꒰ 爆豪勝己 ꒱ › katsuki hates being loud in bed. mdni.
pro hero! bakugo x fem! reader. unprotected piv
for someone who’s so loud and cocky, katsuki is surprisingly quiet in bed. because he hates the sounds he makes, finds his own whimpers and groans pathetic and weak. he hates the way his control dissolves, the way his body betrays him with hitched breaths and feeble groans. every time a whimper ‘threatens’ to spill from his lips, he’s gulping it down, jaw clenched so tight it aches.
he kisses you like he’s trying to swallow the moans building in his own chest. his tongue sweeps into your mouth, not just to taste you, but to make sure you’re so full of him that no sound can escape.
“kats breathe,” you gasp when he finally lets you up for air.
“shut up,” he snarls, but there’s no heat beneath his words.
when you finally sink down onto him, taking him in inch by excruciating inch, his whole body goes rigid. a sharp hiss falls through his gritted teeth, and he immediately buries his face in the crook of your neck, as if in shame. you can feel the vibration of his groan against your throat, a guttural sound he tries so, so hard to kill.
“fuck,” he breathes, a mere puff of air against your glistening skin. his hips remain still, even as his cock throbs inside you
when you start to ride him, his hands fly from your hips to your ass, then to your shoulders, anywhere he can get purchase, as if he’s physically trying to hold himself together. his breathing becomes harsh and uneven. you can hear the struggle in every inhale. his crimson eyes are squeezed shut, his brow furrowed in concentration that has everything to do with not falling apart.
you love watching him like this. you love being the one to unravel him. you pick up the pace, rolling your hips in that way you know drives him wild, and you feel the tremor that starts in his thighs, the way his calloused fingers dig bruises into your perfect skin.
a sound that’s half-gasp, half-whimper, bubbles up, and katsuki immediately clamps his mouth down on your shoulder — using your body to silence his own.
he’s drunk on the copper leaking from your broken skin. he presses soothing kisses to your shoulder and it makes you clench even harder around him. that’s what finally makes him break. a moan tears from his throat, muffled by your flesh but unmistakable. a vulnerable sound that’s completely at odds with the explosive hero he is by day. it’s sound of him stripped of all his defenses
and he hates it. you can feel the way he freezes for a moment, horrified by his own lack of control. “don’t—”
“don’t what ? don’t stop ?” you tease, rolling your hips again.
“stop fuckin’ lookin’ at me like that,” he’ll grumble, turning his face away even as his hands white-knuckle your hips, pulling you closer.
but you’re not having it. you reach back, tangling your fingers in his sweat-damp blond hair, and pull his gaze towards yours. “let me hear you,” you murmur “wanna hear how good i make you feel.”
“no,” he shakes his head, stubbornly, eyes squeezed shut. “can’t. it’s too damn embarrassing.”
“it’s hot” you counter, “you’re hot katsuki. now let me hear you.”
“don’t — hah — say shit like that” he groans. his hips, now freed from their self-imposed prison, thrust up to meet yours. his moans become more frequent, little whimpers and moans he can’t swallow, each one is followed by a tightening of his jaw, a rosy flush of embarrassment creeping up his neck.
“that’s it kats,” you encourage, “just like that.”
when you lean back, changing the angle just so, that he finally, truly surrenders. his eyes fly open, wide and glazed with pleasure, and his mouth falls slack. a string of curses,spills from his lips. “fuuuck . . . you’re so—hck— damn you”
his face is completely red, and he’s so, so loud but he’s past the point of caring. his hips slam into yours, his movements losing all finesse, driven purely by need
“gonna. . fuck, baby. . i’m gonna—” he chokes out, and it’s the most warning you’ve ever gotten from him.
he cums with a strangled cry, your name a wanton mess on his lips. his whole body all but arches off the bed. the sounds he makes are muffled by your skin, but you feel them all the same—the whimpers, the groans, the exhausted panting. for a long moment, the only sound in the room is his ragged breathing and the pounding of your own heart.
then, slowly, he relaxes, his body going limp against yours. you know he’s replaying every sound, every whimper, and cringing. you card your fingers through his hair, holding him close, and wait. eventually, he shifts, pressing a soft, chaste kiss to your sternum before muttering against your skin, “that’s never gonna happen again”
you don’t have to say anything. you just smile, because you know that next time, when you’re skin against skin and joined together as one, you’ll break his silence all over again.
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