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dienamights · 3 days

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taste my disaster

18+ minors dni

pairings: aged up, pro-hero!katsuki bakugou x female reader

summary: There’s a feral gleam to Katsuki’s eyes now as he looks at you, his hand still at your jaw, holding you, his teeth glinting white and you know he’s proud of you for this, for getting through this. And it feels good, the hot rush of anger, of letting all of that out. It’s a balm to that horrible, thorny thing inside of you.

(after a hard day, katsuki helps you let go of some anger and heartache.)

warnings: angst, smut, mentions of drug abuse/addiction from an ex, rough sex...i think that's it but let me know if i missed something!

if you are under the age of 18, you should not be reading/interacting with this!

a/n: hey guys! i wasn't planning on posting this since i wrote it feverishly after a really hard day/wasn't 'trying' super hard but i cleaned it up a bit and decided to post! also i am trying to get better about not needing everything to be huge and 'perfect' and can just be a lil thing to soothe. it's mostly just a vent and its a lil personal but i figured if it even makes one other person feel a bit better or enjoy it, then that is good enough for me! let me know what you think! \

read on ao3

***

The door slams shut behind Katsuki, sealing the two of you away from the rest of the world with a resounding bang.

You immediately rip off your coat, your purse, your shoes. You try not to stomp into the apartment, try to keep the tremble out of your bottom lip. Your shoulders are all bunched up into knots, your throat tight, and your chest feels as if there’s an anchor in there, threatening to send you careening towards the floor.

You’re frustrated and tired. You feel like throwing yourself down on the couch and screaming into a pillow, flailing and kicking like a child.

Instead, you storm towards your room.

“Hey,” Katsuki barks, “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

“My room,” you snap back, rushing for the hallway, the pressure of your tears growing behind your eyes, wrapping around your skull and threatening to tighten.

He’s hot on your heels, but you’re faster, getting to your room and slamming the door shut in his face. You lock it fast, just before you feel the weight of his shoulder slam into it.

“Unlock the fucking door,” you hear him call, nudging into it again.

“Just leave me alone!” you shout back, furiously trying to keep from crying. You shouldn’t even be taking it out on him– it’s not Katsuki’s fault. You’re just hurting and you want to hurt alone, like you always do. You don’t want anyone to see you like this, trying to bite back sobs. It’s not in your character; you’re the strong one with the stiff upper lip. Dependable. Overly mature. The fixer. You shoulder everyone else’s weight, offer all your peace and love and strength to others like roses handed out in sweet-smelling bouquets, until all you’re left with is the thorny bush you cut them from.

A sob gets lodged in the back of your throat the way thorns get stuck in soft fingers.

(Truthfully, you feel as if it’s been there for years now, stuck, trapped inside of you and festering.)

“‘M not leaving you alone after that.” you hear Katsuki say, muffled through the door. You hear a thud against it that you assume is his stupidly hard head.

Katsuki has been your close friend (and sometimes more) since your days at U.A. when, as a senior, one of your projects was working with the hero course to aid in trying to market them to the public. Though you weren’t a fighter in the way Katsuki usually cared for, you were a scrappy business course kid. And you were the only one brave enough to take on trying to market unruly Bakugou Katsuki. You’d gotten an A on that project, managed to make a close friend out of it, and went on to become Katsuki’s P.R. manager and personal assistant when he made his debut as a hero.

You’ve been roommates since you graduated from U.A.

He’s your best friend.

And he doesn’t deserve your anger or your hysterics.

“It’s fine,” you say back, biting your lip for a moment as you breathe, try to keep your voice from shaking, “I’m fine, Katsuki.”

“Like hell you are,” he snaps, but it doesn’t have a lot of heat behind it. “Just open the door.”

He’d gone with you to visit your ex-boyfriend in rehab. You’re still close with him, promised even in your breakup that you would support him, that you would be there for him. You’re still close with his family, too.

And today, it was his parents request to visit him.

They think you can fix him again.

You’ve been through this several times with him. And before him, your father. It feels like a never ending cycle and each time, you’re left shouldering more than you should. People demand more from you than is right or healthy.

Someone has to do something in these situations. Someone has to try and you’re the only one who seems capable of it.

Strong enough to do it.

Katsuki had gone with you for support today, since it always makes you shake— stepping into mental hospitals and their long, sterile hallways with nurses and counselors that all turn sympathetic eyes on you.

By now, you know some of them.

They greet you bittersweetly. Nice to see you again, sorry it has to be like this.

Your meeting hadn’t gone well, with your ex or his parents.

You can hear their voices, their desperate eyes on you, so you’re giving up on him? When he needs you?

Tears make your eyes sting.

Katsuki says your name, “I’m not leaving until you open the damn door.”

You hiss out a breath. Stubborn, stupid Katsuki who–

You wrench the door open and he just about tumbles into you because he’d been leaning against it. He straightens himself up, eyeing you carefully.

“What?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me.” he grumbles, pushing past you and into your room. “C’mon, talk to me.”

And he reaches for you, snags your wrist, pulls at you to try and get you to fall into his orbit. You stumble towards him and he attempts to bring you into his chest, to comfort you, but your hand comes up, against his sternum, as if to keep him away somewhat. He pauses, too, but your hand stays above his heart and your breathing has gone shaky.

“I’m okay,” you say again because you know if you let him pull you into his chest, you’re going to fall to pieces. And you’re scared that if you let that sob trapped in the back of your throat out, you won’t ever stop crying.

Your voice breaks, though, and your bottom lip is starting to tremble.

“You don’t need to hold it together for me,” he says, voice rough but impossibly kind, impossibly tender.

Your fingers twist roughly in his shirt, still holding him away.

Your head falls forward with the first of your tears that rush down your cheeks. Your shoulders shake. Katsuki’s hand comes up, you think maybe to try and pull you towards him again but before he can, you get out;

“I’m angry.”

And he freezes, but when you glance up to him, he’s nodding, “Yeah,” he agrees with just a breath, “I bet you are.”

“I’m so angry and tired and fed up–” your voice cracks, your other hand coming up to his chest, too, pushing hard against him but he doesn’t budge, solid for you to lean on. “It’s not fair,” you spit suddenly, “I always have to take care of everyone and none of them ever consider me. And it’s not my fucking job to–”

You can feel that sob working its way through you, the baring of your teeth as you catch it in your mouth, the noise more of a frustrated groan. Tears rush hot and hard down your face. You’re shaking roughly and you think if Katsuki wasn’t here, letting you push hard against his chest, you wouldn’t be standing.

You hold back another horrible noise.

Katsuki’s hand comes up to cover yours, which is digging into his chest, but he’s still gentle as he rubs a thumb over your knuckles, “C’mon, let it out.”

“I wanna scream,” you grit out, shaking your head because you shouldn’t– can’t. You’re trembling so hard that your teeth click together.

“Then scream,” Katsuki says instead, firm, almost a command. He ducks his head a little, trying to find your eyes, “It’s just us.”

You shake your head again, “‘m not a kid. Can’t throw a tantrum.”

“Maybe you should,” he responds, “Just this once.”

More tears cut down your face for all the years you never got to scream, the ones where you had to be mature and patient and knowing. You didn’t get tantrums because your ex got them instead, his family got them instead. Your father got them instead of you. You had to mature and grow and find resolve faster than the wind could change.

You feel robbed suddenly of your young twenties, when you’re supposed to be unsure and wobbly and immature. You feel ancient, that anchor threatening to drag you down to the floor, so you hold tighter to Katsuki.

You’re shaking with the force of it all, trying to keep down what is desperately crawling up, up, up your throat–

“C’mon,” Katsuki coaxes, “It’s just us. Let go.”

It’s the command, the rough syllabus that he grounds out for you that has you rushing forward to close the distance that you’d so desperately kept him at. You fist his shirt in your trembling hands and shove your face so hard into his chest that your nose aches, but the moment you’re pressed flush, the moment you’re buried in the fabric of his shirt, you’re screaming.

It’s muffled, but rips apart your throat in the most satisfying of ways. The sound comes from somewhere deep and hidden inside of you, somewhere you don’t ever let see the light of day.

It’s guttural, so embarrassingly vulnerable and viciously raw that you want to hide.

But Katsuki’s hands come up to hold you, to press you into him as desperately as you’re hanging onto him. And he’s saying, “Atta girl– that’s it– let it out–”

So you do. You let out all that heartache and fear and pain and frustration out into his chest, until you’re sobbing something close to, “s’not fair– it’s not fair. I don’t wanna do this again– I don’t wanna, Katsuki, I can’t, I can’t–”

You sound like a child, slurred and crushed to his chest, sound like you’re losing your mind.

But Katsuki is steady, stroking broad and loving hands over your back and shoulders, murmuring to you in that soft, growly voice of his. He doesn’t try to tell you it’s okay, or it’s going to be okay, but he tells you to let it out. He tells you, “I’ve gotcha, sweetheart. I have you.”

He agrees with you. He lets you be angry and hurt and scared in a way no one else ever does. He takes care of you the way you always take care of others.

When you won’t calm, he nudges you towards your bed, only a few steps away. You go down with him, sitting on the edge as he grabs a pillow and holds it in front of his chest.

Your face is hot and all screwed up in anguish and anger, your teeth out and grit together.

“Hit me,” he says, plumping up the pillow in front of him.

This gives you pause.

He must be able to sense it, because he snaps, “Do it.”

It jars you into action suddenly and you raise a fist. It collides with the pillow with a dull, fluffed thud.

“Harder,” he demands and your eyes, watery and glittering, flicker up to his face.

“What? You think I can’t fucking handle your little punches?” he asks and it’s just shy of a taunt, his lips pulling up a little to flash his own teeth at you and something about that just makes you–

Your fist slams into the pillow again, harder this time.

“Yeah, that’s it– again.” he says, and you’re already winding your arm back for another hit. And another. And another.

A cry splinters out of you on a particularly hard hit, breaking, more tears rushing out. You keep hitting, harder, faster, until your arm aches terribly, until you’re crying through your grit teeth.

Until you grab the pillow from him and shove your face into it to scream again, long and loud and raw.

It tapers off into a sob.

When you come up, you’re crying, “Don’t wanna do this anymore, Katsuki– wanna be done with him. I wanna be done so fucking bad–”

“Then be done,” he responds, firm, “I told you that years ago.”

“But it feels like I’m abandoning him!” you get out, “You heard his parents!”

“He’s not your responsibility!” Katsuki responds, voice sharper than yours, stronger. “How many years have you done this with him and his family?”

“F-four,” you whimper.

“How many?” he demands harshly, his voice raising to challenge you.

“Four!” you shout back to match him.

“And you’re done!” he barks, though then watches your face fall with hesitation now, as your eyes dart away. He suddenly seizes your jaw in his grip, squeezing tight at your cheeks to force your focus back to him. He bares his teeth, leaning forward to snap, “Say it!”

“I’m done!” your voice cracks, high, desperate, unsure–

“Again! Like you mean it!”

“I’m done!” you shout, harder this time, and then, “I’m done! I’m so fucking done!” you scream, feeling it pull from your gut, rush up to your throat and burst free from you, furious and aching.

There’s a feral gleam to Katsuki’s eyes now as he looks at you, his hand still at your jaw, holding you, his teeth glinting white and you know he’s proud of you for this, for getting through this. And it feels good, the hot rush of anger, of letting all of that out. It's a balm to that horrible, thorny thing inside of you. Feels good to throw the tantrum you never got to have in the past.

Your blood is pumping hard, your heart squeezing in your chest quick and desperately. You look at Katsuki, the near curl of his lips, the sharp line of his incisors.

And then you’re rushing forward, your lips colliding with his recklessly, as brutal and sweet as a suckerpunch.

You feel his surprised grunt against your lips, just as you’re shoving the pillow away from you and trying to clamber into his lap.

Your teeth click together. He gets his arm around your waist, broad and strong, and hauls you the rest of the way to him. Your legs straddle thick thighs, hitching tight together. He fuses you to him, your torso to his, chest to chest, mouth to mouth.

Gratitude bursts through you like a shooting star for Katsuki– for going with you today, for being beside you, for letting you fall apart and scream and shout when you needed it more than you can even fathom.

Your hands disappear into his hair to fist it, tug roughly as you feel his teeth catch harshly on your bottom lip.

“‘S bad idea,” he slurs against your lips, but he’s still trying to pull you closer, “Y’sure about this?”

You know he’s right.

Your relationship with Katsuki has always been nebulous. Never dated, but have fallen into bed together in the months when you’re both in between relationships. Long stints where you’re both lonely and longing, sometimes hurt, needing someone to lick your wounds. A warm body when the bed is cold.

(He’s always been more than that to you, though, always been some big and loud part of your heart.

How could he be anything else? He’s inevitable, the flash-bang of a firework, of the beginning and the end.)

You usually try to be cautious with him– with this strange, oscillating relationship.

But you can’t help it after today, after everything he’s done and would do for you. He’s your constant, your north star, as bright as his explosions.

Besides, the lingering spiced cinnamon taste of the gum he likes to chew is familiar to you as you lick into his mouth.

You know each other maybe better than you know yourselves.

“Don’t care,” you gasp when you pull away fractionally, cheeks still sticky and damp with tears, “Please, Katsuki?”

He kisses at them, one of his hands coming up to thumb at the other cheek, trying to wipe away stray tears, “‘Course,” he grunts, “Anything for you– y’hear me?” he asks and now he pulls away further so he can catch your eyes.

His are set ablaze, as hot as a wildfire, “I’m always here for you.”

Something tender and small inside of you whimpers, something desperate, but all you can get out is a breathed, “I know,” and then you angle your hips, rock into him, push down against him so he hisses out a breath, “I know,” you almost whine now, voice breaking with it as one of his broad palms squeezes at the meat of your waist.

“S’good to me, Katsuki,” you gasp as he forces your hips into rolling against his. “S’good, thank you,” you get out between forceful, desperate kisses, “Thank you–”

He knows what you’re talking about– more than just this, than just his body feverish and desperate against yours, but he still murmurs roughly, “Don’t thank m’yet, sweetheart, haven’t even done anything.”

Another rough roll of your hips into his, your core flush against the gradually hardening line of his cock in his jeans. It almost hurts, makes you yelp a little when he flexes his own hips up into you.

And then he’s pushing you back, shoving you down into the plush mattress of your bed. The breath leaves you as your back hits it and before you can do anything, Katsuki is already yanking at clothes. Scarred and calloused hands are not gentle– usually you’d warn him not to tear anything, like he has in previous times, but you don’t think you care. Don’t think he does, either.

You’re yanking at his tight, black shirt just as he’s pulling at your own pants. It’s practiced, something you two have done plenty of times before. His hair is a mess when you get it off, spiky and staticky, his lips kiss-stung and cheeks flushed an angry shade of red.

You love him like this, rushed and desperate and rough with you, eyes a gleaming, hungry red as they cast back up to your face for a moment.

The rest of both of your clothes come off in a flurry of movement, yanking and pulling at each other so quickly that it’s almost making your head, still fuzzy and pounding from crying and screaming, dizzy.

His kisses haven’t calmed and neither have yours, as if you’re trying to bruise each other, trying to prove something.

Katsuki pulls away as a string of saliva, translucent and dewy, connecting you two for a heartbeat, snaps. His lips fall to the vulnerable line of your throat, a harsh, sucking kiss being placed there. It’s chased by the nip of teeth, burns sweet and hot against your skin.

You know there will be a mark there tomorrow. He’s always liked the red blossom on your body, on his.

And then he’s going down to your chest, catching a nipple in his warm mouth and sucking hard.

You keen loudly, your throat raw from all your earlier screaming as your back arches, fingers flexing in his hair to pull too roughly. You feel the growling purr of his answering moan, his eyes flicking up to your face for a moment as his cheeks hollow out.

His other hand stays jarringly gentle on your free breast, thumb swiping over the peak.

He pulls off with a slick pop, only to quickly begin nipping and branding new marks into the skin of your chest, the undersides, the plush tops. He’s thorough, almost angry about it, always like he has something to prove or there’s some sort of competition.

When he tries to go lower, down to your stomach, you stop him, pulling at his hair so hard he curses, freezing atop you with a hissed out, “Fucking brat– what is it?”

“Want you now,” you murmur, a livid flush rising to your cheeks with your embarrassment. You still have tears caught in your eyes, can still feel their pressure, like they might rush out of you again.

“I was gonna prep you,” he responds, licking his lips absentmindedly, “Was gonna make you come on my tongue.”

And although his rough admission has a whine bubbling in you, you manage to shake your head, “Don’t want it like that tonight.”

“I don’t wanna hurt you, baby.” he responds, voice dropping in a way that makes your stomach swoop.

Your heart is rabbiting in your chest, cheeks flushing with livid embarrassment as you manage to get out, voice just barely above a whisper, “But I want it to hurt a little.”

The flash of Katsuki’s eyes is like the glint of a flame, dangerous and pretty in the blue-dark of your room. “Yeah?” he gruffs, “That’s what you want.”

“Yeah,” you answer, tugging at his hair again, “C’mon, Katsuki, want you now. Don’t wanna wait.”

He lets you guide him back up your body by his hair, his mouth falling to seel over yours in another rough kiss. You tilt your hips up desperately, moving to hook your calf around his waist and pull his hips flush to yours.

His cock brushes between the crux of your legs, where you’re hot and slick. He grunts a little, especially when you squirm your hand down his body to grip him. “Come on,” you whine against his lips, almost demanding, pushing the head of him against your center.

He hisses out a curse as you wet the tip of him with your slick, the velvet glide of him making you wiggle your hips against him desperately.

“Since when are you in charge?” he husks against your lips, holding his hips carefully away so you can only tease yourself.

“Katsuki–” you bite out, “Just fuck me,” you almost cry, your teeth grit tight, squeezing down on him and trying to draw his cock into you.

“You’re lucky ‘m going easy on you tonight.” he mutters, “Letting you call the shots.”

But he still pulls away from you slightly, sits back on his legs, his cock angry and red, the head now glinting with you–

“Katsuki!” you snap, feeling a sudden tear escape out of the corner of your eye as you watch him fist himself with one hand.

“Settle down,” he growls back at you, just before you watch as he let’s a slow glob of spit fall from his lips and down onto his cock, where his fist moves to pump it, spreading it over himself, slicking himself up. You don’t realize your lips have fallen open a little as you watch. “Damned brat,” he mutters, his hips twitching into his own hand, “Just tryin’ make this better for you.”

But then he’s falling over you again, letting you hitch your legs up over his waist, letting you offer yourself up to him willingly. The head of his cock nudges at you again, but this time there’s more intent. He slips and slides through you a moment, before letting himself catch on you.

He flexes his hips and the moment the head pops inside of you, you wheeze out a pained breath.

Katsuki eyes you, working into you slowly, gently, with tiny, shallow thrusts.

He’s thick– something you always manage to underestimate until he’s trying to lodge himself deep inside of you again. He’s longer than you’re used to, too.

A rougher thrust, one that gets him almost halfway there has you cursing, has your nails digging into his shoulders.

“Fucking told you,” he grunts, just as he pulls out fractionally to push all the way back inside, bottoming out so deeply that you swear you can feel him in your stomach.

For a heartbeat, you’re both slack-jawed and gasping raggedly. But the sting of him is familiar, the way his hips slot against yours is natural, almost proverbial, like a homecoming. And being in his arms like this again is like coming home– Katsuki’s always been a home to you, somewhere warm and smoky, filled with a love as fierce and brilliant as fanned flames. Hot like coals, and the snap-pop of embers.

Your eyes roll right into the back of your head, mouth hanging open, a small, broken sound fracturing out of your aching chest.

“Fuck,” Katsuki curses, “Fuck, shit– dammit, you’re so fucking tight–”

He doesn’t give you time to adjust now, hips moving, shoving in and out of you in a way that has you dragging your nails over his back in sharp, staggered movements. “Wanted it to hurt, didn’t you?” he growls, hips snapping up into yours.

You moan brokenly, voice shattered and high, already gone only after a few thrusts, “Yeah– fuck, yeah– Katsuki–”

He groans now, too, letting his head fall into the crook of your neck, “Fuck, I fucking missed you– missed this–”

His lips latch onto your neck again, teeth sinking in as he drops his hips to fully rut into you. You whine, trying to pull him off when the pressure at your throat becomes too much, too deep and stinging.

In retaliation, you drag your nails down his back sharply, feeling his muscles flex as he hisses out a breath. He pulls back to look over your face; your heated cheeks and messy hair, lips parted, brows tugged into a desperate furrow.

He presses a surprisingly tender kiss to the corner of your lips, just as one of his hands moves to hitch your leg higher, the angle hitting deeper, harder–

He swallows your fractured, raw gasp as he slants his lips over yours again.

More tears spring up in your eyes as you cling to him desperately and when he pulls away to watch you, he groans a little, the sound rough and low, “Look at you, already a wreck,” another rough thrust has you almost wailing, the sound choking off almost into a sob.

Your nails dig ruthlessly into his skin, dragging hard to make him curse again.

“Can’t help it–” your voice pitches, wobbly and vulnerable, the words spilling without a thought, “Missed you, too,” you finally manage to whimper against his lips, “You’re always s’good to me– s’good, Katsuki, fuck–”

The hand that was pushing your leg higher suddenly moves, dips between your bodies to the crux of your thighs. He finds the bundle of nerves easily, fingers moving with a practiced ease to counter the desperate, rough pushing of his hips into yours.

You moan, somehow trying to offer him more of you, arching your back, feeling the press of his chest to yours.

“Fuck,” he spits, fingers quickening, “C’mon, sweetheart, let go for me,” he coaxes, his voice a low grumble from his chest, sweet and warm as it washes over you.

“Katsuki–” you sob, trembling beneath him, muscles tensed, almost holding back, scared of the edge. You bite your lip to keep back the pathetic sound that is crawling it’s way up your throat, to try and stave off the tears that are just about to escape again.

“I’ve gotcha,” he grunts, angling his hips in a way that doesn’t give you the choice to hide or hold back, that has you keening, high and broken, as he pushes you off that ledge.

Your tears break fast, too, digging your face into the crook of his neck as he gets out, “That’s my girl– fuck, yeah, that’s it.”

White hot pleasure seers through you, massive and brutal. All encompassing and overwhelming.

He slows his hips a little with your hiccuping cries, especially when you start to twitch away from him, from his fingers. You’re shaking in his arms, squeezing down on his cock in a way that has your eyes just about crossing, teeth grit tight as you whimper through the rest of it.

His thrusts are still deep, though, almost hitting harder, especially with the fireburst pleasure inside of you. The sweet and hot feeling in your gut unfurls further somehow, prolonging your peak. Your head swims, vision blurry with all your tears.

Katsuki tries to nudge you out from the crook of his neck with seeking lips, the line of his nose, as he ducks down to press at your jaw, your cheek. When he gets a good look at you, the tears that shimmer in low light, your raw lips and wet lashes, he groans again.

“–Like seeing you cryin’ like this– cryin’ on my cock, all fucked out.” his voice is almost a growl, but there’s no anger behind it, just heat, some sharp-toothed and possessive affection.

Crying like this, from all his pleasure and love, not over some other extra, not the way you’d been earlier. Crying because it’s so good, he’s so good, not because you’re hurt and angry and exhausted.

You bump your nose against his, “Y’close, Katsu?” you whimper, your hands squabbling to hold fast to his broad shoulders. A small noise bursts from you as he picks up his pace again, shivery jolts of pleasure fluttering in your stomach and you–

You can’t figure out if you’re still riding your previous high or beginning another, the sensations blurring together, turning molten.

Another rough, angled thrust and, “Oh–” you gasp in surprise.

Katsuki eyes you, repeats the motion to keep you gasping and squirming, “Are you close again?” he gruffs in return, “Gonna give me one more?” C’mon– y’feel so good when you’re coming on my cock.”

Your face twists up with the near pain of it, the prickly, sharp sort of pleasure. Too hot like you’re getting burned, like you’re imploding from the inside out.

Doesn't’ take long for Katsuki after that, groaning as he drops his head into your shoulder and his hips stutter through his own orgasm.

He floods you, warm and sticky, a strange balm that has you whimpering against his skin tacky with sweat, smelling a little too sweet.

You try to hide in his neck, burying your face there to hide your crying. He shifts, keeps himself inside you but moves his arms to ease them beneath you, wrap around you tightly, crushing you into his chest.

His lips nudge at your temple in rough, little kisses and nosing at your hair.

He let’s you cry again, hands flexing as his thumb rubs at the nape of your neck.

“I’ve got you, baby,” he murmurs to you, “‘m right here.”

And he holds you until your crying turns to sniffles, until your nails aren’t digging into his skin. Until you’re blubbering out apologies and gratitude, still trying to hide, almost unable to face him yet.

“Hey,” he mutters, “Don’t apologize, dumbass.” and then he’s nudging at your damp and sticky cheeks, still flushed and warm, “I’ll take the thanks, though.” he muses lowly and you feel more than see the rough cut of his lopsided, almost dopey smile.

A small, surprised laugh bubbles out of you through all your tears and you turn to catch his lips in a slow, syrupy kiss.

“Thank you, Katsuki.” you hush against his lips, letting your nose brush against his.

“‘Course,” he still murmurs, kissing you again, and again, and again.

He rolls the two of you over eventually, but you don’t want to stray far from him, so you curl up on his broad chest. Your stomach pressed to his, fingers tracing over relaxed muscles. You rub your cheek against Katsuki’s, your leg still thrown over his hips as his hands wander over the crooks and lines of your body.

Easily, he finds all the spots on you that are tender and aching, or enough to make you just about purr. He doesn’t have to learn you, already knows you.

And you know him, know what he’s doing when he hitches your thigh a little higher on his waist, when his fingers are wandering a little too low. They knead into the supple skin of your thighs like he isn’t being obvious.

You should’ve known he wasn’t done yet.

The first swipe of his rough fingers through your already tender folds has you jolting away from him a little. But that doesn’t deter him and you turn watery, pleading eyes on him as slides through the mess made there.

His other hand is behind his head, far too relaxed, a little cocky as he looks down at you through lidded eyes that seem to smolder.

“Katsu, too much–”

He hushes you, dragging his fingers slowly through your slick and his cum, gentle and heated. “Nah, c’mon, one more for me.”

“You already said that,” you huff, but still let your head fall forward, into his chest.

“Y’deserve it,” he murmurs, fingers soft as they find that sensitive little bundle of nerves that has you shuddering against him, “I’ll make it feel real nice.” he coaxes lowly and it has your back arching again, trying to give him more room.

“Atta girl,” he coos, one of his fingers shifting to push inside slowly, sweetly.

In no time, he has your eyes nearly crossing again, body already tired and sensitive, the fluttering of your pleasure returning like a warm glow.

“F-feels good, Katsu, so good,” you slur softly, his finger crooking inside of you in a way that has you clawing at his shoulders, the tops of his biceps, feeling strangely vulnerable and weakened to him after all this. He stays painfully gentle with you, though, even as you whimper, “You’re th’best–fuck, the best ‘ve ever had–”

That works a rumbling purr out of him, “Yeah?” he coaxes, adding a second finger with agonizing slowness, sliding through your tender walls in all the best ways, “Best ever, huh?”

You gasp a little, a sweet sound, before you’re nodding dazedly and whining, “The fucking best–”

It doesn’t take much else to have you fluttering around his fingers, hips twitching, rocking with the waves of it. This one’s sweeter, gentler, the rush of it warm and sweet like cinnamon, like sticky honey. It has you coming down better, your tears still pricking your eyes but they’re not as angry or hurt or desperate. Softer, more subdued.

He kisses you through it slowly, lips working against yours with a tenderness you think he saves for very few people in his life.

And you’re one of them.

When you pull away and he finally eases his fingers from you, you feel as if you can barely keep your eyes open. You’re sated, a little too warm, and far too slick and messy. Your muscles are aching, but the pounding in your head that comes with screaming and crying have lessened.

But Katsuki’s got a grimace on his face, an almost childish pout.

You quirk a brow at him, tilt your head so your chin is propped onto his chest, “What is it?”

“Y’made me hard again,” he grunts, annoyed with his own body and you–

You glance down the length of both your bodies to find he’s telling the truth. His cock is flushed red and twitching against his toned stomach.

You find his eyes again, a small, almost amused smile tugging at the corner of your lips despite your tears and exhaustion, “Is it cause I said you were the best?” you tease softly.

The flush that spreads over his cheeks as his eyes dart away from yours is all the answer you need. You can’t help the sudden laugh that spills from you, warm and finally easing a lot of the tension in your chest.

It still hurts, but this feels good too, better than you could’ve thought.

His arm wraps tight around your waist suddenly, flipping you, manhandling you like you’re nothing to him so that he’s back on top of you– but now he’s got you on your stomach, face nudging into one of your pillows.

“Well I am the best, aren’t I?” he gruffs, lips trailing warm and wet kisses over the lines of your shoulders, kissing at the sore marks he must’ve left earlier.

You tuck your arms beneath your pillow, nuzzle into it sleepily, humming sweetly when Katsuki’s calloused hand runs down the length of your back slowly.

All that heartache and anger that would’ve festered alone feels expelled for now, replaced with the sweet heat and care of the man whose always been there for you. The one dragging kisses down your spine tenderly now, the one that’ll be there in the morning, heart as good and gold as the sun that seems to favor him with all its fiery rays.

He gives a nip along your shoulder blades when you don’t respond to him, impatient as he is, it has you biting back another impossibly affectionate smile.

“Yeah, Katsu,” you sigh, arching up into his touch, feeling safe and loved and cared for in the cage of his body, as familiar as the walls of your own home. Your heart gives a soft flutter when he plants a wet kiss to your cheek, nudging his nose there with that rough affection that you adore.

“So ‘re you,” he murmurs and though his voice is gentle, it’s firm, “Deserve the best, too,” his chest rumbling against yours with his next words, “Deserve the whole fucking world.”

You catch him in a sound kiss over the curve of your shoulder– a thank you, the pouring of your gratitude for him caught there, sweet and firm and sure. He takes it eagerly, crowding further against you, like he could never get enough.

When you pull away, you try not to marvel too much at him, but can’t seem to help it. Not after everything he’s done for you today.

“Even when I scream and cry and throw a tantrum?” you ask softly against his lips, attempting for a joke.

But you feel the sharp cut of his smile, the line of a tooth, his eyes like a striking match as they glint in the low-light;

“Oh, sweetheart, especially when you scream and cry and throw a tantrum.”

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