A Physicist and a Bartender Walk Out of a Bar

by CSLong

Summary:

A gift fic for a Twitter moot who requested the following prompt:

"feeling thirsty for kacchako, so something spicy. I want some truly E-rated depravity with hints of a plot. I was thinking quirkless AU bartender!katsuki x waitress!ochako with some good cheeky banter and hints of playful jealousy"

So here it is! I'm sure for some people it isn't gratuitous but for me, I was blushing the whole time!

Everyone told Ochako that she had lost her damn mind when she applied for the job at Red Riot's Bar and Grill. 

"You don't have time for that, Ochako," Mina had said. 

"I'm worried about you overworking yourself," said Deku. 

"If you need money, you can borrow some," offered Shoto.  

She appreciated it all; she did. 

And she understood their worry. 

Getting her Ph.D., working as a lab assistant, and working in the evenings were hardly the decisions of a sane human…and yet…

She filled out the application. 

And she sat down for an interview with the red-headed owner of the establishment — a former boxer who had opened the restaurant when an injury had put an untimely end to what was apparently — based on her quick Google search- a very promising career. 

And she happily took the job when Kirishima offered it to her on the spot. 

Because, ultimately, she needed the money, and, once more, she liked to work. She liked staying busy — chalk it up to life on the farm, she supposed, but she was constantly looking for ways to fill her time, even if she consistently overshot how much time she had to fill.

It turned out, however, that her friends were right. Not about the time. She was managing that just fine. 

The problem was she was thirsty. 

So...  very ... thirsty. 

And not for water. Not for any of the delicious and expertly crafted cocktails that the bar served that did not always fit the extremely casual vibes of the restaurant…no, a thirst for any of that could be sated. 

The same could not be said for the thirst she had for the man behind the bar who expertly crafted those cocktails. 

Here's the thing — Ochako had what she would consider a healthy libido. 

She appreciated the value of a screaming orgasm as much as the next girl, but her schedule made it incredibly hard to get said orgasms from anything other than her vibrator. 

A vibrator that has been doing overtime since she got the job.

…because of the said bartender. 

Because his smile made her weak in the freakin knees. 

Because the way he looked in his tight black button-ups and his jeans made her absolutely freakin' feral. 

Because his voice, especially when he said her name, made her wetter than any man she had ever been with. 

She had known, the moment Kirishima had introduced them, that this was going to be a problem. 

"Bakugo!" Kirishima had called the name out, happy as a clam, totally unaware that he was about to ruin her whole life. Ochako had turned and was not too proud to say she gasped — quite literally and much to the amusement of her new boss. 

"Don't worry, Uraraka," he said under his breath as the blonde stalked over to them. "You're not the first, and you certainly won't be the last."

She couldn't even bring herself to be embarrassed by the sound in her throat when she saw the beautiful man. 

She couldn't remember the last time she had thought a man beautiful. But he was beautiful.  Sharp . Everything about him felt so deeply intentional. Every movement, every line, every sound. Not a single inch of him wasted. 

"Just hired a new waitress!" finished Kirishima. 

Bakugo stopped in front of her, his gaze intense, focused, scrutinizing in a way that made her lift her chin even as her heart pounded in her chest. She was a woman…in science... specifically in physics. She was used to being scrutinized. 

She didn't know what he was looking for. But there was something in the shift of his expression that made her think he found it. 

He jutted his head up in a greeting. 

"Cheeks," he greeted curtly before moving past them. 

She sputtered in annoyance, the spell momentarily broken. "Cheeks?" she echoed. 

He turned and gave her an over-the-shoulder once-over and gave her a smirk that made her whole body thrum in an unfamiliar desire. "Yeah?" he returned lazily, too cool to even sound sorry. 

Her eyes narrowed, trying not to scowl in a way that made her cheeks puff out even further. "I have a name!" 

He turned around, and her mouth went very dry. He was staring…staring right at her, and despite her shorts and tank-top ensemble, she was suddenly feeling very heated. 

"Okay," he said expectantly. 

"O-kay?" she echoed. 

He rolled his eyes. "Your name?" he clarified. 

"Uraraka," she answered, and she had to fight the urge to hold her breath so that she didn't miss him saying it. 

He inhaled, and again, he looked at her…looked at her like — like she wasn't even sure. She was pretty sure no one in the world had ever looked at her like that, so how would she know what to call it? 

"Whatever you say, Cheeks?"

And she cursed him. 

Because he seemed…so unbothered, so cool, so sexy. 

Between Kirishima and Bakugo, and Camie, who would be training her, Ochako was beginning to think that Red Riot's had a strict, and probably illegal, hotties-only policy that left her wondering just how exactly she had gotten through the application process. 

Maybe she was a sympathy hire? 

So when they were brought up on charges of only hiring obscenely sexy people, she could be their defense?

"Don't be stupid," Shoto had said when she had told him her theory. "I'm gay, and I look twice when you wear those high-waisted shorts."

Of course, he was her biggest fan, so his feedback meant next to nothing, but she appreciated it all the same. 

“You’ve spent too much time in that depressing lab of yours,” Mina had told her. “No one can properly appreciate you for the things that really matter there!”

Ochako raised an eyebrow. “You mean my brain, smarts, and physics acumen?”

“Exactly,” Mina drawled, booping Ochako’s nose. “That stuff pales in comparison to your killer rack and your ridiculous ass!” 

Well, she wasn’t entirely wrong. 

Ochako spent all day in her head, discussing ideas as a sexless, genderless brain. In fact, she had worked hard to get that accommodation; for a good long while, the first thing anyone saw when she entered a room, a class, or a lab was a woman…a cute woman…a woman with curves and a smile who liked pink. She had fought hard to be seen as a peer, had quieted a lot of things about herself to do that, and she had just settled there — in a world of numbers and theories and equations. She loved it. She thrived in it. 

Which was why Bakugo disconcerted her so. 

Anytime he was close to her, anytime he spoke to her, anytime he looked at her, she was profoundly aware of herself… as a body…as a woman…as someone who felt desire and wants. As someone who deeply needed to be fucked. 

By something other than silicone. 

She loved it and hated it all at the same time. 

And she loved it and hated it even more when Bakugo somehow, some way, became her favorite part of the day. And not because she liked to watch him make drinks, not because she liked to watch his obscenely long fingers grip the head of a bottle and wonder what it would feel to have them wrapped around her wrists…or her throat…or digging into her hips…

; not because she liked the way his shirt stretched across his body when he reached up to grab a bottle of liquor from the top shelf…

Well, that wasn’t the only reason, at least. 

It turned out she really,  really  liked his laugh.

And he was smart. 

Like really smart. 

She had been surprised when he asked some pretty insightful questions about her work. 

It wasn’t like theoretical physics was something that people just were able to talk to her about at the top of a hat between shifts, or when her shift ended, and she’d grab a drink, or he’d come in early and grab dinner. 

And then…there was the way he looked at her. 

And even though she was fairly sure it was a persona, the kind of persona that got him tips, a smoldering intensity, a gruff, cool aloofness that he didn’t know how to turn off…he looked at her like — like she a woman. 

And not in the way that so many of her peers had back in the day — they had looked at her in a way that made her want to cover that fact up. 

The way Katsuki looked at her made her feel…seen…sexy…dirty in a way that she liked more than she would ever care to admit. And she was pretty sure he wasn’t even trying. 

It was just in the way he looked at her. In the way he talked to her. In the way his shirt stretched across his arms, his shoulders, and his stomach. 

She knew he couldn’t mean anything by that because she saw the kind of women trying to get his attention every night at the bar — the kind of women who left scribbled numbers for him on their receipts— the kind of women who she was sure he called later and invited over and did things to that she was sure that she couldn’t even imagine. 

...The kind of women who turned heads just like he did. 

She knew she didn’t have any right to him, no claim to him. 

But sometimes, it was hard to focus on orders when she was watching him lean against the bar as half of a bachelorette party giggled, flirted, and swooned over him. 

Not that she was any better. 

It wasn’t like she wasn’t staring at the door desperately hoping that no one else came in at the tail end of her shift because she wanted time to grab a drink after work, to stake a claim to her favorite seat.

She loved weekdays because it meant neither of them was too busy to talk. 

And he always made time to talk to her. 

The door dinged, and she let out a sigh of disappointment before bolstering her smile. 

This was good. 

It was why she had taken the job. 

She needed money. 

More tables meant more tips. 

She straightened her posture and took one step toward the table when Camie stepped into her path.

“Why don’t you let me take this one, babe?”

“But you already have a few tables; I don’t…”

“Oh, please,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “When you’re as hot as I am, tables will wait as long as they need to for a drink.” 

Ochako snorted. She wasn’t sure if Camie meant it as a joke, but Ochako was quite sure that it was true. Everyone who came into the bar left in love with Camie. 

But, despite her easy flirtatious nature that had everyone eating out of the palm of her hand, Camie was madly, furiously in love with her bespectacled tank of a boyfriend. 

“Besides,” continued Camie, a knowing smirk on her lips as she looked past Ochako toward the bar. “I know Blasty is waiting on your shift to end.”

Ochako rolled her eyes. 

She wasn’t sure why Camie delighted in tormenting her over her not-so-fun-sized crush on Bakugo. Camie was not a cruel person, so Ochako had no idea what to make of it when there was not a chance in hell of anything happening with him. And Ochako was sure that Camie could see that as well as she could. 

But still.

She liked watching him make a drink for her. 

She liked drinking it. 

She liked talking to him. 

She liked flirting with him even if she wasn’t good at it. 

She slid onto her stool and waited while Bakugo chatted up a woman at the end of the bar — an older woman, but that wasn’t stopping her from making her moves. And, honestly, Ochako respected the hell out of that. The woman certainly had more game in her sixties than Ochako had ever had in her life. 

“What do you want, Cheeks?”

He always asked her; always. Maybe he was thinking one day she would surprise him with her answer. 

“The usual!” she said, leaning into the bar and tapping it excitedly. 

He rolled his eyes in mock annoyance, already moving to secure the liquor behind him. 

“Pink lady margarita?”

“Yes,” she answered, already feeling the good mood that came with his proximity start to settle. It was an odd mixture, to be both ridiculously turned on and excited by his presence but also so calm and comfortable. “And don’t forget —.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he muttered. “Sugar on the rim instead of salt because you’re gross.”

She huffed. “I’m not gross. People who like salt on their rims are. I only like salt on my potato products.”

Her eyes went down to his hands, to their strong and careful grip around the delicate stem of the glass, as he perfectly measured, poured, and shook her drink. 

She bit her lip to hold back the soft sigh. 

Those damn hands. 

She wanted them on her…everywhere…inside of her…

She squeezed her thighs together and tugged at the sides of her miniskirt. 

“How was class today?” He put the glass down in front of her, and she grabbed at it excitedly.

“Long,” she groaned, rolling out her neck. “I was hunched over a microscope all day, and I think I’ve done irreparable damage to my neck.”

“Get a massage,” he said casually, making another drink for the woman down the bar who was gesturing at him. 

She snorted. “You know how expensive those things are?” she said. 

“Tch…please,” he snorted. “I’m sure you would have no problem getting a very willing man to rub your neck for free.”

She almost choked on her drink, but he was already gone, once again smirking and making the woman at the end of the bar laugh. 

She breathed in sharply and closed her eyes. 

She needed to just enjoy the flirting for what it was. 

She probably wasn’t even the first girl he had said that to that night. 

Which was fine. 

It was fine. 

She finished her drink…faster than she normally would. 

She could enjoy it, and it could just be a bright spot in a day that was filled with work, and labs, and feeling like a scientist before she felt like a woman. 

After serving a few more folks, he found his way back to her, another margarita in hand for her. He placed it in front of her without a word. 

“What about you?” she asked, the tip of her tongue darting out and licking the edge of it, humming happily at the taste of the sugar. “How was your day? Were you able to track down the parts you needed for the car? 

He didn’t answer right away.

She looked up, briefly, thinking maybe he didn’t hear it. 

But he was there, right in front of her, eyes locked on her…or, well, her drink. Her brow furrowed. He looked intense, almost angry. 

It was only then that she realized her tongue was still at. 

“Oh, stop it!” she said. 

“What?!” he snapped, almost defensively. “I wasn’t doing fucking anything.”

“Yes, you were,” she said. “You think I’m gross licking the sugar off the glass, and you think I am unworthy of your perfect drinks with my heathenism.”

His mouth set in a hard, annoyed line before it relaxed. “You need to treat the drinks with respect! Even if it is a pink lady margarita!”

“Lay off my drink; I’m a paying customer.”

“Tch… you ain’t paid for a damn drink your whole life, Cheeks.” 

She supposed that was true. She was a boring Ph.D. student in his eyes. She had been in a class since she was 5 and working since she was 15. She didn’t have time to do anything else.

And now she didn’t have to. 

Working there had its perks. 

“If I paid, maybe I’d get nicer service.” She sipped happily at the perfect, fresh beverage. 

“Maybe you would,” he agreed with a shrug. 

“I pay with the pleasure of my company.” He scoffed, and she took another drink.

“Is that what you’re doing?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow. She fixed her eyes on her own drink and took another long sip, refusing to look down as he cleaned the inside of a shot glass. Which she was quite sure was clean at this moment and didn’t require the full exploration his finger was giving it. 

Nope. Nope. Nope.  She  must  stay focused. 

“You good, Cheeks?” he asked, leaning into the bar, his eyes narrowing. “You ain’t got a fever or anything do you? You look flushed. You know you shouldn’t be coming in to work sick.”

“I always look flushed!”

“No fucking shit,” he said, reaching out. “Not that flushed.”

She froze when the back of his hand pressed against her forehead — splitting the difference between a desire to lean toward the press of his skin or to retreat. 

“You don’t feel hot,” he observed.

Her lip pouted. “Because I’m not sick.” He pulled away but watched her warily. 

She smiled at him and covered her chest as though deeply touched. “Oh, are you worried about me, Bakugo?”

Of course he wasn’t. 

That was silly. 

He was worried about her coming in and infecting all of the staff and patrons. He was meticulous with his cleanliness and always kept his station in immaculate condition. It didn’t matter how busy it got or how busy he was; a mess never lasted more than a minute at the bar.

It was impressive. 

And scary. 

He carefully topped another drink with a lemon curl. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I am. Your schedule is batshit, Uraraka, and that means a lot coming from me.” 

She supposed that was true. 

Bakugo was by no means a lazy human. 

He was at the gym every morning at 5 am (had invited her a couple of times, but she didn’t like him that much…) and taught self-defense classes at the community center; after that, he audited a smattering of classes at the local university, and restored old cars. It seemed every day that she was learning about some amazing new way he was improving himself, somehow maintaining an intense focus the whole time. 

He was not flighty with anything. 

So it seemed he just wanted to be good at everything. 

He moved back down the bar to attend to a few other patrons and, of course, make another round to pass a drink to the woman at the end of the bar. She watched him as he talked, flirting in his unique Bakugo way. 

And the woman was lapping it up — seemingly delighted with every wink. 

Ochako downed the rest of her drink.

 

###

 

Ochako was three and a half drinks in and starting to feel good. 

Really good. 

She usually cut herself off at this point, but her lab had been canceled the next morning, and she was wondering if, maybe, Bakugo was flirting with her. 

A little more than usual. 

He was certainly  touching  her more than usual. 

She had been in the middle of rambling about the lab she was working in and about the turn their research had taken last week, and then, casual-as-you-please, like he did all the time, he reached toward her for the second time that night and tucked her hair behind her ear. 

Not breaking eye contact.

Listening — or at least pretending to listen— in rapt attention 

Of course that had sent her brain screeching to a resounding halt that she was sure made him smirk as he pulled away.

When he had made her last drink, she was pretty sure his fingers had lingered against hers when he passed it to her. 

And she wasn’t blind; they had flirted before, but, again, that was pretty standard behavior for bartenders, she was sure. But this felt different; more charged; more weighted; and she just hoped it wasn’t because she was a drink and a half tipsier than she usually was. 

But even as oblivious as she could be, she was pretty sure she hadn’t misinterpreted it when he had wiped some sugar from the corner of her mouth from the rim of her glass. 

“I’m sure you taste sweet enough as is, Uraraka,” he said. “No need to add any sugar.”

Her heart skipped, and she had almost fallen out of her seat. 

She excused herself briefly and escaped to the bathroom to collect her sanity. She wished she had some makeup on hand, though she was pretty sure he would notice if she added any…he was so damn observant. And then he'd know she liked him. 

And she couldn't have that. 

She fiddled with her hair, mussing it a bit. 

“Okay,” she breathed, nodding to herself. “Okay, get it together, Uraraka.” She gripped the edge of the sink and tapped her foot anxiously. “He’s just a guy. Yes, the sexiest guy you have ever seen, but he is still a guy.”

She exhaled and took out her phone, and quickly dialed Mina’s number. 

She picked up on the second ring.

“Hey, babe!” she greeted happily. “A little late for you; figured you’d be in bed already.” 

“No lab tomorrow.”

She heard shuffling on the other end. “So are you gonna try and get in hot bartender's overly tight pants tonight then.”

“Not overly tight,” she sighed. “The perfect amount of tight.”

She would know. 

She had given it a lot of thought. 

“That’s not a no, Ochako!” she said. “Are you actually going to go for it?”

Ochako whimpered. “I…I don’t know…I think he’s flirting with me, but….”

“He for sure is,” interrupted Mina. “Always is. Now what are you wearing?”

Uraraka stepped back to look at herself in the mirror. “Nothing fancy. A black skirt….”

“Excellent,” said Mina. “Easy access. How do your tits look?”

Ochako cocked her head to the side and examined them. “I think they look good?”

“Of course they do; they always do,” muttered Mina. “Bitch…”

“Mina!”

“I’m just saying! Now how is your bra?”

She grimaced and pulled down on the scoop-cut collar of her shirt slightly to look at the old, beige bra she was wearing. It wasn’t hurting, but it certainly wasn’t doing any favors. 

“It’s not the best,” she said. “I mean, it’s not the bra I would  choose  to be wearing on the night that Bakugo may or may not fold me like a pretzel and fuck me within an inch of my life.”

There was a moment of silence. 

“Are you drunk?”

“No!” she answered hastily. “Not drunk; just a little tipsy.” Someone suddenly reached past her shoulder and snatched her phone out of her hand. “Hey!” she whipped around to find Camie there. “Camie give…”

“Mina is that you?” she said into the phone.

“It is!”

“How’s our girl doing?”

“I’m right here!” said Ochako, trying to get her phone back, but Camie spun and blocked her off. 

“She’s worried about her bra.”

Camie turned around and looked at Ochako. “Show me.”

Ochako sighed and grabbed the hem of her shirt, and pulled it up so Camie could see the plane bra. 

“I mean, with tits like that, who's gonna be looking at the bra?” 

“Exactly!” agreed Mina. 

“But…” Camie leaned forward to get a closer look and then reached toward her chest, pausing briefly. “May I?”

Ochako sighed, giving herself over entirely to the absurdity of it all. “If you must!”

Camie hummed thoughtfully as she cupped Ochako’s chest and bounced gently. 

“What are you doing?” asked Mina. 

“Feeling Uraraka up.”

“Dammit,” said Mina. “I need to get a job there; y’all have all the fun.”

“Why exactly?” asked Ochako. “Not to complain. This is the most sex I’ve had in about seven months.”

“I’m seeing if we are the same size!”

“Can’t you just check the label?”

“Uraraka, honey, I love you, you know that, but these cheap-ass department store bras do not accurately convey anything about size. I, however, am an expert…”

Ochako had no doubt. 

“Won’t Iida be mad that you were feeling me up in a bathroom?”

Camie laughed and withdrew her hand. 

“Please, I’ll tell him in excruciating detail; he’ll blush and scold me for unprofessional behavior at work, and then he’ll fuck me into the mattress.” 

Ochako looked at her deadpan. “Glad my tits will help get one of us laid.”

Camie tsked. “Oh, ye of little faith.” Camie turned and took off her shirt. 

“What’s happening?” asked Mina. “Someone tell me!”

“Camie is stripping.”

Mina let out a long sigh. “I should have video-conferenced in.”

Camie removed her bra and let her shirt fall back over her chest before she turned and handed it to Ochako.

“What is this?” she asked, looking down at the black, lacey fabric. 

“You wanna feel hot as hell?” asked Camie. “Put it on.”

Ochako looked at the longline bra with a faint embroidery pattern. “How do you work in this?!” 

Camie shrugged. “It makes me feel like a bad bitch! Plus, Tenya likes it when I sneak away to the breakroom to take sexy pics for him.”

“Tenya is a freak,” said Mina. “You lucky, lucky lady.”

“Camie, I can’t wear this!”

“Why? I already took it off; you know how long it takes to get off; it has seven hooks!”

“Because it won’t fit! Just because our tits are the same size doesn’t mean we are?”

She gestured between them. “You’re quite a bit smaller than me.”

“Right!” said Camie. “Which means you're gonna have that little bit of spillover; trust me, guys  love  that.”

“Like you would know!” shot back Ochako, eyeing Camie's perfect body that Ochako very much doubted had ever spilled out of anything. 

“I have been with many guys," said Camie. "And many girls, and some at the same time; trust me, you were on mine and Tenya’s shortlist for a reason, and half of it is because of those thigh highs you wore to work that one time, and you were so worried that they were tight at the top. Tenya went feral for that alone.”

“I’m flattered,” Ochako said, looking down at the material. She turned away from Camie and took her shirt off. She struggled with the hooks, but Camie was more than happy to assist.

When it was secured — tight, as Ochako predicted — she turned around, and Camie stared, looking desperately pleased. “Holy fucking shit, Ochako,” she breathed. “Forget Bakuboy, and you can just come on home with me tonight; Tenya and I will treat you a lot nicer than him.”

Ochako rolled her eyes and turned to the mirror, a reprimand on her tongue that Camie shouldn’t say things she didn’t mean, but then she stopped.

“HOW DOES SHE LOOK? HOW DOES SHE LOOK?!” Mina screamed into the phone. “Someone better tell me right now, or I’m coming down there.”

“Can I take a picture for Mina?” asked Camie. Ochako nodded, and there was a click. “Can — can I take a picture for me?” she asked. Ochako nodded again, and there was another click. 

“I look…” Ochako didn’t know. 

But Camie was...she was right. 

It was a bit tight on her, her breasts were near spilling out, but somehow it looked… hot . She couldn't remember the last time she had looked like this. 

Felt like this. 

Hot in that way that made Ochako turn and look twice when she saw certain women pass by but not in a way she ever thought she could be.

She swallowed. 

She hadn’t really seen her body in a long time. 

And neither had anyone else. 

She had covered it up so intentionally for so long that she almost forgot what it looked like. 

“You look like a damn goddess,” said Camie. 

“Goddess of sex and titties!” said Mina. 

“Is there a goddess of titties?” asked Camie

Mina hummed thoughtfully. “If there isn’t, there should be.”

“Agreed…we will build temples, and only the most worthy may approach. So like, 99.9% of your worshippers will be women; you good with that, Uraraka?”

Ochako didn’t know why she felt so emotional, but she did. Maybe it was the drinks; maybe it was coming to terms with just how disembodied she had felt, how separated she felt, coming to terms with choosing a career that she loved but severely limited her ability to connect with herself on this level without drastically undermining her ability to be taken seriously. 

“Thank you, Camie,” she finally managed, pulling her shirt back on overhead. 

“Don’t thank me, babe, just go and get the dick you so rightfully deserve and…” she shrugged. “If it’s over in five seconds because Bakugo cums in his pants the minute you take your shirt off, then, well, you have my number.”

Ochako hugged her, reminding them both that Camie didn't have a bra. 

“Oh, yeah,” she said, picking up hers. “I…do you want…sorry, my bra isn’t as sexy as yours.”

Camie took it. “Eh, I felt like a bad bitch most of the day; now it’s your turn.”

“This is the most non-male-gaze start to a porno I have ever heard,” observed Mina.

“Okay,” said Ochako, looking once more in the mirror now that her shirt was on. The difference was…drastic. And that made her nervous and excited. “I’m going in!”

Camie smacked her ass as she headed to the door. “Yeah, you are! Go get your screaming orgasm! I hear he makes a great one.”

Ochako rolled her eyes at the joke but paused, looking from the bra that Camie had put over the sink back to Camie. “Are you…are you hanging in here?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Gonna send Tenya a couple of pics before I take off.”

Ochako laughed and shook her head. “Love you, Camie.”

“Love you too!”

The door closed behind her, and she girded herself.

She needed to own it. 

She was a woman. 

She was sexy. 

She lifted her chin and squared her shoulders, and crossed back to the bar in front of her half-finished drink. 

Bakugo was back with the older woman, but she looked like she was closing out. Ochako sipped her drink and sat up, trying not to look too eager for him to return — trying not to psyche herself out — trying not to put too much expectations or pressure on anything. 

She just needed to…

“Can I get you another drink?”

She looked to her right to find the once vacant seat now holding a man. 

Her eyes widened.

“Huh?”

He leaned into the bar on his elbow. 

“A drink,” he repeated, with a small laugh that reached his blue eyes. “Can I buy you another one?”

She blinked wordlessly and fought the urge to look down at her chest. 

Was Camie’s bra magic? 

Did she know it was magic? 

“I’m sorry,” said Ochako, shaking her head with a laugh. “I had a long day at work, and my brain is a little tired.” 

“That’s a shame,” he drawled. “Beautiful women like you shouldn’t have to worry about stuff like that.” 

Her mouth twisted into a sour expression. “I…what?”

 “I’m Daishi Konishi," he interrupted. He held out a hand, ignoring her confused question. She shook it slowly, her brain still not processing what was happening. Mina was right. She had forgotten how to interact in any social setting; she really needed to get out of the lab for more than just work. “What’s your name?” he said, leaning into her space, resting his chin in his hand, and looking at her.

“Uraraka,” she answered. 

“Uraraka,” he repeated. “What do you do that has that pretty head of yours flustered…do you manage the schedule of some high-level CEO or something?”

“She’s solving the mysteries of the universe, asshole; now get lost.”

Ochako turned to find Bakugo standing in front of her again, yet another fresh drink in his hand. 

Not hers, though. 

“Hey!” barked back Konishi. “Don’t tell me what to do…”

“You’re lucky I’m telling you when I could easily come around there and make you do what I say.”

Konishi looked from Ochako to Bakugo and then waved his hand dismissively. “Whatever,” he muttered as he walked away. “Not worth it.”

Bakugo snorted. “Well, he gave up fast…pussy.”

Ochako scoffed. "Because you scared him!" 

“If a man ain’t willing to get his ass kicked at least once for ya, he ain’t worth shit, Uraraka.”

“Still,” she said with a shrug. “It’s not a great way to treat a paying customer.”

He leaned across the bar in a way that accentuated the planes and dips and lines of his forearms. “You sayin’ you were enjoying talking to that guy?”

It was a question; a threat; a curiosity; a challenge…all rolled into one. 

His gaze darted across her face as though he would miss some subtle nuance in her expression if he wasn’t giving his full attention to the whole of her. 

He was so close, she could smell him.

A mix of cologne, sweat, the bar, and just…something intensely male in a way she couldn’t put a finger on but in a way she had been craving deep in her core. 

She had missed whatever it was. 

“No,” she answered honestly, a hot flush prickling along the surface of her skin. “No, I wasn’t.”

He didn’t answer, but he didn’t distance himself. 

His lips parted slightly as he inhaled. And then his gaze dropped, down her face, her neck, to her chest. 

And she would bet her life that something almost like the beginnings of a pained moan started in his throat, but he caught it. 

She remained still. 

Not moving. 

Not breathing. 

As he outright stared at her chest, at the way she almost spilled out of her top now. Not quite, not completely, but a promise there about how easy it would be. 

She wanted to tell him that…for him…just for him…she was easy. 

So so fucking easy. 

He breathed in and then out, and she felt the soft touch of it on her skin. The only thing, she expected, that was soft on him. But she wanted to find out. She wanted to explore every hard inch of him to find out if that was the case. 

“Good,” he finally said. He was looking at her again. 

And he looked into her eyes the same way he was looking at her tits, hungry, feral, and wanting. She jumped at the clunk of a drink on the bar in front of her; she looked down at the glass. 

It was a pink drink, but not hers, with a pretty pink and orange hibiscus decorating the edge. 

“What’s this?” she asked. 

“I made a drink for you…”

“What is it called?”

He smirked at her and finally straightened so he wasn’t at eye level with her any longer. “Pink Cheeks; it’s my own invention.”

She glared at him as she grabbed the glass, held it up, and sniffed it. “It better be sweet!” she said. 

“Only the sweetest for you, Cheeks.”

She took a sip, tested it on her tongue, and then swallowed. “You know, being good at everything isn’t a personality trait, Bakugo.”

“Neither is sugar and sweets,” he said. 

“Speaking of,” Ochako looked down the bar to find his regular gone. “Your new girlfriend left? Did she have those little strawberry candies in her bag?” 

He chuckled. “You jealous?”

“Honestly, yes,” she answered, taking another drink, her body spreading with that pleasant warmth and buzz. “Could you ask her to bring some for me next time? I can wink and flirt with her too.”

“She does tip well for that,” he said. “I get a 1,000 yen note every time I wink at her and 2,000 when I make her laugh. I even got 5,000 yen when I called her sweetheart.”

“I tip you well,” said Ochako. “You never call me sweetheart.”

Yup…yup, the alcohol was most certainly doing its job; she was pretty sure she had managed that without blushing. 

“Nah, sweetheart and darlin’ are for extras whose names I can’t remember.”

She tapped her glass thoughtfully. “Still,” she said. “Better than Pink Cheeks?”

His brows scrunched adorably like he had just said something ridiculous. “Is it?”

“No,” she admitted. She actually liked his nicknames, but not as much as she liked when he said her name, and there were certainly other nicknames she would like to hear from him, other names she had thought of him growling, hot and wild in her ear. “But still, some variety would be nice.”

She opened her wallet, stuffed with her tips from the day and pulled out a 10,000 yen note, and put it on the bar, theatrically, pushing it with two fingers toward him. 

He looked down at the note for a moment, eyebrow raised in a way that had no business being as attractive as it was. But she was beginning to think that was everything about him. 

There was nothing about him that didn’t turn her inside out in the best and worst ways. 

He reached for the note and plucked it up. “Thanks, sweetheart,” he said, voice a low pleasant vibration that she wanted to feel across her skin. 

“Boo,” she said, pretending to be unaffected by the word. “That’s a 10,000 yen note; I thought it would at least earn me a ‘good girl.’”

As soon as she said it, she regretted it. 

She was feeling bold, but not  that  bold — Camie’s bra apparently gave her a very false sense of confidence. 

And from the way he went rigid, the way he went silent, the way his whole demeanor shifted, perhaps she had girlbossed a little too close to the sun and had crossed a line. Out of the playfulness that he was comfortable with and into something far too personal. Too flirty, especially with a coworker. 

Hell, she's not sure, but it might fall into sexual harassment territory. 

But before she could apologize. 

Before she could make an alcohol-related excuse. 

He walked away. 

Not a word. 

Not a look back. 

He just…walked away. 

Leaving her dumbfounded and maybe a little bit heartbroken. 

It took her a few seconds to recover, and then, she was on her feet, running to the back office to gather her purse and her jacket so she could get the hell out of here and go home. She would just text Eijiro her resignation tomorrow because, like hell, she would be coming back. 

The least she could do was give Bakugo some space after she sexually harassed him. 

She gathered her shit and headed toward the backdoor; she couldn’t face anyone…Bakugo, Camie, the guy who had been hitting on her, whose name escaped her. 

“Uraraka!”

The voice was stern, firm…commanding. It made her stop in her tracks. She closed her eyes tight and slowly turned, an apology poised on her tongue. 

But apparently, she wasn’t allowed to talk.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

He sounded pissed. 

Angry. 

Her thighs clenched. 

Her core throbbed. 

Fuck. 

No wonder he rejected her. She was deviant. 

“Uh…home…” 

He stalked over to her, crossing the space between them in a few quick strides.

“Bakugo, what are you….” Her words were swallowed in a moan as his hand clamped around her wrist…hard. 

Hard enough to hurt just the right amount but not so hard that she wasn’t sure that if she asked him to let go, he would. 

But she didn’t want him to. 

The sound of her moan stopped him in the same way his voice around her name had stopped her. 

For a moment, the irritation dissipated, eyes dropping to the point of contact. And she could see the wheels turning, seeing him putting a few clues together. He squeezed tighter, and she gave him just what he was looking for. 

Another pathetic, needy sound that had him smirking at her like he had just won a war she hadn’t even known they were fighting. 

A terrifying, delicious change set in his feature, setting the white-hot ball of desire that had been lodged in her chest for as long as she had known him

He didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to. 

The air grew hot and thin between them, electric and a second away from a spark. 

She felt his intention in the way his fingers gripped her even tight as he dragged her roughly out the back door and into the alley behind the bar. Her nose scrunched in distaste at her surroundings, but she immediately forgot where they were were as she was crowded against the brick wall behind her. His palms came slamming down on either side of her head, caging her in. 

He looked her over, almost casually, but his eyes told a different story…not an ounce of disinterest or flicker of boredom. 

“You really want to go home, Uraraka?”

She trembled, trying to steady herself; her voice; trying not to reveal the truth that all he had to do was say her name, and she would do whatever he wanted. 

“Answer me.”

It was quiet. 

Coaxing.

Still a command. 

“No,” she answered, impressed with her ability to form words at this moment. “No, I don’t.”

The hand on the wall behind her slid inward, cupping her behind the neck, his thumb moving up and down the column of her throat, pressing lightly against her, teasing her with those fingers she had stared at for six months now and wondered what they would feel like wrapped around her neck.

“Then why the fuck…” he was leaning into her now, burying his face in her neck while his thumb continued to move up and down, tracing her jaw and then back down her neck. “Would you say all that shit and then leave?”

She bit back a needy sob. She wanted him so bad it hurt. 

She could feel his lips smirk at the spot just under her ear.

He was enjoying this. 

Enjoying torturing her. 

…bastard. 

But she just knew he was going to make it worth her while. 

“Is it so I would chase after you?”

“No,” she whispered, arching slightly off the wall, desperate for any kind of contact, desperate for relief, for friction, for heat. 

“Tch…liar…you’ve been driving me crazy all night, and I know it’s on purpose.”

She didn’t deny it. How could she? It was true, and also, she was delirious as his teeth grazed her neck. 

“Please,” she said, finding her voice even in the haze of desire. “You’re the one who's been touching me, and lookin’ at me, and saying my name like….” She stopped when his tongue dragged against the side of her neck. 

And she moaned, loud and wanton, when before she would have assumed the only sound that would have drawn from her was, “blaaahhhh….”

Apparently, one kiss from Bakugo meant she was a changed woman. 

“Like what?” he pressed. 

“Like…” His fingers trailed down her neck and over her collarbones. 

“Like you were trying…” his fingers trailed lower now over her stomach and over the front of her skirt; it didn’t feel like he had a specific destination, rather that he was just…touching her…feeling her. 

“Trying to what?” he asked, pushing her tight skirt up her thigh and digging into her skin. “Be specific.”

“Trying to turn me on,” she finally managed as he pushed her skirt up, high enough to lift her leg and wrap it around his waist. She let out a cry of relief as she felt the hard outline of his dick through his jeans rub right up against her. 

But it was like a drop of water. 

A few seconds ago, she was sure that if she could just get a taste, a feel, a little bit of relief, it would feel better.

Idiot. 

Now she just wanted more. 

“You think that’s what I was doing?” he asked, hovering over her panting mouth, grinding into her. She nodded. “You think everything about my day is just to see how wet I can get you without touching you? You think that I’m just trying to figure out a way to make sure I’m the only man you think of when you go home and touch yourself?”

His words sent another thrumming current of heat between her legs that her clenching desperately around nothing. 

She nodded, hardly even aware of what she was responding to at this point, as she lifted her hips to meet him in his slow, steady grinds. 

She had dry-humped since she was in high school, and somehow it was more erotic than every single sexual encounter she had since then.

“...You think that because that’s what you do to me, right?”

She shook her head, and his grip tightened around her throat; she gasped, and his tongue darted out to taste her; she tried to kiss him, but he pulled away. 

“Don’t lie to me,” he said. “Don’t ask me to call you a good girl and then lie to me. You don’t think I noticed the way your tits looked when you came back out? I don't know what the fuck you did when you were in there, but I know for damn sure it was on purpose."

She couldn't deny it. 

"I...I like when you look at me," she confessed, her throat dry. 

The corner of his lip twitched up into a brief smile, but he schooled it immediately. "That the same reason you were talking to that asshole? To make me jealous? To get me to look at you?" 

That certainly had not been the plan, but she was ready to roll with anything at this point. 

“You do all that and expect me to call you a  good  girl?” She nodded desperately, her words choking in her throat. “You gotta earn that shit, Uraraka, and certainly not with 10,000 yen.”

“I will,” she whispered, tightening the grip of her leg around his waist as if she could draw him closer. “I’ll earn it, Bakugo.” 

He chuckled. “We’ll see.”

His mouth was on hers, feverish and starving. Not even kissing so much as devouring, tasting, licking, his tongue curling around hers. 

It was messy. 

Wet. 

Demanding. 

Suffocating her in the best way. 

His hand still at her throat, a warning as much as a promise.

And it told her just how much he wanted her. That he craved her every bit as much as she did him. In this moment, at least. Even if it was just this moment. 

He explored her mouth, swallowing her moans like they were water, and he had just left a desert. 

“Fuck, Uraraka,” he said, his smoky drawl breaking. “You taste so good. So fucking sweet.” She giggled, and he pulled away briefly. “What are you laughing at?” he groused. 

“Nothing,” she said, wiggling her shoulders. “You just always give me hell about my sweet drinks.”

“You’re a better kind of sweet,” he murmured, going to her neck again, panting and sucking and mouthing at her skin; her hands were in his hair, dragging through the soft blonde locks, scraping along his scalp. He broke away for a moment, one hand disappearing from her throat and the other from her leg. She held her leg in place around him but looked down, only momentarily confused until she saw his intention. 

“Bakugo, wait…”

He did not wait; his hands had fisted the scoop collar of her black shirt and ripped it open. 

“I could have just taken it off if….” But it was clear he wasn’t listening. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, looking down at her tits. "This the kind of shit you wear every day?"

Her nose wrinkled. "Well, actually, it's Camie's..." 

He managed to rip his eyes away from the rounded top of her breasts, her nipples barely contained by the bra. 

"Why do you have it?"

She shrugged, but she was sure her nonchalance was fooling no one as her face turned a damning bright red. "I...I wanted you to look at me," she offered again.

He inhaled sharply and closed his eyes tight, and shook his head, an almost incredulous laugh rising in his throat. 

She was about to ask him what was so funny, but the barely formed question turned into a moan when he dipped his head to explore the new territory, and like this, she could for sure see the slight size difference between her and Camie; her pushed-up breasts were already halfway out as he sucked a tiny red mark into the top of her plump flesh. 

And all it took was a tiny nudge from his thumbs for her to come out entirely. 

“Bakugo,” she groaned. It was meant as a reprimand but sounded like the opposite as his tongue flicked at her tight, pink nipple- the cold night air hitting it and reminding her that they weren’t in the best place for this.

Outside. 

Two  feet from where their place of employment. 

...From patrons and colleagues and employers. 

Another flush of heat fanned across her skin. 

She had never done anything like this, but she meant what she said…she would let him do whatever he wanted, anywhere he wanted. And there was something just so addicting about the fact that he would risk getting found just because he couldn’t wait to have her. 

Her hands curled in his hair, tugging him upward and back to her mouth, tits still very much exposed but pressed hard up against his as he gathered her back against him with his height advantage restored. 

Her hands twisted in the hair at the nape of his neck as she rolled her hips against him.

“Please, Bakugo.”

“Hmmm,  please  sounds so pretty on you, Angel.”

His hand brushed the side of her leg again, pushing his palm up her leg again until it was under her skirt, with one too many layers between them as his pointer finger dragged lazily up the front of his panties. 

“You been waiting for this?” he asked.

“Yes.” She barely recognized her own shattered voice.  

“You thought about me making you cum with just my hands.”

“Yes, yes,  yes ….” A bite of impatience slipped through. 

“Now, now,” he chided. “Remember what I said about being a good girl?”

She did, but it was so hard. 

He was so close, and she had been dreaming about his hands for so so long. 

"Good girls tell me what they want, sweetheart."

She flushed with embarrassment and excitement. 

"I want you, Bakugo." She wasn't typically so chatty in bed...or against a wall...or wherever she was letting a guy inside her...so even saying it thrilled her from head to toe, making her whole body come alive. Saying what she wanted, out loud, to someone who wanted to know made every inch of her skin buzz with excitement. "I...I want you inside of me. I want your fingers, your..." Her words faltered, and for a moment, she was embarrassed...embarrassed that she wanted to say it and embarrassed that she couldn't say it, that she was too in her head. 

Come on,  she told herself.  Get it together, Uraraka. 

She was finally with the man of her wet dreams...and she sounded like a blushing virgin. 

"You still with me, Uraraka?" The question mumbled against her jaw, coaxing her out of her head.

And, she suspected, assuring she hadn't changed her mind.

It was why some part of her, despite the danger of the situation, despite it the very precarious situation they found themselves in, she felt safe at this moment — safe in a way that would let her do things that she never normally would. 

"Yes," she said, focusing on the way his fingers tips teased along the soft edges of her underwear, his thumb over the obvious wet patch that he was leaving from his touch, his kiss, his words. "I'm with you. I want you. Please, Bakugo, I want you so bad."

She gasped when his fingers finally brushed against her dripping core. “You weren’t kidding,” he said, kissing her bottom lip, catching it briefly in his teeth. “You’re fucking soaking, Uraraka.”

“I always am when I'm with you,” she said as he gently circled her clit, avoiding direct pressure but continuing his slow teasing that she was sure was going to kill her. 

“Always, huh?”

“I already told you that…” A finger slid inside of her, and she gasped, hands gripping his shoulders to keep herself from falling. 

“You mean to tell me you walk around this place; taking orders; serving drinks; talking to customers; and you feel like this.” He gently pumped one finger in and out, stretching her, feeling her with gentle, eager precision. His fingers were so much thicker, so much longer than her own. "That doesn’t sound like a good girl to me.” 

Another finger slid inside her, and the yelp of surprise she almost let out was swallowed in another heated kiss, her desperate hands clawing, pushing, and pulling at his shoulders as he pumped harder and faster, his palm pressing into her clit in a blunt, circular motion, sending every one of her senses into overdrive. 

All sense of herself as just a disembodied brain felt eons away as she experienced every touch, every kiss, every stroke in every single cell and nerve in her body. 

It was almost too much.

“Bakugo,” she whimpered against his neck as she slumped into his body. “Bakugo, I…I…” Nothing came out; her brain reeled as he curled his fingers, petting her walls. She didn’t trust her words, not when she was mixing up want and need so completely inside of her. 

“If my fingers make this much of a mess of you, I can’t wait to see what my cock does to you.”

Neither could she because this felt like it was going to overwhelm her completely; he was twisting her up from the inside out, coaxing her closer and closer to an edge that thrilled her and terrified her because she didn’t know what was waiting there. 

“I can feel it,” he said. “You’re almost there, baby. Almost there.” 

The moment she came, his mouth was on hers, his fingers tighter around her throat as he swallowed her keening wails before she alerted anyone within a mile radius of what was happening here. 

“You sound so fucking pretty when you cum, Uraraka," he said when he pulled away. "Can’t wait to hear it somewhere. I can see how loud you get.”

She’d go anywhere with him, she thought. Only the last shred of her self-control keeping it just a thought 

He continued to delicately tease her clit, drawing out her orgasm until she was a twitching, boneless mess against the solid, heated mass of his body. He held her up effortlessly. His fingers slid out of her, and she missed them almost right away. He brought his fingers up, glistening with his handiwork. 

“Bakugo what…?”

Before she could stop him, his fingers were in his mouth, licking himself clean. 

Fuck. 

Already, she was already craving him again. 

She wanted him close. 

She wanted to feel him, around her, against her, inside of her…

“How is it?” she asked, craving his approval — craving his praise. She knew the answer. She could see it in his blown pupils; in his heaving, panting breaths; in the flush on his face, in the small groan as he tasted her. 

“Fucking perfect,” he breathed. 

And Ochako acted again…on instinct…on desire…on what her body wanted…and she wanted it to be clear that even though he was in control, it was because she was letting him be. 

She wrapped her fingers around his thick wrist and drew his hand out of his mouth, her eyes locked on his because she didn’t want to miss…anything…as she guided his fingers toward her own mouth, parting her lips slowly.

He inhaled sharply, his eyes the only sign that maybe he was unraveling too. There was so much there. 

And she was quite sure he was seeing her. 

Yes, this was different; yes, this was consuming; but there were traces of familiarity there, too, the single-minded intensity that he always had when he looked at her. It always made her feel so deeply seen, like nothing else mattered besides her. 

“Like I said,” he breathed, reverence in his voice, as he pressed his fingers a little further into her mouth, pressing against her tongue. “Fucking perfect. Can’t tell you how many nights I’ve gotten off thinking about this mouth of yours."

“Talk quantum mechanics gets you hot and bothered?” she asked when he removed his fingers from her mouth. 

“Best fucking dirty talk I ever heard."

She couldn't tell if he was joking...his tone was playful, but he was looking at her like it was the most true thing in the world. 

"The most brilliant shit comes out of that mouth, and I can't help but imagine how good it would feel wrapped around my cock."

Ochako wasn’t sure what he expected to happen, but from the way his eyes widened when she dropped to her knees, it wasn’t that. And that surprise, that shock, the way his mouth parted slightly made her feel…powerful. 

“The fuck are you…?” He choked on his last word when she nuzzled up against the hard outline of his cock in her jeans…trying not to be intimidated by the size of what she was feeling. 

She kept her eyes locked on him as her hands moved up his legs and over his thighs, pushing him gently until he replaced her, pressed up against the wall.

“Making sure the next time we’re working a shift together, you aren’t thinking about the women flirting with you….” 

He chuckled, reaching down and caressing her face with more affection than she would associate with a back ally fuck. His thumb brushed along the apple of her cheek. 

“You’re a dumbass if you think I’m thinking about anything but you when we’re together.” 

She blushed…ridiculous, considering she was in the process of pulling his dick out of his boxers. But that was forgotten when she had to rear back slightly to avoid getting slapped in the face. 

Which, of course, made him laugh. 

“Think you can handle it, Uraraka?” 

She glared up at him, and his smirk grew wider, goading her on like he didn’t have a care in the world, like he wouldn’t be on full display if someone came out right now. Not that he had anything to be embarrassed of. 

She…she was nervous, though. 

She hadn’t had any complaints about her performance in this area, but it had been a long time. And never had she done it…like…like this. 

“Uraraka…” she looked up at him again, trying to still her nerves. She could see his own control cracking; the game they were playing didn’t hide the very real lust that was no doubt pumping through him right now. He brushed the tips of his fingers across her forehead, brushing her bangs. “You don’t have…”

“I want to,” she said, not an ounce of hesitancy as she looked up at him. “I...I just want it to be good for you.” He froze for a moment.

Dammit, she thought. Back ally fuck. He wants dirty talk, not sweet talk. Not…

Her spiral interrupted when his thumb pressed against her bottom lip.

“Do you want to suck my cock, Uraraka?”

She whimpered and nodded, squeezing her thighs together, her pussy throbbing with the question…with the way he asked the question.

“Then, I promise you,” he continued, voice dripping with promise. “It’s going to be good for me.” 

He sounded so sure. 

And that made her feel sure, sure that if she was doing something that she enjoyed, he would enjoy it too. She pushed up his shirt, exposing his well-muscled lower abdomen, 

She knew he was straining for relief, for her touch, the same way she was, but that didn't mean she wasn't going to take her time with him…though it was as much for her as it was for him when she traced her fingers along the sharp, hard  v  of his hips; when she leaned in and kissed down his stomach, tongue teasing the hard, sharp planes of his abs.

It was for her. 

But his strained groans and shudders and his labored breathing told her it was for him too.

His breathing grew harsher as her lips traveled downward. 

She was so close to his cock, only to divert from her path to trace the line of his hips with her tongue.

“Good girls don’t tease, Uraraka,” he bit out harshly, one of his hands going up to bring a fist to his mouth, stifling his volume. 

She smirked, her nails digging in sightly to his thighs. “I have been thinking about this specifically,” the tip of her tongue flicked out once more, dipping into the line and tracing the path downward. “For a long, long time. So I'm gonna take my time." 

He laughed, a low strangled sound, but the vibration of it filled her chest with warmth. “Well, you know what I’ve been thinking about for a long time?”

She raised an eyebrow and looked longingly at his cock. "Well,” she said, smiling up at him. “Lucky for you, I’ve been thinking about that for almost as long.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “I highly doubt that, Cheeks, unless...Fuuuck!” he groaned, his head dropping back against the building, his hand going to her head, threading his long fingers through her hair. She swirled her tongue up his length, smearing her spit and precum over the head with teasing kitten licks, she not caring how sloppy or messy it was, because he wanted him to feel like her…to feel desperate and needy for her in the way she was for him. 

She wanted him to squirm from the teasing and flicking of her tongue; she wanted him to feel helpless in the warm, wet heat of her mouth. 

She could drown in the strangled sound that he made when her lips wrapped around him and sucked lightly as she pressed the tip of her tongue into the head. She looked up at him, and the way he was looking down at her, ravenous and wild, made her want to reach between her legs and relieve just a little bit of the ache that was building there. 

But she resisted, letting it build and twist and grow inside of her…certain that he would be more than willing to oblige her soon. 

She relaxed her jaw and took more of him in. She knew she wouldn’t be able to take all of him, but her hand, lubricated from her saliva, took care of the rest, applying light pressure, moving up and down as she started to bob her head, creating a tight ring of suction with her lips. 

“Holy hell, Uraraka,” he said, his hands tightening in her hair, not pushing her but gripping her tight, moving with her movement. “You should see yourself.”

She really shouldn’t. 

She wasn’t sure she would be able to survive seeing it. 

Seeing herself like this…a slobbering, panting mess on her knees for a man she wanted more than she had ever wanted anything. 

She was sure when she wasn’t dripping wet and sucking his cock she would hate herself for such an unfeminist thought, but — at that moment — she wanted to hear Bakugo cum more than she wanted her P.h.D.

“So —  fucking  — pretty,” he grunted in time with the bob of her head, “with your mouth wrapped around me.” The hand not holding her hair moved to cup her under her jaw. “Sucking my cock like such a good girl.” 

She moaned at the praise by creating more suction, taking him farther into her mouth, increasing the pressure of her hand as the vibrations of her own pleasure shot down his length. 

“SHIT!” he barked, fingers twisting in his hair, almost hard enough hurt…hard enough to hurt in the best kind of way, hard enough to stop the movement of her head as he pulled her off of him. 

She pouted up, disappointed at the loss. 

“Sorry, Uraraka.” He did  not  sound sorry. “But, I want you right fucking now." He heaved her from her knees to her feet. “And if you keep that shit up, we’re gonna have to wait longer than I’m willing to.” 

And any reservations she had went out the door when she saw how desperate he was; she was wrecking him just as much as he was her. She wanted to hold onto that power even while she lost herself in whatever he asked of her. 

She turned away from him without a word and pressed her palms against the brick. She knew the skirt was already hiked up on her hips and that the thong she was wearing to accommodate the tightness of the skirt was giving him — she hoped — a view he would remember past this night. And as she arched her back, offering herself to him, she couldn’t even bring herself to care how desperate she must look.

She  was  desperate. 

She had felt his dick in her mouth, and she was greedy for more. 

There was a moment of silence, so she looked over her shoulder at him. He was staring at her ass- absolutely dumb-founded, like a man whose every wish had been granted and who had no idea what to do with it. 

When he saw her smirk, he remembered the game they were playing, and he schooled his expression.

“You’re really gonna let me fuck you out here?” he asked, grabbing her hips as he spoke.

“I’m gonna do whatever you ask me to do, Bakugo,” she said. “You said you couldn’t wait another second, so…” she wiggled her ass into the cradle of his hips, and his grip tightened on her hips, so tight she was sure he would leave bruises…or at least hoped he would. 

“I think you’re the one who can’t wait another second,” he said, his palm dragged up and down the link of her arch spine. “Right?” She shivered, and then he brought his palm down against her ass. She moaned at the sensation that rippled through her. “I asked you a question.” He folded himself over her body so he was pressed against her neck. “When I ask, you answer.”

“Yes,” she said; he rubbed the spot he had just smacked affectionately. 

“There’s my good girl,” he praised again, and she clenched hard, still around nothing. “You ready for me, then?”

“Yes,” she answered. “So, so ready.”

“How do you want me to fuck you, Uraraka?”

Her body quivered at the question. No one had ever asked her that. 

“Hard,” she gasped. “I need you to fuck me hard, Bakugo. So hard that I'll be feeling you for days." 

He squeezed her ass again and then pushed her skirt the rest of the way up, exposing her completely. He hooked his hands into her panties. 

“I’ll give it to you just like that, Uraraka.”

He pulled them down her legs, not letting them touch the ground as he guided her legs out of them — a consideration she appreciated. She was still cheap, no matter how horny she was. 

He straightened; one hand gripped her hip, and the other he used to position himself, the blunt head of his cock pressing against her swollen, wet folds. 

She knew this was going to be a stretch, even with all of the prep. Despite her request, he entered her slow, inch by painful inch, hands moving all over- the back of her thighs, over her ass, along the sensitive line where her legs and pelvis met. 

“Fuck, Uraraka… “ he groaned. “You’re pussy feels so fuckin good." 

“You feel so good," she breathed, inhaling slowly as he stretched her out, her fingers curling against the textured brick; he was filling her up completely. More than her fingers, more than his fingers, more than her toys. “So big,” she gasped. 

“Yeah?” he pressed, voice harsh, but not at her...harsh in a way that was desperately trying to hold to a last strand of control. “Like the way my giant cock is stretching you out? Like it so much you don’t even care that we’re out here, that someone just has to open that door, and they'd find me fucking you like this.” 

“Oh god,” she groaned, clenching tight. 

He drew out of her almost completely. “Not sure any of that is stuff a good girl would do, Uraraka.” He thrust into her a little faster but still so slow, allowing her to adjust but also torturing her in the best possible way. 

"Not sure a good girl would be gripping so tight at the thought of getting caught with me buried inside of her." 

She fluttered around him, his words doing exactly what he intended them to do. 

He drew out against, smooth and coated in him. 

"Holy shit," he bit out. She looked over her shoulder once more to find him staring down at their joined bodies, transfixed and feral, eyes wide and almost black...for her. "Best fucking view in the universe back here, Cheeks." 

"I thought you said I was the one who was unveiling the mysteries of the universe?" She was amazed at herself for being able to even make words, unable to stop herself despite knowing better. 

"Tch... takes more work for some than it does for me," he returned; he was moving faster now, sliding in and out with greater ease as she molded around him. But it wasn't enough...she needed more. "Not all of us need an advanced degree."

"Then maybe I should have specified that I wanted you to fuck me so hard it unlocked the secrets of the universe." She looked over her shoulder at him pointedly.

His face shifted out of playful banter and back to whatever had darkened it before he had dragged her outside. 

He slammed back into her this time, and she screamed, too surprised to muffle it. 

"I thought I'd need these." She looked over her shoulder to her panties twisted around his fingers. "You're a mouthy little brat." 

Oh god, what was wrong with her?

What was this man doing to her?

“Open,” he said. 

Her eyes widened. 

“Bakugo, what…”

“Do you think you can keep quiet while I fuck you?”

He was still inside of her, and she needed him to move, and she had no idea what would get him there sooner.

“Didn’t think so,” he said before she could answer. “Now…Open.” He reached out and shoved the panties into her mouth. 

And dammit, she  let  him. 

She let him. 

She was a feminist, for crying out loud, and she let this man gag her with her own panties. 

And dammit, she would do it again and again.

She couldn’t imagine ever going back to anything less than sex that made her feel like this. 

“Now you can scream all you want, baby,” he growled and finally started moving. 

Hard. 

Fast. 

Controlled. 

And  fuck…fuck…fuck …he was reaching deeper than she thought anyone ever could. He was right; there was no way she could keep quiet as he fucked into her like she was his...his to own...his to possess.. and, right now, at least, that was true. 

…and she was so so grateful that he did not have a gag; she wanted to hear him talk; hear him moan and gasp and growl as he buried himself inside of her. 

She wanted to hear the strained whimpers at the edge of his hard commands that he couldn't quite hide. 

All of it made her head spin, made her body feel like it was on fire, and threw every single one of her senses into overdrive. 

It was overwhelming. 

“Can't tell you how many nights I've spent dreaming about this pussy, and somehow it's even better than that.” 

She squeezed her eyes shut, focusing on what was buildling, big and hot, and coiling tighter and deeper inside of her. 

She fought the urge to run from it, to resist what was too much. Too good. 

“So soft; so fucking wet; it's like you were made for me.” His pace quickened, pistoning in and out of her in quick but deliberate thrusts, rolling his hips in a way that had him hitting that spot inside of her that she had started to assume did not exist for her. 

She sobbed around her gag, one she could easily spit out if needed. She knew that; Bakugo knew that, and they both knew she wouldn’t. 

“You like when I fuck you like this, Uraraka?” he asked, one hand moving up to her hair, twisting in and pulling her back against him, her head to his shoulder, creating a more exaggerated arch that had him reaching somehow still deeper inside of her. “Bet no one else has ever fucked this sweet pussy like this.”

She made a noise around her gag, a sound of affirmation that she was sure he could read. 

“You deserve it, Uraraka…” he groaned. “Deserve to be fucked like this whenever you want. If you were mine, I’d worship this pussy every fucking night." 

And she needed him not to slip in shit like that when he was talking dirty. 

The sweet talk may actually kill her.

The sweet talk was going to confuse the tears that threatened to spill out of her eyes as he drove her to the edge of what felt like her sanity. 

"I'd take such good care of you, baby." 

If she had the presence of mind, she might have thought it was odd dirty talk...almost domestic. And it seemed to get him going even harder, more erratic. 

“Wish I could hear you,” he whispered hotly in her ear. “I want everyone to know that I get to fuck you; that this is  my  pussy, and no one else can make you feel like I do. Isn’t that right?”

He had no idea how right he was. Tears slid down her hot cheeks as she felt herself careening out of control toward a precipice she couldn't quite see over. He kissed them sweetly.

"You feeling good, sweetheart?" 

She nodded, frantic, urgent... yes, yes, yes.  Please  don't  stop. 

She wasn't crying because she didn't feel good. 

She felt so good it hurt. 

She felt so good she could hardly breathe. 

She felt so good as he filled her over and over again at a brutal pace; so good that she couldn't see, think, or speak. It was as if every single one of her senses had diverted themselves into pure, raw feeling. 

She was feeling all of it. 

The slap of him against her; the grip of his fingers; the heat of his words and his breath; the way he filled her up; all of it...and it was all too much. 

"Where do you want me to cum? Inside?"

She nodded again, making eye contact with him, so there was no doubt that, yes, that was what she wanted. 

He smirked. "Good girl." 

The hand at her hip slid in front of her, finding her sensitive clit. 

“A good girl would cum on my cock,” he said into her ear, fingers tangling more in her hair, tugging a little harder. "Prove to me that you’re a good girl, and I'll cum inside of you, just like you want." 

The pressure on her clit with the punishing pace of his canting hips and the hot breaths of his words in her ear had her cumming at his command, sobbing and choking on her own pleasure.

And she wasn’t sure what gods she had appeased at some point in her life, but she was so fucking glad that when he came — when he went rigid and taut, and his hands gripped her so tight it hurt — he was right against her ear. She could hear every last dip, strain, and whimper in his voice as he struggled to keep it quiet behind his teeth. His hand slammed up against the wall, leaning heavily against it to hold himself up as his other arm wrapped around her waist, holding her up, keeping them both on their feet. 

But only just. 

Ochako couldn’t feel her legs. Right now, she couldn’t imagine ever moving them again, actually, as whatever post-orgasm feel-good chemicals flooded her, filling her with warmth from head to toe.

He pressed a messy, open-mouthed kiss to her neck before nuzzling against her, and despite that he was still inside of her, despite that her hips ached deliciously from his grip, she melted at the gesture and immediately reprimanded herself for it. 

They just fucked in an ally. 

And it had been good. 

The best. 

So good she was quite certain it had ruined her for sex with anyone else. 

But the nuzzling didn’t mean anything; he was also just swept up in some post-nut feel-good feelings. 

It wasn’t about her. 

But still…she wasn’t quite ready to let go, literally. 

She kept herself pressed up against him, his cock still inside of her, as she looked over her shoulder at him. “Bakugo,” she whispered, her voice ragged. He grunted, face still buried in the crook of her neck, holding onto her every bit as tight as she wanted to hold onto him. “You still want to hear how loud I can get?”

His grip around her tightened, and she could feel him smile — no, smirk; it had to be a smirk, right? — “You saying you wanna come home with me, Uraraka?”

Her heart ached at the question. 

And the answer she couldn't say. 

Yes.

I want to go home with you. 

I want to go home with you and get fucked within an inch of my life. 

I want to go home with you and sit with you while I do homework. 

I want to go home with you and watch you cook.  

But all she did was nod in place of the truth. Her mouth was pressed against his temple. “If — if you ain’t tired of me?” 

He pulled away enough to look at her, to look at her like she was an idiot. “Please,” he said. “I was going to go home a destitute man if I didn’t have the chance to eat you out until you forgot your own name.”

She giggled and blushed and flushed all at once as she turned in his arms. 

A night. 

She could have him for one night. Alarm bells were ringing though — telling her to run— telling her that her heart lived in her vagina and she already liked him more than she had been willing to admit to anyone, let alone herself. And none of this was helping. 

The best orgasm she had ever had would not help this crush. 

But still… she could have this for a night, right? 

She could feel like this for a night. 

And then…well, she’d figure it out in the morning. 

 

###

 

Katsuki was not a lounger. He did not lay in bed for hours after waking up. He was not a morning person by any stretch, but he also didn't belabor the point when his alarm woke him up. 

But this morning, he didn't want to get out of bed.

This morning, all he could do was stare at the ceiling, wondering when he was gonna wake up from what he was sure was a dream. Usually, this was the part of the dream where he woke up. 

But it wasn't a dream; she was here, lying naked in bed beside him, his comforter slid down, revealing the soft expanse of her pale inviting back. 

So much so that he couldn't resist the urge to roll over and carefully, gently press his lips to her soft shoulder. 

She didn't budge.

Good. 

As far as he was concerned, if she didn't sleep until 10 am, he hadn't done his job properly. 

And he was pretty sure he had done his job properly. 

He hoped he had, at least. 

A goofy grin spread out on his face that made him very glad that she was sound asleep. But he couldn't hold it back. 

Because Uraraka Ochako was in  his  bed. 

Naked!

It hadn't been the plan. Well, getting into Uraraka's pants had been the plan since he first saw her. Because...well, he was a man, and she was all round and gutsy and just his type physically. 

Getting her  here ; into his bed; into his home; so he could cook her breakfast the next day...that had been the plan ever since he heard her insane schedule and wondered when or if she had the chance to eat or sleep. 

Getting her here; into his bed; into his home; so he could cook her breakfast after he gave her many, many,  many  earth-shattering orgasms that tested the limits of his endurance...that had become his plan after he realized that there was no way in hell he was the only one trying to make a move on the sexy, cute, Ph.D. candidate, with thighs that could murder lesser men (almost did murder him last night when he had teased her within an inch of her life, edged her closer and closer with his tongue only to draw back at the last minute, but he supposed she had forgiven him when he had her sobbing and melting and cumming all over his face and tongue for the third time that night). 

...No, when he realized just how amazing she was, for the first time in his life, he had felt...unsure. 

He had no trouble getting women. 

He had no trouble getting men. 

And not to disparage any of the really hot, fun women and men he'd been with in his life — hell, Eijiro was his best friend and one of the best people he knew. 

But he had never been with someone who, in his heart of hearts, he considered a little out of his league. 

So when she had whipped out the  good girl  card at the bar. He was not gonna throw away his shot. 

When she made it clear that she was a little freak who liked to be a little manhandled (bookmark that, he wasn't gonna test the limits of that on a first day, but he sure as fuck was interested in revisiting it on a later date), he was more than ready to give her exactly what she wanted. 

Because he wanted that later date. 

And now he could prove to her that he was, in fact, the very best of boyfriend material. 

He moved to get out of bed but paused...just to look at her again. 

He had stolen a lot of looks at Uraraka ever since she had walked through the doors of the bar, but none so fuckin good as this one. 

He leaned over once more and ran a thumb over her shoulder.

He was addicted to her already. 

Addicted to the taste, sight, smell, sound, and feel of her. 

But...right now...he had to prove he was boyfriend material. 

Multiple orgasms could only get you so far...he had to prove he could do more than that. A vibrator couldn't make her a delicious, savory, and sweet breakfast, now, could it?

He climbed out of bed quietly, grabbing discarded clothes on his way out as he headed toward the kitchen. 

 

###

 

Ochako had not planned this. 

Well, obviously, the sex and screaming orgasms had been planned. She had been planning for that from the moment he saw him...planning, but never actually dreaming that someone like her would catch his eye. 

She had never dreamed that a short, round-faced girl who spent more time in the lab than she did in real life would ever make someone who looked, talked, and walked like Bakugo Katsuki look twice. 

But it had been a mistake. 

Really a big mistake. 

She had never been good at sex without feelings. She respected the game, but she just never had been good at playing it. So she knew it was a mistake sleeping with someone she already liked as much as she liked him. 

And now, she was sure, any chance she had of it being more had flown out the window. 

He knew she was a girl who would drop to her knees in an ally and beg him to call her a good girl. 

She moaned and covered her face in shame. 

Why would she have acted like that for a guy she actually liked?

Probably, because it was the only way to even get a night with him , her mind supplied, unhelpfully. 

She wasn't the kind of girl who could keep someone like him, so she had settled for sleeping with him. 

And it had been...almost worth it. 

Except now, her heart ached. 

Her heart ached because he was already out of bed (of course he was, he was probably waiting for her to get her ass out of his apartment).

"What part of me spanking your ass outside of Red Riot's makes you think I want to cuddle with you, Cheeks?"

He wouldn't say it...he wasn't a total asshole. But he would be thinking it.

She sat up slowly and looked around the room. 

She was alone. 

It was somehow both a relief and a disappointment. 

It wasn't until she was clipping on Camie's bra — which had become significantly less comfortable now that she didn't have horny brain and alcohol in her system— that she smelled the savory aroma of bacon. 

"Dammit," she muttered, hurrying to dress. She had already disrupted her morning routine by overstaying her welcome. 

She knew he liked to work out in the morning. 

She wondered if he already had? What if he had gone to work out and then came back and found her  still  in his bed?!

Now, she was gonna have to skulk past him in his own kitchen. 

She looked around and considered briefly escaping out of a window, but that would be hard in this tight skirt, plus she still had to face him at work. 

She paused and looked at herself in a mirror for a moment, only to turn away immediately. 

He had made a mess of her last night. 

From the inside out. 

Though she was vaguely aware of him cleaning her up sometime in the night. 

That had been nice. 

Her hair was unsalvageable. 

Her body now had several bruises. 

And she doubted his looked much better from the way she had been clawing at his back when she had been sitting on his lip, legs wrapped around his waist, forehead to forehead in a moment that had, stupidly, briefly felt like more than fucking. 

He had looked like a masterpiece then; she could have looked at him like that forever, brow furrowed, jaw tight, eyes almost soft as he thrust up into her in slow, deliberate movements. 

He had credited her more than once as someone who was trying to understand the mysteries of the universe. 

And yet, she wanted to look at him forever at that moment. 

She shook her head. 

It would pass. 

She lifted her chin, looking around the room one more time to make sure she had everything.

Purse.

Phone. 

Clothes. 

Jacket. 

She was set. 

She stepped out into the hallway, and the smell of breakfast hit her even harder, making her mouth water. 

It smelled heavenly. 

Stay focused, Uraraka!  she scolded.

She followed the sounds of pans and a stove and sizzling deliciousness and paused for a moment in the doorway, watching him cook.

His hair wasn't much better than hers. 

And she was right...his back bore the evidence that she was no more gentle than he was during the night. 

Not a good girl, that was for sure. 

Not a girl you date, that was for sure. 

"B-Bakugo?" her mouth was dry. She really needed water. He turned toward her, spatula in hand, and she immediately looked away, embarrassed, toward the door. "I...I'm gonna go. But thank you so so much for last night. I had fun and..."

"I made breakfast," he offered, sounding about as awkward as she did. 

She imagined that would be the case if there was a strange girl in your apartment who wouldn't leave you in peace. 

"I know!" she said, smiling brightly at him but keeping her eyes fixed everywhere but his. "It smells delicious! So I'll leave you to enjoy it! I — I know you're probably really busy, and I don't want to interrupt your day!"

"Uraraka...what are you...?"

She had to power through. 

She had to get through this. 

Get out of his house; keep a little distance between them for things to settle, and then they can be friends again. Hopefully, he would just forget that she had sucked his dick at work...maybe?

"I...I have a lot of work to do before my shift," she said with a nod. "I probably shouldn't have stayed the night, and I definitely shouldn't have slept in!" She laughed a silted sound that was nothing like her real laugh. "I know you hate sleeping in, so I'm...I'm sorry about that!" 

When she finally met his gaze, it was impassive; he was still holding the spatula, still looking perfect despite how messy he was. And she wondered, briefly, what it would feel like to wrap her arms around his waist and lay her head on his chest. It looked so wide and broad and warm. 

She breathed in and out, calming herself. 

She looked up again, and he was still looking at her. Still holding the spatula. 

"Uraraka," he started. "You can stay and..."

"GOTTA GO! BYE!" she interrupted as she ran from the kitchen. It was by no means a graceful exit. She was hungry, her brain was spinning, and her chest was aching because the poor guy had just wanted a willing partner for a night and had no idea she had a big fat crush on him. She probably should have told him that first. She did want to stay and eat his politely offered breakfast, but she was pretty sure if she did that, she would end the morning in love with him. 

And that was too much. 

 

###

 

Ochako's day did not get better from there. 

He was watching her. 

He may have even tried to talk to her a few times. But she was a master at evasion. She had dodged grabby hands and ogling eyes in her early days as a lab tech. So this would be no problem. 

She thought maybe luck had smiled upon her when the night turned out to be unusually busy for both of them. The bar was lined with regulars and newbies, and every table was packed.

So, it wasn't like there was time for them to talk or make eye contact or for her to think too long about what a mistake it had been to do all of that not only with a guy she liked but also with a guy she worked with.

Stupid stupid stupid horny brain!

But...whatever karm she had thought she had amassed from being a generally good person went out the door when she saw one of the tables seated in her section. 

"Fucking hell," she muttered at the sight of the familiar purple hair, a style that the asshole hadn't changed since grad school. She looked around pitifully to see if Camie, Tohru, or even Kiri was available. They were not. It seemed everyone was busy. 

She grabbed five menus and walked them over to the table, plastering on a very fake smile. 

"Hey, everyone," she greeted. "Thanks so much for joining us at Red Riots." She passed out the menus without making eye contact with her old classmate. Maybe he had grown? Maybe he didn't even remember her? Maybe...

"Uraraka?!" Mineta exclaimed loudly, a wide grin breaking out on his stupid, punchable face. "Is that you?!"

She flinched at the volume, certain that others heard. 

Certain that Bakugo heard. Luckily, her back was to the bar, so she couldn't see. She didn't know why, but she was embarrassed. 

Mineta had always been a little prick. 

She could handle him easily. 

But she had known him at a hard time in her life, a time in her life when she was learning all the things about her that just didn't work in the field she had chosen. Namely the bright smile, the round cheeks, and the big tits. 

And suddenly, all of that came rushing back. 

Making her feel small and inadequate. 

Which sucked because she could not have felt more the opposite of that last night...last night with Bakugo. 

She had felt more than enough. 

She hadn't felt fractured for the first time in ages. 

She hadn't felt separated and siloed from herself. 

And it had felt good. 

"Yeah," she said with a tight smile and nod. "It's me! Now, can I start you off with any..."

Mineta sat back in his chair. 

"Well, if it isn't my favorite teacher's pet."

Ochako's eyes narrowed. "If by teacher's pet you mean I actually showed up to class and listened instead of harassing the three girls in the program."

Mineta was still grinning at her, lust and meanness clear in his eyes, but he did allow her to take their orders.

It was a waste, really. 

Mineta was actually smart. 

She had seen him be smart; she had seen him have potential. She wasn't sure why he wasted it by being a predatory asshole. 

But he did, so of course, he was gonna continue acting like a little shit... all night. 

Talking to her like she was stupid. 

Sending her to get extra salt, extra butter, more napkins, snapping his finger at her to call her over when she spent more than five minutes away, clearly getting off on this momentary bit of power he felt like he had over her. 

In grad school, he had spent the first six months trying to get into her pants, and then when she had rejected him, publicly and embarrassingly, he had spent the rest of the time being a vengeful, vindicative little shit. 

Enough that Aizawa eventually threatened to kick him out of the program.

But the more drunk he got, the more loud and annoying he got. "So, how did you wind up waiting tables, baby?" he asked. "Couldn't hack it in Ryuku's program, huh?"

"Call me that one more time, Mineta, and I promise you my boss will have no issue kicking you out."

It was true. 

It was one of the things she liked about working here. Kirishima didn't second-guess any of his employees if they complained about a patron.

Ochako had yet to employ that promise, but there was a first time for everything. 

"So you couldn't hack it?" he pressed gleefully. 

Ochako's molars ground together. She needed this day to end. She didn't know how she had gone from the best night of her life to one of the worst. It was bad enough having to work five feet from the guy who had her screaming his name raw not 24 hours ago, and now she had to deal with this. 

"Nope," she answered. "Still in the program. It's going great. I'm her research assistant on the new paper she's writing, actually...Can I get you anything else?"

Mineta snorted and rolled his eyes. "Still a stuck-up bitch," he said. "But you're the one who's waiting on me right now, right?" 

"Come on, man," scolded one of his friends, the only one who had seemed uncomfortable with how Mineta was acting. "What's your problem?"

"Oh, he's had a problem with me ever since I turned him down in grad school," said Ochako dismissively, well beyond her tipping point. "Plus, he's been bitter ever since the only Ph.D. program he could get into was one where his daddy had to make a phone call."

Mineta's eyes flashed when his friends laughed at him. Ochako knew he had a paper-thin ego, and testing it at work wasn't her smartest plan. She was sleeping with her coworkers already — well, one of them, at least — if she punched out a patron.

"Big talk from someone who only got hired because someone decided the thing that would make science better was more women with their raging hormones." 

She scoffed. "That's what you're telling yourself? I was a diversity hire?" 

"Well, that and that you probably were a lot nicer to the male professors if you were to me," he said, smiling lecherously at her. 

Ochako knew she should have walked away.

But she was in a sensitive place right now, and rather than go high, she would rather tunnel under the earth and punch him in the nuts. 

So really, he got off easy when she threw the whiskey sour in her hand into his face. A chorus of reaction rose up behind her, but she couldn't even see straight. 

Those kinds of comments used to be normal, but they haven't been for several years now.  

Because she had worked hard. 

Because she had busted her ass to be taken seriously. 

She had sacrificed so much of herself. 

The parts that were fun, the parts that were sexy, the parts that wanted to blow her hot coworker in an alley...

Hot tears pricked her eyes — and she hated that it was on account of this guy. 

She was tired of all of it. 

She whipped away to walk away, ignoring the scraping of Mineta's chair. 

"Don't walk away from me, bitch." 

His hand clamped down around her wrist, and he wasn't a strong guy; if she was in her right mind and not currently fighting back the tears of embarrassment, she would have punched him in the face.

But, before she had time to react — before she had time to even curse him out — an angry, blonde blur in black zoomed past them, and another fist beat her to it. 

 

###

 

Katsuki was not having a good day. 

A shame after the fucking spectacular night he had. 

But ever since she had scurried out of his apartment that morning like he was the last person she wanted to be with, he had been...confused. 

And irritated. 

He had thought there was a connection there and not just last night. 

For a while now, he could have sworn she was into him. He had second-guessed it a lot because she was, by almost every measure, too good for him. 

But still...she always made time to talk to him. Sometimes she blushed around him. 

He liked talking to her...a lot. And he liked making her laugh a lot. 

Even Ei had caught on and also seemed to think it wasn't entirely one-sided. 

And then last night, he thought, had banished any doubt that there was something between them. Sure, he hadn't been sure what, and he had been about to enact part 2 of his 5-part plan of wooing Uraraka Ochako. 

And then, suddenly, inexplicably, it had all gone to shit. 

Leaving him feeling like shit. 

And to make matters worse, not only had she hightailed it out of there that morning, she had been avoiding him all night. 

Avoiding his gaze, jumping into conversation with someone the moment he moved to get to her because, dammit, he wanted to know what was going on. 

But then, the night picked up, a steady stream of patrons fighting for spots at the bar and ordering drinks from the table. They didn't have time to talk right now. But he did have time to look up on occasion and notice the table of pricks that Uraraka got saddled with. He wasn't close enough to hear all that was being said, but he was close enough to see. 

...To see how strained her smile was. 

...To see how rigid her body language was every time the loud one with the ugly haircut spoke to her or looked at her. 

From behind the bar, he could see the tense line of her jaw. 

And all of it pissed him off. 

But none of it would have been enough to get him to leave the bar...that was until Uraraka threw a drink. 

And then, even then...he wouldn't have necessarily punched the guy, just hauled him out of the restaurant. But when Ochako whipped around, flushed, and angry, it was  over  for that piece of shit. 

Because, from where he was, he could tell she was about to cry. 

And by the time the little prick put his hands on Uraraka, grabbing her wrist to stop her from leaving, Katsuki saw red, and the fucker saw his fist. 

It only took one to send him flying back into the table, nose bleeding, possibly broken. 

"Keep your fucking hands to yourself, you piece of shit," he snarled, surging forward because Uraraka had been crying. And he may be confused about her — about why she left — hell, he may even be hurt — but he for damn sure wasn't gonna stand back and let someone make Uraraka cry without getting an ass-whoopin'. 

But before he could go in for a second hit, Eijiro was on him, pulling him back. He knew it was Eijior because no one else in the place would have had the brute strength to pull him back. 

Eijiro tossed him to the side hard. The guy Katsuki had punched was back on his feet, staggering and bleeding, face twisted in anger, but before he could say anything, Eijiro shoved him back toward his friends. 

“You get out of here!” snarled Eijiro. “Get the hell out before I drag you out myself. I don’t know who the fuck you are, but you aren’t fucking welcome here ever again.”

That was the thing with Eijiro; he didn't need to ask any questions to know whose side he was on. 

And if Katsuki hadn't been enough to scare the asshole, Ei certainly was. 

Eijiro rarely, if ever, lost his cool. 

He wasn’t like Katsuki in that way. 

Though Katsuki knew better than most that when you pushed Eijiro, he was probably one of the scariest and most intimidating people in the world. 

Eijiro turned to Katsuki, and while he didn’t look quite as furious, he did look irritated. “And you,” he said. “Go cool off.”

“I’m fine,” Katsuki snarled; he looked past Eijirio at Uraraka, who was on her knees picking up the scattered food and plates…the mess Katsuki had made. 

“You can’t do shit like that,” said Eijiro. He was serious. Katsuki could see that. This was Eijiro’s place. Yes, Katsuki had helped him get it off the ground. Katsuki had worked for nothing while they waited for the bar to turn a profit. But it was still Eijiro’s. And Katsuki knew he couldn’t go assaulting customers. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I just…I don’t know what happened.”

Eijiro’s eyes narrowed. He looked over his shoulder at Uraraka. Camie was holding her face in her hands, looking her over, and asking her several questions. Then he looked back at Katsuki pointedly. 

“You don’t?” he asked like he didn’t believe it any more than Katsuki did. 

Katsuki raked his hand through his hair and let out a breath. “I…I’m gonna go cool off,” he said.

Eijiro nodded. “That’s a good idea. Camie can cover the bar.”

Katsuki turned and walked away without another word. 

He felt like an idiot; an idiot who needed to get his shit together. 

He couldn’t do shit like this. 

Well, this asshole had it coming. Honestly, if that asshole had put his hands on anyone in the bar — Eijiro included — Katsuki would have had shit to say about it. 

But he knew it was more than that. 

He knew, even before the asshole had touched Uraraka, that a shitton of protective jealousy was roaring to life in his chest all night. 

Sure, he didn't want some asshole touching him. 

But also...

He didn’t want other men to flirt with her. 

He  wanted to flirt with her. 

He didn’t want her to flirt with other men. 

He wanted her to flirt with  him . 

Just him. 

And from the way she had run this morning and the way she was avoiding his gaze now, she didn’t want that. 

Which was fine.

It was. 

Except it wasn’t. 

The backdoor of the restaurant opened. 

“Bakugo?”

He kept his back to her — he didn’t even know what to say to her. He had been hoping to get her attention all day, and now that he had it, he had no idea what to say to say or do. It was hard to believe that last night, they had been in this very spot under very different circumstances. 

“Are you mad at me?” The question was pathetic, and the last thing he wanted was to sound pathetic in front of her. He had worked hard to avoid that. 

“For punching Mineta?” she asked. “No. I hate him and think he needs to be punched like that twice a week, and that’s a conservative estimate.”

“How do you know a guy like that?" he grumbled awkwardly. "Does he go to school with you?”

She scoffed. “He wishes,” she muttered darkly. “He’s a subpar scientist with derivative theories and a shit work ethic. He couldn’t even get a phone call with the admissions office with the Ph.D. program at UA, let alone get in.” He was a little taken aback by her words — not in a bad way. But he was pretty sure he had never heard her say a bad word about another human in the four months that he had known her. 

“I just…I don’t understand why you did it,” she finished, looking away from him. 

He stepped closer into her space, trying to close the distance between them that had been physically and metaphorically nonexistent last night. 

“You don’t?” he asked flatly. She looked anxious, fidgety like she had this morning when she had run out. 

“It’s confusing me, Katsuki,” she said. 

He wondered if she noticed that she had said his name. 

He had begged her to last night. Yes, it was cloaked in command, but she had read it right, he was sure. 

Please, please say my name when you cum. Only say my name when you cum. 

She had, and it had been fucking   beautiful . 

“What's confusing?”

He was confused too, but only because she had booked it like her ass was on fire out of his bed. He wasn't confused about what he felt about her, though. 

“Because it’s…it’s…it feels like boyfriend shit, Katsuki, and you can’t do boyfriend shit.”

His nose scrunched. “Yeah, because I’m not a boy, Uraraka. I’m a man.”

She scowled, her hands on her hips. “You know what I mean, Katsuki!”

“I really don’t,” he insisted. 

“Stuff like that will make a girl think she means more to you than I do, and I can’t…I don’t…I don’t want that! That’s too messy and too complicated, especially when I  work  with you. It was all okay when I had just a little crush on the unattainable bartender.”

“Uraraka…”

“I thought a hot, dirty fuck would get you out of my head because I’m a big dumb-dummy who thinks very untrue things.” He snorted at her dramatics.“But now it just makes me sad!”

“Sex with me made you sad?”

“Yes,” she answered. 

He tried not to flinch. “Well, fuck.” That was about the worst thing he could imagine hearing. It had made him the opposite of sad, and he had thought…

“No,” she amended hurriedly, shaking her head and stepping toward him; he could see her reaching out to touch him and then stopped. He wished she didn't. “Sex with you wasn’t sad. But it made me sad because now I want to go on a date with you and hold your hand, and now I know you don’t want that.”

“Oi!” He interrupted her, cutting off the spewing word vomit. “Why the fuck do you think I wouldn’t want that after we had sex?”

“Because guys don’t date the girls they fuck in a back alley, even if it is the best orgasm of her life!!” she shouted but then blanched, looking down the alley again, but the only eavesdropper was a cat that couldn’t be bothered to give them privacy. “That is not the girl who you bring home to mother!”

He was torn between what to respond to first. 

The best orgasm of her life?  Score . 

The weird, patriarchal notion that she’s internalized that says because she sucked him off outside their place of employment, he’d be ashamed to bring her home to meet the parents or wouldn't want to treat her sweet afterward?  Not a score. 

 "I'm not allowed to fuck a woman I like within an inch of her life?" he asked. "What kind of fucked up logic is that?” 

He didn’t understand how she was the smartest person he had ever met and one of the dumbest. But it was on full display now as she groped for an explanation. 

“I don’t know!” she said, throwing her hand in the air. “The patriarchy?” 

He crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow. “Since when do you listen to the patriarchy?”

Her bottom liip jutted out in a pout. “I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head.

“You seemed to like it,” he muttered. “Hell, I’ll fuck you wherever you want, Cheeks. If you didn't like the alley, I would have just taken you home. If I put you in a position…””

She shook her head suddenly, stepping closer to him and settling her hands on his shoulder; it was a sweet, gentle gesture that did serve to calm his nerves just a bit. 

“No, no, no,” she said suddenly, rubbing up and down his arms. “That…” she let out an incredulous laugh. “That is not what I meant. Trust me…I liked every single position you put me in the other day. It has been…” she grimaced. “A long, long, long time since I’ve had sex, and I have never in my life had sex like  that . I guess…I just…I freaked out the next morning because I was scared. Because I…” She looked down at her shoes. “I could feel myself catching feelings. And that made me feel stupid.”

His brow furrowed. “You were scared?!” His naked disbelief may have been a little over the top. He wasn’t trying to invalidate her feelings, but…still, was she dumb? “ I  was scared!” he threw out, pointing at himself aggressively. “I was scared, and then you just ran out of my apartment like it was the last place you wanted to be!"

“It wasn’t,” she said quickly. “It wasn’t. Your apartment was so big and clean, and your sheets were so soft, and your bed was so comfortable.” 

He preened a little at the praise. 

He had wanted her to think all of those things. 

She worked so hard, and he worried sometimes that she didn’t sleep enough — especially when he found out that she had another job and was a student. 

“And your shower…” her face twisted in an almost familiar look of pained pleasure. “I really, really wanted to try your shower!”

That could certainly be arranged. 

He opened his mouth to say as much when she suddenly looked like she remembered something important. 

“Wait— wait — wait,  you  were scared?” She looked at him in utter disbelief. 

“YEAH!” he shot back. 

“But…you’re always so…” His eyes narrowed in expectation of some kind of insult. “So…” she gestured vaguely at him with her hands. “So…cool!” 

He scoffed. “I am not!”

“You ARE!” she insisted, her hands going to her hips. “Have you not seen yourself?"

“Have you not seen yourself?” he returned. It wasn’t clever, it was just repeating her own words with a slightly different inflection, but that was all he had right now. He felt like he was taking crazy pills. “I’m fucking head over ass for you, Cheeks!”

She blinked several times like that would somehow help her process this information that was getting caught somewhere in her brilliant brain. “R-really?” her voice was small, a little shaky, like she was afraid he was going to snatch what he just said away from her if she reacted too loudly. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” He could be loud enough for the both of them. “I was into you the first time I saw you, but thought for sure you weren’t gonna waste your time with me.”

The bigger the ego, the bigger the self-loathing, his therapist had always told him. He was still working through his, but he was pretty sure this was not that. He thought he was good enough for a shit ton of partners. 

But her…

“You’re a Ph.D. candidate with a smile like sunshine and an ass that I haven’t been able to get out of my head. You are way too fucking cool for me, Cheeks!”

He didn’t understand her confusion over this. 

To him, and probably anyone else, it was obvious.

He had been simping over her like a love-sick puppy since she walked into the bar, and if she was gonna run away now, he was damn well gonna make sure that she at least had all of the facts. 

“I’ve been trying to get your attention for the last 4 months.”

“You had it!” she interjected. “But your so aloof; how was I….”

“Aloof?! Do you think I sit and chat women up on the regular?”

She shrugged, now looking like maybe she had felt a little stupid. “I don’t know. I thought maybe it was just your whole bartending persona!”

“Well, it ain't!” he said, sure he was pouting just a little bit. 

“Soo,” she started, rubbing her arm and looking up at him with a small, hopeful smile. “I wasn’t just a quick fuck in an alley?”

“I take exception to you calling it quick,” he said. “If I remember right, we took our sweet time.”

She inhaled sharply, her pink cheeks turning red. He stepped back into her space, bringing his thumb and forefinger up to her chin and tilting her head more fully up toward him. “And no…no, you weren’t. You think I’d get a damn subscription to Quantum Weekly for someone who I just wanted to fuck and leave?!”

Her eyes widened, and she reared back slightly in confusion. “You did?” 

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah. What, you just thought I knew all of that shit? That I was just prepared to have a semi-intelligent conversation about quantum mechanical spin? I was trying to impress you, dumbass.” 

She laughed a sweet, goofy thing that had been slowly becoming one of his favorite sounds over the last few months. He liked hearing her laugh, and he loved making her laugh. 

“You did,” she admitted, her hands going up over his shoulders before hooking around the back of his neck. “And…” she said, eyes darting this way and that, checking to make sure they were, in fact, alone, before she pulled herself closer, now flush against his body; a slight roll of her hips against him made his whole damn body jump to attention. “For the record…” Her breath was warm and electric against the shell of his ear, reducing him to quivering putty in her hand. “Just because I want to hold your hand and just because I want you to pick me up and take me on a date and open the door for me and say sweet things to me….” She rocked against him again and found, of course, that just her whispers and the softness of her body against him already had him half-hard. And she seemed intent on getting him all the way there. “Doesn’t mean that I want you to fuck me sweet.” 

He groaned into her neck, his hands moving down the small of her back and to the generous curve of her ass. He wondered if it was still red from last night and if he could see the bruises that she had begged him for. 

He gripped her ass tight and picked her up. 

She let out a squeal of surprise but wrapped her legs around his waist as he spun her so her back was pressed again against the brick wall, the weight of her very much centered on his cock. 

She tightened the grip of her thighs around his hips and whimpered as he ground into her. 

“Well, you just want it all, don’t ya,” he muttered. “Spoiled brat.”

She smirked, a sweet, devilish thing that he knew she was going to take full advantage of, and, dammit, he was gonna let her. 

“I really,  really  do,” she affirmed. “Think you can handle that?”

He grinned down at her, excited by the challenge in her words and in her eyes, the challenge and promise that not a single day with her would be boring. That she would surprise him...for as long as he let her. 

"Oh yeah, Uraraka," he said, hovering just above her lips. "I think I can handle that." 

And honestly, now that he had her, he couldn't imagine letting her go.