「 incognito 」bk

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— SIX.

'NO FUCKING WAY I'M BEING your boy toy, Minami!'

That had been Bakugou's response.

When Bakugou Katsuki said something when his anger levels broke the meter, most of the time he never truly meant what he said.

And that wasn't an exception either.

There were various stages in the Cycle of Acceptance:

Number one, normal existence. Up until then, before he rejected Devilgirl's existence, Bakugou lived a pretty normal life devoid of any existential crises. That's when the phrase 'the less you know the better' could be applied.

Number two, receipt of bad news. Minami Y/n was Devilgirl? Fucking hell, what a time to be alive. The girl that had been sitting next to him for three years was an incognito camgirl. Bad news? Not necessarily. But it was enough to shake him up and make the cogs in his rusty mind turn.

Number three, denial. No way it could be her, right? Goody two shoes Y/n, a straight A student and a failure at P.E., dressing as a devil slut and fucking herself in front of thousands of horny people? No way.

The rest of the stages played out like dominoes falling one after the other simultaneously the same way number four, five, and six occurred before his eyes —anger, bargaining, and acceptance— the day he went to her house.

It was better late than never. His epiphany hit him like a truck after realising that he had just been Y/n's pawn, and he was about to be eaten. He was just a mere white pawn, moved first in the vast chessboard controlled by her mastermind.

And now she was telling him to finger her.

"Don't be shy, baby," she muttered, biting lower lip as she slowly spread her legs for him— for the webcam, for them.

He was petrified.

The game was intense. Y/n had told him to move forward. Imagine. A small, white pawn, being sent to war alone. Facing all the enemies by himself. Whether he wanted to move or not, Y/n was the player. The hand that moved the pieces.

Feeling her fingers wrap around his wrist, she pulled him closer to her. The wet muscle of her tongue trailed his index and ring finger, sucking and biting lightly, grazing it her teeth teasingly.

WHAT THE FUCK DO I DO—

Even with his eyes closed, he could see the red light of Y/n's irises penetrating his lids. That's when he felt something wet and warm coat his fingers.

The boy was shirtless, only sporting the same pair of jeans he had worn last time he went to her house, but he swore he was boiling— it felt as though his skin was set ablaze, but as much as he wanted to strip naked like Y/n was, he couldn't muster up the courage to do so. His sweat slid down from the nape of his neck, all the way to his back.