Chapter Text
Every Thursday night, without fail, the world could go to hell and Bakugo would still be at his penthouse by nine sharp, showered, wrapped in a robe far too soft for a man who claimed he hated luxury, glass of whiskey in hand, phone silenced, the city lights painting his windows in golden smears.
He sat before his massive screen, one he claimed he bought for work presentations but never once used for anything other than this. The red glow from the ambient lighting matched the anticipation in his belly, and it started the moment the countdown began.
Five minutes. Then three. Then one.
And then he appeared.
Red.
The camera always started slow, a sweep of warm skin under amber lighting, the edge of muscle, a flicker of movement like the beginning of a dance. A wide chest, ink stretching over ribs, the beginning of a dragon’s eye peeking from the shadows. He never said a word, not at first, he just moved, rolled his neck, and pushed his hair out of his face. His nipples, pierced with thick golden hoops, always caught the light just so.
Bakugo had seen a lot of beautiful people in his life, runway models, actors, influencers lined up to sit at his fashion shows, sipping champagne like gods in silk, but none of them ever made his mouth go dry the way Red did by simply breathing.
It wasn’t just the body, though the body was unfair. Golden skin that looked kissed by sun even in the dead of winter, thighs thick enough to break spines, abs that moved like carved stone with every lazy stretch. It was the way he looked into the camera, into him. Every time he leaned close and whispered "good boys deserve a show," Bakugo felt like the room tightened around him.
He never joined the chat, never typed a word, never sent a single coin or tip, but he subscribed under an alias, paid for the highest tier. Red knew how to treat the ones who stayed quiet, too. His eyes lingered a second longer on the lens sometimes, like he was looking for someone.
That thought always made Bakugo scoff to himself, too far gone to care that it sounded more like a sigh. He leaned back, let one hand sink into the robe’s opening, fingers teasing skin already hot, flushed. Red was talking now, voice low and smooth like velvet over gravel, "Bet some of you waited all day for this," he said, dragging a hand down his stomach.
And Bakugo, hard already, whispered, "You have no fuckin’ idea."
Red leaned forward, close enough that the camera picked up the faint hitch in his breath and the glint of sweat beginning to form at his collarbones. His hair fell in waves around his face, fire and silk, one lock caught on the curve of his lip before he lazily licked it away.
"Did you miss me?" He asked, mouth curling at the corner like he already knew the answer.
Bakugo adjusted in his seat, robe spreading open at the thighs. The glass of whiskey, untouched since the countdown began, sat forgotten on the armrest. His eyes were fixed, not even a blink wasted.
Red didn’t move fast, no, he took his time reaching for the small glass bottle beside him, letting the camera drink in the way his bicep flexed with the motion. The oil caught the light before it touched his palm, and he made a soft sound as it spread between his fingers.
"Feels good," he murmured.
That voice always hit like velvet soaked in sin. He poured a little more, head tilted, one brow lifted as though daring the world to look away. No one ever did.
He dragged both hands up his chest, pressing into muscle, letting his thumbs catch against the silver hoops in his nipples. The oil ran slick down his torso, catching in the curve of his abs, glistening like honey over skin that looked too good to be real. His hands spread across his pecs, squeezing, pushing his chest forward.
"You know I love making a mess," he said, breathless but smiling, like it was a joke meant just for whoever had the privilege to watch. "And you," his fingers teased a nipple, tugging gently at the ring until it clinked, "you’re gonna sit there and take it like a good boy, aren’t you?"
The chat exploded. Thousands of messages surged up the screen, hearts and coins and thirst written in every possible way. Bakugo didn’t read a single one. His world had narrowed to the glistening man stroking oil down his stomach, not yet touching lower, never in a rush.
Red didn’t need to show his cock to have the world wrapped around his finger. He didn’t need to moan or beg or thrust into anything. All he needed was a look, his fingers resting just above the waistband of his black briefs, thumbs tucked beneath the elastic as if threatening to pull it down.
But he didn’t.
He laughed, dragging another line of oil across the dragon tattoo on his ribs, outlining the beast’s tail with two fingers. The ink darkened, shined under the slick, twisted across his body like something alive.
"Bet you’re already leaking," he whispered. "Bet you can’t even breathe right now. Not while you’re watchin’ me like this."
Bakugo exhaled roughly, hand finally sliding beneath the robe, palming the ache that had been building from the moment Red’s face lit the screen.
Red leaned forward again, elbows on his knees, sweat and oil beading down his chest, nipples hard and glinting. The camera caught everything but what they all wanted. A single drop of oil dripped from his sternum to the waistband, clinging there like a promise.
"Think you deserve more?" He asked, licking the corner of his mouth. "Then beg."
The screen sparkled with chaos. Tips poured in like confetti, a torrent of bright tokens and usernames lighting up the corner. Messages exploded up the feed, fuck, Red, please, I need you, you’re unreal, marry me, show us that perfect cock scrolling faster than anyone could read. Red glanced at it, expression unreadable, but for a second, maybe less, he looked almost bored.
Then that smile came, the kind that made Bakugo’s gut clench.
"Let’s make things better," Red said, drawing the words out like silk over teeth. "Person who tips me the highest right now gets a ten-minute private live with me."
He paused, licking his bottom lip, eyes still unreadable.
"I’ll put on a show."
Bakugo sat up straighter, hand stilled beneath the robe, fingers still curled loosely around his cock.
Red leaned back, dragged another slick palm down his chest. One nipple ring caught between two fingers, pulled just enough to make him gasp.
"I’ll let you fight for me over the chat," he purred, "While I start getting hard for you."
The camera stayed where it was, chest and stomach, black briefs still clinging low, but his hand dipped below the frame, and the sound that followed was a shameless moan.
The tips came harder, faster. Names Bakugo had seen before, some clearly rich enough to burn yen for a chance to hear Red whisper their username, but he didn’t look away. He watched the numbers, tracked them. Analyzed, calculated, eyes flicking between the top contributors and the seconds slipping by.
Bakugo wasn’t known for losing. Not in business. Not in deals. Not in this.
Red’s moans deepened, and he let out a quiet curse, teasing himself just like he teased everyone watching. His abs tensed, and he let another moan, this one with a laugh at the end, "You’re all so desperate," he murmured. "Fuck, you’re making me so hard."
Bakugo reached for his phone, logged in properly and typed in a number.
The screen pinged, new highest tip, his alias glowing at the top of the feed.
Red’s gaze dropped to the screen again, and for the first time that night, he looked genuinely surprised. "Well, looks like we’ve got a winner."
Red leaned forward, hand still working out of frame, the drag of skin against skin loud in the silence between his words. That same cocky smirk played at his lips, and when his eyes flicked back to the chat, he tilted his head with a nod, like he was offering some reward for their pathetic hunger.
"Alright, babies," he murmured, licking his thumb and running it along his nipple before giving it a firm pinch that made him shudder. "You’ve been good enough. Let me give you a little taste."
The screen shifted. An intentional tilt of the camera, and for a second the frame was nothing but thigh and shadows.
But then, there it was.
His cock.
Bakugo’s breath caught. No matter how many times he had seen it, no matter how much he prepared himself for the moment it slid into view, it still wrecked something in him every time. The size of it was criminal. Perfectly shaped, curved in a way that felt designed to ruin someone from the inside out. It was thick, veined, flushed a dark red at the tip, and it was perfect. It stood tall against Red’s abs, dripping with precome, pulsing in time with the heavy rhythm of his own heartbeat.
Bakugo had seen sculptures worth millions that didn’t look as divine as that cock.
He swallowed hard, mouth watering without shame, hand tightening beneath the robe. The robe had long since slipped open, exposing him to the cool air of the room, but he barely noticed it. His focus was consumed entirely by the sight on the screen, Red’s slick hand stroking from base to tip, letting everyone see how it glistened.
"That’s it," Red said, breathier now. "Stroke with me."
He leaned back, spread his legs wider, one hand working his cock while the other drifted up to squeeze his own pec, teasing his nipple ring with practiced ease.
"Don’t go too fast yet. Just grip yourself tight and move slow, yeah? I want you to feel it." He gave a low moan, mouth parting beautifully, lashes fluttering as his hips rolled into his fist. "Feel how fucking hard I am for you. Think about how good it’d feel if I let you taste."
Bakugo did. Fuck, he thought about it so much it bordered on obsession. The weight of it against his tongue, the way it’d stretch his mouth, make his throat work to take all of it. His hand mirrored Red’s rhythm without even thinking, matching every slow jerk, thumb teasing the head with the same reverence.
"Keep goin’," Red breathed, "Yeah, just like that. I bet some of you are already leaking. Can’t even hold it in, huh? Just so fuckin’ needy."
Another moan spilled out of him.
Red looked utterly undone, back arching slightly as he stroked faster, dragging his fist all the way down, squeezing just beneath the head before sliding back. Each movement made his abs flex, his thighs tense.
"You want me to come for you? Wanna see how pretty I look when I fall apart?"
Red’s moan faded into a laugh, the kind that lit every nerve with anticipation. His hand slowed, fingers trailing down the thick length of his cock, teasing instead of stroking, letting it bounce against his abs as he leaned back with the same confidence as a man who knew everyone watching was already gone for him.
Then he smiled.
"Or maybe you want to see how I would fuck you?"
He looked directly at the camera, heat in his gaze but something darker behind it. He didn’t just want to be watched. He wanted to ruin.
Bakugo moaned, louder than he meant to, shameless in the empty echo of his penthouse. His hand moved faster without needing to think. There was no pride left, just need, blistering and immediate.
Red, still smirking, sat up and reached off screen. For a moment, the only thing Bakugo could see was thighs shifting, flexing, muscles glistening with sweat and oil, cock flushed and leaking against Red's stomach. Then he returned with something in hand.
A pale and hyperreal silicone doll. It wasn’t the first time Bakugo had seen him use toys, but this was different. A lifelike ass, firm with a perfect curve, testicles swinging beneath it, glossy under the red light. It looked obscene and beautiful cradled in Red’s arm like it weighed nothing.
He stood for a moment, cock arching up from the base, tip glistening. His free hand grabbed the oil again. With no rush, no modesty, he poured it over his cock. He moaned as he spread it around, stroking once, twice, gliding over the veins that bulged along the sides.
The sound alone made Bakugo moan.
Red sank back onto the bed, propped the doll up, spread the silicone ass wide with both hands like he was displaying it. The camera caught everything; the shine of oil, the way his cock throbbed in anticipation, the slow roll of his hips as he lined up.
"Watch closely," he said, "This is how I’d fuck you."
Bakugo’s whole body jolted when Red pushed in.
The tip slipped inside with resistance, and Red groaned, head falling back. His fingers dug into the silicone skin, holding it open while he fed himself in deeper, inch by agonizing inch, until he bottomed out with a low hiss.
"Fuck, so tight," he murmured, hips rolling. "Bet you’d be even prettier if I had you under me. Face down, moaning into the mattress while I worked this cock into you."
Bakugo was panting now, throat dry, vision unfocused. Every slow thrust on screen, the way Red dragged himself almost all the way out before sliding back in with a slick sound, made his balls draw tight.
And still, Red smiled.
"You’d take it all, wouldn’t you? Every fuckin’ inch. I wouldn’t stop until you were crying for it."
Red didn’t give a warning. His hips snapped forward with force, and the wet slap of skin meeting silicone, the slight creak of the mattress under his weight, both sent a violent shiver through Bakugo’s spine.
He thrust again, and again, faster now, rougher. No careful showmanship, no lazy grind for the camera. This was how a man fucked when he meant it. Muscles flexed with each movement, sweat sliding in rivulets down his chest, dripping off his jaw. His grip on the doll was merciless, fingers digging deep into its hips as he pulled it back to meet every punishing thrust.
His cock, thick and veined and glistening with oil, disappeared into the slick opening over and over, hard enough to shake the frame with the sheer rhythm of it.
Bakugo's fist moved fast, almost erratic now, matching the brutal pace on screen. His thighs tensed, feet braced against the floor, the robe fallen off entirely and pooling around the chair like an afterthought.
Red growled, voice less performance, more instinct now, "You hear that? That’s how deep I’d be inside you. All the way. No teasing. No mercy."
Bakugo moaned again, body curled forward, cock twitching in his grip. He was right fucking there, could already feel the rush building in his lower spine, threatening to crest. He just needed...
"Don’t you dare cum," Red barked, teeth grit as he fucked harder. "Not until I do. You don’t get to fall apart before me."
Bakugo bit the inside of his cheek, hard, groaning like something wounded. It was punishment, holding back. Pure torture.
But he knew that tone. Red was challenging them all, testing their limits, seeing who would break first. He had stamina like a goddamn bull, endurance that felt inhuman, and the kind of control that turned people inside out.
Red’s thrusts grew sloppier. Not slower, never that, but messier. More noise, more grunts, more aching groans pulled from deep in his chest. His abs clenched, veins prominent beneath the sheen of sweat and oil. He threw his head back, neck taut, tendons straining as his thighs flexed and slammed forward with brutal force. The doll jerked with every thrust, his balls smacking against it, cock driving in over and over with the kind of power that made Bakugo ache in envy.
And still, he didn’t stop.
"Stroke for me," Red growled, sweat dripping from his chin. "Keep that cock nice and hard. I want you full when I come. Want you so close it hurts."
Bakugo was sweating, panting, leaking, nearly trembling with the need to release, but he wouldn’t, because fuck if he ever backed down from a challenge.
The rhythm faltered, not from weakness but from the pressure coiling in Red’s gut, too full now to keep the same brutal pace. His thrusts turned desperate, hips jerking forward like his body was chasing something just beyond reach. Each moan spilled raw from his throat, the kind of sound a man made when he was drowning in it, lost in the feeling of his cock squeezing through tight heat, over and over.
Bakugo was gripping the arm of the chair with one hand, the other still stroking at a maddening pace, barely able to keep himself from going over the edge.
He watched like a starving man.
And then, Red pulled out. The tip of his cock slipped from the silicone with a lewd sound, still kissing the stretched hole. The doll’s cheeks shone with oil thighs smeared, slick pooling beneath it.
Red's cock throbbed hard once, and then he came.
Long, thick ropes of white painted the silicone skin, dripping over the hole, down to the testicles beneath. It kept coming, obscene in its volume, streaking the oiled surface in messy trails that caught the light with every movement. His hand was still loosely wrapped around the base, squeezing each spurt, coaxing more from the tip.
Bakugo’s hole clenched, almost angrily. A physical ache bloomed in his core, worse than before. He wanted that load inside him. The emptiness was almost cruel.
And Red turned to the camera, smiling.
"You can cum now," he said, voice edged with satisfaction. "Baby boy."
Bakugo cried out as he came, cock pulsing in his hand, hot release splattering across his own stomach, thighs shaking, back arched, every muscle locking up in blissful relief. His hole kept twitching, still empty, still wanting.
And Red just watched, lips curled, eyes shining like he knew.
The camera didn’t cut immediately.
Red stayed there, cock softening against his slicked thigh, chest rising and falling with the weight of effort, satisfaction carved deep into every line of his face. He gave them time. Two minutes, maybe three, just breathing with them, letting the silence stretch in that intimate way only he knew how to manage.
Then, as his fingers lazily smeared the mess across the silicone's lower back, Red’s mouth curved into a grin again.
"Thanks for the tips tonight, you’ve been very good." He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, "I’ll be emailing ‘K.B.’ in a few minutes, private live info. Keep an eye out, sweetheart."
Bakugo's chest tightened. He hadn’t heard anyone call him sweetheart in years, and never like that.
Red gave one final smile, then murmured, "See you again next week."
And the screen went black.
Bakugo's hand, still resting on his thigh, was sticky with the aftermath, robe discarded somewhere on the floor, hair damp at his temple. He blinked once, then dropped his head back against the chair and stared at the black screen like it could still show him something if he waited long enough.
Eventually, he dragged himself up, body flushed and loose like someone had wrung him out. He reached for his phone, and there it was.
A new email.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Private Live – You Won, K.B.
He stared at it for a moment, thumb hovering over the screen, heart starting to pick up again with a slow thud, but not from lust this time.
No. It was from anticipation.
Subject: Private Live – You Won, K.B.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: Thursday, 10:17 PM
𝙷𝚒 𝙺.𝙱.,
𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝’𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚙.
𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜, 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝. 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚜𝚏𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐.
𝙻𝚎𝚝’𝚜 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔 𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚜. 𝙼𝚢 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚕𝚘𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚍, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍𝚞𝚕𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚎𝚜 (𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗, 𝚍𝚎𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚘), 𝚜𝚘 𝙸 𝚜𝚞𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚎 𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝚊 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞.
𝙼𝚢 𝚞𝚙𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚟𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢:
- 𝚂𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝟷𝟷 𝙿𝙼
- 𝚃𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝟷 𝙰𝙼
- 𝚆𝚎𝚍𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝟷𝟶:𝟹𝟶 𝙿𝙼
𝙸 𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚊 𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚎𝚗𝚍 (𝚖𝚞𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚞𝚗𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝙸 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚎). 𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚕 𝚙𝚊𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎’𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚛 𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜, 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚔𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚞𝚗. 𝙱𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝙸 𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚙𝚝:
- 𝙽𝚘 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎-𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙸’𝚖 𝚁𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞.
- 𝙽𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙸’𝚕𝚕 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠.
- 𝙽𝚘 𝙲𝙽𝙲, 𝚗𝚘 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚗𝚘 𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚔𝚢 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢 (𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚊𝚜𝚔).
𝙸 𝚍𝚘 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚙𝚝 𝚙𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚎 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚒𝚏 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚎.
𝙻𝚎𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚜. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚝𝚜.
𝙻𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎,
𝚁𝚎𝚍
Subject: Re: Private Live – You Won, K.B.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: Thursday, 11:58 PM
𝚁𝚎𝚍,
𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠.
𝚆𝚎𝚍𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚝 𝟷𝟶:𝟹𝟶 𝙿𝙼 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚜. 𝙸’𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚔 𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚏𝚏.
𝙽𝚘 𝚕𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚎𝚗𝚍. 𝙸 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝.
𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚠𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚐. 𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚎, 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑. 𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚎.
𝙺.𝙱.
Subject: Re: Re: Private Live – You Won, K.B.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: Friday, 12:04 AM
𝙺.𝙱.,
𝚆𝚎𝚍𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚜.
𝙽𝚘 𝚕𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚝𝚜? 𝙳𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚍.
𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛. 𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚋𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚞𝚝𝚎 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎. 𝙻𝚎𝚝’𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎.
𝚈𝚘𝚞’𝚕𝚕 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚊 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗.
𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎.
𝚡,
𝚁𝚎𝚍
Bakugo had always been a man of structure. Efficiency, focus, precision, that’s how he kept the empire running, and that’s how he stayed sane, but from Friday to Wednesday, sanity was in short fucking supply.
He packed his schedule so full it made his assistants nervous. Meetings that could’ve been emails, calls stacked back to back, product reviews, warehouse visits, fittings, even a fucking finance check-in, which he usually avoided like the plague. Anything to keep his brain tethered to the present and not spinning off into some fevered memory of Red’s voice purring "see you next week."
He even accepted a dinner invitation from a client he didn’t particularly like, choosing a loud, trendy fusion place downtown instead of going home. The food was bland, overpriced, and served on slabs of stone instead of plates. He didn’t finish his wine. Spent most of the meal chewing mechanically and wondering if Red had already forgotten his name, if he even used the alias when looking at his email, or if he just thought of him as the quiet one who tipped more than anyone else.
By the time he got back to his penthouse around nine, he was still dressed in the kind of sharp-cut suit that drew too many eyes. He kicked off his shoes by the door and stripped the jacket as he walked straight to the bathroom, ignoring the tired weight in his shoulders. His phone buzzed once. A reminder.
Private Live - One Hour.
He left the suit in a heap on the floor.
Inside the bathroom, the lights were dimmed automatically to their evening setting. The shower steamed, the heat helping to ease the tightness in his back, even if he wasn’t there to relax. He washed thoroughly, methodically, fingers working with precision. He cleaned himself inside and out, never one to take risks when it came to preparation, especially not for something like this.
And then, carefully, with one foot braced against the wall, he slid two slick fingers in and stretched. He didn’t rush it. He was used to the process by now, though it had been weeks since the last time he bothered. But this wasn’t about comfort, it was about being ready, because Red didn’t strike him as the kind of man who’d go easy.
After the shower, he dried off without looking in the mirror.
In the office, the room was already quiet, lights low, the screen prepared.
He took a moment to check the essentials. Bottle of lube, cap already loosened. Clean towel nearby. The custom toy, a dildo he had made months ago when he gave up pretending he didn’t need it. Silicone, molded after a few careful freeze-frames from one of Red’s old lives. Long, thick, slightly curved. Close enough that it made him sweat just looking at it.
He set it carefully on the desk, next to the towel, then sat back in the chair and stared at the clock on the screen.
10:03 PM.
Too early to log in, too late to pretend he was calm.
He rolled his neck, cracked his knuckles, then stood again just to pace.
And then he stopped, hands on the back of the chair, because in less than thirty minutes, he wouldn’t be alone in this room. Red would be there talking just to him, telling him exactly how he’d be fucked.
Bakugo really fucking tried.
He sat down at his desk at 10:08 with the intention of working through the fifteen unread emails flagged "urgent," the ones he had put off all day in favor of drowning himself in meetings and tasteless food. He opened the first one, some supply chain issue in Osaka, and blinked at it twice before realizing he hadn’t absorbed a single word. Scrolled to the bottom, read the sign-off, scrolled back up. Still nothing.
His brain was sludge. The only image in his mind was the way Red moaned the last time he came, hips shaking, cum pouring out in thick ropes over silicone skin.
Bakugo shut the email tab.
The clock changed.
10:27 PM.
10:28 PM.
10:29 PM.
He clicked the link.
The screen loaded without delay. A black background first, then a pulse of red, a low chime in his headphones that was far too gentle for what he was about to do. His camera remained off. His mic, too.
10:30 PM, on the dot.
Red appeared, and Bakugo’s breath caught in his throat.
He looked devastating.
Not naked, not like the lives. This was somehow worse. Better. More personal. His long hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, wisps of it clinging to his temple like he’d just showered. A black tank top clung to his torso like a second skin, low at the sides, exposing the carved cut of his ribs and the top curve of the dragon tattoo. His arms were defined, golden under the red light. One nipple ring glinted beneath the fabric, barely visible through the stretch of cotton.
And his eyes were looking directly at the screen, like he knew every fucking thought running through his head.
"Hi," Red said casually.
Bakugo’s mouth parted, but no sound came out.
Red smiled, tilting his head, "You don’t need to turn on your camera if you feel uncomfortable, but while we have some fun, I’d like to see, if possible, at least your body, so I know what I’m dealing with, and I can make it more realistic."
Bakugo didn’t hesitate.
He stood and checked the angle of the camera, cropped just under his chin. No face, but the rest? He gave it freely.
The robe slipped from his shoulders and hit the floor in a heavy whisper. The screen now showed him fully: pale skin, toned and clean, the kind of strength that came from years of discipline, not vanity. Sharp lines carved into his abdomen, the subtle dip beneath his navel, the strong curve of his thighs. His cock hung heavy, already half-hard, flushed at the tip. Not massive, but solid, undeniably good. He knew that. He’d seen how people looked at him before.
And still, nothing had prepared him for Red’s reaction.
There was no performance in it. Red’s breath actually hitched. His lips parted before pulling into a grin, red eyes dragging over every inch like he was trying to memorize it. Then, to Bakugo’s shock, he giggled. Pleased.
"Well, fuck me," Red said, leaning back into his seat, ponytail brushing his shoulder as he tilted his head again. "You look exactly like my toy."
Bakugo blinked once.
Red smirked.
"I mean it. That silicone doll from last week? I picked it out myself. Spent hours going through product photos, samples, weights, looking for the perfect shape. And look at you." He licked his lips, "Turns out I could’ve just used you."
Bakugo didn’t move, he just stood there, letting Red look.
Letting himself be wanted.
"Toned just right," Red murmured, like he was thinking out loud. "Abs I could bite into. Strong thighs. That cock… Yeah. You’d take me perfectly."
Red’s voice lingered, but his gaze softened just a little, "You can turn off the camera if you want," he said gently, still watching Bakugo’s exposed form with something that felt close to hunger. "But I’d appreciate it if you turned the mic on, so we can really talk. Makes things better for both of us."
He leaned back in his chair again, spread legs, one hand resting casually on his thigh. His tank top clung to him like it was painted on.
"Don’t worry, these minutes aren’t included in your thirty. I like to ease into it."
He hesitated only long enough to reach over and switch on his mic.
Red’s smile sharpened, "Oh, what a good boy."
Bakugo blushed immediately.
He didn’t look down, didn’t shift or hide himself, but the heat flushed over his neck, chest, ears. It wasn’t shame or embarrassment, but it was an ache beneath the skin.
Red saw it, and he grinned.
"You like that," he said, eyes lighting up. "Shit, I knew you would. You’ve got the look. All that control, that posture, the muscles, the silence. Made me think, he’s the kind that wants to be handled. Wants someone to tell him what to do so he can stop thinking for once."
Bakugo said nothing, but he didn’t deny it.
Red let the moment hang there, just long enough to feel it, then he asked, "What do you want me to call you during our little time together?"
Bakugo thought about lying, but he said instead, "Kat."
"Kat," he repeated, like he was tasting it. "That’s sweet. Real name?"
No answer.
Red just chuckled. "Didn’t think so. I’ll still make it sound filthy by the end of the night."
Bakugo's cock twitched again with no touch at all.
"You sure there’s nothing you want to do, Kat? You’ve got me all to yourself. You could ask for anything. A roleplay, something slow, something rough. Want me to talk filthy? Want to come together? You get to pick."
Bakugo considered it. He wasn’t used to that, he was used to leading, deciding, knowing what the next move was before it even started.
He shook his head, quiet.
"No," he said, "I want you to decide."
And Red smiled.
"Oh, Kat," he purred, "you don’t even realize what you just gave me."
Red’s smile lingered for a moment longer, "Alright then," he murmured, tapping something off screen.
A sensual beat started playing through the speakers, no lyrics, just a heavy bassline that moved like sex in a dark room. It wasn’t too loud, but it was enough to fill the silence, to slow the breath, to give the moment a pulse.
"Let’s set the mood," Red said, sitting back fully in his chair, letting one arm drape over the back, legs spread wide. "You already look like a dream, Kat, so let me catch up."
His other hand slid down his chest, fingertips brushing the hem of his tank top. He moved slowly because he knew Bakugo was watching everything.
"You ever get undressed for someone who’s already naked? Knowing they’re already hard, already watching you like they’d fuck the screen if they could?"
Bakugo said nothing, but his breathing had already changed. He sat back, hands gripping the edge of the chair now, the sound of the music mixing with the shift of fabric as Red tugged the tank up over his head.
The light hit him beautifully.
Broad shoulders, dragon tattoo stretching and flexing with every breath, nipples pierced and already hard. His body was golden and flushed, hair messy from the ponytail tugging at his scalp. He dropped the shirt off screen and let both hands trail down his abs, one of them brushing just beneath the waistband of his sweats.
"I can’t stop thinking about your hole," he said casually, "The way it must twitch when you’re watching me. The way it probably aches when I talk like this."
Red stood.
The camera adjusted automatically, giving a perfect view of his body from mid-thigh to just above his shoulders. He let one hand cup his cock through the fabric, and he palmed it, thumb dragging up the length.
"I bet you’ve been thinking about my cock since last week... Thinking about the way I came all over that doll and didn’t even slow down."
Bakugo’s cock was fully hard, leaking against his stomach.
Red hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his sweats.
"You ready for me, Kat?" He whispered, starting to lower them. "Wanna watch the cock you’re gonna beg for tonight?"
The fabric dropped.
And there it was, thick and veined and perfect, just like before. He wrapped his hand around it, stroking once from base to tip, the head already wet.
"You’re not touching yourself yet, are you?" He asked, licking his bottom lip. "Good boys wait until I say so."
Red’s cock grew in his hand as he stroked it with ease, his thumb gliding over the tip in circles that made his abs tense and the veins in his forearm stand out.
"Fuck, Kat, you’re real quiet over there. Holding back on me?"
Bakugo’s fingers gripped the armrest like it anchored him to the world. He managed a low "No."
Red’s mouth curved into a lazy grin, "Just busy looking, huh?"
A pause. Then, "Yeah."
Another stroke, slower now, more indulgent. His other hand dragged across his stomach, brushing through the faint sheen of sweat already beginning to gather on his skin. The music in the background throbbed low, sensual beats wrapping around them like silk in the dark.
"I’ve got a question for you," Red said, tipping his head, that bright ponytail falling over his shoulder. "When you fuck, do you like to give, or do you like to take?"
Bakugo's tongue swept over his bottom lip, throat working around the heat in it. It took him a moment to answer, not from hesitation, but because the truth had landed in him like a stone at the bottom of a still lake.
"I was a switch," he answered finally, "Still am. But if it was with you..."
He didn’t need to finish.
Red leaned in, his gaze softening, lips parting like he’d been waiting for those exact words.
"You’d take," he murmured, with the kind of certainty that left no room for doubt. "You’d spread those strong legs for me and let me fill you up, yeah?"
Bakugo swallowed hard. "Yeah."
Red’s eyes lit up. That smile turned darker now, sweeter too. He adjusted his stance, spreading his feet a little more, rolling his hips into his fist as he stroked himself once again, the wet sound nearly lost under the bass.
"Do you need instructions to prep, Kat?"
"Already did."
Red laughed, but it wasn’t mocking, it was beautiful. A sound that bloomed in his chest and lit up his whole face, with the smallest flicker of disbelief threaded through it.
"Oh, Kat," he said, voice full of delight, "you really are perfect. You prepped just for me? Did it in the shower, fingers deep, opening up that pretty hole so I wouldn’t have to wait?"
Bakugo's cock was leaking against his stomach already.
"I’ll make it worth your while," he promised, voice smooth like heat running down the spine. "You want my fingers? Or a toy?"
"Toy."
"Big one?"
Bakugo nodded once. "Yeah."
"Of course you do," he murmured. "Of course the quiet, expensive one with the perfect body and the attitude of a storm has a fat toy hidden in his drawer, just waiting for a night like this."
He reached off-screen, the sound of shifting fabric and clinking filling the pause, and when he returned, he was holding something in both hands.
"Wanna see something no one’s seen before?" He said, already smiling like he knew the answer. "Got a new toy, haven’t shown it to anyone. You’re the first."
Red held it up. It was an ass, plush in his hands, but made of a translucent material that shimmered under the light. Soft TPE, the kind that flexed and gripped just like real skin, except this one was see-through.
"I thought of you when I ordered it, because I knew you’d like to watch. Knew it would drive you crazy."
Red shifted again, placing the toy down in front of him, spreading its legs open to angle the entrance toward the camera. It glistened, already lubed, waiting.
"You’re gonna see everything. Every inch of my cock stretching it open. Sliding in. Sliding out. You’ll see it twitch when I fuck it hard. You’ll watch the head bulge through the top."
Bakugo moaned, sweat beading along the back of his neck.
"You gonna use yours too, Kat? Wanna see you push that thick toy in while I fuck this open for you. Side by side."
Bakugo’s voice came out hoarse, too far gone for anything smooth. "Yeah."
"Then do it. Show me that sweet little hole," he whispered. "And let me see how deep you can take me."
Bakugo didn’t say a word.
He just reached for the webcam, adjusting it. It now framed the thick lines of his thighs and the jut of his cock, flushed dark at the head. His torso was visible only from just beneath the pecs, face and nipples out of frame, hidden intentionally.
When he turned the camera back on, there was a beat of silence, and then Red’s breath caught.
"Fuck."
Just that one word.
Bakugo kept still, one hand resting against his thigh, the other holding the thick toy, shaped perfectly, obscenely familiar. He didn’t have to say anything, because the message was clear: this is what you do to me.
Red cursed again, louder this time, "Fuck, Kat, you weren’t supposed to..."
He adjusted quickly, hands moving, hips shifting. When he settled again, his camera caught his broad chest, the sheen of sweat already forming at his collarbones, arms flexed as he positioned the translucent ass toy in front of him. His cock stood heavy and flushed, lined up against the entrance.
"You’re really hot," he murmured, eyes lingering. "Look at how thick your thighs are... Shaved smooth for me like you knew I’d want my face between them."
Red dragged his cock along the hole of the transparent ass, teasing it. His tip bumped against the slick hole, then he grinned, still staring directly at Bakugo’s screen.
"I want you to watch every inch disappear."
And with one thrust, he pushed inside.
He didn’t thrust again right away. He stayed buried, the translucent material of the toy stretching around him, the flushed shape of his cock visible through the clear TPE. It pulsed there, and Bakugo watched with parted lips.
"Lube it up for me," Red said. "Want you nice and slick. I want that toy to slide in like you were made for it."
Bakugo reached for the lube without a word, then, he poured it over the head of the toy, watched it run down the length, then wrapped his fist around it and stroked slowly, coating it thoroughly. He let the lube drip onto his own thighs, onto the crease just below his balls, spreading with a careful motion that made Red groan.
"Fuck, Kat, you’re gonna kill me."
Red pulled out halfway and thrust again. His cock slid through the translucent material like a sin made visible, the shape of him forcing the toy to bulge and stretch, obscenely detailed, all of it in clear view.
"Now, push it in. Go slow. Let me see how you take it."
Bakugo aligned the toy, and brought it to his hole. The stretch burned at first, but it was familiar, well-prepared, and his breath fell into rhythm with the slow push as he began to sink onto it.
Red watched, still fucking the toy at the same lazy pace.
"That’s it," he breathed. "Take your time. I’m not going anywhere."
The toy pressed deeper. Bakugo adjusted, letting himself settle onto it, hips shaking as the stretch pulled a groan from deep in his chest.
And Red, watching every inch slide into him, smiled like the devil.
"God, look at you," he said, thrusting a little harder now, "If I had you like that? I'd hold your hips down and fuck into you slow, just like this, watching your pretty hole swallow me whole."
Bakugo gasped, hips rolling now, fingers gripping his thigh as he took more of the toy. His cock bounced against his stomach, leaking, untouched.
"I’d keep going ‘til your legs started shaking," Red went on, breathless between words, his thrusts picking up, balls slapping against the toy. "Wouldn’t stop ‘til you were moaning into the sheets, trying to take me deeper, begging for more."
Bakugo was finally fucking himself now, pushing the toy in and out, matching the movements.
Red’s thrusts grew harder, every push of his hips landing with a wet slap that echoed through his room, over the soft music, into Bakugo’s ears like it was meant just for him. The toy beneath him trembled from the force, and every time he pulled out, the clear TPE clung to the shape of his cock like it didn’t want to let go.
He didn’t look down. Red’s eyes were locked on the screen, on Bakugo, watching him stretch around the thick silicone toy, watching his thighs flex. His mouth was parted now, chest rising with every breath, sweat trailing down his stomach in slow rivulets.
And Red smiled.
"Yeah, fuck yourself for me. Let me see you take that toy like the good little fuckhole I know you are."
Bakugo's hand tightened around the base of the toy, and he started to move, fucking himself now in earnest, matching the rhythm Red had set. He rolled his hips with each push, the toy stretching him open perfectly.
Red grinned wider, pleasure lighting his eyes.
"There we go," he breathed, fucking the doll faster now, harder. "Just like that. Fucking yourself in time with me. You like that, don’t you? Pretending it’s my cock inside you?"
Bakugo didn’t answer, because his mouth had fallen open, panting hard.
Red thrust hard again, the transparent toy bulging around him with every push. "God, you look so tight, Kat. If I had you under me, I wouldn’t stop until I fucked the moans out of your throat, ‘til you were crying for it. You’d be soaked, begging to be filled."
He let out a breathy "fuck" before he could catch himself, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as the toy pushed in just right.
"You’d take it, wouldn’t you? Let me split you open on my cock, fuck you so deep you’d feel me in your throat?"
Bakugo’s hand trembled on the toy, pace matching Red’s now stroke for stroke.
"Look at me," Red commanded suddenly, and Bakugo’s eyes snapped open. "Don’t you dare look away. Want you to see what I’d do to your body."
And then he fucked the toy hard, the shape of his cock visible every time it plunged in, pushing the toy to its limit.
Bakugo mirrored every motion, hips moving desperately now, sweat dripping from his hairline, and Red never looked away.
The slick sounds of him fucking the toy filled the speakers. Red’s abs clenched, his biceps flexed as he held the ass open, driving into it with so much force the toy rocked beneath him, the wet suction almost loud enough to drown out the beat of the music.
Bakugo couldn’t tear his eyes away.
His legs were spread wide, planted firmly against the polished floor, the toy buried deep inside him. Every thrust forward sent a full-body shiver through him. He fucked himself slowly but firmly, moaning through gritted teeth, hips rolling to meet the stretch, desperate to keep up with Red’s pace. The drag, the pull, the ache of fullness, everything was dizzying. His cock was red and leaking, jerking with every grind of his hips.
He watched the way Red fucked, how his face stayed focused, determined, eyes locked on the camera like it was a promise. He fucked like a man who meant it, like he was teaching that toy a lesson, and all Bakugo could think about was how badly he wanted to be in its place.
Red grunted, breath catching for a second, and then, faintly, a noise cut through the sound of thrusts.
An alarm.
Muffled, far away.
Red glanced offscreen for a heartbeat. Then, without a word, reached out and turned it off.
And just like that, he was back.
Thrusting harder now, meaner. The toy squealed beneath him from the slick friction, and his cock dragged deep with every brutal roll of his hips.
"Nothing’s more important than this," Red growled, voice dark and low. "You see what I’m doing for you?"
Bakugo nodded without thinking as he rocked onto the toy again. His hole fluttered around the thick silicone, so full it ached, muscles trembling as he tried to hold the pace.
"You feel that stretch?" Red purred, breath hitching. "Imagine how much thicker I’d feel. I’d make you take it all, Kat. Every inch. I’d fuck you so slow you’d feel it for days. I’d have your legs pushed back, your hole open for me. I’d press in and in and in, until your voice cracked from how bad you wanted it."
Bakugo could barely breathe. His mouth was dry, eyes wet from the heat building behind them, heart pounding out of rhythm.
"I’d wreck you, baby boy," Red said, moaning now, close. "I’d make you scream for it. You want that, don’t you?"
"Yeah," Bakugo gasped, "I want it. I want you."
Red’s eyes darkened, thrusts going even deeper now.
"Then show me, Kat. Show me how much you can take."
Bakugo kept moving, hips rolling forward, the thick toy dragging against that spot inside him. The stretch burned in the best way, but he needed more. Sweat clung to his skin, dripping down the curve of his spine, clinging to the crease of his knees. He was moaning now, barely catching his breath between each thrust.
And still, Red kept talking, "Fuck, I can see you clenching. Look at that, your hole’s swallowing it like you were made for my cock."
Bakugo pushed the toy in deeper, groaning as the stretch hit the limit of what he could take.
"You’re dripping," Red whispered, eyes locked on the screen. "Look at your cock. All flushed, leaking, untouched. You want to cum so bad, don’t you?"
Bakugo breathed out a broken, "Yes."
Red smiled, but he didn’t soften.
"No. You don’t cum yet."
Bakugo’s entire body jerked.
"You’re gonna stay like that for me, Kat. All wet and full, desperate. That’s how I want you. And if I had you under me, I’d hold you there," he growled. "Keep you right on the edge. I’d fuck you slow, make you feel every single inch, and right when you were about to break," another thrust, "I’d stop. Pull out. Leave you empty and whining."
Bakugo whimpered.
"You want me to cum inside you, don’t you?" Red asked, "Want to feel me flood your hole, mark you, fill you up so deep it leaks out while I keep going?"
"Fuck, I do."
"I’d ruin you," Red went on, "Keep my cock buried in you while you trembled, let you cum after I did. Not before. You’d be mine, marked, fucked open, shaking for hours."
Bakugo groaned, hips stuttering, body too close. He paused his movement, panting hard, trying not to fall apart right there.
"Don’t you dare cum, Kat," Red murmured, slowing his own thrusts. "Not until I give you permission. Be good for me."
His thighs burned, the toy inside him was so, so deep. He wasn’t even moving anymore, the only thing he was doing was holding himself in place, trying not to come from the pressure of being so full, so close, so denied.
Across the screen, Red fucked the transparent toy. The pace was more controlled now, almost sensual, like he was fucking it just to keep Bakugo at the edge.
"God, look at you," he murmured, the words sliding out between moans. "You’re so fuckin’ close, aren’t you?"
Bakugo whispered a yes, not recognizing his own voice.
"You’ve been good," Red went on, thrusting harder again, "So good for me. Holding it back like that, taking that toy like you need to be filled."
Bakugo’s cock jerked violently, and the leak of precome had smeared across his abs.
Red moaned softly, fucking the toy faster now, but he never looked away from the screen.
"I’m gonna let you come, but you’re gonna do it while thinking about me inside you. You got that, Kat?"
Bakugo’s head dropped forward, "Yeah, please."
"You’re gonna think about me pushing you down, splitting you open on this cock. My hands on your hips, pulling you back onto me while I fill you up, ruin that hole."
Bakugo’s hand slid from the chair to his cock, gripping it at last, stroking with everything he’d been holding back.
"I’d hold you down and fuck you through it," Red groaned, close now, almost panting. "Fill you up with so much cum it drips out of you for hours, and you’d still beg me for more. "
Bakugo gasped, and the toy inside him hit just right.
Red looked directly at the camera, sweat sliding from his brow. "Come for me, Kat," he breathed. "Now."
And Bakugo shattered.
He came hard, his cock pulsing violently in his hand, ropes of come painting his abs, his thighs, his chest. His hole clenched around the toy, body shuddering with the force of it.
Across the screen, Red moaned and came too, spilling inside the toy, thick streams of white coating the translucent walls.
Bakugo slumped back against the chair, and the toy still pulsed faintly inside him, the stretch lingering even now, making him twitch every time he shifted his hips.
He finally reached down and pulled it out, and the emptiness was almost cruel after being filled so thoroughly. His body flinched around the loss, an aching sound leaving his throat before he could stop it.
He shut his eyes, but when he opened them again, Red was staring at the camera.
Still panting, eyes darker than before. His hand was resting against the translucent toy, but he wasn’t moving. He just looked at Bakugo's body, and his tongue flicked across his lower lip in a dazed motion.
"Fuck," Red murmured at last, still catching his breath. "You looked so good when you came."
Bakugo didn’t respond because he was still too far gone, and Red didn’t push. He stayed quiet for a moment longer, letting the weight settle.
"Take your time," he added, "Don’t rush. Just breathe. You were perfect."
The way he said it was so gentle, so full of something that tugged right at Bakugo’s chest, that for a fleeting second he forgot why any of it was happening at all.
He let himself breathe, in and out, and when the shaking started to fade, when the tension finally melted from his shoulders and the sweat dried on his skin, Red shifted a little, readjusting the camera, lifting the corner of his mouth into a fond smile.
Then, like a switch, something subtle in him changed.
Not cold, no, but professional.
"Thank you for the tip, Kat," he said, politely, "I don’t usually go this far, but I think you earned it. If you ever want to do this again, you know where to find me, and you know what to do."
He held Bakugo’s gaze for one more heartbeat, then he smiled before saying, "Goodnight, sweetheart."
And the screen went black.
The silence that settled after the screen went black felt deafening.
It wasn't the kind of silence that soothed, though. It was the silence that was full of everything Bakugo hadn’t said, everything he’d just felt. He sat there in the darkened office, still catching his breath, still trying to relax his fingers around the base of the toy, limp now, useless. His other hand still hovered near his stomach, cum drying against his skin.
He let his head fall back against the chair, and stared up at the ceiling, still hearing Red’s voice echoing in his head.
You were perfect.
But eventually, he moved slowly, like his bones weighed more now.
He reached out, turned off the monitor, the screen going dark with a brief blue flicker before disappearing completely.
No more camera. No more eyes. No more him.
He stood, and the toy made a slick noise when he pulled it out of the chair and walked to the bathroom, his breath catching once when he dropped it with a dull thud into the sink. He didn’t even rinse it, because he couldn’t look at it.
He peeled a clean pair of underwear from the drawer, pulled them up over sore thighs, then crossed the room to his bed and let himself fall back against the sheets like he’d been holding himself up for hours.
Which he had.
The ceiling above him was dark, the shadows shifting with the movement of city lights outside. His heart still thundered stubbornly in his chest, and his skin still felt too hot in places, like Red’s gaze had left a mark that hadn’t faded yet.
He shut his eyes.
Let out a slow breath.
But sleep never came.
He stayed there until morning, lying motionless in bed, heart thudding so hard it felt like it might give out.
The truth was, he was terrified that if he let himself fall asleep, Red’s voice would start to fade, slipping from his memory like steam through his fingers, until he couldn’t reach it anymore.