Work Text:
As much as you loved your kids, it was hard being a single mom. The piece of shit you called your kids’ dad didn’t do shit for any of his family after he left and fucked off with a younger, dumber chick after you hit 30. Fuck him. You and your kids did just fine without him.
…Was what you would tell yourself any other day of the week. But not today. God, not today.
It was like your cute and quaint little house was just falling apart by the minute! One day it was this issue, the next day it was another. Your eldest son was only 12, and he didn’t know much about fixing a sink. Your daughter only 7, and the most she could do to help was slap a princess bandaid over a leaky hole.
You were trying to be an independent woman who don’t need no man—but, perhaps today, you did. You had to remind yourself that there was absolutely nothing wrong with asking for help every once in a while—but only after you googled how to fix a sink and made the problem worst. It’s only okay to ask for help when you fuck shit up beyond your own fixer upper abilities.
You called the worker one of your friends had recommended months ago. You were kind of hesitant to, since all your friend could detail was how hot the home improvement man was. But after going over her house and witnessing just how much the man had fixed up her house had you dialing him in seconds.
He was gruff over the phone. Short tempered and constantly reminding you that he did home improvement—he wasn’t some overpaid repair man, damnit. You detailed some other pieces of your house that could use some work; painting the exterior, getting a better garden, maybe even a bathroom remodel in your room. You still had a shitload of money from the divorce and child support and your own job, so this wouldn’t hurt your pockets too bad. Especially with how amazing his work was on your friends house.
So you set up an appointment with him. Listened to him rattle off times that were either too early in the morning or too late at night. You scheduled a morning appointment for the kitchen sink since that was the top of your list right now, and wished the home improvement man a good day. He hung up without a goodbye.
The day he planned on coming over, you were getting your kids ready for school when the doorbell rung at 7:30 sharp. With a huff, you wrapped your robe tight around your pajama clad body, and shuffled over to your front door. Without looking through the peep hole, you swing the door open quickly with a smile, smoothing a hand over your bonnet.
“Hi! You’re—” Your breath caught in your throat at the sight of the tall man above you. When your friend said he was fine as fuck, you weren’t expecting this at all. The man had a deep scowl, bright red eyes scanning over your form as he held a small toolbox in large hands, his other hand resting on his cocked hip. He wore a regular white tank top in the early morning heat, dark blue sweats hanging low on his hips, the sight of black boxer briefs peaking over the hem.
“Bakugou. Here to fix your sink.” His voice was even better in person. Sounded like the literal embodiment of sex, all deep and rumbling and vibrating your entire body. You had to suck in a deep breath to get your shit together.
“Yeah, Bakugou. Come on in.” You offer a friendly smile, stand back and let the man slide in. His arm grazes yours, eyes still lingering on your exposed legs for a second before he gets a couple of steps inside of the house. You close the door, lead him into the kitchen where your two kids bicker and laugh about the cartoons playing in the early morning. As soon as they catch sight of Bakugou, they both quiet, eyes wide as they glance between the both of you.
“Say hi to Mr. Bakugou guys, and hurry up and finish your breakfast. The bus will be here in half an hour, and I am not driving you two again. Got it?” You give your kids a stern look, a small smile creeping up on your face despite your tone. The kids grin and nod their heads quickly, scarfing down the rest of their food as the place their plates in the trash and scurry off to their rooms with hurried,
“Hi Mr. Bakugou! Thanks for fixing the sink, Mr. Bakugou!” You hear the doors close as they both start getting dressed. You chuckle with a shake of your head as Bakugou moves from his position in the doorway to start setting up at the sink.
“Your brats really listen to ya, huh?” He asks, wastes no time in poking around at the sink, opening the cabinet under and inspecting the insides of it. You smile softly and nod even though he can’t see you, start cleaning up around the kitchen slowly.
“Yeah. That, and they’re just really good kids. I don’t have to be too harsh on ‘em.” You murmur, wiping down the table. Bakugou glances back at you from where he’s crouched under the sink, snorting softly.
“Wish I had that growing up.” He mumbles before going silent and working on the sink. You're about to dismiss yourself to finish getting ready for work, but Bakugou stops you with an irritated snarl.
“Did you touch this sink before I got here?” He snaps, pulls himself from underneath the cabinet to level you off with a scowl. You feel small under his gaze for a moment, like a bad kid trying to get paint out of the carpet and making it worse by rubbing the paint in. You nod once, a frown pulling at our lips.
“I looked up how to fix it but, guess I fucked it up even more, huh?” You try to give a sheepish smile, reaching back to scratch guiltily at your nape. You don’t realize how raising your arm shifts your robe, gives Bakugou the small peak of your chest and opens the robe to expose the soft skin of your thighs. His insult dies down in his throat at the sight.
“Fucked it up bad. Next time just call me, for fucks sake.” He murmurs the last part to himself, turning a bright red face back to under the sink. You laugh softly to yourself, missing the way Bakugou’s heart rate picks up at the sound. Damn you and your pretty ass face and sweet ass laugh and obviously bomb ass fucking milf body. Damn you.
Your kids are off to school and it’s pushing nine o’clock when you finally finish getting ready for work. You wore a black pencil skirt that hugs your figure just right, a white button up with thick black lines running horizontally around your chest and stomach. You just hope no one can see the dark blue bra you wear underneath (they can).
“You almost finished?” You ask Bakugou, just as he emerges from under the sink with a grunt. He wipes his dirty—large, sexy, amazingly thick—hands off with a rag, before standing to his full height. You watch the way small beads of sweat trickle from his nape and down into the hem of his shirt as he reaches for your sink. He turns it on, watches how the water flows with absolutely no problem like beforehand. You gasp, jumping on the balls of your feet as you clap.
“Does that answer your question?” Bakugou grunts, finally turning to look at you. His breath gets caught in his throat, making him choke and wheeze. You’re jumping slightly, the sight of your heavy tits bouncing in place tantalizingly quickly, your smile pretty and wide as you squeal at him. He snaps out of his perverted stare when you come bounding up beside him to start tinkering with the sink.
You’re rambling on about how amazing it is, how the sink is even better than before, but all he can focus on is how good you looked beside him. Looked so small compared to him, even though he didn’t have too much height on you. All soft and pretty with nice hips that obviously worked hard with pushing your brats out. Your cleavage that he had a clear view of from down your shirt looked too appetizing, like it was practically calling for his hands and mouth.
You look up at him with amazement glistening in your eyes, a bright smile as you grab his large hands in your own.
“Thank you so much! When’s the soonest you can come over to start working on painting the house?” He wants to tell you that he’s booked to hell and back these next few weeks. But he thinks that maybe it’s worth rearranging his schedule for this pretty little mama that seems ever so grateful for his help.
“I can come back next week and get started.” He really can’t. He’s supposed to be working on Shitty Hair’s garage and stupid man cave, but Kirishima could understand, right? You smile even brighter, grip his hands tight in your own. He wasn’t even aware of how he had been rubbing his thumbs over your soft knuckles beforehand.
“You said I owe you $175 for the work right?” You ask, ripping yourself away from his hands all too soon for Bakugou. He frowns, shaking his head as you scurry over to your purse to get the cash out for him.
“Just 75.” Bakugou grunts out, starting to pack up his tools slowly. He kinda doesn’t want to go, wants to linger around and get to know his pretty new client some more. Wants to learn how long she’s been single, since the tan of a band around her finger is barely there anymore. Wants to learn how long it’s been since she’s gone on a date. How long it’s been since someone took care of her. How long since someone has courted her, kissed her, fucked her stupid over the counter she rested her purse on—
“Huh? I thought you said 175 over the phone.” You cock your head to the side, confusion etched all over your face. You figured the work would’ve been higher since the sink was already fucked and you had made the damage worse. But Bakugou shakes his head again, drags his toolbox from the counter and stands in front of you.
“I’ll just take 75. No arguments about it. Take the discount already, damnit, I’m tryna be fuckin’ nice here.” He can feel the tips of his ears burning hot. He’s glad his hair covers it. Bakugou can’t help it though with the way you beam at him, hands clenched together tightly in glee as you bounce slightly on the balls of your feet again.
“Oh my gosh, you’re too sweet! Thank you so much!” You fish out the 75 bucks he’s asking for, push it into his hands before he can count that you actually slipped him a hundred. But Bakugou knows somehow, and leaves 30 bucks instead on the counter when you’re not looking. Asshole.
…
The nexts following weeks with Bakugou just never seem like enough time. You’re either getting ready for work, coming home exhausted from work, or helping your kids with homework whenever he comes over. You two manage to make small conversation most of the time, but it just doesn’t feel like enough to really sate either of you.
...
Summer is getting closer and closer, so less homework for your kids now, and more time for you two to talk. He’s been coming over almost everyday now to paint the exterior of your house, even going as far as fixing the panels of your roof without ever being prompted to. God, you just wanted to kiss the man.
But you couldn’t. There was an initial attraction to the man when he first showed up at your front door, but as the time went on, he just got even fuckin’ finer. Always wearing something with his strong arms out, his boxers always on display like some whore, always sweating whenever he worked outside. He just looked too sexy for his own damn good.
But he was young. Not too young to make you feel creepy, but young enough for you to find little insecurities at your age difference. You were pushing 35 and the man had just turned 27. It wasn’t a god awful age difference, but the differences in where you both were in life did make you shy away from making too bold of a move.
Bakugou, on the other hand, was kind of blunt with his attraction to you. He never said much, but his actions always made up for it. The looks he’d give you, the compliments, how he would turn as red as a tomato whenever you answered the door in just some silk pajamas that were totally inappropriate for anyone outside of your house to see. He had made it clear that he liked what he saw, but neither of you ever acted on your obvious attraction.
“You just gonna hold it and let me die of thirst out here, or are you gonna give me the water?” Bakugou’s voice pulled you from your daydreams, your eyes instantly snapping to his. You smile guiltily, hand him the perspiration dripping glass with a chuckle. Your fingers touch his own, his eyes boring into yours as he slowly takes the drink from you.
He doesn’t let up on the eye contact as he downs all of the water, but you can’t keep looking at him. Not with the way his Adam’s Apple bombs with every swallow, or how some of the water slips from the corner of his mouth and slides down his chin, drips onto the thin material of his tank. You swallow your dry mouth, dazedly take the glass back when he finishes with a wipe of his mouth on the back of his hand.
“Thanks, mama.” He’s taken to calling you that in the past weeks, taking after your children’s loud cry of your name whenever they see you. It makes you smile every time, get hot in the collar, and weak in the knees. He can tell, and keeps up with the nickname.
“You like the colors?” Bakugou asks, even though he knows you do. You were the one who picked it out, after all. You finally rip your eyes away from his protruding pecs in the tank, look over at the house that’s already halfway painted. Your eyebrows go up in astonishment, surprised that he had gotten so much finished already, especially since he was by himself.
“Hell yeah! It looks so good! I’m gonna have the best house on the block, thanks to you.” You smile genuinely, shooting Bakugou a wink before you trot back inside of the house. You bite your lip at the puppy dog eyes he was unawarely giving you.
…
You find Bakugou one morning already outside and fixing your garden. The sight makes you smile as he curses the stupid weeds under his breath, unaware of how you stand above him. He’s crouched down, wearing low slung jeans and a black wife beater, the pink pair of fuzzy slippers you had gotten him weeks ago, a big ass tan sunhat blocking the worst of the sun from his upper back. The hat doesn’t cover the entirety of his broad shoulders, but the thought only makes your knees weak.
“You’re blocking my sun here, shitty woman.” Bakugou grunts. You jump slightly in place, noticing how your shadow shifted and casted darkness over where he was working. You take a few steps to the side with a chuckle, peering over the other side of his shoulder to get a better look at his work. Bakugou doesn’t look over at you, but he slows down with his work, wiping his gloves off against each other.
“They’re so pretty,” you whisper, amazed at the rainbow of colors that Bakugou had handpicked himself. He dusts his hands once more before he stands to his full height, his own sunhat blocking out the bright rays for you. He opens his mouth to speak as he looks over at you, but proceeds to get lost in thought at what you’re wearing.
He gets that its damn near one hundred degrees on this hot summer day, but fuck, who the hell told you to come out looking that fucking good?! In nothing but some fucking coochie cutters and a loose tank that gives him perfect access to your cleavage. And the fucking shorts—every dimple in your thigh prominent, the meat of your legs shaking with every step you take closer to the flowerbed. So when you bend over to smell the flowers?
Your ass is basically exposed for the whole neighborhood to see. Bakugou can’t be having that, nope. Can’t let the old geezer that lives across the street get a sneak peak at the way your ass curves and cups under the shorts, fuck no.
So he stands in behind you, slots his body on top of yours as he curves over your shoulder, whispers in your ear about each and every flower he plotted. Your breath gets stuck in your throat at the feeling of his sweaty chest and shirt sticking to the exposed skin of your upper back. The feeling of his bulge pressing against your ass and thigh, even though you’re pretty sure that he’s not even hard yet. The feeling of one large hand holding your hip steady as the other points out the flowers. The feeling of his cool breath tickling your skin as he hums out a question to you.
“You want another one?” He whispers, the hand on your hip starting to massage circles into the skin there. You can’t tell if he’s talking about flowers or kids, with the tone of his voice.
“I can give you another one, mama. Would you like that?” Something twitching against the barrier of both of you guys’ clothes doesn’t go unnoticed by you. You groan quietly in your throat, knowing that this was wrong. At least if you were going to jump the mans bones, it could’ve been in the decency of your own goddamn home. But Bakugou just felt too good pressed against you, his words making your body run too hot.
“Mama! Can we have another popsicle?” You’re shooting up before Bakugou has enough time to fully unwrap himself from around you. Your head knocks into his chin slightly as you gasp, already pealing away from his grasp to crouch down in front of your daughter. She looks suspiciously in between the two of you before stepping closer and loudly whispering into your ear,
“Mama, I like Bakugou. You do too, right?” The sneaky little chick. You narrow your eyes at her, watching the mischievous grin spread slowly on her face as she glances back over at Bakugou from around your shoulder. You nod and open your mouth to speak, but your daughter holds your cheeks in her sticky little hands and pushes out her bottom lip.
“So can he have a popsicle too? Please, mama?” You hear Bakugou snort from behind you. You can’t help but laugh too, grabbing her hands and kissing her palms as you pry them from your face.
“Go ask him if he wants one, baby.” You whisper back loudly, already knowing that he can hear you. Your daughters eyes light up as she nods quickly, darting over to Bakugou as she pulls quickly on his pant leg. He snarls down at her playfully, to which she snarls back. The sight melts your heart.
“Wanna popsicle, Bakugou? We have orange and cherry and grape and raspberry and banana and grape and—”
“You already said grape, kid.”
“I’m not finished. Grape and blueberry and green apple and banana and bubblegum!” You hated when your kids got smart, but couldn’t stifle the laugh at Bakugou’s exasperated face when he cut her off. He shot you a look, a smile creeping up on his lips, as your daughter demanded to know which one he wanted. Without taking his eyes off of you, he answered.
“Banana, brat.”
“I’m not a brat!” Your daughter huffed, knocking the little fairy wand she was carrying against his shin with a huff before turning on her heel. “I’m gonna get you orange, now.” She bellowed as she made her way back into the house.
“But I said banana!” He huffed, watching the little girl stomp back into the house, ready to get her own petty victory against him. Watching the two of them would always entertain you. Bakugou cut his eyes at you once more before he crouched back down to finish up with the plants.
“She really likes you, you know.” You murmur, leaning against the railing to your porch. “Fucking with you is her way of showing it.”
“Yeah, I can tell.” He huffs, but you see him smile either way. You both fall into comfortable small talk before your daughter comes back outside with a sneaky smile. Bakugou slits his eyes at her as she stands beside his crouched form, holding the popsicle behind her back.
When he discovers that it’s not banana or orange, but cherry instead, does he roar and go to snatch her up. She cackles the whole time, pulling out a banana one from the cowboy boots she has on (why the hell she has cowboy boots on in 100 degree weather, you don’t know) but he doesn’t let up on the tickling. She calls for help from her brother, who eventually comes out and gets snatched up and thrown around and tickled to both of their hearts content.
All you can do is sit back and watch the man you’re falling for be the perfect model for your kids. You really need to get out of your head and make a move already. And with that thought in mind, you plan your next move. That snarky asshole who treats your kids like his own will be yours, damnit!
…
It takes another few weeks for you to finally get your shit together, but you finally decide to make a move when your kids are off to summer camp and its just you and Bakugou in the house. He’s been remodeling the bathroom ensuite, which means he’s in your room more often than not. The sight of walking in and him walking out with his shirt up to wipe the sweat off of his forehead has been the material of you getting off on most nights. Seeing his washboard abs and deep V in his hips and the fluffy blond happy trail is enough to get you going any time of the day.
But today, you’re tired of just looking. You’ve looked enough, damnit! Its time to start touching and getting touched in return!
You just hope you guys’s shared flirting is a good enough gateway into what you’re planning for today.
On the way home from work, you had purposefully spilled some coffee on your shirt, making it sticky and messy. You entered the house, already aware of Bakugou being there from his parked car outside and the extra key you had lended him after four months of him working for you.
You could hear him tinkering around in your bathroom as you walked in the room, letting out a big enough sigh to garner his attention. Bakugou poked his head out from the bathroom, surveying your dirtied shirt with a tsk of disappointment.
“Fuckin’ klutz.” He murmurs, eyes straying on how the stain makes your light shirt slightly see-through. You chuckle, start gathering some clothes to change into as you try not to let your plan get the best of you.
“Oh shut up. It happens to the best of us.” You smile, picking up a lacy set that you hadn’t worn since you had gotten it. She was going to be put to good use today, hopefully.
Slinking into the bathroom, you watch how Bakugou picks away at the tile in the walls, promising to change it to some fancy marble shit that you’d love. You smile sneakily over at him when he catches your eyes in the mirror.
“Mind if I shower?” You ask, innocence dripping from your voice. You watch his throat bob, his cheeks instantly reddening as he fights hard to school his expression.
“Yeah sure, just give me like five minutes.” His voice is gruff as he frowns at the tiles in front of him. You shake your head, start slowly unbuttoning your shirt as you watch him struggle to keep his eyes forward.
“You don’t have to leave. I don’t wanna mess with your flow.” You singsong, shirt laying open to show off your solid pink bra. Bakugou huffs through his nose, gives a curt nod, turns slightly so he won’t be tempted to look at you in the mirror. You frown, pushing the shirt from your shoulders quickly so you could slip off your skirt next.
He still doesn’t look, and you guess you could commend him for being a gentleman, but fuck that! You need him to be the nastiest perverted monster right now and fuck you silly.
You step out of the skirt, sliding into the shower. You can see through the glass panel how he turned ever so slightly, catching sight of the bra and panties that you slung over the top of the shower.
You wash slowly, make sure your reflection shows off every curve as you prop your leg up to clean up your legs and thighs. The shower goes by uneventfully until you hear a soft knock against the glass, and a gruff voice ask,
“Mind if I hop in?”
You grin, crack the glass door open and size up Bakugou’s now bare torso. He cocks his head at you, hair already starting to loose its poof in the humidity of the room. You place a wet hand against the hem of his sweats, a large tent already making itself known.
“I thought you’d never ask.” You whisper. Everything moves by in a blur after that, you yanking his sweats down his thick thighs, Bakugou hastily kicking his boxers off, shoving the shower door open, immediately engulfing your mouth in a kiss.
It’s not the best first kiss you were expecting, as he backed you up so far that water sprayed in both of your faces and got into your mouths. You spluttered and laughed, watched how the water made his hair drip down onto his shoulders as he snorted at the sight of you, dripping wet and pretty. Pulling you a little closer from under the spray, Bakugou claims your mouth again.
He holds your hips against his, groans into your mouth when his erection brushes against your thick thighs. You wrap your arms around his neck, slot your mouth against his, roll your hips slightly to give his cock more friction. Bakugou’s hands slide from your waist to grab the fat of your ass, slides his tongue into your mouth, licks around until he can taste all of you.
You pull him in deeper, your hips rolling faster, kisses getting sloppy and desperate as you crave more. You’ve gone almost five months of knowing this man, five months of endless teasing and flirting, five months of not getting railed within an inch of your life like you deserved it.
“Touch me,” you moan against his mouth. Bakugou instantly complies, lets his hands knead your ass, run up your sides, cup your tits in his hands. He rolls them in his palms, pinches your nipples with thick finger, lets his teeth scrape against your bottom lip when your mouth opens in a gasp.
Bakugou pulls away from your mouth, starts trailing kisses from your jaw down to your neck, sucks and licks and bites at the wet flesh there. He leaves hickeys for everyone to see, pulls your nipples away from your body, pulls away to watch them bounce back in place. You both groan, you from the slight pain laced pleasure, him at the sight of how they fall back against your body.
You meet each others eyes for a few seconds before you both are pulled back to each other, kisses desperate all over again as he picks you up from underneath your ass. You gasp, wrap your arms tight around his neck, whimper into his mouth when the head of his cock brushes against your pulsating clit.
“Can I?” He murmurs against your mouth, pulling away to start nipping at your collarbone roughly. You groan, nodding your head, pushing his face closer to your body so he could get your nipples in his mouth. He laughs lowly, understanding the message, before he gently suckles one between tight lips. He looks up at you, pulling softly with his teeth as you throw your head back with a moan.
“Fuck yes, I’ve been waiting since I first fucking met you,” you confess, trying to grind your hips against the erection bumping against your entrance. Bakugou grunts, hips snapping up instinctively. It makes his tip catch inside of your soaked walls for a second, both of you gasping at the tightness and the stretch.
Without further prompting, Bakugou lets his cock slip fully inside of you. Inch by inch, he slides in, eyes clenched shut as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. Water pelts his back and your wandering hands as you dig your nails into the muscles. You haven’t been stretched by a cock this big since—ever. He’s definitely bigger than your ex.
The thought makes you tighten up around him, a shiver passing through your body as you note that only half of his cock inside, yet you feel full to capacity. Bakugou practically whimpers when you tighten around him, slamming the rest of his cock inside of you with one smooth thrust. You cry out hoarsely, the stretch getting the better of you as you sob into his shoulder, emotions running high as Bakugou shushes you quietly. He presses kisses against your jaw and cheek, kisses up the salty tears, silences the shaking cries with his own mouth.
“You got it, mama. You can take it, can’t you? You gonna be good and take my whole cock?” Bakugou whispers, pulls his hips back by just an inch before slowing pushing it right back in. His pubes tickle your clit, his hips pressed flushed against your own quivering ones as he holds you up steadily. His words make you hiccup, clench around him as you finally start getting used to the length that fills you in every way possible. You nod quickly, holding onto him for dear life.
Bakugou pushes you away from where you hid in his neck with his chin softly. When you finally meet his eyes, he stares down at you before he slowly slides his cock out, snaps his hips back in, slots his mouth against your gaping one, tastes your cry on his lips. He watches you the whole time, how you struggle to keep your gaze on his, struggle to take his cock in your tight little hole, struggle to get any coherent words out, save for ‘more’ and ‘please’.
“You like that?” He whispers, pulls back from your mouth to watch how your tits bounce with every thrust into your cunt. You can only hold on for the ride, let your nails dig into his shoulders and back and nape. You nod dumbly, mouth hanging up, a line of drool flowing freely from your mouth to land on your tits. Bakugou groans, watches how it slips between the valleys of your breasts, ducks his head down to lap the moisture up with a slick tongue.
His thrusts never falter, the wet smacking of his balls against the curve of your ass loud under the rain of the shower. He licks up and up, over the rapidly beating pulse of your throat, under your jaw, over your quivering chin, right back up to the mouth that greets him happily. You welcome his tongue with your own, playfully teasing his, sucking it into your mouth and letting go with a wet pop. Bakugou groans under his breath, digs his nails into the flesh of your ass, starts fucking into your wet cunt at breakneck speed.
“Yeah? You like this shit, mama?” He asks again, whispers into your neck, makes sure you hear him over the repetitive clapping, the loud shower that’s getting cold, your own cries and whimpers and pleas. You nod quickly, feeling yourself grow closer to your orgasm as you sneak a hand down between you two to rub vigorously at your throbbing clit.
“I love it,” you whimper, eyes screwed shut before Bakugou whispers for you to open them. You do with a struggle, continuously slipping closed from the ever growing pleasure that’s coursing through your body.
“Fuckin’ look at me when you cum,” He urges, eyes low and hazy. He’s this close to orgasming himself, but to feel you clenching around him will make it all the more pleasurable. He brushes his lips against yours, slams his hips in, grinds roughly against your pelvis, whispers to just cum, just cover his cock in all your juices, make him work for his own orgasm.
It tips you over the edge. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, your body convulsing as Bakugou helps you down from your orgasm, whispers praises into your ear. He meets his own high seconds later, hips stuttering, his cock twitching almost painfully as he empties himself inside of you. It feels like it lasts for hours, and all you can do is rub his back soothingly, still too cock drunk to give any proper words for filling you up so nicely.
You hear him shut off the water, feel him carrying your still floating body out of the shower and sits you on the sink counter. What you don’t expect, is for him to drop to his knees and immediately start devouring your cunt with renewed vigor. You scream, body locking up as you land gracelessly against the mirror behind you.
“Wha—What are you—Bakugou, wait—m’still sensitive,” You pry your heavy eyes open, shiver at the sight below you. Bakugou on his knees, gripping your thighs as earmuffs for his ears, eyes low and staring right back up at you, mouth sloppily eating your already sloppy cunt. He doesn’t care about his cum leaking from your hole, just licks up what mixes between the two of you, holds the mess on his tongue, lets it drip down onto your still sore clit.
“‘s Katsuki,” he slurs, tongue still heavy with his own release before he spits it down onto your sloppy cunt. You scream, one hand grabbing the edge of the counter, the other grabbing a fistful of his hair. You yank it accidentally when he fucks his tongue inside, to which he only moans. You feel one of his hands slip from your thigh, goes down to jerk off his already hard cock. You moan at the sight, eyes slipping closed quickly as Bakugou hums with his mouth still on you.
“Fuck, Katsuki m’gonna, gonna cum again,” you whimper, the hand that was grabbing the counter going up to start toying with your nipples. Bakugou groans at the sight, starts fucking you with his tongue harder, slurping on your clit, shakes his head to make the mess coat your inner thighs. You can see his hand speeding up, grunting at his own sensitivity, uncaring of how it hurts when he has you crying out real tears whenever he licks at your sore little clit.
“Make a fuckin mess, mama.” He grunts, holds eye contact as he suckles on your sensitive nub like a lollipop, licks hard stripes from where it’s pulled between his lips. Your eyes cross, mouth open and drooling onto your tits once more as you shake uncontrollably. Bakugou wraps his one arm around your hips to still you, follows your jerky motions, never lets his mouth stray away from your drooling cunt. You make a mess all over the counter, that drips onto the floor, make a mess of his mouth, a mess of him. Fuck you’re so hot.
When you finally come down from your own high, Bakugou stands quickly. He pumps his cock furiously, aiming the tip for your sloppy cunt as he pulls you into a kiss with his free hand. When he finally hits his peak, he groans, pulls away slightly to rest his forehead on yours. He watches the thick white ropes of cum cover your cunt and stomach, how you moan at the sight, run shaking fingers through his mess, lick his cum from his fingers.
It only prolongs his orgasm, makes him spurt out a few more weak ropes before he falls boneless on top of you. You both lay there on the cold tile, struggling to catch your breath before Bakugou breaks the silence from where’s he’s been laying in your chest.
“So, same time tomorrow?” You snort, smacking the back of his head lightly as you lean down to press a gentle kiss to his forehead.
“Shut up, idiot.”