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I'm The Bad Guy

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“Wait, Bakugou?!” 

You were currently at home watching the sports festival recap with your parents. They knew you were involved with someone in your hero course, class 1A, but you hadn’t told them who until the very end. They had been sitting on the couch cheering beside you the entire time—that is, until you pointed out who the boy was that you’ve been seeing. 

“Absolutely not.”

“I wasn’t asking for permission,” you turned to your father, resisting the attitude you could feel fighting its way into your voice. “And yes, Mom, him!”

“Honey,” your mother started, a pained expression painting her features. “You know I was just as excited as you were when you told me about your new... boy friend.”

“He’s not her boyfriend,” your father spat.

“A boy that’s your friend,” she corrected even though you had told them numerous times you were seeing this boy—denial, denial, denial. “But that boy... Bakugou Katsuki? He’s not it.”

“I don’t even know what that’s supposed to mean,” you shook your head at her.

“It means you aren’t allowed to be friends with this boy,” your father joined in.

“Oh my god, how many times do I have to tell you? Bakugou. And. I. Are. Dating.”

Just then the sound akin to a ferocious roar tore through the living room, and everyone’s attention instinctively turned to the television just as Bakugou appeared on screen chained up with a muzzle over his mouth, thrashing around like a wild animal.

“...Absolutely fucking not.”

“Dad!”

———

If you were being honest, the focus of you and Bakugou’s relationship was a lot less on lovey dovey, romantic shit and a lot more on... sex.

“Oh fuck,” you moaned, your head tossing back and your back arching in the air as Bakugou entered you from behind. Your hands and knees dug into the crumpled sheets beneath you when you felt his hips press flush against your ass.

He was buried within you to the hilt. And god, did you feel his length.

“Shit!” Bakugou cursed out through grit teeth, his voice husky and his chest panting in an effort to gather himself. “Your pussy’s always so fucking tight!”

“Why are you going so slow?” You asked impatiently over your shoulder. The way your core ached in desire as he sat inside you was torture, and you knew from personal experience that his rough and angry demeanor definitely transferred over into the bedroom as well. “You know I can handle it.”

The dark chuckle that left his lips had your walls quivering. “So needy... you’re always so fucking good at taking me.” His hips started moving at a heavy pace without warning, and the sudden contrast left your head spinning rapidly and a haze to fog over your mind. “Who’s my little cockslut, huh?”

You let out a mewl, too enveloped in the moment to form a coherent sentence as he stretched your walls to fit his girth. You felt his tip already hitting your g-spot, and that’s how you knew he was that fucking good.

“Answer me!” You felt him roughly tug your hair back and suddenly your hands were being yanked off the bed, your body forced into an upright position so that both of you were on your knees and your back was pressed flush against his chest. His fist stayed tightly gripped in your hair while his other found its way to the front of your pelvis, pressing the heel of his palm against your clit so that you were caged in his arms and feeling the pressure of his cock in the deepest parts of you. “When I ask you a question you answer me, god damn it!”

“W-what was the–ah–question again?”

Bakugou suddenly stopped, and for a split second you began to wonder if you’d done something wrong before you were quickly being flipped onto your back in one swift motion, your left leg shoved up so that it was bent against your chest and his dick slamming into you before you had a second to breathe.

“I said...” his tone was dangerously low as a growl left his grit teeth, his ash blonde locks sweaty and hanging in his eyes when he pressed his forehead against yours. You were too lost in his crimson glare to anticipate the loud slap that reverberated through the room when his scorching palm met your ass, no doubt leaving a bright red mark from the burn his explosive fire caused on your skin. “Who’s my fucking cockslut?!”

“I am!” You cried out with a yelp, the quick pain from his small explosion instantly melting with pleasure into your full core. He wasn’t going easy on you either; this boy had stamina that wouldn’t quit, if the bulging muscles in his lean body were anything to go by, and the more he perspired the hotter things got—literally. “Oh my god, Katsuki, I love your fucking cock!”

The smirk on his lips melted into a groan at your words. “That’s right... my fucking cock.” He shoved it further into you with a growl. “No one will ever be able to fuck you like I do. No one!”

And as your climax hit you like a freight train in five minutes flat, you couldn’t deny how right he was.

———

You didn’t know what it was about him.

He was an asshole, sure; that much was clear the first time you ever saw him. Within two seconds of being in class 1A, he was already disrespecting school property like he owned the place and chewing the head off of another student. Not to mention his incessant hatred for Midoriya Izuku; this guy had bad news written all over that cocky face of his.

But there was just something, something about him that had you undeniably attracted to him. Every time he was near it seemed your body had a natural reaction to his presence; you couldn’t help it. One look at him and you were practically salivating at the mouth.

Maybe it was his unwavering confidence that had you hooked; maybe it was his profound determination to become the number one hero. Maybe it was the fact that he was sex on legs; you didn’t know. All you knew was that you wanted him, bad.

And so you had him. It didn’t take long for Bakugou to realize that you weren’t going to take any of his shit, and then one thing led to another and before you knew it the two of your feisty personalities were going at it in the hallway’s utility closet. The bleach you‘d accidentally knocked off one of the shelves never did come out of that shirt, though all you could think about afterwards was the bloodied bite mark he left on your bottom lip.

You were everything he wasn’t. You were soft and floral and feminine. You wanted to use your quirk to help people, not burn them to the ground in a fit of rage. But when the two of you were together—in and out of the arena—the combination was dangerous.

He just brought it out in you, this intense, combative, vehement side you didn’t even know you had. It mostly came out when the two of you were fighting or fucking, which was most of the time. Somehow during all the chaos, you fell for him.

If only you could explain that to your parents in words they’d understand.

“What did your parents say about me?” Bakugou asked as the two of you walked home together after he’d just said, and you quote, “I don’t give a shit what your parents think about me!”

“They... just need to get to know you better,” you tried to convince both him and yourself, even though you knew good and well the only thing that was going to do is make things worse. “The sports festival wasn’t the best representation of you.”

“The fuck are you talking about? I won!”

“You were wearing a muzzle.”

“Because that icy hot bastard is a piece of shit!”

You shook your head to yourself, unable to suppress the small chuckle that fell from your lips. While others may have found Bakugou’s behavior abrasive, as you once did, you now found it comical and in a way, charming. You’d never tell him that though. It’d nearly blow up his already inflated ego.

“My mom fell in love with you.” You almost missed the words that he grumbled out the side of his mouth. “Couldn’t get her to look away from the damn tv. She was even rooting for you in our one-on-one combat match!”

Your eyes widened at this news, though you’d be lying if you said it didn’t fill you with a warm fuzzy feeling in your chest. “Did you tell her about me?”

“Well yeah, no shit,” he narrowed his eyes and looked away as a slight blush crept along the apples of his cheeks. “She’s already practically planning the fucking wedding.”

Your stomach flipped, though you tried not to let it show. “I just have a way with parents,” you grinned at him and walked ahead with a flip of your hair, if only to take away from the embarrassment you could tell he was feeling. “They all love me.”

“That’s because you’re a goody two shoes,” Bakugou barked gruffly. You turned around to see him watching you with a glare and hands stuffed into his pockets.

“Just because I’m a decent human being doesn’t make me a goody two shoes,” you gave him a pointed once over with a playfully judgmental expression.

“The fuck are you calling me then, bright eyes?!” You giggled as he attempted to angrily chase after you, the nickname he branded you with since the first time he antagonized you (day one) making your heart warm.

It was only when the two of you fell into a comfortable silence side by side that you spoke again. “They don’t want me seeing you anymore.”

You shouldn’t have said it; you regretted it the moment he stopped in his tracks.

It was quiet for a few moments, and then: “like you’re gonna listen to them,” he tutted sarcastically with a cocky smirk. You could tell he was hiding his feelings.

That was one thing you knew about Bakugou that the rest of the world couldn’t see at surface level; he used his arrogance and anger as a weapon to keep from showing emotion.

He was, however, completely right.

“Now why would I do that,” you let a sly smirk slip onto your lips, allowing yourself to inflate his ego just this once given the circumstances as you leaned into his ear, “when I’m your little cockslut?”

The way Bakugou stiffened was visceral.

“Dorm room. Now.”