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If it weren’t for the NDAs, there were certain things you’d want people to know.
The first would be that you really liked your job. It was a simple truth, a pleasant one, since most people don’t get to say that they like their job as much as you liked yours. But, unfortunately, you couldn’t tell anyone, anyone, what your job was. You had to say broadly that you were a gig worker, that you worked on commission. If pushed, you’d say it was government contracted and that everything else was secret. After all, no one wanted society to panic.
Think of the children.
You wanted to tell people that you worked with heroes. You helped them and provided a public good, whilst doing work that you enjoyed. You wanted to be able to tell someone, anyone at all, what exactly it was that you did that enabled you to afford your gorgeous flat in the middle of the city.
Mostly, though, right now, as you looked down at that familiar number flashing on your phone, you wished you could tell someone that you wanted to take the day off.
That you didn’t feel like fucking a hero today.
Not that there was anything wrong with today. You weren’t on your period or anything. But before you even picked up, you knew the call meant that you were needed now and geez, you wished you had time to…watch a little porn or something. Get in the mood a little.
But instead, you picked up the phone, nodded despite the stranger on the other line being unable to see you, and said, “I’ll be right there.”
The thing that you probably wouldn’t tell anyone given the chance—and the thing that the government had mandated you sign sheaths of paper over—was the fact that aphrodisiac quirks were more common than society was led to believe. They weren’t rare, once-in-a-generation quirks, and they weren’t unusual in criminal cases. Which meant that they weren’t unusual quirks for heroes to get involved with.
And when a hero got hit by a strong one…their agency called you.
There was no time to brush your teeth or throw on mascara and cute lingerie—nor was there a need. It made no difference to a hero in this condition how you looked. You were just a hole for them to fuck, and you didn’t mind. So you grabbed nothing but your wallet and strode for your parking garage.
If traffic wasn’t horrible, it would be a twenty minute drive. As soon as you pulled out of the garage and onto the main street, you reached for your glove compartment, fumbling for the little trick you kept up your sleeve. You stumbled upon something small and silicone and you grinned, wrapping your fingers around it as you lifted your left leg onto the center console. You flicked on the device’s bottom switch and pressed it under the hem of your denim shorts, leaving it buzzing away on your center as you drove down the street.
As you saw it, anyone should keep a bullet vibrator in their car for emergencies. And, of course, you specialized in emergencies.
Your jaw went slack as you rolled your hips, your shorts pressing the toy even harder against your clit. It was a tiny vibrator, but your battle-worn pussy needed one that packed a punch, and this one did. Your eyes were glued on the road, both hands on the wheel as you gyrated in your seat. The deep, rumbly vibrations and the anticipation imagining what hero was waiting for you, hard and ready sent fresh moisture to your panties, plastering them against your core.
If only you could talk about all the famous notches on your bedpost. The world should know about Edgeshot’s pretty cock, the way it glistened with more precum than you’d ever seen before you’d sucked it all off. Or the way Fatgum’s was as thick as your forearm, how you’d split yourself apart riding it before he’d flipped you and pounded into you, nearly half his fat worn away before you were done.
When you made it to the parking garage you turned off the vibrator, now damp even through your panties. You put it in a plastic bag and returned to the glove compartment to clean when you got home, put on hand sanitizer, and grabbed your wallet. The garage was as dark and dank as any other, but the cars in it were all clean, mostly new sports cars. This was one of the best agencies in the city and it paid its heroes, and you, as such.
Your footsteps echoed on the concrete, and there was another set coming toward you. A man in a suit met you only a few paces from your car, matching your stride when you didn’t slow down for him. Wordlessly, you handed your wallet to him and he checked your ID, handing it back after a few moments. Then he put a small recording device in front of your mouth.
“Do we have your verbal consent that you will sign an NDA after today’s meeting, as stipulated in your contract?”
“Yes.”
“Do we have your verbal consent that you continue to accept all the terms of your existing contract?”
He opened a door for you, leading you from the parking garage into a vestibule that would take you to the agency’s side door. The door for people who worked there, rather than those who came in the front to report emergencies.
“Yes.”
The interior was basic. There were photos on the walls of past and present heroes, but the walls and carpeting were neutral gray. Nothing remotely of interest to you as you and the suited man walked side by side.
“Are you healthy, ready, and willing to work today?”
“Yes.”
The man retracted the recording device and continued to walk you to the elevator, pressing the down button for you.
“What kind of quirk?” you asked. It was always nice to know if this was a simple horny to the point of incapacitation situation or if it was the slightly thornier fuck or die situation.
“Standard aphrodisiac,” the man answered, as though he wasn’t talking about fucking with the one about to get fucked. “It’ll probably go away by tomorrow, so you can leave if he fights you. But we really would like to get this one back on the field.”
The elevator arrived and you both took it down to the basement as you had many times before. At the door at the end of the hallway, he broke off standing beside the wall, leaving you to handle the door.
You’d been here before. You didn’t need a steadying breath, a moment to collect your thoughts. You hauled the heavy, reinforced door open, ready to get a quickie out of this before going on with the rest of your day, when you stopped in your tracks by the man on the other side of the room.
No wonder the agency wanted their guy back on the field today. The number two hero was quite a loss in the middle of a shift.
“Leave,” Dynamight growled, popping off a sputtered explosion in your direction.
You noticed immediately that he was on the couch, not the bed, of the room styled very much after a love hotel. The only differences were that the room was bigger, and all the furniture in it was reinforced for pros with strong quirks, who lost control of themselves in these conditions. Yeah, it sounded fun to get fucked through a mattress but, in your experience it was just painful and surprising. Plus, it wasn’t like you could tell the story, so what was the point?
Dynamight was hunched over his knees, body trembling with tension, dripping with sweat. The veins on his arms were sticking out and his hair was plastered to his forehead. He was fighting it—or trying to. Most heroes did. It wouldn’t be very heroic, after all, to give into their body’s urges just because a villain had gotten the jump on them.
“Nope,” you said, taking off your shirt, leaving you in the unsexy bra and short shorts you had on. You walked in his direction, slowly, stopping a few paces away and dropping to your knees. “You’re a problem solver, right? Well, you’re in a bit of a pickle right now, and I’m your solution. Only makes sense, right?”
Now that you were closer to him and at eye level with his crotch, you could see the way his dick was straining against his pants, a dark spot already showing against the thick nylon of his black pants. The bagginess only gave him room for you to really eye the size of his cock, even past the forearms pressing angrily on his thighs.
You were suddenly very glad you’d answered the phone today. Dynamight was one of the sexiest heroes on the field today, not to mention the fact that the number two hero would be a nice notch on your bedpost.
“Fuck off,” Bakugou warned, his usual growl now breathy and desperate. Little explosions burst from his hands, scorching the couch cushion where he had his hands clenched. Shame—you liked that couch. You knew a couple other employees used this room, but you still felt a sense of ownership over the stuff. “J-Just leave.”
“C’mon, big boy,” you said, sliding a bit closer to him. You reached your hands towards his shins and he leaned sharply against the back of the couch.
“Don’t touch—”
Just your fingertips touched the backs of his calves, feeling the rough material of his pants. Clearly flame retardant and meant to resist any damage from flying bits of debris. Bakugou gasped, and you could see how widely his pupils were dilated. His breath seemed to stop, and you could see his resistance melt away.
“Why don’t you let me solve your little problem,” you said, your voice low and easy, using what you knew from the many trainings you’d had to take, “and I’ll let you do whatever you want to me? Win-win.”
Bakugou was frozen for a moment, the last bit of struggle in him vanishing as your hands snaked slowly up his legs, feeling where the material grew taut by his thick length. Before you could get there, though, he was standing, and his hands under your armpits had you raised in the air in one go. A yelp escaped your lips at the move—all the heroes you’d fucked were strong, but this was next level for someone without a strength quirk. He threw you on the bed and your body bounced only once before Bakugou was on top of you, arms caging around you.
“Knew you’d make the right choice,” you said before he descended on your throat.
A groan escaped you as Bakugou’s mouth moved along the base of your neck, not shy about using lips, tongue, or teeth. At the same time, a hand came to cup your breast through your bra, and he immediately began rutting his hips against your shorts. The denim was thick, so you couldn’t feel the shape or heat of his cock as he thrust against you, desperately seeking friction. But the fabric was hard and forceful as it was pressed against your clit, which was still puffy and sensitive from the attention you’d given it in the car.
You breathed in the sweat that was dripping along his hairline, unable to resist licking a line up his neck, tasting the salt, smelling the musk. More often than not, these quirks had some kind of pheromone involved with them. Sometimes they infected you, making you just as horny as the hero, sometimes it just made them smell really good. Sometimes you couldn’t tell if it was a side effect at all, or if you were just that fucking debauched to begin with.
“Wanna get out of your pants, buddy?”
Bakugou snarled, but pulled off of you, quickly moving to undo his pants. You knew Dynamight’s costume, and had noticed that all his accessories had been taken off, probably before he’d been brought to this room. That was good both for your policy of keeping bombs out of the bedroom, and the slight tremor to Bakugou’s hands from the quirk as he struggled even to unzip his fly. You were surprised he was in his right mind at all. The fact that he hadn’t busted a nut as soon as he touched you was a good sign, though. It meant that chances were that you’d be able to get some actual fun out of this one.
You took the opportunity to pull off your own shorts and panties in one go. Then you rolled to one side of the large bed and reached for the small set of drawers that was put there for you. You grabbed a bottle of lube and a handful of condoms, scattering them on the bed.
Then you looked back at Katsuki. He was kneeling now, pants and undergarments thrown to the floor, cock standing nearly straight up from how hard it was. And, of all the cocks you’d seen, this one was a beaut. It was dark with need and glistening at the head, a few beads dripping along a vein down the long shaft. At the base, his pubes were trimmed to a cute, little tuft.
You smirked. You should have known Dynamight was vain.
Bakugou put one big hand on your shoulder and pushed you back, nearly knocking the breath out of you, and making your heart pound with anticipation.
If it weren’t for the goddamn NDAs, you’d tell people how intoxicating it was to be roughed up by the city’s best and strongest. Men who could pin you to the wall with one hand while they fucked you. Men who could pick you up and change positions without ever having to take their dick out of you. Men who could throw you around—and, in their desperation, would.
But if your silence was the price you had to pay for keeping this all yours, then fine.
Bakugou kneed your legs apart and roughly shoved two fat fingers in your cunt. His fingers were hot—a side effect of the quirk—and his slightly viscous sweat allowed them to sink into your cunt with ease. Still, you fumbled for the lube and opened the cap, oozing some extra slick onto the fingers driving into your center.
“Fuck,” Bakugou growled over your breathy keens, adding a third finger. “Fuck, you’re pretty.”
He leaned in on his side to kiss you, one knee between your legs and the other outside, his dick smearing precum against the swell of your thigh. You turned your head to meet him, lips meeting in a sloppy kiss, lips barely forming together as your tongues touched and you breathed the hot humidity of his desperation.
“Baku…Bakugou,” you panted, wondering for a moment if you were almost as desperate as him. “Fuck me. Get a condom and fuck me.”
You didn’t have to tell him twice. His fingers left you, your slick cunt pulsing on air as he wiped your essence on the bedspread. Bakugou tore the wrapper with his teeth and rolled it down his length with a practiced fluidity that made you wonder how often Bakugou did this on his own time. He obviously had his pick of the lot—but did he take it?
You didn’t have time to ponder any longer, because the next thing you knew, his cock slid easy into you, bottoming out in one go, balls smacking your ass before you’d even realized what happened.
“Shit,” you groaned involuntarily, his cock filling you better than you’d had in a while. He was stretching you perfectly, that little patch of hair just grinding into your clit.
Then he was fucking you, immediate and relentless. You were lucky you didn’t need time to adjust, because he didn’t give it to you. He was swiftly pounding in and out of you, grabbing at your thighs as he hooked both of them over his shoulders.
“Oh, fuck,” he ground out, his voice barely anything but grumbles in his throat.
You could see the relief on his face already, the way he was gasping for air like a man having just broken the surface of a wave. His eyes weren’t shiny with panic anymore but furrowed in determination, those sharp lines between Bakugou’s brows drawn deep and automatic.
But he wasn’t there yet. Usually it was that until they came, that insatiable pull would remain, sending his cock driving into you, filling him with the urge to dominate you.
You wanted to cling to him, drag your fingernails down his back, but you were the one charged with keeping your wits about you. You couldn’t leave marks, not while a hero was in this state and not in their right mind. Not when your job was as secret as it was. So you settled for fisting both hands in the sheets as Bakugou held you folded in half and pounded into you like this was a fuck or die quirk, and not just your standard sex pollen.
One of his hands released its bruising hold on your thigh and came up to your mouth, pressing two fingers against your lips. You eagerly opened your mouth and sucked, tasting a combination of your juices and his sweat on your lips. You wished you’d gotten the chance to feel his heavy cock on your tongue, his balls against your chin. These heroes were always so needy when you sucked them off, and even though you were the one your knees, they were the ones at your mercy. But this would have to do, your tongue swirling around his fingers, trying to give him a hint towards your skills, towards what he was missing.
“Dammit,” he grunted, upping his pace even more, barely leaving you every time he smacked against your ass. You hardly realized what has happening until, suddenly, he was groaning over top of you, his rhythm upended, and then slowed to nothing.
Well, that was that.
Not fast, per se, and certainly not your worst time on the job, but as he pulled out, condom ballooned at the tip with spend and the effects of the quirk, you were disappointed. You’d been hoping for something more.
He methodically tied the condom, and you could see that he was coming back to himself already. His hands were steady again, his face less flushed. You pushed yourself up on your elbows, ready to put your clothes back on and finish yourself off at home. Or in the car. Just then, Bakugou’s forearm curled under your back and flipped you over before pulling you up to your knees, your back pressed firm against his chest.
And there, firm against your ass, was his dick, not deflated in the least.
In front of you, Bakugou held another condom pinched between his fingers. “Do you need this, Princess?”
There was something less husky in his voice now. A little less air and a little more grumble, hot on the shell of your ear. He sounded more like the Dynamight you knew from the news and YouTube. You stared at the condom, shivering as his cock fell between your ass cheeks, sliding through his own cum, your arousal, and the lube that had spilled there.
You were protected. Jesus, you’d be an idiot not to be protected to the gills in this industry. So as you blinked at the condom, feeling Bakugou’s other hand on your abs, thumb rubbing over the coarse lace of the band on your bra, you shook your head and said, “No.”
You wanted to feel him. This was Dynamight, the number two pro hero. And you might not have been a fangirl, but the idea of having him raw, his cum dribbling down your thigh already had you buzzing, ready to chase after your lost orgasm.
A throaty chuckle made its way out of Bakugou’s mouth, rumbling up the back of your spine. He tossed the condom back to the bedspread and pulled you closer against him. His body was still so hot and sweat-drenched; you wondered how much of this now was the effects of the quirk and how much was him.
“That’s my girl,” Bakugou said, snugging the fat head of his cock behind you and ramming himself back into you.
You gasped at the new angle, and the tight control Bakugou now held over his body. No more was he savagely humping into you, but, rather, his strokes were calculated, aimed deliberately for your front walls.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Bakugou groaned as he pumped into you. “You do this for a living, Princess?”
“Yes,” you breathed, responding just as much to the question as to the fresh angle Bakugou found inside of you. He moved his hand down from your sternum to your lower belly, pushing slightly so that every stroke of his cock felt just a little sharper, a little more live with electricity.
Bakugou chuckled as little whines escaped you. Your back was sticky against his chest, head lolling heavily on his hard shoulder. “Still some things that you haven’t seen, though, huh?”
He was smug, the bastard. Never mind the fact that he’d blown his load in you once, groaning and desperate. These quirks always had a funny way of messing with memory. These men never came out the other side quite remembering how needy they’d been for you. How fawning and sycophantic, quivering as they came for you.
But you weren’t here to get the one up on any of them. After all, it wasn’t like you could brag about it. You were here to, one, get paid, and two, get stuck good.
And Bakugou was serving well on his part of that bargain.
“You close, sweetheart?” Bakugou crooned, just his pinky snaking down to rub too gently, too feather-like over your swollen clit.
“Getting…there…” you panted, your orgasm creeping back up on you. Your thighs were beginning to tense and quiver all at the same time, and you could feel your walls fluttering against Bakugou’s fast moving cock. “Shit.”
You brought your own hand down to your clit, batting Bakugou’s lazy pinky out of the way and swirling three digits quickly over yourself. Moans escaped you as Bakugou’s thrusts hit all the harder, your ministrations and his combining to send shocks all through your lower half. Your back arched so that your shoulder blades dug into his pecs, lower back pulling away as your ass rhythmically made contact with his abs.
“Fuck, you’re sexy,” Bakugou said, kissing your neck. There was less desperate kiss now than before, but just as many teeth scratching and biting what were going to be noticeable bruises tomorrow. Bruises that the world would see, but never know about. Only you and the particulars who needed to know at the agency, and Dynamight himself would know who had marked you up today.
“Oh god,” you keened as your orgasm began to crest towards you. Your whole hand tensed, cramping as you moved your fingers as fast as you could, gasping when you finally broke, creaming all over his cock.
“Atta girl,” Bakugou chuckled, his voice cocky and deep as he continued his pace. “Can’t get enough of cumming around heroes’ cocks, huh?”
“No,” you answered, waves still rolling over you as you clenched around his fast-moving cock, tears in your eyes as he refused to let up. “I love it.”
“I betcha do, ya little slut,” he said, both beefy arms hooked over your shoulders, biting the shell of your ear. “Like being roughed up by the city’s strongest?”
“I do!” you whined. “I do!”
“Fuck,” Bakugou said, releasing your torso so you fell to all fours on the bed. He wrapped his large hands around your waist and smacked your lower half against his thighs again and again.
Your legs were dangling above the mattress, your arms taking the whole of your weight that Bakugou wasn’t manhandling himself. You had no control as he pulled you back onto his cock relentlessly, hissing slightly as he breathed through clenched teeth.
Suddenly, he was pulling out, dropping you unceremoniously back on the bed and flipping you onto your back. He butterflied your pussy with the head of his cock and began rapidly jerking off, fisting just around the head. Every time his cockhead brushed your clit, you jerked, still sensitive. Then, with a groan, he was cumming, hot release covering the whole of your cunt, painting it sticky white.
This time, you didn’t even have time to push yourself up, still flat on your back as Bakugou crawled down your body, licking his spend off your clit and plunging two fingers back into you, curling hard. The whine you let out was high and animalistic as he continued licking his own cum off of you and pressing the flats of his fingertips against your g-spot, pinching every hotwired nerve on both sides. Your second orgasm came screaming out of you, toes curling against the bed as Bakugou’s lower teeth just brushed against your clit.
His fingers were still inside of you as he leaned back up to catch your mouth one last time. When did, he pressed his tongue against yours, all that spunk now taken on your tongue, salty and thick. You groaned into the kiss as his fingers left your pussy, every part of you tingling. When he pulled away from you, he was smirking, just a smear of his cum, or maybe yours, still on the corner of his lip. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and smirked down at you, eyes clear and sharp. You weren’t sure quite when he’d come back, but you were sure that the man in front of you was once again the true number two hero.
Bakugou leaned back on his knees and pulled each arm from side to side, popping his shoulders and cracking his neck once, twice. Then he grinned, one side of his mouth pulling further than the other, showing most of his teeth and a peek at his gums. His eyes gleamed red.
“Well? I can’t be your first, so tell me,” he licked his lips, not shy at all that he was pantless, his wet, though still decently thick cock flaccid between his legs, “how was that?”
You rolled your eyes, though the way your chest was still heaving, pussy still twitching, you were sure the douche had his answer. He just wanted to hear you say it.
If you could, you’d make sure everyone know that pro hero Dynamight was vain as fuck.
But the fact that he was your best lay yet? Yeah, that part you’d happily keep to yourself.
“Sorry, buddy,” you said, sitting up and matching his expression with a piercing gaze and smirk of your own. “NDA.”