and the blonde sighed heavily, closing his eyes, exasperated to the point of defeat.
"I fucking hate this elevator." He mumbled.
"What?!" The red-head feigned offence, clutching his chest. "We have our most important conversations in here!"
"Fuck you." Dynamight drawled, body slumping, hunching forward as he rolled his eyes.
"No, fuck her." His friend urged in a whisper like the devil on his shoulder.
"She's useful." The ash-blonde argued, but the red-head merely clicked his tongue at the weak statement, offering a solution.
"Then fuck her and marry her."
"Just don't touch her." Bakugo was serious, more so than what he usually was, and Kirishima could tell by the way he looked him directly in his eye, pools of red bleeding into a set of equally red puddles.
The sturdy-hero laughed, slapping a hand on the other man's shoulder and giving it a firm reassuring squeeze.
"Don't worry, boss."
Kirishima smiled, a smile lacking the childish mockery from before, a friendly trustworthy smile, the smile Bakugo knew was reserved for only the very few that knew him through and through.
"She's all yours."
.
Next day, Bakugo walked into his office. His schedule, newspaper, coffee and snack already lined up on the desk which had his gauntlets looking just shy of brand-new if it weren't for the marring in the paint-job. His hero-costume too, which he'd left in a heap on the floor, was not only hung to avoid creasing but washed free of rumble and smoke from yesterday's patrol.
"Bloody hell... is she a suck-up or a work-a-holic?" He breathed, noting how the floors had been polished as well, strictly clean, and that the mess that had littered the bookshelf with fan-mail and other documents he hadn't bothered to sort out was now tidy, papers neatly placed in binders labeled with easily understood titles, organised after importance. "Probably afraid I'll fire her..."
Not before he'd taken in the total lack of chaos, coming to terms with how it was still his office, getting over the feeling that he wasn't welcome in the sheer tidiness of everything, shook from the questions he voiced out loud about the assistant, was the vixen herself standing outside his door, drumming a little tune on the glass separating them.
"Come in." He granted, watching as she popped open the handle and stepped inside, same practical boots from the day before, but accompanied by white-knitted leg-warmers this time as it was a colder day. The blouse was swapped out for a warmer sweater, large on her small frame, but the skirt remained the same, tight over the curve of her ass, formfitting running down her thighs, a slit in the overlapping fabric, giving for a peek at her one knee.
It was enough to make his throat tighten.
"Did you see?" His eyes traveled up to her face.
"What?" He nearly stuttered, nearly tripped on his tongue and the water pooling beneath it.
"The popularity poll!" She squealed, walking with hurried enthusiastic steps over to his desk. "You've already risen five places! And it hasn't even been a full twenty-four hours yet!"
She supported her tablet on her forearm, resting her elbow on her hip, similar to how one would hold a toddler.
He didn't know why he was making the comparison.
Or he did...
"I always thought GEMGD was a bully, turns out he's just a bit rough around the edges. That smirk has me weak. Explosion-boy looks even hotter in a suit! Dynamight makes my heart go boom!" She read aloud. "All the comments are for you! And they're endless."
Her finger scrolled through the display on the screen, eyes running over the fan-comments beneath Deku's post of the two of them. The green-haired freckle-faced hero smiling a big gritted grin, eyes scrunched closed from the force of it, whereas her ash-blonde boss bore a more crazed expression, open-mouthed smirk stretched across his face, way huskier than his goofy counterpart who'd also had the audacity to throw up a a peace sign behind him, looking like a pair of bunny-ears; Deku's trademark.
She decided not to comment on how cute they looked.
"They're begging pro-hero Deku to post more of his quote on quote best friend."
"You said one lousy picture?" He raised a brow, looking displeased.
She bit her lip, and he really wished she didn't as he felt the pull in his pants immediately, something twitching by the display of her looking down at her feet, something so unfairly sexy in the timidity of her grinding the tip of her toe into the floor.
"Well... what I meant was that... one lousy picture could spark something..." She explained sheepishly. "We'll still have to feed the fire a bit from time to time."
She bent down to gather the cardboard shipping package he'd ignored once stepping inside his office, dropping the large box down on the desk with a thud.
"But you're a big boy- you can survive a photoshoot every now and again, and a couple of ten minute interviews."
He should tell her to fuck off with the name-calling, but damn... he really didn't want to.
"Oh- that reminds me-" Hands flat on the top of the box, she drummed on the cardboard with her fingers. "Mens Fashion Magazine request you model for them."
"Modeling?" He nearly shouted, face twisted in confused disgust, offended she'd even suggest such a thing. "Fuck no."
"Well-" She ignored his outburst. "I said we'll consider it and they already sent over a box." She patted the package put down on his desk with a smile. "I took the liberty of taking a look and I think you'll actually find what they've come up with in your image quite amazing."
Her attitude was a nice thing in the morning, he thought, despite talking about things he didn't give a shit about.
"They've done some designs based around your trademark skull, which I think will be a huge aid, given right now it's associated more with villainous things rather than heroic, when we want to give the image of a badass and not a bully."
There she goes with the fucking nicknames again, making his head hot.
"Also, Pro-hero Deku would like to post a picture of the two of you in your youth."
"He's already posted the class-photo." The boss mumbled.
"I believe this one is more in the time of your kindergarten days." She informed, searching through the files kept in her bag, pulling out a sheet of paper. "Here, I printed it out for you."
Laying the picture on the desk, she smiled with a tilt of her head, looking over the two boys' bright faces, her boss wearing a black T-shirt with a skull-print on it, similar to the one the paparazzi so often catches him wearing when dressing casually. She found it quite adorable and amusing how the design seemed to have grown up alongside him. Then there was the All-Might trading-cards the two of them clutched so protectively in each their small hands, their ambition of following the great hero in his footsteps clear in their large eyes.
"It's cute." She stated.
And though it was put simply, the comment nearly had him blush if he hadn't given his thigh a rough pinch to control himself, head pounding from yesterday's conversation with Kirishima in the elevator, unable to look at her or listen to her without twisting everything into a something dirty.
"I think it'll be good to show the public you were a bit of a geek."
And then there was the fucking teasing name-calling again.
He could prove to her how much of a geek he was. He went to the boy-scouts. He still remembers every knot in the book.
He would love to try them all out on her.
"Fine." He gruffly voiced his approval.
She made a couple movements on the screen to her tablet, noting his answer. "Very well, sir, I'll inform him." And at that she turned on her heel to leave.
"Oi, toots." He called. "Stay." Stopping in her tracks, she spun around and blinked, preparing herself for a correction or a scolding in the form of a loud slew of curse-words. "Something's been bothering me."
She felt her heart climb up her throat, as though she'd swallowed some living creature who fought to claw its way to freedom through her mouth.
"My coffee’s different every time." He stated, voice strangely serious to be discussing coffee. "It’s... not bad. Just weird." He informed, and she was left with another deafening pause to wonder what she'd done that was an issue. "Is your quirk making coffee or something?"
She blinked. "Oh-" Her heart rested and she exhaled in relief, smiling while giving a short laugh. "My quirk." She repeated, resting her focus, forgetting her anticipation of being shunned and fired. "Well... uhm..."
Her brows knitted, pondering what way best to describe her rather mundane quirk to the man who literally sweats explosives.
"Boring and stereotypical, or ironic, as it may sound, it's called Assist." She informed, hands displayed in offering. "Basically... I guess... you could say that I naturally know what people need and how to assist them." She explained, but came to her own correction quickly. "It only counts for small things though..." She blurted out. "You know, like... what type coffee you'd prefer and... whether you wish for your schedule to be printed out or sent to you."
The man gave a huff, indicating he understood. "Obviously, you wouldn't be working here if you could cure cancer." He wore a new type of smile she hadn't seen yet, a type of smug grin she'd expect to see on haughty jocks back in middle-school, eyes jaded, relaxed as he looked at her. "Practically made for this job, aren't yah?"
She nearly pouted, but sucked it up and stiffened her upper lip. "It might sound mediocre, but it sure comes in handy." She defended herself, raising her chin proudly. "So while you’re off keeping the world safe, I’ll be here tending the fort, keeping you happy."
He gave another smile and a small amused chuckle, eyes gleaming in a way she found deeply unsettling, the same type of eerie focus she'd seen displayed on Kirishima, the type of look she wanted to run from.
"Hate to break it to you, buttercup, but it’ll take a lot more than a good cup of coffee to make me happy."
She swallowed thickly, trying to keep up appearances despite feeling her face drain. "Ah- of course, sir."
She didn't want her mind to stray to what indecencies she felt were suggested in his tone, knowing she was being ridiculous for even thinking that her esteemed boss was hinting at something of the sort, knowing it was all due to her own stupid female instinctive fears for twisting his words.
Needing to remind herself that this was a public servant who protects. An honourable man. A hero.
His focus left her and she felt like she could breathe properly again, his hands aiming for the newspaper, eyes skimming the headings. "At least you’re not useless like the last one." He offered and she gladly accepted, too thankful to be let off his stare to pick up the derogatory substance of his sentence.
Face brightening a smidge. "I'll take that as a compliment."
She brushed the icky feeling of his former attitude off on the fact that boys gotta be boys sometimes, just the same as girls will be girls at moments too.
"Sir." Dismissing herself, she turned her back, red eyes looked up from pretending to read as she opened the door and slipped out, leaving her boss to his own thoughts.
Her quirk should be called Housewife.
.
Following his schedule, he left early, the little assistant wishing him luck from where she sat working at her desk, waving him goodbye with dancing fingers as the elevator doors slowly closed and sent him down to ground level.
Patrol was uneventful in its boring four hour-long walk. A couple of small-fry villains quaking in their boots, regretting picking Pro-hero Dynamight's district as he sent them flying, leaving them to be scraped from the sidewalk up by his sidekicks. Finding himself counting the minutes until he'd be back in the office.
Good thing it was a quiet day in the streets, what with him being so very distracted and all, conjuring up dirty pictures of his cute little assistant. Sitting at her desk with her knees glued together, squeezing her thighs close, so oblivious to his stares. Lost in her own world when planning his itinerary for him, making herself so useful for him, his pretty little helper, doing her best to keep her promise, to make him happy. Hand holding onto her pen, tip of it caught in her mouth, plump lips having no issue sucking on the small thing, making his head spin, thinking of how she'd handle something bigger.
He came back just shy of ten o'clock, happy to miss getting caught with Kirishima in the elevator again.
But, the study-hero had already sowed his seeds in the muck of the explosion-hero's head, and the roots had already twisted their way through his gut, flowers blooming, nectar oozing and dripping, spilling down the vines, sweetening his senses, pollen fogging up his mind, only allowing him to think of one pretty little busy worker-bee, and how he wanted her to lick up his honey-spill.
"The fuck are you wearing?"
This was the last fucking straw. She couldn't be fucking serious with her innocent act, she had to be doing this on purpose.
She looked up from her tablet, eyes round as she processed his lack of greeting, before looking down at her clothes, trying to spot what he was attacking. "Oh- I tripped with my coffee and spilled it all over my sweater, so I decided to- uhm- test out the product." She explained, pulling on the black fabric to the oversized hoodie she'd pulled on. His trademark large white skull plastered on the front.
His head pounded, growing hotter, boiling, palms sweaty at his sides, tongue feeling heavy and large with the sting of sweet saliva pooling beneath it. Something snapped in his pelvis, drumming, pumping, growing warm and heavy, thankfully kept hidden in the expanse of his large cargo-pants.
"You should model." He let slip, eyes kept on the hoodie thrown on her tiny shape.
The cut was definitely finer, skull tweaked to look uniquely and unmistakably Dynamight. The edges were rough, decidedly unfinished. She'd tied the strings to the hood into a little bow on her collar, but he hadn't the time to bask in the details, when he was too caught up in thinking how it looked as though she'd put on one of his hoodies, mind forcing forth the thought of him having fucked her good first, made her sweaty and dumb on his dick before finishing up with dressing her up, showing the entire world how she belonged to him.
He cleared his throat, brought back to reality by the blank face she gave him, puzzled by his prior comment, undecided whether it was an inappropriate compliment or not.
He wouldn't give her any more time to think about it too much. "Tell the magazine people they have a go on the merch."
She let his former comment slip, deciding to forget about it. "And the modelling?"
"Thirty minutes tops." He answered, walking towards his office.
"Very well, sir. I'll inform Mens Fashion Magazine right away." The cheeriness in her tone had him curl his brows and squeeze his eyes shut, fists clenched at his sides, stiff as he opened the door.
"I have reports, don't bother me." He informed coldly, not waiting for a reply before he shut his door, never giving her second glance, even as he handled the remote that had his blinds gliding over his windows, leaving him alone in the darkness of his office, no pretty assistant with adorable doe-eyes giving him anxious flickering looks as he unbuckled his belt and popped the button to his pants, zipping open his fly to free the painfully erect large tented bump in his boxers. "Mmh, fuck..."
His mind reeled, letting his eyes glide close.
Where would he take her first?
Hmm...
His hand dipped beneath the band of his expensive black briefs, running over a bush of mousy blonde curls to wrap around the warm thickness fighting desperately against its confinement.
On the desk?
Lay her down on her back, hand on her throat, thighs spread by his hips, legs tangled over his back, keeping him close, moaning so prettily for him, perky tits bouncing on every thrust up into her tight cunt, nipples hard between his lips. She'd gasp as he bit down on the little nubs, cry out for him, eyes large and glossy looking up at him, waiting for her orders.
"Fucking hell..." He groaned, tugging slowly on his base, so sensitive he had to hiss when his thumb brushed over a particular pulsating purple vein, bulging tip blushed an angry red, a drop of pre-cum spilling sweetly from his slit, running down his shaft, getting caught on his fingers as he smeared the wetness up and down his length.
Or maybe he should bend her over it instead?
Pretty tits mushed against his desk, her delicate little wrists caught in a cross behind her back, held tightly in his fist, cute face blushed red and dewy with sweat, lips parted and panting for breath, crying just a bit by how her hips would ache against the edge of the table, but blissful nonetheless with his cock filling her up snugly form behind, cute ass smiling at him, begging for him to give the soft plush flesh a squeeze or a little slap that would have her yelp, hiccup on her moans.
"Fuck..." He chewed his bottom-lip, fucking up into his hand slowly, savouring the feel of his fingers wrapped tightly, rubbing over every vein, squeezing on them just like her tight pussy would.
On his black Italian-leather-chair?
Have her kneel on the seat, back curved like a pretty little kitty, ass arched up into him, rubbing against his crotch, teasing him desperately for his cock. He'd have his hand yanking her hair back, strong fingers tangled in her soft locks, making her stare up at him, her hands gripping onto the plush chair for support, nails marring the leather as he rocks into her, make her drool at the curve of his cock brushing up into her cervix, his other hand slithered around her stomach, coarse finger painting cruelly delicious patterns into her throbbing little clit.
"Nah..."
He'd fuck her against the window.
All of Tokyo at his feet, laid bare before him, just like his tiny tight assistant wrapped around his cock, clinging to him so needfully, small soft hands holding onto him, thrown around his shoulder and down his back, warm doughy thighs hugging around his torso, squealing for him each time he snaps his hips forward, buried deep in her grateful little wet cunt, pretty words on her lips.
Am I doing good, sir? Please, sir, I want to make you happy... I want to give you what you need~ I want to help you, sir. I want to be useful to you, sir. Please, let me be useful~ Thank you, sir~
I love you, sir.
"Holy fuck-"
He bit his tongue.
Good thing she'd been a doll and placed a new packet of clean-wipes on his desk... what with the white mess decorating it.
.
The boss remained in his office well beyond working hours. She contemplated whether or not she should knock on the door and tell him she was clocking out, but decided it was unnecessary in the end as he'd given her strict instructions not to bother him.
Coming back early next morning, walking into the spacious floor only to find her desk, not exactly cleaned out, but gone entirely.
The blinds where still drawn before Mr. Bakugo's office, where she, anxious as it made her, walked to the door and knocked.
He was prepared to bark at anyone to leave him the fuck alone, but recognising the tune drummed on his door, he would make an exception. "Come in."
"Morning, boss..." She stated timidly, as though something was amiss and he felt his gut wrench in fear that she might have heard him moaning her name all day long the day prior when he was supposedly doing paperwork reports. "I hate to ask... but have you seen my desk-" She asked, before turning her head to look over what was taking up the former empty corner-space in her boss' office.
"It's been moved." He informed while she took in the relocation of her usually lonely desk, still positioned a whole four meters away from mr. Bakugo's desk, yet no longer separated by neither glass wall or blinds. "Is that a problem?" He dared.
"No..." She replied, still confused as to what purpose the change would benefit, but mostly if he at all would like it this way, be it beneficial or not. "But are you sure I won't be a bother?"
She's been a bother from the start.
"I ain't here too often." He explained.
"Well then..."
She fiddled with her fingers, braiding hem together as she briefly thought it over, thinking she actually wouldn't mind a space of her own where she could escape the lingering stares of one certain conversational red-haired hero.
"This is perfect!" She cheered then, not in need of more convincing. "Saves me the time of knocking."
She smiled, placing her bag on her chair, already liking her little nook in the office, gratefully admiring how whomever had moved her desk had made sure everything was still in their designated place, eyes skimming the digital clock stating the time, brows furrowing.
"You're here very early?"
Her question gave him just enough of a warning to take his eyes off her ass before she turned around to look at him.
"I didn't leave." He confessed, flipping the page of the hero-magazine he was pretending to be absorbed in.
"Have you not slept?" She sounded worried, and his gut warmed at her sweet motherly tone, hand twitching, wanting to pet his cock despite having wrung it for every drop his balls were worth.
He sighed heavily, a type of growl that sounded fed-up. "I have."
"Not well, I gather?" She pushed, as though scolding him, placing his coffee, newspaper and schedule down on his desk.
"It's fine." He reached for the coffee, stomach fluttering for the taste of what new flavour she'd concocted for him today, though letting none of his excitement show on his face.
She hummed in thought. "Well, you down have patrol until two o'clock, which isn't for another eight hours." Tapping her pointer-finger on the schedule placed before him, she continued. "And as you have the time, where there are no ongoing big cases that require your attention at the moment, I could make arrangements for you to sleep on the couch in the conference room, or you could go home and have a nap before returning-"
"I ain't a child, toots." He glared at her, face in a frown.
She took it lightly, which only served to frustrate him even more, with how she seemed to brush away his anger like a mother does her temper-tantrum-throwing child. "Of course not, sir."
"Then quit suggestion shit like naps." He ordered.
"Very well, sir." She nodded, still with that small soft smile that seemed unshakable. "Have you eaten?"
Why ask if she already knows the answer!?
He gripped the arm-rest, knuckles turning white in his frustration. "No..." Voice in a muddled grumble, childishly admitting defeat.
"Well then..." Her tone so charmingly patronising, eyes soft as she looked at him. "Does the grown man want a snack?"
Who the fuck does she think she is!? Poking fun at her own boss like it's nothing?! Not just her boss, but one of Japan's greatest and toughest heroes! Ridiculing him in his own fucking office!
He ought to teach her a little lesson...
But fuck- just give him his fucking snack already!
He snatched the offered food from her palm with another grunt, slumping back in his chair. "Wipe that fucking smile off your face."
Her lips pulled further up into a smile, making her eyes shine. "I'll try my best, sir."
.
It was late, roughly seven o'clock, and everyone had long gone home for the day. But, with the rising her boss had done in the popularity ranks, he'd received a ton of new fan-mail, which she felt the need to go through before calling it a day. Meaning, she was there alone.
However, not for much longer, for as she was slipping the last fan-letter into it's designated binder, was someone staggering into the office.
She nearly screamed, jumping from her seat, needing to squint for a moment or two to recognise who it was, not having noticed she'd been working in the dark for the last half hour. But, as her eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room did she not only identify her boss, but also the blood staining him.
"Oh my goodness!" She squealed, hurrying over, helping him to the chair. "Are you okay!?"
It wasn't fair to him that she was this perfect.
"It's nothing." He brushed off, groaning as he repositioned himself in a strive to get more comfortable with the ache in his body.
"Are you sure?" She sounded too sweet, too worried when looking at him, brows knitted all hopelessly, eyes large and shimmering, lips formed into a little pout.
If she kept looking at him like that he was sure to do something he might regret.
"What?" He snapped, shaking her from her blank-staring state.
She gave a little whimper. "Nothing." Shaking her head just a bit, yet remained just as distressed. "It’s just..." She bit her lip, eyes skimming over the many bleeding cuts decorating his upper-body, no mind to the blood staining her own clothes from helping him sit down. "It's just- uhm- your needs are all over the place."
He chuckled, unable to hold it back, finding her absolutely adorable.
"Then get to them."
It feels good having a pretty little thing fuss over nothing more than a couple of scratches.
"Isn't that your job?"
She drew in a breath, trying to toughen up with a nod. "Of course, sir." Walking to the bookshelf, she started pulling out drawers, mumbling some to herself. "Assistant, receptionist, maid, baby-sitter- Mr. Kirishima should have put nurse on the list of qualifications as well..."
Coming back, she slid a rocks glass onto the desk, lifting the diamond lid from the crystal whisky-bottle before pouring him a drink. Proceeding to pull out cotton-pads and disinfectant, resting her behind against the desk as she reached out small pretty hands, softly caressing his chin to steady him when with the other hand dabbing softly at the cut on his brow.
"Does it hurt?" She asked, eyes focussed on her task. "I'm sorry, stupid question, obviously it hurts." Dismissing herself with a shake of her head, she shut up in favour of focussing.
He didn't care much that it was a stupid question to ask.
Not when she was this sweet with him.
She continued working, placed between him on the chair and the desk she leaned on. Her knees between his knees, right in front of him. Tight skirt, form-fitting around her thighs, over the curve of her hips, tightened in a stop at her waist, where his large hands would sit so perfectly, squeezing her, pulling her close.
He didn't know what he was doing before it was done.
Hands placed exactly where he'd imagined them, hoisting her up to sit on the cool glass surface of his desk
"Sir? wha-"
He grabbed her chin before she could finish, fingers pressing into the adorable chubs of her cheeks, squishing her lips into a soft pillowy welcome, greeting his lips with ease as he pushed forward, sinking in, mushing his face against hers, kissing softly, slowly and yearningly, without teeth and without aggression, but deeply, with passion, with an urge to stop breathing, incessantly, with a mellow yet disturbingly hungry bottomless obsession, with a thirst to put a fire out.
Her brows furrowed. Hands dropping the blood-dirtied cotton pad when needing to meet with the warmth of his chest, steadying him in his needy pursuit.
She had been so adamant on making it.
So determined on succeeding at this job so many others had failed in.
She was so certain she could survive crude merciless curse-words flung at her face, completely aware she wouldn't be receiving any form of appreciation back for her hard work.
She'd heard Kirishima would try his best to have his go and was prepared to block any of his advances, having made peace with the fact.
But... she wasn't at all expecting to have to deal with choking on her own boss forcing his tongue down her throat as well.
She couldn't pull away, wasn't allowed to, only able to keep her eyes wide as her boss sucked her face, finally detaching with a thick string of drool connecting their tongues, his heated gaze troubling her, suddenly feeling very small, stuck and caught before his tall massive muscled form.
"Ah- I- I think I should leave, sir." She tripped at the taste of his tongue, keeping her lips parted, hesitant on swallowing the mixture of his and her spit caught dripping, smeared and painted on the walls of her mouth.
His breath was warm on her face, panted on her glossy wet lips.
He didn't pull any further off, finding it quite amusing how small her tiny little hands were, placed on his chest as though it would do her any good.
Looking into her large anxious little eyes, he could only think of two things.
She'll definitely quit if he let's her leave...
... and he can't afford to lose her...
And with that in his mind his hands moved from the chubs of her cheeks to her throat.
"Ah- sir?" She gasped, but the breath caught in her throat, kept from her by the way his hands slowly and carefully squeezed her free of air.
Her hands clung to his arms, trying to push him off, tears given just enough time to slip from her moon-wide eyes, but he remained happy when she gave out quickly.
Like a flower in a forest fire.
.
She woke up softly. Looking like a scene in a movie.
A way too cute girl laid down in a bed of expensive black sheets she didn't belong in.
He'd brushed the locks of hair out of her face, half-way submerged in the dune of his pillow, small hand clutching the air in her sweet dreaming.
Soft snores left the rise and fall of her chest where he'd done the dirty deed of removing her blood-stained clothes, leaving her in a pretty pink lace-bra, cupping the light weight of her breasts in a rosey pattern just shy of being see-through, and her cute matching panties, a simple and chaste piece, but still so very tempting in it's innocence.
He'd needed to stop himself before going too far, his rough hands running over smooth plush flesh, becoming addicted to the softness before backing off with a groan, pulling his armchair up to the bed, reduced to simply watching her, studying every freckle adorning her flawless shape. Every curve, every dip, noting down some unexpected scars marring her skin, cocking his head at the marks, wondering what caused them, if she was a clumsy little thing who snagged herself on sharp things or if she somehow was a tiny little brawler at some time. He chuckled at the thought, thinking the former was more likely.
She made a moan, humming out a tiny pretty whimper as her brows furrowed, scrunching as she grasped for the light seeping in through her eyelids.
"Morning."
He rested his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together as he hunched forward with his lips kissing his knuckles, monitoring her with keen eyes.
"How're you feeling?" He knew she was fine. He'd choked her out with expertise, knowing with out-most certainty he hadn't hurt her, only forced her into a safe temporary loss of consciousness.
Her eyes fluttered open, stirred by his gravely tone, met with blurry surroundings. Brows remaining curled as she blinked slowly on repeat, confused and adorable as she tried adjusting her eyes to the light, most definitely disoriented.
The poor thing.
"Scared shitless, I bet."
With eyes growing larger, and breath picking up speed she flushed and shivered on a coat of goosebumps upon the voice, finding her boss sitting in an armchair a rough meter away from the soft but foreign bed she was placed in.
"Mr. Bakugo?" She croaked, eyes going more and more swivelled with panic, mind crumbling, spinning and splitting until it ached when peering down at herself, seeing she was in nothing but her flimsy undergarments. "I don't understand-" She spluttered. "What happened? What-"
Panicking, she tried covering herself up with the Egyptian-sheets, a type of soft comfort he bet she'd never had the luxury of feeling against her skin.
"Where am I?"
He pushed himself up from his chair and come to her side, trying to calm her down once she started hyperventilating at the sight of her bound hands.
"You're safe. M'sorry I tied you up-" His attempt at soothing her wasn't appreciated, only aiding in making her even more panicked.
"What's going on- sir? What did I do? What did... what did you do?" She tried scurrying away from him, pushing with the balls of her feet digging into the mattress. "You... tried to kill me."
"No." Grabbing her conjoined wrists he climbed after where she tried to worm herself away from him, pulling her back to rest on the pillow. "I just knocked you out." He defended, tone casual as though it was the most obvious thing, as though she was overreacting.
"Knock me out? Why- You-" Tears sprung to her eyes as she writhed beneath the large man, feeling smaller by the second, weak and helpless as he loomed above her.
"Quit being scared, I ain't gonna hurt you." He cooed, trying to control her struggles by gripping her waist, needing to tighten the grip where she thrashed around like a fish out of water, aiming to fend him off with hitting at him with her bound hands.
"Please let me go, please, I- I won't tell anyone, I promise, I promise, sir, I-" She pleaded, but Bakugo couldn't care for the hysteria cooped up in her ditzy little head, annoyed with her pathetic rambling, needing to make her understand the new situation.
"Shut up, toots." His fingers found the plush of her cheeks roughly and squished them to make her still, chuckling crudely at how large and hopeless her eyes shown up at him. "You think you can play perfect little housewife and not own up to it?"
His eyes had her frozen, glowing scarlet with crazed predatory heat, the carved knifelike smile on his face looking like that of a hyena in a hunting frenzy, eyeing cornered prey.
"Uhm- sir?" She whimpered, twisting at the stench of his breath wafting over her face with warmth.
"You stopped wearing that skirt I liked." He dismissed her. "Got tired of your quirk telling you how I needed to bend you over my desk?"
She gasped, eyes widened even more, going completely silent, dead-still under his touch if it weren't for the heavy sporadic rise and fall of her chest. "You're scaring me-" She whimpered and his smile grew, eyes going dull, lazy with awe at her adorable little pitiful face.
"And the lipgloss-" He ignored her outcry again. "You stopped wearing that too."
He scrunched her face tighter between his fingers, making her whimper beneath him.
"Too freaked out by how your boss needed you to come into his office and lock the door behind you? Huh?"
She hiccuped at the feel of her heart jumping to her throat and how his eyes seemed to want to drown her in red.
"How I needed you down on your knees in that tight pencil-skirt, plump pink lips wrapped warm wet tight around my cock."
"Mr. Bakugo-"
"What? You gonna make me some tea? Help me calm down?" He teased, drawing in closer, face less than an inch form hers where tears spilled rapidly from her poor glass-eyes. "Nah... what's your quirk telling you that I really need right now, huh?"
She trembled, shaking her head.
"I- I don't understand-"
"You don't understand?" He interrupted, voice pouty in mockery. "Just so innocent, huh?"
She thought she might faint when feeling his hand drumming thick sand-paper fingertips down the soft skin of her stomach.
"'Cause... to me it feels like I need to be eight inches deep in my tiny assistant's tight twat."
She started sobbing then, wanting to push him off or hold onto her underwear when he hooked his fingers into the flimsy band and starting running them down her thighs. Unable to do anything when kept levelled by the eyes staring her deep in her little terrified soul and the hand holding her cheeks, forcing her to face him. Where no amount of struggling would loosen the rope keeping her wrists together, only succeeding in chaffing the delicate soft skin found there.
"Sir, please- think about this- ah- please- don't- don't do this."
Her legs kicked, but small as she was all he needed to was push her knees aside, spread her wide, the cool air kissing her bare cunt, quivering beneath him.
"You're too obsessed with giving people what they need." He drawled, body sagging in awe at the pretty sight in front of him, her cute face torn with anxiety, caught in his hand, lips juicy wet with tears as she sucked in her breaths, in full focus on him and his hand coming to play with her scared little sex. "How about I give you what you need for once?"
"No- sir, please, stop." She tried twisting away, tried inching further up on the bed, scurrying away from his touch, but wasn't given the freedom. "You said you wouldn't hurt me-" She accused, voice wet and broken with hopeless betrayal, desperate to make him stop.
"And I ain't gonna hurt you-" He reassured, though acting as the farthest thing from assuring as he dipped his roughened fingertips into her soft tender folds, messaging the slit gently. "I'mma take care of you, proper care."
She felt like she was suffocating, throat tightening, tongue a heavy foreigner in her mouth, the room a taste of blood.
"Truth is, little assistant, you make me hate being alone." Tone so very gratingly overbearing, burning in her head, words like flames licking at her ears. "Only right you fix it."
She whined in protest. "Please, sir, stop." Insisting in small prayers, blubbering like a little bawling toddler, lips quivering, shaking on each sob.
He lifted his hand and put two of his fingers into his mouth, gathering a thick coat of saliva on them before motioning it back between her thighs. "I need you warming my bed more than I need you running errands anyway." He whispered, smearing the thickness of his digits between her folds, running over her clit before skewering his middle-finger inside her tight little hole.
She wrenched uncomfortably. "Please, sir-" Quaking on her shaking sobs with her breaths hitching in her throat, thighs jolting, squirming in small pitiful hopeless struggles.
"Shh, baby." He cooed, but she only cried harder. "I won't hurt you- promise." Repeating the vow, he placed a chaste kiss to the side of her mouth, tasting the salt of tears on his tongue. "It's just like you said..."
He continued laying a trail of wet slobbering kisses down her neck, nipping at her skin playfully with the teeth of his smirk, watching with idle eyes her chest heaving in shallow panicked breaths.
"You just keep up the good work..."
His finger pumped into her slowly, thick and boney, crooked by many years of breaking bones, both his own and others, reaching in deep, hooking into the tender spongey wall, so sensitive at the hand of his brazen confident touches.
in the same why humans find their pets cute, but still, you’ll take the compliment from him where you can. he thinks it’s cute the way you pout up at him, like that will ever sway his heart. the way you whine, blinking tears away from your eyes, telling him in a voice so soft he has to strain to hear it that he’s too big, it’s too much, he just won’t fit inside of you.
he thinks it’s cute, but it’s not like he listens.
instead he holds your hands above your head, and if he were a normal man this might cause a bit of a hindrance. he’s not normal though, he’s not even a man. it’s nothing, to him, to hold your wrists in one hand, while another lines his cock up to your cunt, another hand twisting at your nipples, and the last petting at your clit. he likes the way your eyes go glassy, right before they roll back into your head.
it’s so easy to overstimulate you, he barely has to try. it makes you pliant under him, his cock splitting you open with ease, pushing your insides out of the way to make himself a new home inside of you. you’re so sensitive, so fragile and soft in only the way humans can be. that’s why he keeps you around, after all.
sukuna thinks you’re cute.
you’re not quite sure what you think about him yet, but as you cum like a storm on his cock, you’re not quite sure you care.
I head cannon that Bakugou would come wake you up gently.
Like his warm hands would slide over your frame atop the blankets, then slowly he would remove the comforter from your shoulders to your hip, not fully uncovering you while you protest. His palm would caress your shoulder, he'd press his lips to your cheeks and hair line for a long moment. Pulling you further and further from sleep. The only thing rough about him would be his words, his tone still soft, at least for him.
"Time to get up brat. I've got breakfast ready."
He'd keep his hands on you, petting and kissing you until you look at him, slowly blinking.
"Morning." He'll smile and wait for you to grumble it back.
"Morning." You'll say grumpy causing him to smile before he gets up to find you something to wear.
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