𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅-𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐒 ༊࿐

── ★ 𝐈 𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐖𝐀𝐘 !

𝙨𝙮𝙣𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙨 — bsd men and public sex scenarios

𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙧𝙚 — smut

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎──‎‎‎‎─ tw intended lowercase, public sex, exhibitionism, edging, begging, use of pet names (doll, love, angel etc), praise kink, cockwarming + fingering in fyodor's part, voyeurism + choking + nipple play in nikolai's part

𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 — dazai, chuuya, fyodor, nikolai x reader

𝗗𝗔𝗭𝗔𝗜 is always ready for sex, whether it be in the comfort of your bedroom or the last seat of a movie theater. you cannot physically count the number of times you've asked him to dick you down and he has cooed in reply, pulled you into a random corner, ridden your panties to the side and pried your legs apart with a smile. that, however, doesn't mean there aren't times when you have to beg for his fat cock. he is quite a nuisance, even when the two of you have to make it quick, locked up in a public room. he enjoys watching you flailing your arms around in a silent tantrum, unable to moan or groan or whine, afraid of being heard by others.

“now now bella,” he says in a sing-song voice. “if i give it to you now, and you end up being so loud that the others hear, it will be bad, won’t it?”

he watches you rub your cheek against his bare cock, throat dry from the hardness which he refused to let you suck.

“i’ll be quiet, i promise,” you say. “please please, can i have it?”

“you always say that, dolly,” he strokes your hair lovingly and you lean into his touch. “but we both know you never keep your promise. i would like you to hush for me, alright? we can be as loud as we want at home, but not here, hm? the president is in the next room; it’s a very important meeting, okay?”

you nod vigorously, and he chuckles.

“ah now you know i’m weak for those eyes,” he pulls you up and sits you nicely on his cock all in one go, clamping a hand over your mouth as your eyes widen at the forced penetration. “we’ve got an hour, baby. let’s make it nice and slow, yea? don’t want anything to spill or make a mess, hm? easy now, doll. ride me like a good girl, but quietly.”

𝗖𝗛𝗨𝗨𝗬𝗔 doesn't mind pissing off mori in ways more than one. he cannot recall how many times he's fucked you in his own office in various positions, and so messily too, just to see his boss's reaction. he, unlike dazai, doesn't have to be quiet though. it's his building, he can do whatever the fuck he wants, shove his cock down your throat wherever he wants. but he likes to go at a tantalizingly slow pace. he knows he can take his time. he's not gonna get 'caught'. his subordinates know better than to intrude on his business. it's just you, spread-eagled on the table, and him, rutting his hard cock inside you.

“you like it, yea? then why don’t you say it?” he groans in your ear. “you can tell me whose pussy this is, can’t you? why don’t you say my name, doll? whose girl are you?”

“y-yours, all yours,” you hiss and he gently pushes your face back into the mahogany table, the smell of fresh wood and sex clouding your senses.

“what’s my name?”

“chuuya–”

“chuuya what?”

“port mafia executive chuuya nakahara and the owner of my body,” you breathe. he's taught you to say that whenever he asks you that.

“good girl,” he says proudly, smile faltering for a second as he adjusts his pace. “you gonna come, baby? i can feel you. come, come on this cock, we’ll let it get on the floor and table, just to have some fun, yea?”

you widen your eyes, and he chuckles, gloved hand coming to pinch a nipple.

“no objections. mori's office or not, i decide what i do with my pussy.”

you shuddered. he's not afraid and it's seen. because after all, who's gonna fire him?

𝗙𝗬𝗢𝗗𝗢𝗥 isn't always the one to initiate sex, much less one in public. then again, your numb cunt and shaking legs are testimony of how well he does when he decides to. public sex for fyodor meant shoving you by your hair down on his cock, pretending to be interested in the ramblings of fukichi while you were sucking him off under the table. when he feels he has to reward you for good behaviour though, he allows you to perch on his lap, your panties shifted to the side as he nests his cock deep inside your warm pussy, offering his ideas while the others don't bat an eye at the unusual approach of the mastermind.

he drums his fingers on the table, sliding them down to pinch your clit. your eyes widen, neck snapping around to look at him as he continues to look ahead. from the corner of his sly smile, he mutters, “i’ve told you to stop moving so much, havent i, angel? or would you like to leave the meeting? i wouldn’t mind either way. you’re distracting a hard-working man.”

you frown at him. “i’m not moving around–” your angry whisper is cut off by a finger slipping inside your already filled cunt, stretching it out even more. you hiss loudly, fist clenching around his cape.

“quieten, printsessa, or i might have to send you away. you’re not being very good now. i’d like to have a word with you after the gathering departs. in private.”

you scowl and turn back to staring at a wall in front of you, when you feel his finger escaping your soaking cunt. sighing in relief, you barely anticipate the slight jolt of his hips as he forced his cock deeper inside you for the fraction of a second before bringing it back in place.

your eyes wander frantically to see if anyone noticed the act. nobody did, thankfully, or maybe they had learned not to intrude on his business. either way, you will pay the price for boredom in the next thirty minutes.

𝗡𝗜𝗞𝗢𝗟𝗔𝗜 is similar to dazai when it comes to enthusiasm related to public sex. he's into voyeurism, a bit much for your liking, but he swears by your name he won't do it if you don't like it. but you don't miss the way he casually lifts your skirt up to check your ass out, or how he sticks a finger inside your cleavage line to harden your nipples. he has always wanted to be free, and what defines freedom more than sex in the back of his car, where the windows are open and any passerby can hear the commotion, wild and alive like never before?

“but kolya, we have to be quiet, we can’t just–”

“hush, my little birdie. do as i say and you won’t be in trouble,” he lays you down comfortably on the seat before proceeding to bang the shit out of you. your meek attempt at stifling your moans by covering your mouth is unsuccessful, and highly futile, he thinks. “now why would you do that, my dove? why would you not bless my ears with your heavenly sounds? let me hear them, dove, please.”

“kolya–”

“yes yes yes love, just like that,” he coos praises into your ear. “but you can go louder, can’t you?”

his mouth sucks on one of your nipples, begging you silently to give him more, to say more.

“please tell me how i make you feel, dove. i might die.”

“so good, kolya, so good.”“yes dove, now can you tell the whole word how i make you feel? please? for me?” he fastens his pace to force moans out of you, hand reaching to your throat to make you say his name. “want the whole word to know you love me, dove. that you’re mine. all mine.”

and his demands grow sinister by the moment with threatening consequences.

“whoopsie, no dove you’re gonna have to keep it in for now. can’t let you come unless i see you beg for it, now can i?”

it was always a long night of satisfying sex with him.

LISTENNN sadistic!dazai aftercare :(( kinda like a part two to blood sex and tears if that's alright 🥺 I wanna know if he'd still be mean and cruel or if he dotes on his doll after :)

aftercare with sadistic!dazai

dazai can't resist admiring all the marks and bruises littering your body once he's done with you. he can't help it—you just look so perfect to him, all marked-up like that. the second he's done railing the fuck out of you, he can't take his eyes off of you.

"what is it, 'samu?" you breathe, closing your eyes and leaning into his embrace. every instinct in your body urges you to get away from the man who spent the last couple hours breaking you, but you're so sore that you can't bring yourself to leave. and his chest is so warm anyways, so why bother?

you open one of your eyes and look at dazai hazily. he reaches out and traces the side of your face with his hand and leaves a line of red where his fingertips meet your bare skin. "nothing," he murmurs, a tender smile dancing along his lips. "you look so beautiful like this, darling," dazai whispers, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. he lingers long enough for you to gasp for air afterwards, to his amusement.

dazai sits up and says something about cleaning up before exiting the room, leaving you to tend to your own bruises for a couple minutes. they're starting to go a shade darker than you remember, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you make a mental note to call in sick to your work tomorrow.

a few minutes later, dazai returns, a damp towel in one hand and a glass of water in the other. he offers you a gentle smile before sitting down and pulling you into his lap. "you did so good for me, sweetheart," he praises, kissing the top of your head. dazai pulls your chin up towards him and presses the glass of water to your slightly swollen lips, murmuring words of encouragement as you wince.

"you're so tense," dazai tsks, setting down the glass. he fishes out an ice cube and trails it down your back, grinning when you flinch from the stark chilliness. "what, can't handle the cold?" he cooes, popping the ice cube in his mouth and biting down with a distinct crunch.

he starts rubbing the damp towel over your skin, cleansing you of the droplets of blood scattered across your figure. "so," dazai continues, trailing his fingers over your skin, "how was it?"

"h-huh?" you mumble, caught off-guard by the seemingly simple question. dazai chuckles and draws a star with his finger around the bruise on your shoulder, pressing a kiss to it afterwards.

"i mean, how are you feeling?" he elaborates, a lazy smile dancing across his lips.

"oh, i'm ... okay," you breathe, nodding along to his words.

"that's it? just okay?" he inquires, and you can feel his eyes burning into the back of your head. "aw, looks like we're gonna have to go for another round if you're just okay, sweetheart."

"wait, i—"

"don't bother, i was looking for a reason to go for one more round. c'mon, spread those pretty legs for me, baby. you can do it ..."

hello! So far you have made really good post, and it made me think, what if you made one about bakugou x y/n, they JUST started making out and started this thing where after class and even the cafeteria hours they would go to the roof top and make out, and then come back to class and act like nothing ever happened. Also somtimes he would throw a paper and secretly desk her under the desk where they would meet up. 😍

when katsuki wants to make out during class

something soft hit your back, causing some giggles to be heard from around you. you raised your eyebrow, and when mister aizawa faced the chalkboard, you turned around to see nothing. a hand waved in front of your face, kaminari’s hand, to be exact, and his finger then pointed at the ground.

a crumpled-up ball of paper lay on the ground, so you bent over to grab it, opening the paper under your desk. maybe it had something in it. on on page, nothing was there, so you turned it to see the words ‘ask to fill up your water bottle’ with a little explosion drawing at the end, which is how you figured out it was katsuki who wrote the note.

you grinned and raised your hand, throwing the paper into your backpack.

mister aizawa finally turned back to you and asked, “yes?”

“can i please fill up my water bottle?” you held it up and shook it, and when no sloshing around was heard, he nodded.

you picked it up and walked outside the classroom, katsuki soon followed behind after he asked to go to the bathroom. he stomped after you, placing your water bottle next to the fountain before giving you a sly smile and gripping your hip. he shoved his lips onto yours and softly groaned, kissing you repeatedly, strings of saliva still connecting your lips after parting for a short period.

he lifted up your thigh, pressing it against his hip as he continued to kiss you. words haven’t even been spoken yet, but it was clear what the two of you needed.

even after that, he continued to ask you to leave during class or lunch to spend time with you. he didn’t just love you for your body, he didn’t just want pleasure, he wanted you as a person. katsuki knew he wasn’t good at expressing his emotions or love for people in a healthy way, but this was the only way he felt he could do it. it would always leave the two of you breathless, red, and even more in love.

to him, this was one of the most intimate acts someone could do, and he loved you with his whole soul. he never regretted skipping class to make out with you, besides when you heard a loud yell and chuckle from someone across the hall.

an annoyingly familiar voice rang in your ears, “hey, class 1-a! did you know two of your students, bakugo and l/n skip class just to make out in the halls?” monoma loudly chuckled, “class 1-b would never—“

he would always be smacked in the head by kendo, who would apologize and ‘leave the two of you be.’

that was one of the only times katsuki had felt embarrassed after making out with you.

hope you enjoyed this! i’m so happy you love my writing, your compliments mean the world to me. also, i gained around seven asks in one night so im trying to catch up, i apologize that i am not posting as often

Lovesick husband! Dazai who's obviously whipped for his spouse and ain't even trying to hide it at all

PLAYING : HOTLINE ! — DAZAI TUNES IN!

𝗧hinking about Dazai, your childhood friend and the one who shows his vulnerability only to you. Years after you've gone and left the Port Mafia and your terrible past behind, he knocks on your door. He looks downright terrible. His bloodied hands are trembling as he grips onto the fabric of Odasaku's coat, he's trembling, and on the verge of tears.

"Dazai, how'd you—" he practically leaps, his bandaged arms wrap around your neck, squeezing harshly, though you wonder how he found you... Ango.

There's not a word spoken between you two, but you know exactly what he needs. You pull him inside, carefully closing the door. "How about we clean you up first, okay?" You whisper. He stinks. His eyelids are puffy and there's red underlining his eyelashes. His hair is due for a wash with split ends, and he's pale. You guess he hasn't taken too much care of himself since you left. He silently nods, leaning his full bodyweight into you.

You bring him to your bathroom, carefully peeling the layers of clothing from him. The first to come off is the black coat he's regularly worn since he joined the Port Mafia.

His knees are to his chest as he speaks for the first time. "Mori-san's coat, burn it. I don't need it," he whispers in a raspy voice as if he's been screaming. You hum in acknowledgement as you set the dirty thing on the bathroom tile. Your hands carefully help him undress before starting to undo his bandages. "Years later and you still can't change your bandages like I told you to," he hears you whisper with a small smile. The bloodied and worn bandages fall to the floor as he hears the sound of streaming water come from the bathtub inches from him.

Once he's in the bath, you carefully rinse his body with warm water, lathering his new and old scars with soap carefully. There's a hint of guilt in your heart as you hear him wince, though this is probably for the best.

The pads of your fingers massage his scalp as you wash his hair, just like you did when the two of you were kids. You carefully trim his wet hair and brush it before getting him out of the tub, helping him dry off. You were likely the only person he could truly trust to see him so...bare and vulnerable. You couldn't exactly tell if the silence was tense or comforting, regardless you continued with is predictable mute moment. He always got like that when there was something wrong, you sigh.

"How about, I get you something to eat? I made some bento boxes, you can eat one and then brush your teeth, is that okay?" You speak softly and re-bandage his tender skin.

You smile softly at him when be finally nods. "Okay," you whisper and attempt to finish quickly before his mind changes.

As his hair dries it becomes its usual fluffy self, you'd assume hair matches personality; however, Dazai's eyes were close to dead. He only seemed to relax, feel different, when you touched him so gently. You quickly clean up and head to make him food. "You don't have to eat all of it y'know...just some, okay?" You whisper, setting the box in front of him.

He can tell your eyes are studying him as he eats, wondering what your Dazai from years ago has turned into. You look at him proudly when he finishes half of it before pushing it away. "Thank you," you whisper.

Handing him a toothbrush, you let him brush his teeth and fix the mess that is your bedroom, knowing he'll ask to sleep. And surely, 5 minutes later he stumbles to your doorway. "Can I...Can I stay?" You look him up and down, smiling softly. Compared to the terrible look he had when he first appeared at your door, he looks better. No longer like a man seconds from being a corpse.

"'Course," You smile, pulling back the covers, "C'mere."

He walks to the bed, crawling onto the soft sheets carefully. His brown eyes look at you expectingly, watching you get under the covers with him. He moves his body next to yours, putting his face into your neck without a word. "Ready to talk?" You whisper. His hoarse voice whispers a 'No.'

The calming effect your fingers have as they glide along him and his hair makes him feel like he's home. "Okay, just sleep. I'll be right here, I'm not leaving."

Dazai again, speaks no words, but his legs entertangle with yours. He remembers just why he came here. He missed you. Even if Odasaku is gone, he has you to make sure he doesn't go over the deep end. He'll save people, he'll grant Odasaku's last wish. But first, he wants to rest. Right next to his home.

"I promise, sleep." The man listens, squeezing onto you as if to test that this is real before drifting off.

For the first time in days...he's at peace.

A/N: dazai srsly needs a hug, 'n ill b the one 2 give it 2 him if no one else will! we need more fluffy fics of taking care of dazai, rather than dazai taking care of us. nyway, if u haven't signed up 4 the new tag list u totally should! there's new options n better format.

SUBSCRIBERS : @avatsu @sofliesy @tamreadfanfiction

you don’t even get a chance to put your bag down before bakugo is yanking you into his arms, grumbling something about how damn long you kept him waiting.

“katsuki—”

“shut up,” he mumbles, already burying his face into your shoulder. “just lemme have this.”

you sigh, but it’s hard to be exasperated when he’s clinging to you like this—arms tight around your waist, fingers gripping the fabric of your shirt like you might disappear if he lets go.

“you’re so needy,” you tease, running your fingers through his hair.

he grunts. “so what?”

you laugh softly. “so nothing. it’s cute.”

his grip tightens. “ain’t cute.”

you can feel how warm his face gets, even if he’s trying to hide it against your neck. his breath is warm, sending a little shiver down your spine when he mutters, “kiss me.”

you smile, pressing a kiss to his temple.

he tenses. then pulls back just enough to glare at you. “babe. a real one.”

before you can even think about teasing him again, he’s already moving—cupping your face, leaning in, kissing you slow and deep like he’s making up for lost time.

when he finally pulls away, he stays close, forehead resting against yours. “missed you,” he murmurs, barely above a whisper.

your heart melts. “i was only gone for a few hours.”

“too long.” he huffs, dragging you toward the couch. “now shut up and cuddle me.”

these past few weeks you’ve been watching tiktoks of people asking their signifcant other to peel/cut oranges for them. you watch the variety of reactions; from a hudband who tells his wife to ‘do it yourself, im not your maid’ to ‘you feel like an orange? i feel like an apple.’

wondering how your boyfriend would react to the request, you secretly record him while the both of you were lying on the bed—deep down you already know how he’d react.

“katsuki, baby,”

he grumbles in reply

“i feel like snacking on some oranges”

“i bought and cut some earlier, it’s in the fridge.”

he went beyond your expectations, you had expected him to be willing but not him reading your mind and anticipating the day you would crave some oranges, “huh…?”

he looks up from his phone and look at you, with an eyebrow raise, “what?”

“how do you know i want oranges?”

he shrugs, “i don’t know, lucky guess,” his mouth curled up a teeny tiny bit.

he can’t just say that he had a feeling you would, that would make him seem like a loser (he is, in every way possible.) he noticed you kept using your citrus lipbalm out of the 20 other flavours. you ordered 2 lemony-orangey-citrusy sodas this week alone, you unconsciously triple sniffed when you walk past the fruits —specifically the oranges—aisle. just a lucky guess.

WHAT YOU NEED; A RUINATION

[ nsfw ] — smut (18+) ; bakugou katsuki x reader

word count: 7,149 — read on ao3

tags: shameless smut, rough sex, established relationship, aged-up characters, oral sex, vaginal sex, explicit language & sexual content, praise kink, dirty talk, domestic fluff

summary:

He’s everywhere; consuming you; possessing you, and you let him. You want him to. Because there’s no one else who could ever make you feel like this.

No one else who could ever ruin you so perfectly.

Or, in which Bakugou Katsuki is the one ruining you, yet also the one being ruined in the end.

The bedroom is dimly lit, bathed in the soft golden hue of the bedside lamp. The air is warm, and the only sounds filling the space are the steady breaths you take, and the quiet rustle of the sheets as you shift between his thighs. Katsuki sits propped up against the headboard, legs spread comfortably wide as you kneel before him, your gaze fixed on his hard cock resting against his abdomen, flushed and glistening with beads of pre-cum that call to you like a siren.

The moment feels intimate, personal—like a secret shared only between the two of you. His bare chest rises and falls steadily, his crimson eyes half-lidded, softened by the warmth of the moment, by the way you look at him like he’s the only thing that matters. And to you, right now, he is.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. His knuckles brush your cheek, grazing your skin so tenderly that it makes your heart stutter. He pushes a few strands of hair from your face, tucking them gently behind your ear as he leans back again, watching you with that intense gaze of his. There’s affection in the way he looks at you, mixed with the unspoken desire burning in his eyes. “Good girl,” he whispers, the words rolling off his tongue like honey, thick and sweet. “So good for me.”

Your breath hitches at his praise, thighs clenching together instinctively as arousal blooms hot and thick between your legs. But it’s not about you right now; it’s about him—about making him feel good, watching the way his lips part and his jaw tightens as you slowly lower yourself, your mouth hovering just above the tip of his cock. You can feel his heat, the slick bead of pre-cum teasing your lips, and it sends a wave of anticipation through you.

You press a soft kiss to the head, tasting the salt of him on your tongue before you part your lips and take him in. Slowly, you swirl your tongue around the tip, savoring the way his body reacts—how his thigh muscles twitch, how his breath catches for just a moment. He’s watching you, always watching, and the weight of his gaze makes your skin prickle with excitement.

“Fuck,” he groans quietly, his head falling back against the headboard, fingers curling into the sheets. But even as the curse slips past his lips, there’s a gentleness in the way he cups the back of your head, guiding you but never forcing, letting you set your own pace. “Just like that…”

You hum against him, the vibrations of your voice making him hiss through his teeth. His approval fuels you, makes you more eager to please him, and you take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks as you start to bob your head, tongue gliding along the underside of his cock. The weight of him fills your mouth, every inch of him stretching your lips, and you can’t help the moan that escapes you as your chin becomes slick with spit.

Your hands come up, fingers wrapping around the base of his cock as you pump what you can’t take in your mouth, and it’s intoxicating—the sound of your wet mouth working him over, the salty taste of him, the low grunts and growls that escape him in response. You’re lost in it, in him, so completely consumed by the way he feels against your tongue, by the way he reacts to every little movement you make.

It’s impossible to ignore how wet you are, how your own body throbs with need as your thighs press together, trying to alleviate the ache building between them. But no matter how turned on you are, you can’t stop. You don’t want to. The taste of him, the feel of him twitching in your mouth as his hips start to move, gently thrusting up into your heat—it’s all too good. Too much. You can’t get enough.

“You love this, huh?” Katsuki breathes, voice thick with lust and amusement as he gazes down at you, his fingers stroking through your hair. “You love sucking me off… fuck, you look so pretty like this.”

The praise sends another rush of arousal through you, making your toes curl as you take him deeper, letting the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat. You gag just slightly but push through it, the mix of discomfort and pleasure driving you to take him even more.

His fingers tighten in your hair as he groans low and deep, and you can feel him trembling beneath you, his thighs tensing as he fights to keep his control. But you don’t let up, even as his breath quickens, even as the taste of him becomes stronger—bitter and salty as the first spurts of his release hit your tongue.

“Fuck, I’m gonna—” His voice cracks, and with a final thrust of his hips, he spills into your mouth, hot and thick. The taste of him floods your senses, a little sour, a little bitter, but intoxicating in the way it fills you completely, like you were made to take it.

But you don’t stop.

Even as he trembles beneath you, even as he curses and gasps for breath, you keep going, sucking him through his orgasm, your lips still wrapped tightly around him as you bob your head slowly, milking every last drop from him. His body shudders, a broken moan tearing from his throat as his hand tightens in your hair, pulling you closer to him as if he can’t handle the pleasure but doesn’t want you to stop, either.

“Shit, baby,” he groans, his chest heaving as his hand falls from your head to cup your cheek, thumb brushing tenderly across your spit-slick skin. His voice is softer now, more vulnerable, and it makes your heart swell. “Too good… you’re too fuckin’ good.”

The sound of his praise, the way his thumb strokes your cheek, and the sight of him above you—flushed and breathless, with his chest heaving and his eyes half-lidded with satisfaction—it all makes your heart flutter in your chest. There’s such a softness in the way he looks at you, even now, even after he’s just fallen apart in your mouth. The love in his gaze is undeniable, and it makes you feel warm all over, like you’re the most precious thing in the world to him.

You swallow what’s left of him, your lips parting with a soft pop as you finally pull back, resting your cheek against his thigh as you look up at him, your own body trembling with the aftershocks of arousal that have yet to be addressed. You’re breathless, your face and hands covered in spit, but you don’t care. All that matters is him—the way he’s looking at you, the way his fingers continue to trace patterns on your skin, like he can’t stop touching you.

“God, you’re perfect,” he mutters, his voice hoarse as his hand cradles the back of your head, pulling you up to meet his lips. The kiss is slow, tender, and filled with a kind of love that makes your chest ache. When he pulls back, his forehead presses against yours, and you feel the soft brush of his breath against your lips as he smiles, just a little. 

Your breath comes out in soft, shaky pants as you slowly rise, straddling Katsuki’s hips. His cock rests against your soaked folds, teasing you as you hover just above him, already wet and needy from everything that’s come before. The sheets cling to your knees, and your thighs tremble with anticipation, your body practically vibrating with desire. 

Katsuki leans back against the headboard, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips as he watches you, his crimson eyes half-lidded but focused entirely on you. His arms rest casually on either side of him, but his fingers twitch like he’s dying to touch you, to feel your skin beneath his calloused palms. His chest rises and falls with steady breaths, the muscles in his abdomen flexing as he shifts beneath you.

“Whaddya want, huh?” His voice is rough, teasing, yet there’s an edge of softness beneath it, that familiar tone he only uses when it’s just the two of you, when you’re wrapped up in each other like this. His fingers finally come up to brush your thighs, dragging along your skin slowly, so slow it sends sparks of heat straight to your core. “You gonna tell me what you want, or are you just gonna sit there lookin’ pretty?”

You bite your lip, feeling your heart stutter in your chest at his words, at the way he watches you like he’s waiting to devour you whole. Your hands press against his chest for balance, his skin warm under your palms as you lean forward slightly, your lips brushing the shell of his ear.

“Wanna ride you,” you whisper, your voice low and breathy, trembling with the weight of your desire. You can feel the heat of his body, the way his chest rises to meet yours with each breath. “Wanna show you how much I love you, Katsuki.”

At your words, he groans softly, his head tilting back slightly as his hands slide up your thighs, fingers digging into your hips. There’s a flicker of something tender in his eyes, something that makes your heart swell even more, and the way he looks at you—like you’re everything he’s ever wanted—only makes you more desperate to feel him inside you, to be closer to him in every way.

“Yeah?” His lips curve into a smirk, but there’s an unmistakable warmth in his gaze. His hands grip your waist, holding you steady as he watches the way you line yourself up with him, your slick folds gliding against his length, coating him in your arousal. “Then show me. Show me how much you fuckin’ love me.”

With a deep breath, you sink down onto him slowly, your walls stretching to accommodate him as he fills you completely. The sensation is overwhelming, the stretch so deep and so good that you can’t help but moan, your body trembling as you take him inch by inch. His grip on your hips tightens, his head falling back with a deep groan as you clench around him.

“Fuck,” he growls, his voice low and hoarse as he watches you through half-lidded eyes. “You feel so fuckin’ good.”

You can’t stop the whimper that escapes your lips as you begin to move, slowly at first, your hips rolling in smooth circles as you ride him, your body desperate to feel every inch of him. The heat between your legs is intense, and the way he fills you so perfectly has you gasping for breath, every movement sending a fresh wave of pleasure through your body.

His hands slide up your back, one cupping your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple in slow, teasing strokes. You moan softly, your back arching into his touch as he leans forward just enough to take your nipple into his mouth, his lips warm and wet as he sucks gently, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin.

“Katsuki,” you breathe, your voice trembling as you continue to ride him, your pace quickening as the pleasure builds inside you. His mouth on your breast, his hands on your hips, his cock buried so deep inside you—it’s all too much, and yet, you need more. You need all of him. 

He groans against your skin, his breath hot against your chest as he pulls back, his tongue flicking over your nipple one last time before he leans back against the headboard, his hands gripping your hips again. “That’s it, princess. Keep goin’. You’re so fuckin’ good.”

His praise sends a shiver of excitement through you, making your movements even more desperate as you ride him faster, your hips grinding down against him with every thrust. The slick sounds of your bodies moving together fill the room, the wet heat between your legs driving you wild as you feel your climax building, creeping up on you with each roll of your hips.

His hands wander down to your ass, fingers digging into your skin as he helps guide your movements, his eyes dark and full of lust as he watches the way you take him, the way your body moves so perfectly above him.

“You gonna take all this cum, huh?” he growls, his voice strained as his grip on your hips tightens. “You gonna let me fill you up?”

You nod eagerly, your head falling back as you gasp for breath, the pleasure too much to contain as you feel the first tremors of your orgasm building inside you. “Always, Katsuki,” you whimper, your voice shaking with need. “For you, always.”

He groans at your words, his hips bucking up into you as his fingers dig into your skin. The heat between your legs is almost unbearable now, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter inside you until you can’t hold back anymore.

“Katsuki,” you whimper, your voice breaking as you ride him faster, your body trembling with the intensity of your need. “I—I can’t… It’s so—” 

“Fuck, you’re gonna come for me, huh?” He grins, his voice breathless and teasing, but there’s an unmistakable tenderness in his gaze as he watches you, his hands never leaving your skin. “Do it, baby. Come for me.”

That’s all it takes for you to fall apart, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave as you grind down against him, your walls pulsing around his cock. The pleasure is overwhelming, stealing your breath as you gasp for air, your thighs trembling as your entire body shudders with the force of your release.

Katsuki watches you the whole time, his lips parted in a quiet groan as he grips your hips, holding you steady as you ride out your orgasm. His gaze is soft, full of affection, and something deeper, something that makes your heart flutter in your chest even as your body quakes with pleasure.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice low and full of warmth as his thumb brushes over your trembling thigh. “You’re so good for me.”

Even as the last waves of your orgasm fade, you can’t stop. You’re still so wet, still so needy, and the way he fills you, the way his cock feels buried deep inside you—it’s not enough. You need more. You need all of him.

You start moving again, your hips rolling in slow, deliberate circles as you ride him, your body aching for another release, another high. His hands slide up your back, one cupping your breast again as his other hand presses against the small of your back, guiding your movements with soft, gentle pressure.

“Fuck, princess,” he groans, his voice hoarse as he watches you, his eyes dark with lust and affection. “You can’t get enough of me, can you?”

You shake your head, your breath coming out in short, desperate gasps as you grind down against him, your body trembling with need. “No,” you whisper, your voice barely audible as you lean forward, pressing your lips to his. “I can’t… I need you, Katsuki.”

He groans softly into your mouth, his hand sliding up to cup the back of your head as he kisses you deeply, his tongue tangling with yours in a slow, languid dance. The kiss is full of love, full of the warmth and affection you always feel when you’re with him, and it only makes your heart swell even more.

You ride him faster, your body moving on its own now, desperate for more of him, more of the pleasure only he can give you. His hands roam your body, his touch gentle and firm all at once, and you can feel him trembling beneath you, his cock pulsing inside you as he nears his own release.

“I’m gonna come,” he growls, his voice strained as his hands grip your hips tightly, guiding your movements as he thrusts up into you, his hips meeting yours with every roll. “Fuck, baby… you’re so fuckin’ good…”

You nod, your head falling back as you gasp for breath, your body trembling with the intensity of your need. “Please,” you whisper, your voice shaky as you grind down against him, your walls pulsing around his cock. “Please, Katsuki… fill me up…”

With a final thrust, he spills into you, his body trembling as he releases inside you, hot and thick. The sensation sends another wave of pleasure through you, and you can’t help but moan as you grind down against him, taking everything he has to give you.

For a moment, neither of you move, your bodies tangled together, breathless and trembling. His hands slide up your back, pulling you against his chest as he holds you close, his lips pressing soft kisses to your temple, your cheek, your jaw.

“You’re perfect,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice soft and full of love. His breath is warm, his words making your heart swell as you melt into him, feeling safe and cherished in his arms. The world outside the bed fades, leaving just the two of you—bare, tangled, and basking in the afterglow of your shared pleasure.

You rest your forehead against his shoulder, still catching your breath. His skin is damp, his chest heaving as he slowly calms down from the intensity of it all. But Katsuki’s hands never stop moving—one glides up and down your back, gentle and soothing, while the other traces lazy circles on your hip. Even after everything, he’s still touching you, like he can’t get enough of your skin against his.

"Still got energy to keep goin'?" His voice rumbles against you, teasing, but there’s an unmistakable tenderness there. He tilts his head down, pressing his lips to your forehead, his fingers brushing through your hair, pushing the strands away from your face.

You smile, your heart fluttering at his touch. The warmth in his gaze, the quiet affection that lingers behind his teasing words, it’s everything you’ve come to know and love about him. Katsuki—rough, tough, a little brash, but in moments like these, he’s soft and open, all for you.

"Mmm… maybe," you hum, your voice lazy, though the aftershocks of your pleasure still send pleasant shivers through your body. You shift slightly, wincing at the sensitivity between your legs, and Katsuki's hands immediately tighten around you, as if instinctively trying to protect you.

“Oi, don’t push yourself.” He clicks his tongue, but his voice is soft, and there’s a glint of worry in his eyes, even if he’s trying to mask it with that usual gruffness. “I’m not goin' anywhere, you know.”

You chuckle, leaning up just enough to look him in the eye. “I know, I just…” You bite your lip, your hands tracing the contours of his chest, your fingers gently brushing over his heart. “I love you. And I always want you, Katsuki. It’s like I can’t ever get enough.”

His eyes darken at your confession, and for a moment, the teasing smirk on his face falters, replaced by something deeper. His hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip as he gazes at you with that soft, yet intense look that always leaves you breathless.

“You’re mine,” he murmurs, his voice rough but filled with so much love it makes your chest tighten. “Every part of you. Every damn part.”

There’s a possessiveness in his tone, but it’s not harsh or overbearing. It’s full of adoration, the way only Katsuki can say it—like he needs you, craves you, but also wants to keep you safe, wants to love you in all the ways he knows how.

You smile, pressing a kiss to his thumb before leaning in to kiss him on the lips. It’s slow and sweet, the kind of kiss that speaks volumes without needing words. He kisses you back just as gently, his hand slipping from your cheek to cradle the back of your neck, holding you close as your lips move together in perfect sync.

When you finally pull away, both of you breathing heavily, Katsuki gives you that lazy grin that makes your heart skip a beat. He looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters in the world, his crimson eyes soft but still burning with the intensity that makes you melt.

You trace your fingers over the firm planes of his chest, feeling the heat of his skin beneath your touch, the way his muscles tense just slightly at the sensation. Your nails scrape lightly over his pecs, then drift lower, tracing the deep ridges of his abdomen, following the defined cut of muscle that leads downward. The whole time, your gaze is locked on his, watching for every little reaction, every subtle shift in his expression. And you see it—the way his breath hitches, the flicker of something dark and hungry in those crimson eyes, the barely-there tremor in his fingers as they twitch at your hips. 

He’s trying to stay composed, to keep that usual cocky edge, but you know him too well. You know how to unravel him. 

“You’re so sexy,” you breathe, voice laced with unfiltered desire, your words rolling off your tongue with the kind of smooth confidence that’s second nature to you. The smirk that tugs at your lips is slow, teasing, like you’re savoring the power you have over him. You drag your nails lightly down his abdomen, feeling his stomach clench beneath your touch, and let your fingers dance along his v-line. “I want you all the time.” 

His reaction is immediate. A deep, low growl rumbles from his chest, vibrating against your palms, and his grip on your hips tightens, fingers pressing into your skin like he’s fighting to hold himself back. His jaw clenches, his throat bobs as he swallows hard, and his pupils blow wide with something raw, something primal. His breath is heavy, uneven, and for a moment, he just stares at you—like you’ve stolen the air from his lungs, like he’s trying to process the weight of your words and the way they punch through whatever restraint he’s barely holding onto. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” he mutters, voice rough, thick with something almost reverent, and then he moves. 

It’s sudden, fast—before you can blink, he flips you onto your back, pinning you against the mattress with a kind of controlled force that makes your stomach flip. His body is solid, warm, pressing down over you, his thighs caging you in, his hands bracketing your head. He’s hovering just above you, close enough that you can feel his breath against your lips, but not close enough to kiss. Not yet. He’s teasing himself as much as he’s teasing you, savoring the moment, making you wait. 

You swallow hard, pulse hammering against your ribs as you stare up at him. His face is shadowed in the dim light, his golden skin glowing under the soft hue of the bedside lamp. His hair is a mess, wild and tousled from your fingers, and his lips are parted, pink and kiss-swollen. But it’s his eyes that make your breath catch—the way they burn into you, intense, filled with something so unfiltered it makes your skin prickle with heat. 

“Say that again,” he demands, voice low, almost dangerous, but there’s something underneath it, something deeper. A plea, almost. 

You know exactly what he’s asking for, exactly what he wants to hear. And you don’t hesitate. 

“I want you all the time,” you say again, slow, deliberate, letting every syllable drip with sincerity, with hunger, with devotion. You lift a hand, cupping his cheek, your thumb grazing over his sharp jawline, and his breath stutters just a little, his lashes fluttering as he leans into your touch—just barely, but you catch it. 

Something about the way you say it, about the way you look at him when you say it, makes his whole body tense. His fingers curl into the sheets beside your head, his muscles coiling like a predator about to pounce, like he’s barely holding himself together. 

Then he’s kissing you, hard. 

It’s not just a kiss—it’s a claim. His lips crash against yours with a bruising intensity, stealing your breath, swallowing the quiet gasp that escapes you. His hands move, one tangling in your hair, gripping tight as he tilts your head back, deepening the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours in a slow, deliberate stroke that makes your toes curl. The other hand drags down your side, firm and possessive, following the curve of your waist before gripping your thigh, fingers digging into the soft flesh. 

He kisses like he does everything else—fierce, overwhelming, like he has something to prove. Like he wants to ruin you for anyone else, make sure you never forget the way he feels, the way he tastes, the way he consumes you whole. 

And you? You love it. You thrive on it. 

You moan into his mouth, your fingers threading through his hair, tugging just enough to make him growl. His hips press down against yours, his cock heavy and hot against your soaked folds, and the friction sends a sharp jolt of pleasure through you. You arch into him instinctively, chasing more, desperate for him, for everything he’s willing to give you. 

“Needy little thing,” he mutters against your lips, his breath warm, teasing, but there’s a roughness to it, like he’s just as desperate as you are. His thumb brushes over your lower lip, tracing the shape of your mouth before pressing inside, against your tongue. His gaze darkens as he watches you suck on it, your lips wrapping around his thumb, your tongue swirling over the pad. 

His breathing stutters again, and you can see it—that momentary flicker of vulnerability, of sheer awe, like he can’t believe you’re his, like he doesn’t know what to do with the way you undo him so effortlessly. 

“You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me,” he murmurs, shaking his head, his lips curving into a smirk that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. It’s softer, tinged with something tender, something he’d never admit out loud, but you see it. You always see it. 

You grin up at him, releasing his thumb with a slow, wet pop, and tilt your head, your voice dripping with playful confidence. “That’d be a hell of a way to go, wouldn’t it?” 

He barks out a laugh, sharp and genuine, before cutting it off with another kiss, this one slower, deeper, more controlled. His hands roam your body, tracing every curve, every dip, committing you to memory. And then, with a low, gravelly whisper against your ear, he promises, “I’m gonna make sure you never wanna go a fuckin’ day without me.” 

And with the way his fingers slide between your thighs, teasing, coaxing, setting your skin on fire, you know he means it.

You whimper softly when his fingers find your clit, the pads of his calloused fingertips circling it with a touch that’s hesitant yet firm, like he’s still figuring out just how much pressure will make you shatter. “I wanna be good for you,” you whisper, voice soft, but there’s a weight behind your words—a promise, an invitation. Your hands slide over his broad shoulders, down the ridges of his chest, tracing over every defined muscle, every inch of skin that’s burning hot under your touch. You feel the way he tenses beneath you, the way his breath hitches just slightly, and it sends a shiver of satisfaction down your spine.  

Katsuki's fingers twitch against your clit, and you swear you feel him shudder. He swallows thickly, his crimson eyes flickering between your face and where his fingers are pressed against you, as if he’s trying to memorize every little reaction you give him. He’s hesitant—not because he doesn’t want this, but because he always wants to do it right. Because despite his rough edges, despite the sharp tongue, and the explosive temper, Bakugou Katsuki is meticulous when it comes to you. He treats your pleasure like a challenge he refuses to lose.  

But there’s something else simmering beneath the surface—something darker, more primal. His need to take something soft, something untouched, and leave his mark all over it. It’s that childhood troublemaker in him, that same part of him that probably kicked over sandcastles just to watch them crumble, the same part of him that grins whenever he makes a mess. Only now, you’re the sandcastle, and he wants to wreck you.  

Your breath hitches when he finally presses a little harder, rubbing slow, deliberate circles over your clit. His other hand grips your thigh, his touch firm, grounding. “Yeah?” His voice is low, rough, filled with something almost smug but not quite. “You wanna be good for me?”  

You nod quickly, your fingers trailing over his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath. You know he likes the praise and craves it even if he won’t admit it, but he also loves hearing you submit like this, knowing that you’d do anything for him. And you would—you'd let him have all of you, let him ruin you completely if that’s what he wanted.  

He exhales through his nose, his smirk deepening. “Course you do,” he mutters, but there’s something almost affectionate in his teasing. His fingers move with more confidence now, rubbing slow and steady over your clit, watching your every reaction with laser focus. “You’re always so fuckin’ good for me, aren’t you?”  

You whimper, pressing your thighs together, but his hand on your leg tightens, keeping you spread open. He doesn’t stop touching you, doesn’t let you escape the slow, devastating pressure of his fingers.  

Your nails dig into his shoulders, trying to ground yourself, but Katsuki doesn’t give you the chance to breathe. He leans in, lips brushing against your ear, voice dropping into something dark and velvety. “You always say the right shit to get me goin’,” he murmurs, his fingers dragging lower, teasing at your entrance before sliding back up. “Always runnin’ that smart fuckin’ mouth, and then you look at me like this—” He presses down harder on your clit, just for a second, making you gasp. “Like you need me.”  

You do. You need him so badly it’s almost painful, and he fucking knows it. You can hear the satisfaction in his voice, see it in the way his eyes darken as he watches you squirm beneath him.  

Katsuki shifts, pulling his hand away, and you whine at the loss of contact. But before you can protest, he grabs your chin, tilting your face up so you have no choice but to look at him. His grip isn’t rough, but it’s firm, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, pressing down just enough to make you part your lips for him.  

“That desperate, huh?” he taunts, his smirk widening as he watches your lips tremble. “You want it that bad?”  

You nod, your breath coming in short, shallow pants, but he clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “Nah, c’mon, baby, use that mouth. You were talkin’ real sweet just a second ago.”  

You swallow hard, trying to focus, but it’s difficult when he’s looking at you like this—like he’s already won, like you’re already his to break apart and put back together.  

“I want you,” you breathe, your voice shaking. “I want you to ruin me, Katsuki.”  

His eyes darken, something dangerous flashing through them, and you know you’ve just fed into that part of him, the part that loves to take something soft and make it his.  

Katsuki groans, his grip tightening for just a second before he lets go, shoving you back onto the bed. He moves fast, so fast it makes your head spin, settling between your legs, pressing his body against yours. His cock is hot and heavy against your inner thigh, and you can feel how hard he is, how much he wants this, wants you.  

“Fuck,” he mutters, voice strained as he looks down at you, his hands braced on either side of your head. “You don’t know what you do to me.”  

You smirk, your wit bubbling up even through the haze of arousal. “I think I have a pretty good idea.”  

Katsuki growls, but there’s amusement behind it, something fond beneath the frustration. “Smartass.”  

But he doesn’t give you a chance to retort—he leans down, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss, all heat and hunger and raw, unfiltered need. His hands are everywhere, gripping your hips, sliding up your waist, squeezing your thighs as if he can’t get enough of touching you.  

And then he’s lining himself up, the tip of his cock pressing against your entrance, teasing you with slow, shallow thrusts that don’t give you nearly enough. He watches your face, drinking in every little twitch, every little gasp, his smirk widening as he sees how badly you need him.  

“Say it again,” he demands, his voice rough, possessive.  

Your fingers dig into his back, your body arching against him. “Ruin me, Katsuki.”  

His breath shudders out of him, and then, finally, he thrusts into you, stretching you open inch by inch until he’s buried deep inside you. The stretch is just enough to make you gasp, to make your nails rake down his back, but it’s perfect. He’s perfect.  

Katsuki groans, his forehead dropping to yours, his breath ragged. “Fuckin’ hell,” he growls, his fingers tightening on your hips. “You’re so—” He cuts himself off with a shaky breath, swallowing hard. “Shit, baby.”  

You feel him tremble slightly, like he’s holding himself back, trying not to lose control too soon. But you don’t want him to hold back. You want all of him.  

“C’mon, Katsuki,” you whisper, wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him in deeper. “You can do better than that.”  

His eyes snap open, locking onto yours, and for a second, there’s nothing but silence between you. Then, his smirk returns, but this time, it’s sharper, more dangerous.  

“You really wanna test me, huh?”  

Before you can respond, he grips your hips and slams into you, knocking the breath from your lungs, making you cry out. He sets a brutal pace, his thrusts deep and demanding, every movement claiming you, leaving no room for doubt—no room for anything except the feeling of him, the way he fills you completely, the way his body moves against yours like he was made for this.  

He’s everywhere; consuming you; possessing you, and you let him. You want him to. Because there’s no one else who could ever make you feel like this. 

No one else who could ever ruin you so perfectly.

Your gasp is swallowed by the heat between you, your breath catching in your throat as Katsuki's hands find yours, his fingers threading through yours in a firm, grounding grip. His palms are rough, calloused from years of training, from battle, from holding power in his hands—and now he’s holding you, keeping you steady as he thrusts into you with deep, measured force. His grip tightens, squeezing your fingers just as his hips snap against yours, drawing a sharp, breathless moan from your lips. His forehead presses against yours, damp with sweat, his ragged breaths mingling with yours, the heat of his body searing into you.  

The pace he sets is relentless, every roll of his hips sending sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine, your body arching to meet every thrust like you’re trying to take more of him, trying to pull him deeper. His cock stretches you perfectly, every inch dragging against your walls, hitting that devastating spot inside you that has your legs trembling around his waist. He watches you through half-lidded, lust-darkened eyes, his gaze flickering between your parted lips and the way your face twists in pleasure. His expression is one of pure, unfiltered possession—like he owns every moan that leaves your mouth, every shiver, every needy whimper that spills from your lips.  

"Fuck," he growls, voice rough and breathless, his grip on your hands tightening as if to anchor himself. "Say my name again."  

You barely have the presence of mind to respond, too lost in the feeling of him pounding into you, filling you over and over again, but you manage to whimper, "Katsuki—" your voice breaking on the last syllable as he thrusts particularly deep, your head tilting back against the pillow.  

A low, guttural groan rumbles from his chest, his lips brushing over your jaw as he presses himself impossibly closer, his body flush against yours, his weight pinning you down in the best possible way. He’s everywhere, surrounding you, his heat, his scent, the intoxicating mix of sweat and something inherently him flooding your senses. You feel drunk on him, utterly consumed, and he knows it. You can feel it in the way his body tenses, the way his hips jerk just a little more erratically, like he’s losing himself in you the same way you’re drowning in him.  

His hands, still clasped tightly around yours, suddenly push your arms above your head, pinning them to the mattress as he leans in, lips ghosting over your ear. "You're mine," he breathes, his voice low and wrecked, sending a shiver down your spine. His teeth graze your earlobe, his breath hot against your skin. "Say it."  

You barely manage a nod, your thighs tightening around his waist, desperate for more, desperate for all of him. "I'm yours," you gasp, and that’s all it takes for him to snap.  

Katsuki growls, something primal and desperate in the sound, and his pace turns brutal, his thrusts rough and deep, claiming you in every way possible. His hands are still wrapped around yours, fingers locked together, but there’s nothing gentle about the way he’s taking you now. It’s raw, all-consuming, his body demanding more, his need for you spilling over in the way he fucks into you like he’s trying to carve himself into you, like he never wants you to forget this—forget that you belong to him.  

Your moans are nothing but broken cries now, his name the only thing you can manage, gasping it into the air between you like a prayer. His lips crash against yours, messy and desperate, swallowing your sounds, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip before soothing the sting with his tongue. He’s close, you can feel it—the way his thrusts are growing erratic, the way his breath stutters against your mouth, the way his hands squeeze yours so tight you’re sure he’ll leave marks.  

“Fuck—" he grits out, his whole body tensing, his hips slamming against yours in a final, deep thrust. And then he’s gone, lost to the overwhelming pleasure. His groan vibrates against your skin as he buries himself as deep as possible, his release crashing over him like a tidal wave—dragging you under with him. A sharp gasp escapes you as your own pleasure surges, legs trembling around his waist, eyes rolling back as the sensation overtakes you completely. You can feel the way he trembles above you, the way he breathes your name like it’s the only thing grounding him as he spills inside you, his body shuddering with the aftershocks.  

He stays there for a moment, his forehead still pressed against yours, his breath heavy and ragged, his body pressed tightly to yours as if he never wants to let go. Slowly, his grip on your hands loosens, his fingers uncurling, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he laces them together properly this time, softer, more deliberate, grounding himself in the warmth of your touch.  

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he exhales, pressing a lazy kiss to your temple, his lips lingering there as he whispers, "You're mine." 

This time, it’s not a demand—it’s a promise.

"I only want to be yours," you whisper, your voice soft yet unwavering as your fingers uncurl around his and weave into his hair, tugging gently at the damp strands. Katsuki stills above you, his breath catching, and for a moment, everything slows. The heat between you lingers, but the intensity shifts—melting into something deeper, something raw and unguarded.  

His grip on your wrists loosens, fingers flexing as if he doesn’t quite know what to do with them now that the fire has simmered down. He swallows hard, his throat bobbing, and when he finally meets your gaze, his eyes are wide, uncertain. Vulnerable. It’s rare to see him like this, stripped of his usual brashness, his walls lowered just enough to let you see the boy underneath—the one who’s never really known how to handle tenderness without wanting to crush it in his hands.  

"You’re already mine," he mutters, but there’s no cocky edge to his voice, no smirk tugging at his lips. Instead, he says it like he’s trying to convince himself, like the idea of being wanted this much is still something he doesn’t know how to accept.  

You offer him a small smile, brushing your fingers through his hair, your nails lightly scratching against his scalp. He exhales shakily at the sensation, his body relaxing into your touch despite himself. You can feel the tension in his muscles ease, the weight of something unspoken lingering between you both.  

"You don’t have to act so tough with me," you murmur, tracing the shell of his ear, your touch featherlight. "I love you, Katsuki. All of you."  

His eyes dart away for a second, like he needs to escape the weight of your words, but you don’t let him. You tilt his face back toward you, catching his gaze and holding it, refusing to let him run from this—run from you.  

His jaw clenches, but then, with a slow inhale, he lets himself sink against you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. His breath is warm against your skin, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you impossibly closer, as if he’s afraid you’ll slip through his fingers if he lets go.  

"You fuckin’ ruin me," he mumbles, his voice muffled against your collarbone. But his hold on you tightens, contradicting his words.  

You smile, pressing a kiss to his temple. "Good," you tease softly, earning a quiet huff from him.  

But he doesn’t pull away. He just stays there, breathing you in, holding you like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded. 

And for once, Bakugou Katsuki lets himself be loved.

Bakugou doesn’t beg. It’s not in his blood— the word “please” lays foreign on his tongue, absent from his vocabulary.

He didn’t beg for UA to accept him when he was 15, he hadn’t begged when death came knocking on his doors in the Great War at 17. Because begging feels like a thousand stabbing knives— the walls he built: of pride, of faux confidence, of insecurity, they all shatter and crumble at your feet when the word “please” escapes his pharynx like tumbleweed.

Nitroglycerin reduces the things around him to ruins, explosions casted from the epicentres of his palm with agglomerated sweat that fuels his destruction. He becomes a ground of ruins.

“Please” don’t leave me. “Please” I’m sorry.

Bakugou never had a habit of begging, but when he’s at your doorstep at midnight, shirt crinkling between his fingers, sweat drapes over his entire being.

(He becomes a ground of ruins.)

Please.

i miss his annoying ass