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It’s the first day of his high school career.
You strut in after twenty people have found their classroom for the year. It’s so planned, it’s obnoxious—like you had been standing by the door counting heads before making your entrance.
But you don’t falter when your classmates get quiet at the sight of you; even Stick-In-His-Ass Boy has to stop giving the blonde Explosions-user shit for ‘disrespecting the students that came before him.’
Whatever the hell that means.
You don’t glance around the room—not even to scan it for a seat—you find one unoccupied at the front of the room and walk past his feet that he has propped up on his desk with your stupid, too-high skirt and too-expensive perfume. Then you hang your bag on the hook at the side of your desk and slide into your seat.
The seat you’ve chosen is just a few people in front of him, and just behind his boots, he sees the clean shape of your hair.
You push your hair over your shoulder and cross your shiny legs. Only after you’re comfortable do you bring your phone out, probably scrolling on some app you only have because your followers do wonders to stroke your ego.
That first day…Bakugou Katsuki decides he hates you.
You’re known for your brand of degrading quips and judging looks, the same way he’s got his own rank surrounding how easily he hands out insults and stupid nicknames. His not-friends tell him that he has no reason to hate your prissy ass. They say you’re just a ‘him,’ but if he were raised as a girl.
Fuckin’ bullshit, really.
Yet, he can’t deny that Class A only becomes notorious (around Yuuei) because of you and him. Unlike the rest of the class, you let his temper get to you, which feeds your reputation.
About two weeks into the year (yeah, two weeks because it was just a little before the sports festival—definitely after USJ), he’d said you were nothing special, that your quirk was crap. Doesn’t know what came over him, but he was even more of a little shit back then.
But you just turn in that seat of yours—flashing your smell and professionally maintained hair around like you don’t have a care for Round Cheeks and her cheap ass—and you glare.
It might be the first and only thing you’ve said to anyone that far into the year. It’s not a comment on his personality that comes out of your mouth. It’s not an arrow-shaped remark aimed to shit on his ego and how he’s not as good as he thinks he is.
No. All that would be too easy for someone like you.
You, Whatever-The-Fuck-Your-Last-Name-Is (Name), turned, glared, delivered a cold once over and said:
“I’m sorry…who the fuck are you?”
Bakugou isn’t stumped often. He doesn’t lose his train of thought; he doesn’t ever not have anything to say.
But that…
That invisible bitch in front of him is saying some holier-than-thou shit like “Doesn’t feel nice now, does it?” to him (yeah, no clue what the fuck she’s on); he heard fuckin’ bitch ass, nerd ass Deku spewing some shit about, “They’re talking to Kacchan like that still?” and that annoying ass shitty haired-thrift store built pikachu-soy sauce face trio is having a field day, leaning against each other and laughing.
He lets the class cheer you on… Snapping at them when they start poking fun at him. He knew he looked pitiful, like a little bitch who was only lashing out because he was embarrassed.
But really, the only thing he was embarrassed about was how fast he felt his dick harden against his leg at your words.
Hate you, he may, but Bakugou could respect anyone who didn’t take shit. Especially not his shit.
When you really got angry, a haughty sneer would mar your usually blank and prim expression, and that insufferable ego of yours would rear its head and reveal your fire.
You didn’t need to pretend with him; he knew that growl in your voice was you. That unmasked, unapologetic, no-nonsense confidence was you.
“Hey, y’know, I was thinking, wouldn’t Bakugou and Sumeragi-chan be a super cool couple?” Raccoon Eyes is saying one day, when she and the rest of the band of idiots forced him into Smiley’s dorm to hang out. Second year was just a day away from starting.
Unfortunately, while moving in, you’d bumped into his family. The hag had taken a liking to you.
“Hah?”
“If by ‘super cool’ you mean ‘completely terrifying and the first step to destroying humanity,’ sure.” Tape Arm’s shaking his head. “Their children would be…”
He shudders.
“I’ve never been more afraid of how quickly my self-esteem could plummet in an hour and a half until I’m in a room with the two of them for class.” Pikachu makes another wrong twist at the Rubik's Cube he’s never gonna solve. “They’re both unnecessarily talented and mean.”
“I’ll rip your intestines out through your throat, Dunce Face.”
Bakugou didn’t need his friends to talk about him like he wasn’t in the room. You and him? Yeah, right.
“I’ll make the rest of you eat that shit if you keep pairing me up with that self-absorbed, princess-y bitch.”
“Yes, sir.”
There was one thing Kaminari, the stupid fucker, got right: you and he are powerful. And he had to give a point to Hanta, if the two of you could come together and not find a way to rile each other up, the two of you could make a strong duo. Maybe the rest of the class would be distracted enough that it’d leak over to Izuku. Then his personal mission of revitalizing “Wonder Duo” would be brought to a screeching halt.
Fucking you good enough to get you pregnant, though? He entertains the thought.
Even if you didn’t want kids, the responsibility wouldn’t keep you down or occupied for long, what with your stubbornness. Persistent bitch.
Katsuki snickers lowly to himself as he pushes his key into his dorm door.
“You alright over there, man?” Kirishima asks the Explosions-user. There’s a little shake to his voice like he hadn’t expected the noise to come from him. They’ve been friends for a year, but Bakugou doesn’t giggle.
Bakugou juggles his words in his head for a bit, then he sends the box-dyed redhead a side glance before stepping into his room.
“Good fuckin’ night, Shitty Hair.”
Bakugou learns quickly that you never learned to do anything without grace, even when vulgar words fit for someone like him passed your lips, they sounded like music and home, even more so when they were aimed at him.
You turned your nose up at associating with most of the class. Most of your interactions were with him, that annoying ass grape you tamed under your beck-and-call, (occasionally) Shinsou, but most closely, Tokoyami, who you randomly decided was worth your time one odd day after the battle against the League.
“Fumikage, what’s that one’s name again?”
The thing about you is that when you speak, everyone else goes quiet. They know who you’re referring to as they follow your finger to—
“Mineta?”
“Oh, yeah.” The class realizes then that you don’t know any of their names. Bakugou already knows you’re not gonna bother actually using them.
“You.” Like he thought. “Come.”
Your finger curls towards you a few times as you summon him flippantly. The boy scurries away from Dunce Face and falls to his knees by your feet. You don’t even look at the boy; you just keep spreading your clear lip gloss across your bottom lip.
“I want chocolate croissants, two of them.” You say simply. “Get it for me.”
The grape fucker doesn’t stand from where he’s sat.
“What’s the issue?” You ask him, leaning your head against your hand, looking at him down the length of your nose.
“Money?”
“Don’t you have some?” Your face is marred by your eyebrows furrowing.
“R-Right. Yes, ma’am.”
“Actually…”
Mineta trots back over to you. You squeeze a bit of hand sanitizer in your palm, reach back into your bag and unroll a stick of gum. Bakugou almost feels the secondhand embarrassment watching you leave the boy to wait in this long ass silence while the class stares on.
“Fumikage, do you want anything.” You’re offering suddenly. Somehow, it doesn’t feel like an option he has the right to refuse, but to your bird-headed friend, he knows if you’re bothering to provide the choice, you mean it.
“Oh, well, no…”
You just hum, waving Mineta off before pulling out a pleasant-smelling hand lotion from your bag. It’s only after the door slides shut that the others seem to comprehend what just happened.
Two minutes after the pervert’s left, an ‘ahem’ after three previous ‘ahem’s and Fumikage touching your shoulder to direct your gaze leads your bored eyes to that prude and prissy bitch with a ponytail, that glasses guy that won’t mind his goddamn business when it comes to you, that impoverished girl who’s had something against you since day one and that redhead who likes looking at your thighs when he thinks you’re not paying attention.
You blink up at them, sighing audibly before they even say a word.
“Can I help you?”
“Have you been bullying Mineta-kun?”
Your eyebrows scrunch again.
“...Who?”
Fumikage hides his eyes in his hands. “The one you sent to get you a snack.”
“Oh…dammit, he better not forget a Ramune too.”
“Don’t you think you should reel in that attitude of yours? Haven’t you learned anything from last year?” Uraraka can’t help but burst, glaring at you. “You can’t treat everyone in here like they owe you something, or like you’re more important than they are.”
“Who said that they owe me something?” You ask, though you're not arguing about being ‘more important.’ You continue smacking away at your gum. You’re obnoxious with your chewing, Bakugou recognizes it as something you do when you’re urging people on for whatever reason.
Scenarios like this happen often, so of course, he knows.
“You know that’s not what I meant. Stop treating Mineta-kun like that.”
“Why?”
Kirishima places a kind hand on Uraraka’s shoulder, “It’s just not very manly, Sumeragi, we’re classmates—he’s a classmate; using him like this is all just…wrong.”
“It’s almost villainous, is what it is!” Uraraka interjects.
Before Iida or the rest can piggyback off her words, you raise a manicured hand; mature acrylic nails, French-tipped with a few gems. Your gum pops in the background.
“Are you done?” You ask with a roll of your eyes. You turn away from them swiftly. “We were talking about something, weren’t we, Fumikage?”
“We’re not done here, Sumeragi-kun!” Iida’s hand comes chopping down closer to you than you’d like.
Your hand waves around majestically as you point your coffin nail in his face in petty retaliation before it curls to snap back down with the rest of your fingers. “Mm, I think we are.”
“Sumeragi-san, you must stop this behavior towards your classmates at once. We thought it would be wise to talk to you to see if you would change your attitude before we brought it to our teachers.” Yaoyorozu finally pipes up.
“And I assume doing this four against one with fifteen other people watching was also in my best interest?” You’re standing up from your chair now, Bakugou’s watching the edges of your (frankly not short enough, in his opinion) skirt swinging around your thighs as you stop rising to just a little under Kirishima’s eyebrows.
You don a sickly sweet voice and wear a smile that doesn’t look right on your face. “Oh, everyone, we’ve got a nice set of Samaritans on our hands.”
“Making a scene is unnecessary, Sumeragi-kun.” Iida lowers his voice, eyes darting around like people hadn’t been locked into the conversation already.
You deliver a more fitting, but unfamiliar, smirk. “Ironic.”
“We were just looking out for our classmate’s best interests.” Momo tries to alleviate the situation.
“I bet you were, great work throwing the other one to the wind, though, very effective. If that guy has an issue buying me things, then he should say ‘no,’ but he didn’t…doesn’t. I wanted something, and I asked. Seriously, I’m not bullying him.” You’re nodding along, tired of standing and choosing to perch your ass on your desk.
You’re crossing your legs the way you always do. It’s swinging just enough to kick Iida or Yaoyorozu if they choose to get too close. You look like you’re forcing yourself to push your chest out and arch your back—Bakugou knows you only do that when you’re commanding a room.
“You have to wonder, though, as weak as he is, if he’s not doing what I say, what else is he good for? He’s gotta make himself useful somehow.”
You’re satisfied to watch Uraraka’s fists tighten, to hear Momo gasp and to see how both Iida and Kirishima grimace. You look certain that Kirishima is going to say something, but the sliding door opens once more.
You give Fumikage a look.
“Mineta.” He’s reminding you for the third time.
You use a light voice to address the boy, “Mineta, sweetie?”
He’s practically skidding to his knees at your desk once more. “Yes, Mistress?”
Everyone cringes. You’re unblinking. Bakugou grins.
“Have I ever forced you to spend money on me?”
“No, of course not!”
“Threatened you to buy me the things I like?”
“No, of course not!”
“Treated you in a way you didn’t deserve or want?”
“No, of course not!”
You’re delicate with dragging a nail under his chin. “Hm, I thought so too.” The tone drops, and so does your smirk. Your eyes are taunting as you stare the protectors of justice in the eyes. “Put everything on the desk.”
And he does.
You reach behind you to the bag of pastries. And pull out a croissant. “Oh, warm. Just the way I like it.”
Your plump mouth parts wider, readying to take a bite until you’re talking like you forgot they were even there.
“Right… Um, FYI, you can’t humiliate a bitch who’s playing poker while you dipshits believe she’s playing go fucking fish.” The four look like they’ve been pulled out into the hall for a scolding. “Fucking tramps, got it? Good. Now leave.”
And they do.
Mineta hadn’t forgotten your drink.
“Detention?” You’re testing the word out on your tongue while your leg bounces beneath your desk.
Your bored eyes match evenly with Aizawa’s, “Now, sensei.” You always seem to say it flippantly, just enough to be respectful, not enough to punish. “Whatever for?”
“A few classmates—” Iida’s cough rings throughout the classroom. “A concerned party felt the way you treated a classmate was harmful, enough to call it bullying. UA usually doesn’t tolerate that behavior, and I’d been ready to hand out a harsher punishment for your actions, but your victim was…resistant to our ideas.”
Your leg keeps swinging along to a tune only you know.
“Get it together, Sumeragi, I expect better from a student like you.”
Your leg stops.
“I’ll go to your detention.” You flick your hand about dismissively. “Even if it makes no sense to keep getting me in trouble over this when I’ll just keep doing it. But no matter, Aizawa-sensei, please be sure to let that concerned party know that I’ve got a fat cock and they can choke on it—”
You were given detention for the two days after as well.
It doesn’t matter how many days, months or years pass, he’s gonna keep saying he hates you. Doesn’t even matter if he’s the one who’s got you pushed into a wall in some janitor’s closet in UA, humping up into you.
“A-hah, ah, ah.”
Your nails dig into the wrist attached to the hand that’s currently choking you out. One of your thick ass thighs locks his body close to yours. Your gaze is defiant— Fuck, he lov—
“C— C’mon, what are you—fuuuuck, fuck—starin’ for?” You ask. Your neat, burnt sienna nails knot themselves into his thick hair to pull him closer to you. The hand holding you up by your ass tightens its grip, and you’re spread out even more, giving his thick cock more room to stir up your dripping cunt.
Bakugou just keeps looking at you with that lewd, horny ass look on his face. Bright red, glowing irises almost halfway into his skull, practically drooling. He looks right like this, you think, breathing him in as the two of you pant into each other’s faces.
You lean in and press your plush lips against his in a kiss. It quickly devolves into a battle of tongues and drool as you both try to outdo the other, swapping spit and the breath out of each other’s lungs. Your tongues swirl together, raising the heat between you guys, telling the other that you need more. You lean back, licking at his tongue as it chases after yours, not letting the kiss end so quickly. When it does, you’re smirking. You bite lightly at his bottom lip, pulling away seductively and letting the fleshy bit snap back into place.
A clipped moan falls from his lips, but it ends once he clenches his teeth together.
“O-oh, mmn. Y-you pussy drunk or somethin’? My pussy’s that good, you weak bitch? Embarrassing. You’re fuckin’ em—bahh ah. Shit!” You clench around him just to get a rise out of him.
You bite your lip to keep from moaning too loud. He sinks his teeth into your ear, pulling on it, he growls, “Suck my fuckin’ dick, Princess. You stuck-up bitch.”
“That was dirty!” You run your hand down the side of his face and along his shoulder like you don’t know what to do with yourself amid the pleasure. Your pretty hands settle for caressing his collar, occasionally curling into the fabric for reprieve. “Y-you can’t just choke me like that.”
You squirm wildly when his hand gets tighter, tighter. Your voice pitches sharply, “Ohhh, Katsuki.”
“You like it, though, Princess.” He growls, scrambling to find himself. He gropes you through your uniform and starts pushing his nose into your neck. “You wanna keep—mmn—talking shit? I know this body.”
“You don’t know shit.” You lie, your nails scratch at his upper back. You toss your head back when his dick hits your g-spot back-to-back. “C-can’t even find my g-spot.”
Jesus, fuck, this man has turned you into a liar.
“Yeah, right.” He grunts, pulling out of you.
You gasp at the loss, glaring at him. Katsuki just bares his teeth at you in challenge, then spins you around to bend you over an extra desk being stored in the cleaning closet.
“I fuckin’ mean it.” You snarl, waving your ass around and standing on your tippy toes.
“Are you gonna keep going on like that? Admit you’re just a cock hungry bitch.” He demands, dropping his hand down on your ass. “You got an attitude that’s just begging to get fucked outta ya.”
He snatches your hips backward to press the head of his dick just on the brim of your pussy. Katuski can’t take his eyes away from the way you twitch and spasm around nothing; silently begging for him to fuck you sore.
“You’re the only one that needs me.” You say, looking at him from over your shoulder. You brace a hand at the edge of the table to keep yourself from face-planting into the desk, the other one you use to spread yourself open for him, giving him a view of your blinking pussy.
You push back against him, then sway your hips in a circle. You’re so desperate to be filled, but you don’t give him what you know you both want; you just let his thick head poke around your dripping hole.
“Your hand must feel like shit after fucking my pussy.” You rock back against him. He tosses his head back, all while panting and trying to catch his breath.
You catch your bottom lip between your lips, licking and catching it between your teeth as you grind his cock between your engorged lower lips. A shrill whimper crawls from your throat, the same time a guttural growl rips from his when you aim your gyrations on his raging tip. You feel so fucking empty. This isn’t helping.
“I ruined your dick, Katsuki. Admit I fucked up your brain too. You can’t fantasize about it anymore, can you? It gets y'too riled up.” His hands massage along your lower back, encouraging you to keep tossing your hips back on him.
“Fuck, like that, ma—” Katsuki has to recalibrate again, get his head back in the game. “Y’think so, Princess?”
Your sopping cunt teases his sensitive, leaking crown. Your voice is unbelievably breathy as you speak, “Yeah, you’ve got a broken dick, Suki. You need my pussy.”
He groans at your words. Fuck, he lov—
“Fuck me—”
Your ass ripples under his hand when he lands another hit to it. Your knees knock at the sensation, and he hears you gasping beneath him.
“‘Gain. Do it again.” You babble, trying to catch your breath.
“Who the fuck else is gonna take care of you, you needy slut?” He huffs into your ear after leaning down. He grinds into you and reels a hand around to your front to rub even circles onto your clit. You quiver and grind down into his fingers, humping on his hand like a bitch in heat. “Y’wanna talk about what you do to me, let’s talk about what I do to you. Let’s talk about how you keep begging me to wrap my hand around your throat and slap this fat ass ‘til it’s sore.”
You roll your hips back onto his. He meets you in the middle.
“You’d let that purple fuck this close to your sloppy ass pussy?” Another swat. To your clit this time.
Your back arches wildly, and your thighs squeeze around the hand that he has between your legs.
“No one will ever handle your pissy ass attitude, Princess, but I got you.”
“You’re one to fuckin’ talk.” You whimper out despite your squirming beneath him. He pants above you, gyrating his hips on the curve of your ass with slow pumps. You receive it in turn, reaching behind you to keep him sprawled across your back. “Those motherfuckers in class groan every time you open your mouth. If anything, I’m taking care of you, Suki.”
“You fuckin’ wish, you damn brat.”
“You’re losing nice things to say about me, Katsuki; admit it’s true.”
Katsuki pulls you to stand by your tits, and you’re not proud to admit the burn the grip has on you gets your eyes rolling back in their sockets. You turn your head enough to match his lips to yours, moaning into his mouth when his fingers work themselves over your clit again. His other hand forces your knee up on the desk.
“You’re so goddamn stupid.” You mutter into his lips.
“I don’t wanna hear that from such a spoiled piece of shit.”
He gathers your wrists in one hand, kissing down your neck before he pushes you onto the desk to feed his dick back into you.
Your moans read as satisfied, more breathless than before, more pliable.
Bakugou’s head falls back as he slowly bottoms out into you. Your walls clench around him in uneven patterns, but he loves it.
Fuck, he loves it.
“‘M the only one you got, huh? Ughhh…don’t you fuckin’ worry, I’ll keep takin’ care of you, Princess.” Katsuki says, tightening his hold on your wrists. “I’ll make you feel so good.”
“Suki, please.” Your eyes squeeze shut.
“I’ll do it, I’ll do it—” He cuts his own self off, no longer holding back his flinching hips as they plunge into your wet cunt again.
Bakugou’s thrusts knock you straight onto the desk below you, and you take it willingly as you slide back and forth on top of it.
Drool trickles from the side of your mouth as you look up at him, not once taking your eyes off his face. He’s got the face of a slut, the way he can’t keep his eyes straight.
Katsuki curls himself over your back and bucks into you desperately, angling his hips so his dick doesn’t stop bullying your swollen g-spot.
“Right there.” You moan, catching his messy uniform in your hands. Your hold is tight.
“Y-You’re gonna fuck up my shirt.”
“Don’t care. Feels good. Keep fucking me, Suki.”
“Haagh, shit!”
Bakugou Katsuki is not a fucking idiot. He knows damn well how compatible the two of you are. It’s not just because of your egos or your attitudes or none of that. You make him feel like he’s lying under a weighted blanket; you’re a pressure that makes him feel like he’s crumbling dough, finally coming together.
And you— You have to feel it too.
Under him, you keep clenching on his cock, milking it for what it’s worth—letting him know you need him like he needs you. You finally get your hands back and use them for leverage on the desk just to bounce your sopping cunt back into his heavy-hitting hips, onto his chunky cock.
“You’re so goddamn tight around me.”
“I know, I know— Mm fuck! M’pussy’s so wet right now. Y’making my pussy feel so good, Sue. A-aahm— I w-wanna cum!”
A hiss slips past his lips as he slams a hand by your head and digs his nails into your hip.
You mewl loudly, uncaring (you both are) of your volume, completely immersed in how he slots so well inside you. The desk keeps rattling, and the legs screech loudly across the linoleum tiles.
Your eyes are half-lidded for a different reason, your boredom is gone and replaced by tears you’re fighting to keep from falling.
“You like me.” You pant, “Fucking admit it.”
Katsuki’s salivating.
Your drenched, bloated pussy lips; the frothing sheen on his veiny dick; your rippling ass. Clenching fingers; blushing expression; misty eyes; swollen lips. You’re perfect. And they’re his.
Only his to see.
“Fuck, yeah, I do, baby.” He admits, licking his lips.
And his cock head hits you just where it needs to before your back is arching and you’re impossibly wetter.
“I’m cumming!”
It’s fair to say that after watching you and Bakugou stumble into the dorms last night (him with his shirt unbuttoned lower than normal and missing a few more, and you with new knots in your hair), your class wasn’t sure what to make of the two of you, not even with your abnormally satisfied expression.
In homeroom the next day, though, each and every one of your classmates got the privilege of seeing you and your eternally crossed legs perched up on Bakugou Katsuki’s desk peacefully sharing space with him. At the same time, he kept his large hand gripped onto your plush thigh just under your short skirt.
Two things occurred to them at that moment as the two of you swiped through your phones like the order of the world wasn’t being tipped.
One: The Universe had decided against the rest of Class 3-A and chosen a violence that will unequivocally be caused by the notorious egoists of the class finally coming together.
And two: Midoriya’s ‘Ground Deku: the Wonder Duo’ plan was going to have to sit on the back burner for now while they got used to whatever the fuck this was.