the line between love and politics.
synopsis: Battling for a client's settlement for their divorce, you and Bakugou go head to head in a court room. Can you dispute the lingering thoughts of
him from last night?
c/w: 18+, explicit language, mdni, heartfelt, romance, drama, angsty, bakugou x fem!reader, aged. (🎷🚬)
The judge calls you to up to his bench and discuses the rules of the chamber and dismisses everyone for a 10 minute recess.
"All I asked was why was she at my client’s house when his wife was gone. This is a simple case closed."
You side eye him with pure rage in your eyes.
"Your honor Mr.Bakugou revealed he lacks evidence and foundation of my clients past. There is no point to asking that question."
Bakugou selfishly eye fucks you while your slick ponytail swirls and your polished black heels slightly dance as you pop your hips.
His black suit pants tightens for the rising bulge from reliving last night passion of pulling your hair, pushing your face in the pillow. Calling you a pillow princess and you screaming his name, often calling him "Dynamite".
"Mr.Bakugou". *Ahem*
"Ah-Yes".
"I’ve came to the decision to have your client and her associates looked into. It does seem as if some foul play with wife and her friend."
"No more new evidence into this case matter."
"What?!" You both turn your heads sharply at the judge.
"Any new evidence will seem fabricated and I will not have that in my case."
"See you two back in the court room."
The both of you leave the judge's chambers with the lingering smell of aged books left an impression in your nose. Sauntering side by side, Bakugou divides the silence with his sage, taunting voice.
"Think you're gonna win?"
"I know so."
"Hmm...Whoever loses gets put in hands cuffs." a creeping smirk lingers on his face in your peripherals.
"Well then, you better start calling me Mrs.Officer." gliding your eyes to his ruby orbs, you wink with devilish intent.
Bakugou switches to a leisurely walking pace. He watches your defined hips sway in the wind, creasing the edges of your charcoal pencil skirt. He becomes mesmerized.
"See you at home pretty boy."
Your heels clacking echos as you wave to him without even turning around to greet his posture. Leaving him to engulf himself into his dirty, slutty thoughts. You tease him by placing your hand on the polyester waistline of your skirt. Adjusting it lower to reveal a pumpkin orange lace thong hugging the bends of your curves.
Still strutting with delight and confidence, footsteps gradually get closer with an eager pace.
Biting his lip he whispers loud enough only for you to hear.
