⋆˚࿔. bubble baths with sukii (*/▽＼*)⋆˚࿔
"Told ya we'd make a fuckin' mess." But that didn’t matter, in fact Katsuki could give a fuck less about the ocean replicated on the floor, nor the half drained tub right now, not when he was so close
tw: suki is a little mean I guess, size kink, somnophilia—maybe? (readers falling asleep), rough sex, tub sex, consent is a blur, sloppy smut but who cares (1.9k)
A/N: linked the inspo pics since the pinterest is STILL broken (seriously at this point its been weeks and im going craZ) but enjoy!!!
You've been at this for weeks—maybe months—convincing him to take a bubble bath together, just once. Was that really too much to ask for?
Since the remodel, you've savored every inch of the villa perched along the coastline of Okayama. The exterior was a masterpiece on its own, but the inside—cream abstract walls softened by tall monsteras, the smell of salt and sandalwood lingering in the air. Those massive tinted windows frame the horizon where the sea meets the city, waves smashing themselves against the cliffs, lights from the tall buildings flickering like dying stars.
You've claimed every corner of it too—back still aching from bumping against the polished granite countertop, faint crescent-shaped tears mark the armrest of the ivory leather couch you insisted on getting. So sure, your presence was undeniable, still—still something was missing.
Well, the entire bathroom was practically a world of its own. Dark, decadent, drenched in the kind of opulence that felt sinful. Black marble stretched across every surface, endless veins of gold and ivory slicing through like lightning trapped in stone.
But specifically the tub—carved in the center like a monument, elevated on a trio of wide curved steps of glossy marble, like a god to be worshipped in all its glory—continued day by day unused.
And while yes, the two of you showered together pleeenty of times, a bath just wasn't in Katsuki's interest.
You'd fantasized about it several times—the jet streamers, the heat, the weightlessness of it all. Technically, you could do it alone, but that's no fun! You've whined. Cmon join me! You've pleaded.
"Why the fuck would I wanna soak in my own filth?" he shot at you once almost disgusted, infamous scowl etched into his face.
He wasn't totally opposed to the idea, He just thinks it's gross after a while; the water gets everywhere, and the last thing he needed was one of you slipping and busting your skull open on the floor he paid too damn much for.
But today—today, after a band of villains decided to test him, promptly wearing his ass out from dusk to noon, he caved. Body too tired, too sore, too worn to even argue.
So fine. Just this one fuckin' time, he'd soak with you.
And you were ecstatic, could barely contain yourself pouring in the epsom salt—almost dropping the whole bag in the process—watching tiny shards glitter before dissolving into nothing. Then came the bath bombs, tossing in one after the other, fizzing as they disintegrated and bled out colors until the water shimmered like liquid opal.
You stepped back to admire your craft, lips pursed in a small unsatisfied pout, mind searching for what was wrong in this picture.
Just a squirt from the half-empty soap bottle formed soft frothy peaks that climbed toward the ceiling, sharp salt fading against deep lavender and eucalyptus.
The air was thick with steam, fragrance clinging to the tile until it felt like breathing in silk. Katsuki stood there, arms crossed, rubies narrowed into silts, watching the foam rise higher and higher, ready to bitch about the mess you've made.
Yet he didn't—he couldn't bring himself to, not when you looked so adorable doing something so simple as running a bath, prancing around the big bathroom just to make sure it's perfect for him—it may have warmed the Grinch's heart just a smudge.
So with an obnoxious sigh and a couple grumbles on how this is a one-time thing, he slipped off his grey sweats, toe doing a cautionary poke before descending into the clouds of fluff and steam.
It was the heat that hit him first—almost instantly numbing the aches and pains that plagued his muscles the further he sank, shoulders slacked with a low moan, eyes half-lidded as it crawled up his spine.
He was pretty sure he just willingly sedated himself.
He looked sooo fucking pretty too—sprawled out, pecs rising softly while dew drops collected in the crevices, palms gripping the edge like he'd sink if he let go, head fallen against the rim, eyes so far up the back of his skull. It couldn't get much better than this, he thought so carelessly.
"Look who's enjoying his bath~"
Lazy crimson peer through wet lashes, drifting to a baby pink satin robe with matching pin curl rolls that framed your head. Manicured fingers slid along the pits of your waist, sly smile creeping across your face as if you caught him in a shameful act rather than a lax state.
"Yeaa—just shut up 'n get in here." He tried offering a thick arm to balance your steps—halfheartedly trying to be a gentleman through hazy relaxation—but could barely lift it an inch off the rim.
Still, you gracefully took his feeble gesture, slotting perfectly against him—your own head falling back against his chest, body carressed by warm ripples, stresses you didn't even knew you carried floating away.
Oils seeped into the nooks and crannies of sore biceps, sliding down in slow ribbons. The scent of lavender, faint and dizzying, swam through the haze until even thoughts felt syrupy-slow.
He couldn't fuck you—not yet, anyway. It all felt too good, too heavy, like his body drunk on whatever concoction you brewed, the way your skin stuck to his under the water. His muscles refused to move, settling to play with a damp strand of hair clinging to your neck, watching it curl and stick beneath his fingers.
It was an accident, honest! Hand coming down a little too hard reaching for more soap—was the weak ass excuse you could think of.
But no, no sweetheart, that ship already sank, this was war.
A wall of water drenched your face, dripped from your nose, from your lashes, your perfectly rolled curls.
Katsuki doesn't budge, taunting. Lopsided smile begging--waiting for retaliation, because he knew you have it in you, he knew with the right amount of spark you'd lit. So after wiping one eye, Katsuki was met with the same, sudsy water dripping from his mouth.
The two of you went at it, taking turns—at some point just tossing water in the other direction—blocking attacks and special moves, hair now fallen completely out of the rollers, strands glued to your plump cheeks as conjoined laughter bounced off polished tiles.
Despite a long reckless war; it ended in a peace treaty, daintily pulled into beefy arms, lips mashed together, sliding on spit. Traces of spearmint flood your senses while his rough tongue runs over yours sloppily, small hands stabled on broad shoulders and shaky thighs on either side of his waist.
"Ya already look so tired, baby." He chuckled, deep gravely voice an echo-y hum to your ears, long transparent string connecting glossy lips. But of course your oh-so defiant self never wanting the fun to end, even if you had to go toe to toe with tiredness, you didn't—couldn't let the moment end.
"Still wan' you suki.." it came out quite barely heard above the dripping faucet. It was cute, he thought, adorable even, merely lucid but still needy. "Wan' it so bad suki—want youu—"
Fuck, well he couldn't deny that. He couldn't deny such a pretty face, heavy eyelids trying to stay awake—fighting to. Surge of guilt ran through his mind, he knows he's been an ass about this whole bath bullshit and yet it was the most fun he's had in a while. He'll make it up to you, he figures—his sleepy baby, body so pliable and limp like a ragdoll.
And he treated you as such, propping your body up on the edge, one hand holding you steady as pulls himself up onto his knees, lazily pumping his glistening cock a few times before attempting to plunge into your cunt, your eyes flying open so quickly, sleepiness momentarily forgotten.
Girth bullies its way past your tight slit, rose tinted tip kissing your cervix—growling as he does so. Ashen spikes tip back involuntarily, his thick neck flexes, showcasing his adam's apple, fingers now dug into the side of your hip.
The sting alone had a gasp ripping its way up your throat before setting down to a sharp hiss. You force a couple of hard blinks, fog cut through instantly.
Because a second ago you were between broad knees and calves—you're pretty sure you weren't being speared in half by cock, dangling off the smooth rim.
But it was fine—this was fine. Cause it felt so good, right? So full, too full—you'd say if you had half a mind right now.
He starts off slow-ish, his cock dragging over that sensitive spot deep within, soft fucking little mewls and whimpers out of you, greedy pussy trying to suck him in deeper somehow.
Rough nails sink into plushy mounds of your hips, working them back towards sharp hips such as you were a mere toy, a fleshlight, made perfectly to jerk off his cock. "Yea—yea, keep squeezin'—keep fucking squeezin' me baby"
A slew guttural groans huffed out from his teeth caught between his lips while he bounced you on his cock, rubies trained on the way your ass ripples bumping brawny hips. Large palm cracking on tender flesh and gripping the fat for leverage, planting his foot beside you to get a better deeper angle. Sharp strands of ashen clinging to his forehead, sticky from steam and sweat, breath ragged as his fat cock drives deeper into your gummy walls. Sweat creating a heavenly aroma, cinnamon and lavender swirling into a cloud of musk.
That sweet—sweeet pain swept across your tummy, through your shaky thighs only adding to pleasure circulating through your body, forcing out whiny moans from your throat as you lay limp against the cold porcelain—you’re practically dead weight at this point, limbs felt distant from your body, as if they weren't your own.
Final hard jab to your cervix had you gushing all over his cock, cunt squeaking so loud it put the sound to shame. Water sloshed over the rim, striking the tile in uneven sheets, spreading quickly into the grout lines like tiny rivers.
"Told ya we'd make a fuckin' mess." But that didn't matter, in fact Katsuki could give a fuck less about the ocean replicated on the floor, nor the half drained tub right now, not when he was so close, his thrust messy and uncoordinated, thighs dripping with your cum.
A few brain-mushing thrusts later and his hot cum filled every crevice of your pussy, a loooong breathy moan falling from his lips. nearly collapsing on top of you.
"Better keep all of it in, I don't wanna see one drop of cum in the water, understand?" You nodded or atleast you think you did, not even sure what your nodding to—everything so slow and languid it was hard to even think, vision blurred.
You tried fighting it—you always do—however it didn't matter, it was too powerful. Sleep claimed you like it claims you every night, following the delicate drift, heavy eyes finally coming to a close.
By late morning, the maid was already in full dramatics—groaning about "water damage" and "mold spores" like you'd flooded the entire villa—you swore she sighed louder than the waves outside.
Thankfully, a few extra bills slipped into her pockets did wonders. Complaining faded, replaced by the hum of the dryer and the faint echo of running water.
You don't really recall getting out. You must've at some point—judging by the puddle still clinging to the floor, sunlight cast on the slick marble. Soft rays spilled across dewy skin, lavender still wafting from your pores. The tub sat drained now, bubbles wilted into a thin gray film tracing the rim.
Nevertheless, the tub never stayed empty for long.
look who decided to show up
