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When you had signed up for piano lessons, you were pretty embarrassed about it. You shouldn’t have been, really, there was no correct age to start playing an instrument. But, you did feel a certain type of way, especially after greeting the tiny little girl with her front two teeth missing before entering the studio of your new teacher.
His name was Bakugou Katsuki, and he had an intense musical background since the age of three. He played almost every instrument under the sun, and taught a majority of them as well. He had mixed ratings though, all saying he was talented, but torn between his mean and standoffish attitude. You figured you could tough it out though, but if it became too much, you could always find someone else.
“You my new 3 o’clock?” A deep voice rings throughout the open reception area of the studio, making you jump and snap your head in the direction of the sound. It comes from a tall and lean man, his hair wild and spiky on top of his head, red eyes narrowed and squinted as he takes you in. He’s dressed in a black tee shirt with a skull on it, loose dark joggers, and tennis shoes, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he cocks his head to the side when you take too long to answer.
“Yes,” you rush out with a nod and smile. “I’m here for piano lessons. I also got the books you recommended for me.” You hold up the tote bag you brought them in with a smile, showing him, but the blond only grunts before turning on his heel. You pause for a second before guessing you have to follow him, scurrying behind his long legs as he takes you into an even bigger studio that’s full to the brim of all sorts of instruments.
There’s a piano in the middle of it all, a baby grand, all red in color, shiny and sleek. It's beautiful, an astounding centerpiece, as you struggle to tear your eyes away to inspect the other instruments in the studio. Theres an organ in one corner, a set of drums in another, a harp diagonal from that one, a huge bass in the last corner, different guitars strewn around the room, acoustic and electric alike, trombones and other horns, violins and cellos, instruments you’ve never even seen before. It’s almost overwhelming as you take it all in, but you’re snapped back to reality with a quite literal snap of fingers in front of your face.
“Oi, are ya listening to me? I said take a seat and pull out your books.” The blond snaps, frowning at you as he watches your hazy eyes suddenly focus before you jump slightly in place and start moving your feet to the middle of the room.
“Oh, sorry,” you mutter, slipping off your jacket and laying it on the bench before setting your books down on its holder. As you go to pull the bench out, it proves more difficult than you expected, heavy with books and other papers you’re assuming. You’re knocked out of the way by a stern hip, stumbling slightly as Bakugou takes a large, pale hand to move the bench out from under the piano with little issue. His veins bulge for a moment, thick fingers gripping the bench easily as he motions for you to sit before plopping down in his own rolling chair.
You have to take a moment and swallow the saliva that’s suddenly flooded your mouth, beating down the nasty thoughts that flood your mind at the sight. You can’t fall in love with your piano teacher after two minutes just because he’s pretty and has even prettier hands, damnit. You’re here for a reason, and you need to stick beside that reason!
You give yourself a little pep talk mentally before sliding onto the bench, straightening your back as you look over to Bakugou with a smile. He’s been staring at you with this little funny look on his face, cheek resting in his palm as he spreads thick thighs and slouches. He jerks his chin to the piano for a moment, before looking back at you.
“Ya signed up for hour lessons right?” He asks, gruff, as you nod at him quickly. “Well, let’s get started so we won’t have to waste anymore time.”
…
Piano is equally not as hard as you thought it would be and harder than you actually anticipated. You can understand the basics, somewhat, but it becomes a little harder when Bakugou starts throwing everything at you at once. You’ve been taking lessons with him for a few weeks now, and you’re reading music and playing with both hands now! He’s a little hard on you, but you can tell that overall he’s a good teacher and cares about your progression.
He’s great though, he really is, but you’re considering switching teachers. Preferably, some older lady with wrinkled fingers and too many cats. Bakugou is a distraction in and of itself, and sometimes you wonder if you’re dressing up a little more for your practices for yourself or to impress your blond teacher.
You can’t help it, though. Bakugou puts on this tough exterior like he’s some mean grump—which he also is—but he lets you see the softer sides of him, the side that chuckles and smiles a little and praises you whenever you do well. You don’t get that too often, so that only pushes you to practice more and become even better. He’s noticed by now, and uses it as leverage over you whenever you get too frustrated with something and want to stop, which makes you weaker and weaker for the man as the days go on.
It all feels like it has gotten worse though, when you walk in one day after greeting his brunette receptionist, and find him playing the guitar alongside a pretty purple haired lady. Neither one of them notice you as they face each other, the girl with a huge grin on her face as she strums her own melody on a pretty black and smoky gray guitar, Bakugou smirking as he plucks at his strings with nimble fingers on a black and orange guitar. You feel entranced as you watch them, eyes round and wide, as your gaze instantly hone in on his fingers.
You noticed early on that Bakugou had big hands. Thick palms and even thicker fingers that seem to play everything he touched with ease. Hands that you oftentimes imagined soothing against your skin, strumming against your sternum, sliding across your lips and into your mouth. Hands that you wanted to hold, and to grab, to push, and to pull, to grope, and to manhandle however they so pleased. His hands did something to you, something you had never experienced before, and you found yourself rubbing your thighs together as you watch him play the guitar with such ease, wondering if he could play just like that with you c—
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come in!” A raspy voice calls to you, suddenly ripping you out of your nasty train of though. A guilty look bleeds over your face as you whip your head up to see who has addressed you, eyes wide, as you blink a couple of times and swallow. The purple haired lady grins at you, stepping away from your teacher as she places the guitar down on a nearby stand.
“Oh no, it’s totally fine,” you smile at her, bowing your head once as she steps closer to you. “You guys sounded great, by the way.” You nod to her, to which she smiles even harder and goes to shake your hand.
“Thanks! I’m Jirou, by the way.” Her firm is grip, and her hands are soft, and her smile is contagious. You beam at her as you shake her hand, opening your mouth to introduce yourself when your sourpuss of a teacher calls out from where he’s placed himself in his rolling chair.
“She doesn’t need to know who you are, ears. Just get out and stop wasting her paid time.” You look to Bakugou quickly, watching him frown at the back of Jirou’s head as he rests his cheek in his palm, his infamous pose. She shakes her head at you and chuckles, grabbing her jacket as she makes her way out of the studio.
“It was nice meeting you,” she nods to you before continuing her way out, calling over her shoulder. “And text me when you wanna have another jam sesh!”
Bakugou only waves her off with a grunt, as you watch her go. You’re spurred into action of taking your seat when Bakugou suddenly clears his throat, quickly opening the piano as you set your books down.
“Was that your girlfriend?” You ask nonchalantly, looking at the blond from the corner of your eye as he picks up the guitar he was just playing with. Bakugou scoffs and rolls his eyes, as he tunes his guitar to the keys, mumbling under his breath,
“Hell no. She’s dating one of my idiot friends.” You’re surprised he even answered honestly, and nod slowly to yourself. You go through your warm ups, Bakugou following along with you as he plucks at the strings, correcting you gently when need be. When you finish, you look to him for approval and praise, but he only cocks his eyebrow at you.
“What?” He grunts, staring at you all the while he plays some quiet melody, something slow and soothing.
“Aren’t you going to tell me good job?” You ask him with a pout, trying to keep guilty eyes from glancing down at how fluidly his strong hands move. For them to be so big, he sure can cramp them up to fit perfectly around the sound hole, to have the perfect position and technique, to play so eloquently for hands that look like they should be meant for something big and powerful, like an explosion.
“Not if you keep trying to cheat your fingering when you think I’m not looking.” Bakugou shoots at you, narrowing his eyes when you guiltily look away. Shit, you didn’t think he would catch you using your third finger when you should’ve been using your fourth, but it seems like his vermillion eyes catch everything. You look away from him and back to they keys, guilty, and rest your hands gently above the ivory.
“Can we just get started already?” You huff, cheeks puffing up as you look at him from the corner of your eye. Bakugou only chuckles at you, sitting up a little in his seat as he keeps playing mindlessly at his guitar, jerking his chin in the direction of your books.
“Open up that blue book and turn to page 32.” He commands, and you follow it with a small smile. You liked the banter between the two of you, and obviously he liked it, too.
Practice went by pretty fine, as you played the pieces he told you to practice with little problem. It wasn’t until you got to a section that always stumped you, when you huffed in frustration and sat back from the piano, frowning at it as if it had personally offended you.
“Scoot over.” Bakugou suddenly grunts when he sees your growing frustration. Before you can open your mouth to ask him why, he’s already moving his entirely too buff body to sit on the bench with you, forcing you to scoot down to the edge of it until your ass practically hangs off.
“Lemme show you how to play this part, since it really ain’t all that hard.” He grunts, playing a quick two octave scale in the songs key for a warm up before he rests his hands above the keys. He stops though before he can play, looks at you from where you’re watching him over his shoulder with his eyebrows raised.
“What?” You ask him confused when he only looks at you and doesn’t say anything. Bakugou nods his chin at your phone that rests on the other side of the piano before he looks down at the keys again.
“Record this, so you can have it for later when you’re practicing.” He mutters, barely letting you open your camera and press record before he’s already playing. You watch him, how his pale hands move along the keys with ease, how his thick knuckles jump with every finger he uses, how the scars on the backs of his hands stretch every time he opens his palm wide. He’s so fluid when he plays, big hands manipulating the piano so beautifully, you wonder if he could play you the same. Big hands commanding and controlling the piano at his very will, pressing down with light pressure and then harder, utilizes his entire arm as he starts getting into the short piece that has haunted you over this last week.
“Got that?” Bakugou suddenly asks you, makes your hazy eyes whip up to meet his garnet ones. He’s ducking down a little so that he can catch your gaze, eyebrows drawn in, glancing down to how you’re tightly holding your phone in your hand and how your thighs are pressed together. He swallows, and you quickly turn off the recording and place your phone down once more.
“Yeah,” you murmur, glancing at him before you force a smile. “I got it.” You’re too flustered to keep up the eye contact, looking down at the soft keys again, despite the fact that Bakugou hasn’t taken his eyes off of you yet. It’s not until you glance at him again and smile a little wider, that he grunts, and gets up from the bench. You miss the warmth of his hip pressing against yours already.
…
“Got that?” The sound rings throughout your quiet bedroom, before you start the video over again. You shouldn’t be doing this—its wrong and its gross and dirty of you—but, shit, you can’t fucking help yourself. Not when it comes to Bakugou and his hands that you want to just caress over your entire body.
You have a hand shoved down your pants, vibrator going at it against your clit, as you start the video over once more. It’s been on loop for far too long now, your bedroom walls have heard that same melody far too many times now, but you can’t help yourself at this point. You’ve tried to fight your attraction to him, your neediness to feel his hands on and in you, fight your impulses to rub one out at the thought of him touching you, feeling you, tasting, and kissing you.
You watch the video once more, trying to keep your eyes from fluttering shut as you can taste your orgasm creeping up on you. Watching, examining, taking in every last detail of Bakugou’s big and pale and strong hands tickling at the piano keys, hands stretching wide as he encapsulates over an octave of keys, his low grunt of telling you to roll the chord instead of stretching like him. Watch how his shoulders move the deeper he gets into the song. Watch how his thick fingers slide and play and flex and—
Your orgasm overwhelms you before you can stop it, a loud cry ripping from your throat as you have to rip away your vibrator to keep from getting overstimulated. Your hips shake and arch off of the bed as your climax rolls over you in waves, left panting against the bed as Bakugou’s voice rings out in your room once more.
Got that?
Your guilt of what you’ve just done makes you shut your phone off, as you place your vibe on your bedside table, promising yourself to clean it when you find the nerve to get up. You curl up on your side, and try to convince yourself that what you’ve just done is totally fine, and won’t affect your view of your teacher at all.
…
It’s been months now since you’ve started your lessons, and your feelings for Bakugou have gotten worse. Its like he knows you’re into him, because he only praises you more, sits on the bench beside you more, flexes his hands in front of your face on the days where you’re too caught up in looking at them instead of paying attention.
Everything comes to a head one day though, when you’re entirely too horny and he’s at his wits end of you just ogling him the entire practice. Bakugou huffs from where he sits in his rolling chair, garnering your attention from where he beats lightly on a singular drum, frowning at you when you shoot guilty eyes up at him.
“You’re not subtle, you know?” Bakugou shoots at you, eyes narrowed as your mouth gapes open and closed a few times. “You stare at my hands the entire practice, and not in the normal way. In the ‘I want you to shove your fingers down my throat’ kinda way, and I just want to know if I let you infringe on your little creep kink, that you’ll start practicing more and getting better again.”
Okay. Wow. You definitely needed a moment to process everything he’s just confronted you with. You stare at him with wide eyes, unblinking, mouth opening and closing a few times as Bakugou only cocks an eyebrow at you.
“You knew?” Is all you can spit out, to which Bakugou scoffs and rolls his eyes, placing his drum and sticks down on the floor beside him. He sits up in his seat, never taking his eyes off of you as he sizes you up and down once.
“I always know when someone is eye fucking me.” Bakugou states blankly, chuckles under his breath when his words make you choke on your spit. You stare at each other for a long while, trying to figure out what to do now, if you’re really going to take him up on his offer, and where to go from here if you don’t.
“Promise you won’t drop me as a student if you let me do this?” You whisper to him, eyes darting from his intense red eyes, to his thick hands that rest in his lap. If you’re not mistaken, you could see a slight twitch in his pants, but he’s demanding eye contact before you can focus on the growing bulge.
“I promise.” Bakugou can’t hide the smirk on his face as he sits back in his seat again, that bulge definitely more prominent now, straining against the stretchy material of his sweatpants as his hands rest beside it. You gulp, blinking a few times, wondering if you should really cross that boundary with your piano teacher. You look at Bakugou once more, who cocks his head at you and nods to his hands, before you decide that it’s definitely worth crossing that boundary.
You only hope that doing this helps you get whatever this little fantasy is out of your head. But if you’re being honest with yourself, you doubt it.
You push the bench out, maintaining eye contact as you stand above the burly blond, staring down on just how pretty he looks below you, before you step in front of him. You drop to your knees effortlessly, watching how Bakugou shuffles a little in his seat, listening to how he grunts under his breath, adjusting himself in his pants as he looks at you through his lashes.
You finally break eye contact when you look at his hands, at how they twitch against his lap, how they curl into fists before unclenching, smoothing out the wrinkles in his pants and gliding over the thickening shaft under his clothes. You glance at him once more, at how intensely he watches you, before you look down at his hands again, reaching up to pick his left wrist up in your own, smaller hand.
You examine his hand, turning it this way and that, taking in all the scars and the blue veins and the roughened palms and thick fingers. Before you can stop yourself, you dive in for his index finger, licking the appendage from base to fingertip, listening to the sharp inhale Bakugou sucks in. You stare up at him through your lashes, blinking slowly at him when you take the digit into your mouth, slow, down to the first knuckle, the second, down to the base where his finger meets his palm. Bakugou watches you with low eyes the entire time, breath shaky, as he shifts his hips in his chair, trying to keep from bucking up as he lets you explore your creepy little kink as you please.
You drool over his hand, pulling back from sucking in his first finger, opening your mouth a little wider to now take in two. Your tongue laps against the digits, head bobbing as you sink lower and lower, eyes fluttering as you hold his wrist tightly, head suddenly growing lighter and lighter. You’ve wanted this for entirely too long now, so to feel him against your tongue, is like pure bliss.
His skin is salty, his fingers so thick that they force your mouth a little wide to accommodate them, and you wonder how you can fit in three. You make it work though, gagging a little when you force your head down, cunt clenching tight at the sound of his groan when he hears you choke. Bakugou uses his other hand to pet lightly at your hair, cupping your cheeks, holding your throat to feel you swallow down your spit when your drool starts to slip down his wrist too much.
“Choke on ‘em,” you can hear him groan under his breath, and that only spurs you on more. You fight to fit in his pinky as well, eyes rolling shut, clit throbbing almost painfully, when he pushes your head down a little farther to deep throat his four fingers. You swallow as much as you can, but your head is too light to really think about not drooling all over him. Your eyes are heavy, head barely held up to keep from resting on his thigh, growing cock tickling your cheeks. You hum around his salty fingers, licking between them, head bobbing, throat humming with every gentle guide of your head up and down, up and down, up and down.
“Want me to put ‘em inside you, too?” Bakugou’s voice is breathy, husky, like he’s just as affected from this as you are, like he’s been waiting for this moment as long as you have. You take a few seconds to register what he’s said, low eyes blinking once, twice, before you find it in you to look up at him through your lashes. His fingers are still being suckled in your mouth, and he groans at the sight, stroking your cheek gently as he waits for the words to register in your empty little head. You nod slowly, letting him guide his fingers from your mouth, as he helps you stand, shuffling out of your bottoms quickly until you’re naked from the waist down and climbing into his lap.
“Been thinking about doing this since I first saw you.” Bakugou admits against your mouth as he plays softly with your clit. You gasp against his lips, hands holding firmly on his shoulders for balance, hips grinding with every flicker of his fingertips on your swollen nub.
“Please touch me.” You’re so empty headed right now, you don’t even know what to do with yourself, Bakugou thinks as he takes you in. So desperate for him, for his hands, you look out of your mind right now, so pliable and pretty. He can’t keep himself from diving into your mouth and kissing you, nor denying you from that pleasure of slipping a spit coated finger inside of your aching walls.
You keen against his mouth when he enters a single digit, eyebrows drawing up as you have to relax in order to take in the thickness of just a finger. Bakugou shushes you gently, thumb sneaking up to rub at your clit slowly, crooking a finger inside as he laps at your bottom lip. You let him enter you, in any and every way that he so pleases, moaning against him as you start to adjust and slowly ride the singular finger.
“More,” you’re greedy, demanding, dig your nails into his shoulder as your hips roll against his palm. Bakugou only chuckles at you though, but follows your command, slipping another spit coated finger alongside the first one, rubbing at your clit with a little more pressure when you moan and shiver against him.
“Greedy little thing,” Bakugou moans against your mouth, his cock aching and ready to be freed. But he wants to give you this first, wants to indulge you, spoil you, before he gets his fill of you and your pretty ass body. Lets you guide him this way and that, lets you fuck yourself down on his fingers, and demand more when you damn so please.
You pull away from sucking on his tongue with a moan, staring down between the two of your sweaty bodies, watching how his wrist curves up to pump now three fingers inside of you. You moan at the sight, hips twitching, as you watch how his fingers disappear in between your legs, eyes fluttering when he pulls out of your leaking cunt to show you just how much you’ve slicked up his fingers.
Before he can put them back inside of you, you grab his wrist quickly and bring his hand to your mouth, sucking down his messy fingers with a bob of your head. Bakugou has to throw his own head back at the sight, hips lifting from the seat, taking you with him, as he groans loud and unabashedly when you suck at his fingers until they’re free of your essence. You’re just glad his receptionist is out on her lunch, otherwise the noises you two are making would’ve surely alerted her of your non-practicing lessons going on right now.
“Please let me fuck you, please. Feel like I’m gonna go fuckin’ crazy if I don’t.” Bakugou begs you, vermillion eyes low and pleading as he holds your face in both hands to pull you in and kiss at your messy mouth repeatedly. You moan against him, nodding quickly, as you lift up in his lap to let him pull his pants down to his thick thighs, pulling away to watch how his thick and pretty cock springs out and slaps against his now dirty shirt.
“Stroke it.” You whisper to him, eyes glued on the vein forking up the side of his shaft, glancing up at Bakugou when he only sputters at you. He follows what you say though, lifting his shirt slightly with one hand, wraps his other hand around the thickness of his cock. He groans when he touches it, eyes fluttering shut, biting at his bottom lip, before he forces his eyes open to watch you watch him jerk at his cock.
It’s such a pretty sight, you think, with how hands that are usually creating such beautiful melodies have been reduced to spreading his precum down his shaft and fingering at his steadily leaking tip. Its enough to make your cunt clench down greedily around nothing, before you steady his hand at the base and lift yourself until his mushroomed tip splits your folds open.
You two share eye contact, wordless, heavy breathing shared between you two, before you drop yourself down on his fat dick. You gasp when he splits you open, eyes fluttering closed as you take in Bakugou’s deep guttural groan, feeling his cock twitch when you lift yourself up a little before dropping down even lower. You do this until you’re sitting fully in his lap, cunt split open wide from his girth, tears creeping up on your waterline as you gasp against his mouth.
“Fuck me.” You command him, biting at his plump bottom lip meanly when he doesn’t do exactly as you say as soon as you say it. Bakugou only groans though, darting his tongue out to catch your own, before he plants his feet and starts thrusting up into you with the force of a man with a grudge.
You have to hold onto his shoulders tightly, crying out with every thrust against you, head lolling back on your shoulders when he holds you tight against him. You claw at his shoulders, lifting your hips whenever he drops his, dropping yours when he lifts, until the slapping of your ass against his balls becomes the only loud sound heard throughout the empty studio. The feel of his hands against your back is torture though, and you pull at him until his wrists and palms face you. This upends your balance though in the rolling chair, but before you can say anything, Bakugou merely stands with you in his arms, before gently placing you down onto the piano bench, continuing his thrusts without any hesitation.
He gifts you with his hand before you even have to ask or whine for it, presents it in front of you face, pries your mouth open wide when you take too long to take him in. Bakugou shoves his fingers down your throat, all four of them, groans under his breath when it makes your eyes roll up and your cunt clench down deliciously around him.
“You fuckin’ like that, huh?” He growls down at you, balls slapping against your ass repeatedly. He sneaks a hand down to rub quickly at your aching clit, hissing through his teeth when it makes you bite down gently on his fingers. Your eyes are rolled up far into your head, and he’s sure he’s only talking to a shell of you right now, the cute lil thing he’s been teaching for months now gone, replaced only by a vixen with a raging kink of having his hands deep in her throat.
“Uh huh,” you manage to get out though, voice all squeaky and high and staccato from each thrust that sends you high up on the bench. Bakugou curls over you though, keeps you locked in place, face buried into your shoulder as he starts to taste his orgasm on his tongue.
“Gonna cum,” you gurgle around his fingers, clawing at him, hips arching and twisting when that only makes Bakugou strum at your clit even more. He doesn’t let up, only groans against your skin and starts fucking his fingers into your mouth with the opposite strokes of his cock bullying its way against your walls, and that sweet spot that he keeps knocking against.
Your body spasms wildly on the bench, and he has to press you down with his chest to keep you from falling off the sides, your orgasm hitting you so hard, so intense, he fears you might black out. You clench down so tight around him, especially when he rips his fingers out of your mouth and replaces the dry ones on your clit with these spit soaked ones, prolonging your orgasm even more.
“Fuckin’—fuck, shit!” You cry out, eyes clamped shut as your body keeps spasming, clenching down almost painfully against the blond as he keeps stroking at your clit, keeps sliding against your sweet spot.
“Gonna cum,” he groans against your neck. “Can I cum inside? Please? Please say yes,” Bakugou mutters into your skin, shudders roughly when you squeak out a confirmation. He keeps at it with your clit, keeps going, keeps thrusting, keeps fucking into you until you burst a clear stream of liquid against his pelvis and lower stomach, and he bursts a thick load of cum inside of you.
You’re both loud, groping and groaning against the other, your hips shaking erratically, his hips still pumping as he unleashes load after load against your now sticky walls. Bakugou finally pulls back from you, weak ropes of cum still shooting out him, to look down at you, at your tear stained face and messy mouth. You’re so pretty under him like this, all shaking sobs and overwhelmed pleas, mouth open and closing as you plead for him to stop this torture against your sweet little body.
Bakugou lets up on you, finally, after he finishes coming and your streams trickle into nothingness. You’re both a mess, soaked and sweaty and covered in way too many bodily fluids. Bakugou presses a sweet kiss against your forehead first and then your lips, pulls you up until you rest in his lap again in his rolling chair. You collapse against him, arms wrapped loosely around his neck as he strokes still wet fingers under your shirt against your back. You’re both quiet, basking in the stillness of the room, both wondering when is too soon to ask to do something like this again.