juls ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ໒꒱

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[lovelyruins]

pretty when you cry ‧˚꒰ᢉ𐭩 ୭ ˚.

pro hero!bakugo x crybaby reader (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

synopsis: your bf katsuki can’t resist you when you look so pretty while crying

warnings: mdni, smut, dacryphilia, sweet kats

katsuki bakugo never expected to fall this hard for someone so breakable.

you’re not dramatic. you’re not trying to be cute. you’re just sensitive. everything hits you full force, happy things, sad things, overwhelming things, quiet things, a song that reminds you of him makes your eyes sting. he comes home safe after patrol and you’re already crying into his chest before he can even take his boots off.

he calls you crybaby, but it’s never mean. it’s his word. his claim.

he’s learned your tells by now: the way your lip trembles just a little before the waterworks start, how your lashes get heavy and dark, how your breaths turn into tiny hiccups. most guys would get annoyed. katsuki gets addicted.

during the day he’s your shield.

you cry because the sunset is too pretty and it makes you feel small in a good way, you cry when he buys you flowers and plushies or any other shit you like

you cry because you burnt your finger making him coffee, he’s at your side in a second, running cold water over it, scowling like the burn personally insulted him, then kissing the red spot soft and slow until you’re sniffling and smiling through tears

you cry because he looked tired after a long shift, you crawl into his lap on the couch, bury your face in his neck, and let the tears soak his shirt while he rubs your back in big, slow circles. “i’m fine, idiot,” he grumbles, but he holds you like you’re the one who needs protecting.

he fixes what he can. he soothes what he can’t. and every single time those tears fall for sweet, soft, overwhelming reasons, something possessive and hungry coils in his chest. because if the world can make you cry this easily… then he wants to be the one who makes you cry the prettiest

tonight you’re already misty when he walks in.

not from anything big—just because you were thinking about how much you love him while folding his clean laundry. the domesticity of it, the quiet safety of waiting for him, it swelled up inside you until your eyes overflowed.

he sees you standing by the dresser, one of his shirts clutched to your chest, tears slipping silently down your cheeks.

“oi.” his voice is low, careful. drops his bag. crosses the room slow. “what’s got you this time, crybaby?”

you sniffle, voice tiny. “just missed you, and i love you, and folding your shirts made me happy but also sad because you’re gone all day and—”

fresh tears.

he exhales, soft. cups your face with both rough hands, thumbs catching the drops before they fall farther. “you’re too damn sweet for your own good,” he mutters. leans in and kisses the tear tracks on your cheeks, slow and deliberate. “makes me wanna ruin you a little”

your breath hitches. more tears.

he scoops you up—gentle, always gentle with you when the crying starts soft like this—and carries you to bed. lays you down like you’re fragile, even though he knows you can take everything he gives

peels his shirt off you slow. kisses every inch of skin he uncovers. when he gets to your panties he drags them down your thighs, eyes locked on yours. spreads you open, stares at how wet you already are just from his kisses and your own overwhelming feelings.

“fuck, baby,” he growls low, voice dripping heat. “cryin’ all sweet and innocent for me and your pussy’s already this fuckin’ soaked? you’re drippin’ just thinkin’ about me stretchin’ you out, look how pretty she glistens when you’re teary like this”

leans down, licks a slow, filthy stripe up your pussy. you sob immediately; soft, overwhelmed, beautiful. he groans against you, tongue circling your clit while two fingers slide in, curling gentle but deep

“that’s it, pretty girl,” he purrs against your folds, lips brushing your clit with every filthy word. “cry for me just like that, fuck, those little sobs make my cock throb. you gonna let me drink every tear while i tongue-fuck this sweet cunt? wanna taste how much you need me

you do. tears stream freely, mixing with the little gasps and whimpers. he eats you out like he’s worshipping—slow licks, greedy sucks, fingers pumping steady until your hips lift and you come with a broken sob, thighs trembling around his head

he kisses up your body, licking the tears from your cheeks again, slow and teasing. “so fuckin’ pretty when you come cryin’ bet you taste even sweeter with those tears runnin’ down your face. you gonna let me see more, baby? gonna cry harder when i’m buried inside you?”

frees his cock, lines up, pushes in slow, watching your face the whole time. your eyes go glassy, more tears spilling as he fills you completely.

“eyes on me, sweetheart,” he rasps, voice thick and dark. “wanna watch every single tear slide while i stuff this tight little pussy full… fuck, you’re squeezin’ me so good already. you gonna cry all pretty and needy for my cock tonight?”

thrusts deep and steady, not mean tonight—just overwhelming. every stroke makes you gasp, every grind makes you sob. he leans down, licks another tear, bites your bottom lip soft.

“feel that, baby?” he whispers hot against your ear, hips rolling slow and dirty. “that’s me fuckin’ you deep… makin’ those gorgeous eyes water because it’s too much and not enough at the same time. you’re so sensitive, so fuckin’ perfect, my sweet little crybaby gettin’ all wet and teary just from bein’ split open on me. cry louder, let me hear how bad you want it”

thumb finds your clit, rubs slow, filthy circles. you come again—harder, louder, tears flooding as your whole body shakes. he fucks you through it, praising low and dripping with heat

“that’s my good girl, comin’ so hard while those pretty tears keep fallin’. fuck, you look like a goddamn dream right now… all wrecked and cryin’ on my dick. you gonna give me one more, baby? wanna watch you shatter again, all teary and clenchin’ around me like you can’t get enough.”

one more. he angles just right, rubs faster, thrusts deeper until you shatter a third timefull-body sobs, tears streaming, clinging to him like he’s your anchor.

he follows right after, deep groan, burying himself and spilling inside you while staring at your wrecked, teary face like it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. “fuck, that’s it, baby… cry so perfect for me… take every drop while you’re still shakin’.”

after he stays inside for a minute, softening slowly, letting you feel him. then pulls out careful, rolls you into his chest. arms lock tight. one hand in your hair, the other rubbing your back in those big, soothing circles.

“hey,” he whispers. “breathe, baby.”

you nod, still hiccuping softly against his neck. he kisses your forehead, your damp lashes, the tip of your nose.

“you’re too sweet,” he murmurs. “cryin’ over laundry and sunsets and me comin’ home… makes me crazy. makes me wanna keep you safe forever”

you sniffle, smiling through it. “you do keep me safe.”

he snorts, but it’s fond. grabs a tissue, wipes your cheeks gentle. tucks the blanket around you both.

“yeah, well. only i get to see you cry like this. only i get to make it feel this fuckin’ good”

you nuzzle closer, eyes already heavy.

he presses one last kiss to your temple.

“my sensitive little crybaby. sleep now. i got you.”

he stays awake a while longer just watching your face, the way the last tears dry on your lashes

smiles to himself, small and private.

because yeah, tears really do look good on you. ♡

[lovelyruins]

pro hero privileges pt. 2 ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

prohero!katsuki x fem reader

synopsis: your bf katsuki fucks you in his hero gear

warnings: 18+mdni, smut, dirty talk, established relationship

pt 1. here

the next evening hits different.

katsuki’s been gone all day—some pr bullshit photoshoot followed by a joint patrol with deku and kirishima. you spent the afternoon restless, replaying last night in your head on loop: the way he growled when you said his hero name, the way he fucked you until your legs gave out, the promise he left hanging in the steam.

“next time you call me that, i’m fuckin’ you in the hero suit. mask and all.”

you didn’t think he’d actually do it.

but when the front door clicks open at 9:47 p.m., the apartment lights are still low, and the figure that steps inside isn’t just katsuki.

it’s dynamight.

full gear.

gauntlets still warm from explosions, chest plate carrying the faint smell of smoke and asphalt, boots leaving soft scuffs on the floor. the mask frames his eyes—sharp, exhausted, but locked on you the second he’s inside. he kicks the door shut. deadbolt snaps. doesn’t speak right away. just stands there, shoulders rising and falling a little heavier than normal, like the adrenaline from patrol hasn’t fully drained.

you’re curled on the couch in his hoodie and panties. phone forgotten. heart already hammering.

he walks over. stops right in front of you. close enough you feel the heat radiating off the suit.

“fuckin’ long day,” he mutters. voice low, gravelly from shouting orders. “couldn’t think straight.”

you look up. throat tight.

“yeah?”

he reaches down. gloved fingers catch your chin. tilt your face up. leather cool and worn against your skin.

“yeah. kept seein’ you. spread out. sayin’ my name like that. made every villain i blew up feel like a distraction.”

his thumb drags once over your bottom lip. slow. then he lets go. steps back half a step.

“stand up.”

you do. legs feel unsteady already.

he doesn’t grab you. just looks. eyes dragging down your body—hoodie swallowing you, bare thighs, the way your nipples are already hard under the fabric.

“turn.”

you turn. slow.

he steps in behind you. chest plate presses cold to your back. one gauntleted hand lands on your hip—heavy, possessive. the other slides under the hoodie. palm flat on your stomach. pulls you flush against him so you feel every inch of how hard he is through the reinforced fabric.

“already?” he asks. quiet. almost surprised. fingers dip lower. brush the damp cotton between your legs. press just enough to feel how soaked you are.

you nod. bite your lip.

“been wet since i heard the key in the lock.”

he exhales through his nose. almost a laugh.

“fuckin’ hell.”

he doesn’t rip anything off yet. keeps you there. back to his chest. one hand still on your stomach, the other sliding between your thighs. gloved fingers trace your folds through the panties. slow, deliberate circles over your clit. not rushing. just building the pressure until your hips twitch.

“feel that?” he mutters against your ear. mask brushing your skin. “been out there dodgin’ quirks, takin’ hits, keepin’ the city from burnin’… and all i could think about was gettin’ home and findin’ you like this. ready. drippin’ for me.”

his fingers press harder. rub slow, mean circles. the leather drags perfectly—rough enough to make your breath hitch.

“you’re soakin’ through these,” he says. voice low. wrecked. “gonna make a mess on my glove before i even touch you properly.”

you whimper. hips rocking against his hand.

he hooks two fingers under the waistband. drags your panties down slow. lets them fall. kicks them aside.

then his hand is back. gloved fingers sliding through your folds now—barely any barrier. collecting slick. circling your entrance. teasing. pushing just the tips in and out.

“tell me,” he says. breath hot. “tell me you want your hero to stretch you open first. want dynamight to finger this pussy until you’re shakin’ before i fuck you.”

“i want it,” you breathe. “want you—dynamight— please. need it.”

he groans. quiet. rough.

then he pushes two fingers in. slow. deep. curls them immediately. hits that spot that makes your knees buckle.

“fuck—still so tight,” he hisses. starts pumping. slow drags out, hard curls in. thumb finding your clit again. rubbing in tight, relentless circles. “listen to how wet you are. loud as hell. been thinkin’ about this all day while i was out there bein’ the number one asshole who actually saves people.”

you moan. head falling back against his shoulder. hands gripping his gauntlets—metal hard under your fingers.

“d-dynamight—”

“yeah. keep sayin’ it. say it while i open you up. say it like you mean it.”

“dynamight—fuck—please—”

he adds a third finger. stretches you wider. pumps faster. the wet sounds are obscene. slick coats his glove, drips down your thighs.

“gonna come like this?” he asks. voice low. almost taunting. “gonna soak my fuckin’ hero glove before i even put my cock in you?”

“yes—shit—yes—”

he curls harder. thumb pressing mean, fast circles on your clit.

“then do it. come on my fingers. come thinkin’ about the guy who just spent twelve hours keepin’ everyone else safe… and now he’s home to wreck his girl.”

you shatter.

back arching. crying out “dynamight!” raw and loud. walls clamping down. pulsing. gushing around his fingers. legs shaking so hard he has to tighten his arm around your waist to hold you up.

he works you through it. slow now. gentle drags until you’re whimpering, oversensitive.

only then does he pull his fingers free. brings them up. smears the mess across your lips.

“taste,” he mutters.

you suck his gloved fingers into your mouth. eyes locked on his through the mask.

he groans. pulls them out with a wet sound.

then he’s turning you. bending you over the arm of the couch. hoodie shoved up. ass out.

he lines up. rubs the head through your soaked folds. coats himself in your slick. slow. deliberate.

“you ready?” he asks. voice rough. almost careful.

“yes,” you breathe. “please, fuck me, dynamight.”

he pushes in.

slow. deep. one long slide until he’s buried to the hilt.

you gasp. clutch the cushions.

“fuck—still grippin’ me like that,” he hisses. holds still a second. lets you feel every vein. then starts moving.

hard. steady. gauntlets digging into your hips. chest plate cold against your back when he leans over you.

“say it,” he growls against your ear. “say who’s fuckin’ you.”

“d-dynamight—”

“louder.”

“dynamight—fuck—dynamight—”

he snaps harder. deeper. couch creaking under you.

his hand slides around. gloved fingers back on your clit. rubbing fast. rough.

“come for me” he pants. “come screamin’ for the guy who just saved half the damn city. come all over your favorite hero’s cock while he’s still in full gear.”

you do.

shatter harder. screaming his hero name until your voice cracks. walls pulsing. legs trembling.

he fucks you through it. relentless. then buries deep. comes with a low, broken groan. hot and thick inside you. hips jerking.

holds you there. breathing ragged. mask pressed to your neck.

after a minute he pulls out slow. watches his cum leak out. smears it back in with two gloved fingers. makes you whine.

scoops you up. carries you to the bedroom.

drops you on the sheets.

climbs over you. still hard. still in the suit.

leans down. kisses you slow. filthy. tongue sliding against yours through the open mouth of the mask.

pulls back just enough to murmur, voice wrecked and quiet:

“get on top. ride me. wanna feel you fall apart callin’ me dynamight until you can’t anymore.”

you grin. breathless. already shifting to straddle him.

“yeah… keep goin’.”

he growls low.

the suit stays on.

and the neighbors definitely know his name now. ♡

a/n: sorry for not uploading 😓 i had writers block

[lovelyruins]

pro hero privileges pt. 2 ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

prohero!katsuki x fem reader

synopsis: your bf katsuki fucks you in his hero gear

warnings: 18+mdni, smut, dirty talk, established relationship

pt 1. here

the next evening hits different.

katsuki’s been gone all day—some pr bullshit photoshoot followed by a joint patrol with deku and kirishima. you spent the afternoon restless, replaying last night in your head on loop: the way he growled when you said his hero name, the way he fucked you until your legs gave out, the promise he left hanging in the steam.

“next time you call me that, i’m fuckin’ you in the hero suit. mask and all.”

you didn’t think he’d actually do it.

but when the front door clicks open at 9:47 p.m., the apartment lights are still low, and the figure that steps inside isn’t just katsuki.

it’s dynamight.

full gear.

gauntlets still warm from explosions, chest plate carrying the faint smell of smoke and asphalt, boots leaving soft scuffs on the floor. the mask frames his eyes—sharp, exhausted, but locked on you the second he’s inside. he kicks the door shut. deadbolt snaps. doesn’t speak right away. just stands there, shoulders rising and falling a little heavier than normal, like the adrenaline from patrol hasn’t fully drained.

you’re curled on the couch in his hoodie and panties. phone forgotten. heart already hammering.

he walks over. stops right in front of you. close enough you feel the heat radiating off the suit.

“fuckin’ long day,” he mutters. voice low, gravelly from shouting orders. “couldn’t think straight.”

you look up. throat tight.

“yeah?”

he reaches down. gloved fingers catch your chin. tilt your face up. leather cool and worn against your skin.

“yeah. kept seein’ you. spread out. sayin’ my name like that. made every villain i blew up feel like a distraction.”

his thumb drags once over your bottom lip. slow. then he lets go. steps back half a step.

“stand up.”

you do. legs feel unsteady already.

he doesn’t grab you. just looks. eyes dragging down your body—hoodie swallowing you, bare thighs, the way your nipples are already hard under the fabric.

“turn.”

you turn. slow.

he steps in behind you. chest plate presses cold to your back. one gauntleted hand lands on your hip—heavy, possessive. the other slides under the hoodie. palm flat on your stomach. pulls you flush against him so you feel every inch of how hard he is through the reinforced fabric.

“already?” he asks. quiet. almost surprised. fingers dip lower. brush the damp cotton between your legs. press just enough to feel how soaked you are.

you nod. bite your lip.

“been wet since i heard the key in the lock.”

he exhales through his nose. almost a laugh.

“fuckin’ hell.”

he doesn’t rip anything off yet. keeps you there. back to his chest. one hand still on your stomach, the other sliding between your thighs. gloved fingers trace your folds through the panties. slow, deliberate circles over your clit. not rushing. just building the pressure until your hips twitch.

“feel that?” he mutters against your ear. mask brushing your skin. “been out there dodgin’ quirks, takin’ hits, keepin’ the city from burnin’… and all i could think about was gettin’ home and findin’ you like this. ready. drippin’ for me.”

his fingers press harder. rub slow, mean circles. the leather drags perfectly—rough enough to make your breath hitch.

“you’re soakin’ through these,” he says. voice low. wrecked. “gonna make a mess on my glove before i even touch you properly.”

you whimper. hips rocking against his hand.

he hooks two fingers under the waistband. drags your panties down slow. lets them fall. kicks them aside.

then his hand is back. gloved fingers sliding through your folds now—barely any barrier. collecting slick. circling your entrance. teasing. pushing just the tips in and out.

“tell me,” he says. breath hot. “tell me you want your hero to stretch you open first. want dynamight to finger this pussy until you’re shakin’ before i fuck you.”

“i want it,” you breathe. “want you—dynamight— please. need it.”

he groans. quiet. rough.

then he pushes two fingers in. slow. deep. curls them immediately. hits that spot that makes your knees buckle.

“fuck—still so tight,” he hisses. starts pumping. slow drags out, hard curls in. thumb finding your clit again. rubbing in tight, relentless circles. “listen to how wet you are. loud as hell. been thinkin’ about this all day while i was out there bein’ the number one asshole who actually saves people.”

you moan. head falling back against his shoulder. hands gripping his gauntlets—metal hard under your fingers.

“d-dynamight—”

“yeah. keep sayin’ it. say it while i open you up. say it like you mean it.”

“dynamight—fuck—please—”

he adds a third finger. stretches you wider. pumps faster. the wet sounds are obscene. slick coats his glove, drips down your thighs.

“gonna come like this?” he asks. voice low. almost taunting. “gonna soak my fuckin’ hero glove before i even put my cock in you?”

“yes—shit—yes—”

he curls harder. thumb pressing mean, fast circles on your clit.

“then do it. come on my fingers. come thinkin’ about the guy who just spent twelve hours keepin’ everyone else safe… and now he’s home to wreck his girl.”

you shatter.

back arching. crying out “dynamight!” raw and loud. walls clamping down. pulsing. gushing around his fingers. legs shaking so hard he has to tighten his arm around your waist to hold you up.

he works you through it. slow now. gentle drags until you’re whimpering, oversensitive.

only then does he pull his fingers free. brings them up. smears the mess across your lips.

“taste,” he mutters.

you suck his gloved fingers into your mouth. eyes locked on his through the mask.

he groans. pulls them out with a wet sound.

then he’s turning you. bending you over the arm of the couch. hoodie shoved up. ass out.

he lines up. rubs the head through your soaked folds. coats himself in your slick. slow. deliberate.

“you ready?” he asks. voice rough. almost careful.

“yes,” you breathe. “please, fuck me, dynamight.”

he pushes in.

slow. deep. one long slide until he’s buried to the hilt.

you gasp. clutch the cushions.

“fuck—still grippin’ me like that,” he hisses. holds still a second. lets you feel every vein. then starts moving.

hard. steady. gauntlets digging into your hips. chest plate cold against your back when he leans over you.

“say it,” he growls against your ear. “say who’s fuckin’ you.”

“d-dynamight—”

“louder.”

“dynamight—fuck—dynamight—”

he snaps harder. deeper. couch creaking under you.

his hand slides around. gloved fingers back on your clit. rubbing fast. rough.

“come for me” he pants. “come screamin’ for the guy who just saved half the damn city. come all over your favorite hero’s cock while he’s still in full gear.”

you do.

shatter harder. screaming his hero name until your voice cracks. walls pulsing. legs trembling.

he fucks you through it. relentless. then buries deep. comes with a low, broken groan. hot and thick inside you. hips jerking.

holds you there. breathing ragged. mask pressed to your neck.

after a minute he pulls out slow. watches his cum leak out. smears it back in with two gloved fingers. makes you whine.

scoops you up. carries you to the bedroom.

drops you on the sheets.

climbs over you. still hard. still in the suit.

leans down. kisses you slow. filthy. tongue sliding against yours through the open mouth of the mask.

pulls back just enough to murmur, voice wrecked and quiet:

“get on top. ride me. wanna feel you fall apart callin’ me dynamight until you can’t anymore.”

you grin. breathless. already shifting to straddle him.

“yeah… keep goin’.”

he growls low.

the suit stays on.

and the neighbors definitely know his name now. ♡

a/n: sorry for not uploading 😓 i had writers block

[i-will-write]

how i sleep knowing i write shitty fiction but at least don’t use chatgpt

[lovelyruins]

husband!katsuki who comes home exhausted from a long shift but still stops at your favorite bakery on the way back just because he saw they dropped a new limited-edition flavor. he hands you the pink box with a grunt like “don’t get used to it, idiot” but he’s already planning to buy the whole batch next time.

husband!katsuki who insists on paying for your hobbies no matter what. art supplies? new camera lens? dance classes? he’s wiring the money before you finish the sentence. “i make enough to let you do whatever the hell makes you happy. don’t fight me on it.”

husband!katsuki who books spontaneous weekend trips to quiet places—no press, no fans—just so you can relax. he picks onsen towns with private baths and mountain cabins with fireplaces. spends the whole time cooking hearty meals for you and carrying all the luggage like it’s nothing.

husband!katsuki who upgrades your entire skincare routine after you mention one product is running low. suddenly the bathroom counter is full of high-end serums, masks, and creams—all in your favorite scents. he grumbles “can’t have my wife lookin’ anything less than perfect” while secretly reading reviews to make sure they’re the best.

husband!katsuki who walks in after patrol, still smelling like smoke and sweat, and pins you against the kitchen counter before you can even say hi. “missed this fuckin’ body,” he growls, hands already sliding under your shirt to grope your tits. dinner? he orders takeout later—right now he’s hungry for you.

husband!katsuki who sees you eyeing a lingerie set online and buys three versions in different colors the same night. next morning they’re delivered with a note: “wear the red one tonight. gonna rip it off slow.” he makes good on the promise—teeth grazing lace, fingers hooking the straps while he fucks you in front of the full-length mirror.

husband!katsuki who, after a fat hero paycheck hits, buys you that expensive vibrator you joked about once. tests it on you that same night—holds it against your clit while he fucks your mouth, eyes locked on yours. “look at you takin’ it all. my spoiled little slut.”

and when you try to thank him with too many words, he just kisses you rough, bites your lip, and mutters, “shut up and let me spoil this pussy some more.”

[lovelyruins]

no more extras ⊹₊⟡⋆

bestfriend!katsuki x fem reader

warnings: 18+, smut, creampie, best friends to lovers, possesive kats, praise kink

synopsis: you are tired of idiots not treating you right, good thing you have your best friend to help you with that

──── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ────

the dorm is quiet except for the hum of your mini-fridge and the occasional distant laugh from the common room.

you’re sprawled on your bed in bakugo’s old black hoodie (the one with the singed sleeve from when he accidentally set your kitchen towel on fire) and sleep shorts, hair messy from running your hands through it all evening. bakugo sits on the floor against your bedframe, knees up, arms draped over them, glaring at nothing. he showed up twenty minutes ago without knocking—usual for him—and you’ve been ranting ever since.

“i’m serious, katsu. every single guy is a fucking idiot. the last one spent the whole date talking about his quirk like it was a personality. then he tried to ‘casually’ grab my thigh like i owed him something. i swear i’m cursed.”

bakugo’s jaw ticks. he’s been silent for the last five minutes, just listening, red eyes narrowed.

“they’re all extras,” he finally mutters. voice low. rough. “don’t know shit about treating someone right.”

you laugh—short, bitter.

“maybe. but it’s exhausting. i just want someone who’s… strong. reliable. someone who doesn’t make me feel like i’m settling for scraps.”

he’s quiet. too quiet.

then he stands. sudden. towers over you.

you blink up at him.

“katsu?”

he grabs the edge of the bed. leans down. face inches from yours. red eyes burning.

“you’re a damn idiot.”

you open your mouth to snap back—but he cuts you off.

“you’re crying about idiots when i’m right fucking here.”

your heart stutters.

“what?”

he doesn’t back away. voice drops lower. rougher.

“you think i hang around because i got nothing better to do? i’m here every damn day. i cook for you when you’re too lazy. i listen to your bullshit rants. i’m the one who’s always got your back. and you’re out there wasting time on losers who can’t even look at you right.”

your breath catches.

“katsuki—”

“shut up.”

he grabs your face with both hands—rough but careful. kisses you hard. desperate. like he’s been holding it in for years.

you kiss him back. hungry. hands fisting his shirt. pulling him closer.

he groans into your mouth. tongue sweeping in. claiming.

when he pulls back he’s breathing hard. eyes wild.

“tell me to stop,” he rasps. “tell me and i’ll go.”

you shake your head. fast.

“don’t you dare.”

that’s all he needs.

he yanks your hoodie over your head. tosses it. stares at your bare chest like he’s starving.

“fuck,” he breathes. “been thinking about this too long.”

mouth on your neck. sucking marks. hands sliding down. shoving your shorts off.

you’re soaked. dripping.

he growls against your skin.

“always ready for me, huh?”

“only for you,” you gasp.

he flips you onto your back. spreads your thighs. shoves his sweats down. cock hard, thick, leaking.

lines up.

pushes in. hard. deep.

you cry out. back arching.

he’s big. stretches you wide. fills you completely.

“fuck—tight,” he hisses. hands gripping your hips. “so fuckin’ perfect.”

starts moving. rough. fast. hips snapping forward. bed creaking.

every thrust punches the air from your lungs.

“katsuki—oh god—”

“say my name,” he growls. “louder. let the whole dorm hear who’s fuckin’ you right.”

“katsuki—katsuki—fuck—”

he leans down. kisses you messy. desperate. swallowing your moans.

one hand pins your wrist above your head. the other grips your hip. holding you in place.

“i’m gonna treat you better than any of those idiots ever could,” he pants against your ear. voice rough. possessive. “no more settling. no more bullshit. just me. you hear that?”

you nod frantically. thighs trembling.

“yes—yes—katsuki—”

he thrusts deeper. harder. hits that spot that makes your vision white.

“gonna make you come so hard you forget every loser who ever touched you,” he growls. “gonna ruin you for everyone else. you’re mine now. say it.”

“yours,” you gasp. “only yours—katsuki—please—”

“good girl,” he mutters. voice cracking with something raw. “so fuckin’ good for me. always knew you’d take me like this. so tight. so wet. all for me.”

you’re shaking. close. embarrassingly close.

“gonna come—katsuki—”

“do it,” he orders. “come on my cock. squeeze me. show me you’re mine.”

you shatter.

screaming his name. walls clamping down. pulsing. milking him.

he swears. thrusts erratic.

“fuck—gonna—”

“inside,” you beg. “please—inside—”

he buries deep. groans long and low. comes hard—hot, thick spurts flooding you.

grinds through it. pushing every drop deeper.

“take it,” he pants. “take all of it. gonna fill you up. make sure you feel me tomorrow. no more idiots. just me treating you right.”

when he finally stills he collapses over you. careful not to crush. face buried in your neck.

you hold him. fingers in his hair. legs still wrapped around him.

he kisses your throat. your jaw. your lips.

soft. slow.

“mine now,” he mutters. voice wrecked. possessive. “no more dates with extras. no more wasting time. you got me. and i’m not going anywhere.”

you turn your head. kiss his jaw.

“just you.”

he pulls out slow. watches his cum drip from you. groans quietly.

rolls you both. pulls you against his chest. arms tight around you.

“stay,” he says. not a question.

you nuzzle into him. smile against his skin.

“always.”

he kisses your forehead.

“good.”

the dorm is quiet again.

rain taps the window.

and for once

he doesn’t leave. ♡

[lovelyruins]

backstage pass ‧₊˚♪˚⊹

rockstar!geto x fem reader

warnings: 18+ mdni, situationship, smut,creampie

⠀۪　⊹︵︵︵ ♪ ︵︵︵ ⊹ ⠀۪

you’re not his girlfriend.

you’re not even sure you’re his friend.

you’re the girl who shows up to every show within a three-hour drive, stands in the same spot near the barricade every time, and somehow always ends up backstage when the lights go down. no label. no promises. just a text from an unknown number the morning after each gig: “you coming tonight?” and your reply: “wouldn’t miss it.”

tonight is no different.

the encore ends with geto’s guitar screaming feedback into the mic, his voice raw and commanding as he yells “goodnight” like he’s daring the crowd to forget him. the arena erupts. you’re already moving—security knows your face by now. they don’t even ask for the pass anymore; they just nod and open the door.

backstage smells like sweat, spilled beer, and the faint chemical bite of dry ice. the greenroom door is cracked. music still thumps from the house speakers outside—some remix of their last single.

you push it open.

he’s alone.

long black hair loose and damp, clinging to his neck. black tank soaked through, silver rings catching the low light as he wipes his face with a towel. he looks up when you enter. violet eyes lock on you immediately. that slow, lazy smile curves his lips—the one that says he knew you’d come.

“hey,” you say. voice quieter than you mean it to be.

he tosses the towel aside. stands. crosses the room without hurry.

“hey,” he echoes. stops close enough that you feel the heat rolling off him. “you were loud tonight.”

you blink. “i didn’t scream once.”

“exactly.” his hand lifts. knuckles brush your jaw. “you just stared. like you were trying to memorize me.”

your breath catches. he notices.

“maybe i was.”

his thumb traces your bottom lip. slow. deliberate.

“then come here and get a closer look.”

he kisses you like he’s been waiting for it all set.

not soft. not careful. tongue sweeping in, tasting like salt and adrenaline and the cherry-red energy drink he always has before the last song. one hand fists in your hair, tilting your head. the other slides down your side, fingers digging into your hip under the hem of your dress.

you moan—small, involuntary.

he pulls back just enough to speak against your mouth.

“been thinking about this since the first chord.”

you don’t answer. just kiss him harder. hands sliding under his tank, nails dragging over sweat-slick skin.

he walks you backwards until your thighs hit the arm of the velvet couch. pushes you down gently but firmly. drops to his knees between your legs.

your dress rides up on its own. he doesn’t push it higher—just hooks two fingers in the lace of your panties and yanks them aside.

“fuck,” he breathes, staring at how wet you are. “this all from watching me?”

you nod. cheeks burning.

“words, baby.”

“yes,” you whisper. “all from you.”

he groans—low, pleased—then leans in.

tongue flat. long, slow lick from entrance to clit.

you cry out. hands flying to his hair.

he eats you like he’s performing for an audience of one. tongue circling, dipping inside, sucking your clit until your thighs shake. two long fingers slide in beside his tongue—curling, stroking that spot that makes your vision blur.

“s-suguru—”

he pulls back just enough to look up. lips shiny. eyes dark.

“say it again.”

“suguru—”

he dives back in. faster. hungrier.

you come hard—back arching, thighs clamping around his head, crying his name like it’s the only word you remember.

he doesn’t stop. works you through it until you’re whimpering, oversensitive, trying to push his head away.

only then does he stand.

wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

looks down at you like you’re his favorite vice.

“turn around,” he says. voice wrecked. “ass up.”

you scramble to obey. knees on the couch, hands gripping the backrest, dress bunched around your waist.

he steps behind you. zipper down. cock freed—heavy, thick, flushed dark at the tip.

he rubs the head through your folds once. coats himself in your slick.

then thrusts in.

deep.

hard.

you scream—muffled against the velvet.

he’s big. stretches you wide. fills you completely. the head kisses your cervix on the first stroke.

“fuck—still so tight,” he hisses. hands gripping your hips. “like you were waiting for me.”

he starts moving.

slow at first—long drags out, then snapping back in. every thrust makes your body jolt forward. your breasts bounce under the thin dress. the couch creaks.

then faster.

harder.

the slap of skin on skin fills the room. louder than the muffled crowd still lingering outside.

one hand slides up your spine. fists in your hair. pulls your head back just enough to arch you deeper.

“tell me who you belong to tonight,” he growls against your ear.

“you,” you gasp. “you—suguru—”

“louder.”

“you! fuck—only you!”

he rewards you with a particularly deep thrust that makes your eyes roll back.

his other hand slips around to your clit. rubs fast, rough circles.

“come again,” he orders. “come on my cock while the whole arena is still screaming my name. let them know who i’m fucking backstage.”

the thought alone tips you over.

you come screaming—walls clamping down, pulsing, milking him.

he swears. thrusts erratic now. chasing.

“gonna fill you up,” he pants. “gonna mark this pussy so every time you walk out of here you feel me leaking out of you.”

one more brutal snap.

he comes with a low groan—hot, thick spurts flooding you, so much it spills out around him.

he grinds through it. pushing deeper. making sure every drop stays inside.

when he finally stills, he doesn’t pull out right away.

leans over you. chest to your back. kisses the sweat-damp skin between your shoulder blades.

“good girl,” he whispers. voice softer now. “took me so well.”

you’re shaking. boneless. smiling against the couch.

he pulls out slow. watches the way his cum drips from you. groans quietly.

then he’s turning you over. sitting on the couch. pulling you into his lap.

wraps his arms around you. lets you hide your face in his neck while your breathing evens out.

his fingers trace lazy patterns on your back.

“stay,” he murmurs against your hair. not a question. but not quite a demand either.

you hesitate—just for a second.

this is the part where things get blurry.

you’re not his girlfriend. you’re not even sure you’re exclusive.

but you’re here. in his lap. full of him. marked by him.

and he’s holding you like he doesn’t want you to leave.

you nod.

“yeah.”

he smiles—small, real—kisses your temple.

“good.”

the neon from the hallway leaks under the door.

the crowd outside is finally quieting.

inside, it’s just the two of you.

sweaty.

tangled.

not quite defined.

but for tonight—

for right now—

it’s enough.

he kisses your shoulder. soft.

“round two in the hotel?” he asks, voice low. teasing. but there’s something hopeful under it.

you laugh—breathless.

“only if you promise not to write a song about me.”

he smirks against your skin.

“too late.”

you pull back just enough to look at him.

his eyes are soft. unguarded. for once.

“then make it a good one.”

he kisses you again—slow this time. lingering.

“already is.”

the door stays closed.

the night stretches on.

and whatever this is—

situationship, habit, addiction—

it keeps burning. ♡

[lovelyruins]

pro hero privileges ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

prohero!katsuki x fem reader

synopsis: you accidentaly call your boyfriend by his hero name while fucking

warnings: 18+mdni, smut, dirty talk, slight degradation, established relationship

pt. 2 here

the apartment is dark when katsuki gets home at 11:23 p.m., only the soft glow from the streetlights sneaking through the blinds.

he kicks the door shut harder than necessary—still wired from patrol, gauntlets left at the agency, mask stuffed in his pocket, black compression shirt soaked with sweat and clinging to every hard line of muscle. he smells like smoke, concrete, and the sharp bite of his explosions.

you’re on the couch, legs tucked under you, scrolling on your phone in one of his old hoodies that swallows you whole. you look up when he enters, eyes lighting up in that quiet way that always makes something in his chest loosen.

“hey,” you say softly. “long night?”

he grunts. drops his keys on the counter. stalks over.

“too fuckin’ long.”

he doesn’t sit. just looms over you for a second, then grabs your ankles, yanks you flat on your back across the couch cushions. the hoodie rides up your thighs. he settles between your legs, knees sinking into the cushions, caging you in.

his mouth crashes into yours. hungry. desperate. teeth and tongue and the faint taste of mint gum he chews after fights.

you moan into it. hands flying to his shoulders, nails digging through the damp fabric.

he breaks the kiss only to rip the hoodie over your head, toss it somewhere behind him. then his mouth is on your neck—sucking, biting, leaving marks no one else will see under your clothes tomorrow.

“been thinkin’ about this all night,” he growls against your collarbone. “fuckin’ villains, fuckin’ reporters—couldn’t stop picturing you like this.”

his hand slides down, under your shorts, fingers finding you already soaked.

“shit,” he hisses. “ready for me before i even got home?”

you nod, breathless. “couldn’t help it… kept thinking about you too.”

he groans. shoves your shorts and panties down in one rough tug. frees himself—thick, hard, flushed dark at the tip.

he doesn’t bother with teasing tonight.

lines up. pushes in with one deep, hard thrust.

you cry out. back arching off the cushions.

he starts moving immediately—fast, rough, hips snapping forward like he’s trying to fuck the entire patrol out of his system.

the couch creaks under you. your legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into his lower back.

“katsuki—” you gasp, voice high and needy.

he smirks down at you, red eyes dark with want. kisses you hard again, swallowing every little sound.

another thrust. deeper. harder.

your head falls back against the armrest. eyes fluttering shut.

“f-fuck—dynamight—”

the name slips out. soft. breathy. completely unintentional.

he freezes mid-thrust.

you freeze too.

the living room is suddenly very quiet except for your shared heavy breathing.

then he laughs—low, rough, dangerous. the sound vibrates through you.

“the hell did you just call me?” voice wrecked. amused. so turned on it’s almost painful.

your face burns. you try to hide it against his shoulder.

“i—i didn’t mean—”

“bullshit,” he cuts you off, rolling his hips forward slow, deliberate, making you feel every inch. “say it again.”

you whimper. thighs trembling.

he grips your jaw. gentle but firm. tilts your face up so you have to look at him.

“say it,” he repeats. “say my hero name while i’m fuckin’ you stupid on our couch.”

your walls flutter around him. hard.

you swallow. voice shaking.

“dynamight…”

he growls—real, feral—and starts moving again.

harder. faster. brutal.

the couch rocks with every snap of his hips. cushions sliding under you.

“louder,” he demands. “let the neighbors hear who owns this pussy.”

“dynamight—fuck—dynamight—!”

every time the name leaves your lips he drives in deeper. hits that spot that makes stars burst behind your eyes.

his hand slips between you. thumb on your clit. rubbing fast. rough.

“come on,” he pants against your ear. “come screaming for dynamight. come all over my cock like a good fuckin’ fan.”

you shatter.

hard.

crying out “dynamight!” as your orgasm crashes through you. walls pulsing. legs shaking. clinging to him like he’s your lifeline.

he follows right after—few more punishing thrusts, then burying himself deep with a guttural groan. spilling hot and thick inside you.

for a long moment you just lie there. panting. tangled. the couch cushions a mess beneath you.

he kisses your temple. soft. almost sweet.

then, smug as hell against your ear:

“next time you call me that, i’m fuckin’ you in the hero suit. mask and all.”

you laugh—breathless, flushed, happy.

he smirks.

pulls you closer.

the night’s still young.

and dynamight’s definitely not done with you yet. ♡

[lovelyruins]

after the bell ࣪ ˖ ๋ ࣭ ⭑

boxer!katsuki x fem reader

warnings: 18+ mdni, post fight smut, blood/bruises mention, creampie

wc: 0,8k words

the roar of the crowd still echoes in his ears even after the last bell.

katsuki stumbles into the locker room, gloves half-unlaced, tape peeling off his knuckles, sweat dripping from his jaw like he just walked out of a storm. his left eye is already swelling, a nasty purple bloom starting under the skin, but he won. again. another knockout in the third round. the belt is heavier on his shoulder than it was last month.

he doesn’t even bother turning on the main lights. just the dim row of fluorescents above the benches. the place smells like leather, liniment, old sweat and victory.

you’re already there—waiting like always. leaning against the lockers in one of his old hoodies that swallows you whole, legs crossed, phone forgotten in your lap. the second he sees you, something in his shoulders loosens. just a fraction.

“tch. took you long enough to show up,” he grunts, but his voice is rougher than usual. wrecked from shouting, from getting hit, from wanting you.

you stand up slow. walk toward him like you’re approaching a wild animal. maybe you are.

“you look like shit,” you say, soft smile tugging at your lips.

“yeah? feel like a king.” he smirks, bloody lip splitting open again. doesn’t even flinch.

you reach him. fingers gentle on his jaw, turning his face to check the damage. he lets you. only you.

“you’re bleeding,” you murmur.

“good.” his hands find your hips, pull you flush against him. still hot. still wired. “means i fought hard.”

you roll your eyes but your breath catches when you feel how hard he is already—adrenaline, pain, victory, all of it pouring straight between his legs.

“katsuki—”

“shut up.” he kisses you like he’s still in the ring. hungry. bruising. teeth clashing, tongue claiming. one hand fists the back of your hoodie (his hoodie), the other slides under it, rough palm dragging up your spine.

you moan into his mouth. he swallows it.

he walks you backwards until your back hits the lockers—cold metal against your shoulder blades. you gasp. he takes advantage, mouth on your neck, sucking hard enough to leave tomorrow’s bruises.

“fuck—needed this,” he growls against your skin. “needed you. whole damn fight kept thinking about coming back here and burying myself in you.”

your fingers dig into his shoulders. the muscles there are rock-hard, trembling from exhaustion and want.

“then do it,” you whisper. “take what you want, champ.”

that’s all it takes.

he yanks your leggings down in one rough pull—underwear going with them. doesn’t even bother taking off his shorts all the way. just shoves them down enough. his cock springs free, thick, flushed, already leaking at the tip.

no preamble. no teasing tonight.

he lifts one of your legs, hooks it over his hip. lines himself up. one hard, deep thrust and he’s inside you.

you both groan—loud, broken, obscene.

“shit—tight,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “always so fuckin’ perfect for me.”

he doesn’t give you time to adjust. starts moving. hard. fast. punishing rhythm like he’s trying to fuck the adrenaline out of his system and into you.

the lockers rattle behind you with every snap of his hips. your nails rake down his back—over fresh welts from the fight. he likes it. growls low in his throat.

“tell me,” he demands, voice wrecked. “tell me who you belong to.”

“you,” you gasp. “only you—katsuki—”

“louder.”

“you! fuck—only you!”

he rewards you with a particularly deep thrust that hits that spot inside you that makes your vision white out. your head falls back against the metal. he chases it again. and again.

one hand grips your thigh hard enough to bruise. the other slides between you—calloused thumb finding your clit, rubbing rough circles.

“come on,” he pants against your ear. “come while i’m still inside you. wanna feel it. wanna feel you milk me dry.”

you’re close. embarrassingly close. the mix of pain on his face, the way he’s looking at you—like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded—the raw need in every grunt, every slap of skin—

you shatter.

hard.

legs shaking, back arching, crying his name like a prayer.

he follows right after—few more erratic thrusts, then he’s burying himself to the hilt, coming with a choked groan, spilling hot and deep inside you.

for a long second neither of you move. just breathing. panting. hearts hammering against each other.

he doesn’t pull out yet. just rests his forehead against yours. eyes closed.

“fuckin’ love you,” he mutters. so quiet you almost miss it.

you smile. kiss the corner of his busted mouth. careful.

“love you too, champ.”

he snorts softly. finally eases out slow. winces when he sees the mess dripping down your thigh.

“shower,” he grunts. “then bed. you’re staying.”

“wasn’t planning on leaving.”

he looks at you—really looks. bruised eye, split lip, sweat-soaked hair. and something soft flickers in his red eyes.

“good.”

he takes your hand. laces your fingers. leads you toward the showers like you’re the prize he just won.

and maybe you are ♡

[lovelyruins]

door’s open, baby ㅤ𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡

plug!choso x fem reader

warnings: soft smut at the end, soft dom cho, weed, mostly emotional

wc: 1.6k words

it’s past two when you finally show up.

rain taps soft against the glass like it’s trying not to wake anyone. the streetlights outside turn the wet pavement into long streaks of orange and gold, and the whole city feels like it’s holding its breath.

you don’t knock. you never do anymore.

the door gives under your palm, unlocked, waiting. inside it’s warmer than it has any right to be in the middle of winter. the radiator clicks once, then settles. vanilla candle is already burning low on the dresser—half melted, wick barely hanging on. he lit it hours ago probably, when he was still pretending he wasn’t waiting.

choso is on the floor tonight.

back against the bed frame, knees bent, one arm draped lazy over the top of his head. oversized black hoodie swallowing him whole. hair down, falling into his eyes, too long now but he hasn’t bothered to tie it. the ashtray next to him has two roaches already. he’s been here a while.

there’s an old portable speaker on the nightstand playing something lo-fi and slow—chilled piano, soft static, the kind of beat that makes time feel optional. volume so low it’s more texture than music.

you close the door behind you. the click feels louder than it should.

he doesn’t look up right away.

just exhales slow, smoke curling up toward the ceiling like it’s tired too.

“thought you weren’t coming,” he says finally. voice rough. quiet. like he’s been saving it.

“i almost didn’t.”

you mean it.

tonight felt heavier than usual. the kind of heavy that sits behind your ribs and makes every step feel like wading through water. but then your phone lit up with his text—just three words: door’s open baby—and something in your chest cracked open enough to let air in.

you kick off your sneakers, peel off your damp jacket, drop everything by the door. pad over in socks. the floor is cold. you don’t care.

when you reach him you don’t sit on the bed. you slide down next to him on the floor instead. shoulder to shoulder. thigh pressed to his. close enough that you can feel the warmth coming off him through the hoodie.

he doesn’t say anything for a long time.

just reaches for the half-gone joint, relights it with that old zippo—clink, flame, inhale. holds it deep. passes it without looking.

you take it. fingers brush his. they’re cold. always are at first.

you pull slow. let the smoke sit heavy in your lungs. it tastes like earth and faint watermelon and him. when you exhale it drifts between you like a shared secret.

“bad night?” he asks after the second pass.

you shrug. “just… loud. inside my head. you know.”

he nods. he does know.

“mine too,” he admits. quieter than you expected.

that makes you look at him. really look.

there’s something soft and bruised under his eyes tonight. the way he’s sitting—knees up, arms loose, staring at nothing—feels like he’s carrying more than just the weight of the week. like maybe he’s remembering things he usually keeps locked behind his ribcage.

you pass the joint back. your fingers linger this time.

“wanna talk about it?” you ask.

he shakes his head once. small.

“not really.”

a pause.

“but… i’m glad you’re here.”

the words land soft.

they don’t try to be big or dramatic. they just sit there between you, honest and a little cracked open.

you lean your head back against the mattress. stare at the ceiling. there’s a water stain in the corner that’s been there since you first started coming over. you’ve watched it grow and fade and grow again over months. it feels like a friend now.

“remember the first time i came here?” you murmur.

he huffs a tiny laugh through his nose. “yeah. you were so nervous you kept your jacket on the whole time.”

“i thought you were gonna rob me or something.”

“i was literally rolling a joint in my underwear.”

you both laugh—quiet, breathy, the kind that happens when it’s too late for real volume.

the rain picks up a little. taps harder. like it’s trying to get in.

he stubs the joint out carefully. sets the ashtray aside. then he turns his body toward you. slow. like he’s asking permission with every inch.

you mirror him. knees touching now. faces close.

his hand finds the side of your neck. thumb brushes your jaw. cool skin against warm.

“i keep thinking,” he says, voice barely above the rain, “that one day you’re gonna stop coming back.”

your heart does something painful and sweet at the same time.

“why would i?”

he shrugs. small. almost shy.

“dunno. people leave.”

you swallow. the words feel too big for the room.

“i’m not people,” you whisper.

his eyes flick down to your mouth. back up. something soft and aching passes over his face.

then he kisses you.

not hungry. not desperate.

just… slow. like he’s trying to memorize the shape of your mouth in case this is the last time. lips soft. a little chapped from winter. he tastes like smoke and the inside of a rainy night and the kind of longing that doesn’t need words.

you kiss him back the same way.

hands finding the front of his hoodie. fingers curling into soft fabric. pulling him closer until there’s no space left for doubt.

when you break apart your foreheads rest together. breathing the same air.

“stay,” he says. not a question.

you nod against him.

he pulls you into his lap after that. gentle. you curl up against his chest, legs tangled, his arms around you like he’s trying to keep the cold out. the rain keeps falling. the candle flickers. the lo-fi track loops back to the beginning.

you don’t talk much after that.

you don’t need to.

his hand moves slow up and down your back. under the hoodie. skin on skin. warm now. steady.

every once in a while he presses his lips to your temple. soft. absent. like he can’t help it.

you shift a little. just enough so you’re straddling him properly. thighs on either side of his hips. his hands settle low on your waist. thumbs brushing the skin above your waistband.

he looks up at you. eyes dark. soft. full of something that makes your chest ache.

“can i?” he whispers. fingers pausing at the button of your jeans.

you nod. lean down to kiss him again while he works them open. slow. careful. like he’s unwrapping something fragile.

when he finally gets them down far enough he slips a hand between you. palm flat against your stomach first. then lower. fingers finding the damp cotton. he exhales shaky against your mouth.

“always so ready for me,” he murmurs. not cocky. just… awed. like he still can’t believe it. his thumb brushes your clit once, feather-light, testing. you gasp softly, hips twitching forward.

“yeah?” he breathes, voice low and rough. “you like that?”

you nod against his lips. “mhm… please.”

he smiles tiny against your mouth. barely there. then his fingers move again—two sliding in slow, stretching you open with careful pressure. he curls them just right, the pads dragging against that spot inside that makes your thighs tremble.

“fuck,” he whispers when he feels how tight you clench around him. “so warm… so wet for me.”

you hide your face in the crook of his neck, breathing uneven, small whimpers muffled against his skin.

“choso…” your voice comes out shaky.

“i know, baby,” he soothes, kissing the shell of your ear. “i’ve got you. just feel it.”

he keeps the rhythm slow, deep, deliberate. thumb circling your clit in lazy, perfect loops. every time you rock down onto his hand he lets out a soft groan, like he’s feeling it too.

“you’re so pretty like this,” he murmurs. “all soft and open for me. let me hear you… please.”

you bite your lip, trying to stay quiet, but another curl of his fingers pulls a broken moan from your throat.

“there it is,” he says, voice thick with something tender. “good girl… let me take care of you.”

the pressure builds slow and sweet, waves rolling through you, never sharp or frantic. he feels when you’re close—your thighs shaking, your breath hitching—and he presses his thumb down just a fraction firmer, circles tighter.

“come for me,” he whispers against your temple. “wanna feel you come on my fingers. please, baby.”

you shatter quiet. trembling. your whole body tightening around his hand, soft cries muffled into his neck. he works you through every aftershock, fingers slowing but never stopping until you’re boneless, whining softly from overstimulation.

only then does he ease out, careful, gentle. wipes his hand on the hem of his hoodie like it’s nothing. then both arms wrap around you again. pulls you flush against his chest. tucks your head under his chin.

you stay like that. tangled. breathing together. rain still falling outside. candle almost gone.

he kisses the top of your head. once. twice.

“love you,” he says. so quiet you almost miss it.

you feel it more than hear it. the way his arms tighten. the way his heart beats a little faster under your cheek.

you press your lips to the side of his neck. soft. lingering.

“love you too.”

the rain keeps going.

the night keeps stretching.

and for once

neither of you is in a hurry for it to end ♡