Chapter Text
The penthouse was a sanctuary of quiet luxury, all dark wood, soft, ambient lighting, and floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the glittering sprawl of the city. But tonight, the view was forgotten. The massive, plush sectional swallowed you both, and the only light came from the enormous screen, casting flickering shadows across the room.
Katsuki Bakugou was sprawled next to you, one arm draped over the back of the couch, his gaze ostensibly on the film. It was some critically acclaimed, heart-wrenching romance, the kind you'd begged him to watch. He'd grumbled, of course, called it a "fuckin' waste of two hours," but he'd still ordered your favorite takeout and built a nest of blankets for you both.
His eyes, however, weren't on the screen. They were on you.
You were curled into his side, a cashmere throw pulled up to your chin. Your eyes were wide, glistening, reflecting the movie's final, tragic scene. The soundtrack swelled, a mournful piano piece, as the on-screen lovers were torn apart by fate. A single tear slipped from the corner of your eye, tracing a slow, shimmering path down your cheek. Then another. Your lower lip trembled.
Katsuki's chest tightened. The air in his lungs suddenly felt too thick. That familiar, perverse heat stirred low in his gut, a dark and selfish arousal that bloomed only when he saw you like this. So raw, so vulnerable, so utterly and devastatingly pretty.
Shit.
He watched, hypnotized, as you brought a hand up to wipe your face, a small, choked sob escaping your lips. The sound was a direct line to his cock. He could see it so vividly—your face contorted in a different kind of grief, tears spilling not from a movie, but from the overwhelming pleasure he'd wring from your body. The way your eyes would go glassy and unfocused, how your voice would crack and pitch into desperate, broken whines. A wave of heat washed over him, and his sweatpants suddenly felt far too restrictive.
The credits began to roll. You sniffled, dabbing at your eyes with the edge of the blanket. "That was… so sad," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.
He didn't respond. He just stared. The look in his eyes was intense, predatory, a stark contrast to the gentle melancholy of the movie's ending. It was a look of raw, unadulterated hunger. He was practically vibrating with it.
You finally noticed. You turned to him, your brow furrowed in confusion. "Katsuki? What… what's wrong?" His silence was unnerving. He was looking at you like he wanted to devour you, and not in a tender, romantic way. It was something far more feral. "Why are you staring at me like that?"
A slow, dangerous smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. It didn't reach his eyes, which remained dark and intense. He reached out, his thumb swiping a lingering tear from your cheek. He brought his thumb to his own lips and licked it clean, his eyes never leaving yours. The gesture was so shockingly intimate and possessive, it made your breath hitch.
"Y'know," he started, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that sent shivers down your spine. "I always forget how fuckin' pretty you are when you cry."
Your heart hammered against your ribs. "W-What?"
He shifted, turning his body to face you, his broad shoulders blocking the light from the TV. "Yeah. It's a real problem. Makes me wanna do all sorts'a nasty shit to ya." He said it so matter-of-factly, like he was discussing the weather.
"Katsuki, that's… that's weird," you mumbled, but the heat in your cheeks and the sudden, traitorous throb between your legs said otherwise.
He leaned in, his face inches from yours. You could feel the heat radiating off his skin, smell the faint, familiar scent of burnt sugar and nitro. "You like games, right?" His voice was a low murmur, the question loaded with something dark and thrilling. It wasn't a request. It was an invitation to something you didn't fully understand, but desperately wanted to accept.
"I… guess so?" you breathed.
"Let's play a game," he said, his smirk widening into a full-blown, wicked grin. "I'm gonna make you cry again. But this time, it's gonna be 'cause I'm makin' you feel so fuckin' good, you won't know what to do with yourself."
Your mind went blank. This was insane. But the promise in his eyes, the raw need in his voice… it was intoxicating. You could only manage a weak nod.
Without another word, he stood, scooping you up into his arms as if you weighed nothing. He carried you into the bedroom, the world tilting as he laid you out on the cool sheets. He wasted no time. Your clothes were gone in a flurry of frantic tugs and discarded fabric. He was a man possessed, his movements rough but controlled, his calloused hands sending jolts of electricity across your bare skin.
But he didn't just take you. That wasn't the game.
"So wet already," he rasped, his fingers sliding through your slick folds. "Just from talkin'? You're as depraved as I am, aren't ya?" He didn't wait for an answer. His mouth descended, and he ate you like a man starving. His tongue was relentless, lapping and swirling around your clit while two thick fingers pumped in and out of your cunt with a practiced rhythm. "Mhm—fuck," he groaned against your flesh, the vibrations sending shockwaves through you.
He brought you to the very edge time and time again. Your back arched off the bed, your fingers tangling in his ash-blond hair, pleas tumbling from your lips. And every time, just as you were about to shatter, he'd stop. He'd pull his fingers out, lift his mouth away, and just watch you squirm and whine.
"Ah—ah—Katsuki, please…" you begged, your voice already strained.
"No," he'd growl, a wicked glint in his eyes. "Not yet. Gotta earn it."
He did this for what felt like hours. He edged you with his fingers, his mouth, and a vibrator he pulled from the nightstand, driving you to the point of incoherent babbling. Your body was a live wire, humming with unfulfilled tension. Tears of frustration were already pricking at the corners of your eyes, and that's when you saw his cock twitch in his boxers. That's what he wanted.
Finally, when you were a whimpering, shaking mess, he deemed you ready. He sat back on his haunches, freeing his cock. It was thick, heavy, and leaking pre-cum. He stroked himself slowly, his crimson eyes raking over your trembling form.
"Look at you," he praised, his voice thick with lust. "So fuckin' desperate. So goddamn beautiful. Bet you want my cock now, don't ya?"
"Yes, please, Katsuki, I need it," you sobbed.
He chuckled, a dark, rumbling sound. "Then beg for it properly."
"Please, Katsuki, I'm begging you. Please fuck me. I'll do anything. Just please, I need your cock inside me," you pleaded, your voice cracking.
"Good girl," he purred. He positioned himself at your entrance, but he didn't push in. He just ran the thick, blunt head of his cock up and down your slick slit, tapping it against your clit. The sensation was maddening.
"Nngh—fuck, Katsuki!" you cried out.
"Shhh," he husked. "Just feel it." He did this for a full minute, torturing you with the promise of fullness. Then, with a single, agonizingly slow push, he entered you.
A long, guttural groan tore from his throat as he sheathed himself to the hilt. "Fuuuuck—you're tight," he grunted, his head falling back. "Nngh—goddamn—" You let out a shaky exhale, the feeling of being so completely filled finally offering a sliver of relief. But it was short-lived.
He began to move. It started slow, deep, deliberate thrusts that made you feel every inch of him. Then, he picked up the pace. His hips snapped against yours with a force that knocked the breath from your lungs. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with his low grunts and your sharp, breathy moans.
"Ah—ah—fuck, yes! Just like that!" you screamed, your nails digging into the sheets.
He leaned over you, his sweat-slicked chest pressing against yours. He kept up the relentless rhythm, his face buried in the crook of your neck. "Feel good, baby? Feel that fuckin' cock ruinin' your tight little cunt?" he growled into your ear, his breath hot. "Mmh—fuck, you feel so goddamn—"
"Yes! Fuck, Katsuki, it's so good!" you babbled, the pleasure building to a fever pitch.
That's when his hand snaked between your bodies. His fingers found your clit, slick and swollen, and he began to rub tight, fast circles over it. The dual sensation was overwhelming.
"Oh god—oh fuck—Katsuki, I'm—ah—I'm gonna—" you cried out, your voice high and strained.
His hips never faltered, but his fingers stilled their assault, applying a firm, steady pressure. "No," he commanded, his voice a harsh rasp against your ear. "Not yet. Hold it."
"I can't! Please, it's too much!" you sobbed, your body trembling violently.
He propped himself up on one arm, his crimson eyes boring into yours. "Yes, you fuckin' can. Hold it. Don't you dare cum until I tell you to." He resumed rubbing your clit, but with a lighter, more teasing touch, keeping you teetering on the very brink.
Tears were streaming down your face now, hot and unchecked. Your vision blurred. Your mind was a chaotic mess of pleasure and pain. "Please, Katsuki, I'm begging you! It's too much, I can't—I can't do it!" you wailed, your voice dissolving into broken sobs. "Fuck—fuck—nngh—god—"
He looked at your face—eyes squeezed shut, tears cutting tracks through the flush on your cheeks, your mouth open in a silent scream. The sight was so fucking beautiful, so perfectly, pathetically lewd, that a violent shudder wracked his entire body. His cock twitched hard inside you.
"Oh, fuck," he hissed, his own control fraying. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from blowing his load right then. He focused on the tight, wet heat of you, on the way your walls were fluttering around him, desperately trying to pull him deeper. He wasn't going to let go. Not yet.
He felt a rush of primal power. He had done this to you. He had taken you apart, piece by piece, until you were just a crying, pleading mess beneath him, and it was the most arousing thing he had ever experienced. He could feel himself get even harder, swelling inside you.
A dark, cruel chuckle escaped his lips. It was a sound of pure male satisfaction. "Look at you," he praised, his voice a low, admiring growl. "So fuckin' pretty when you cry over my cock. Like a goddamn masterpiece." He leaned down, and with a slow, deliberate motion, he licked a long, hot stripe up your cheek, tasting the salt of your tears.
"Mmm," he hummed, his eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment. "Tastes fuckin' perfect. My perfect little crier."
Your eyes flew open at his words, a fresh wave of sobs wracking your body. The degradation, the praise, the overwhelming sensation—it was all too much.
"Katsuki—" you choked out, your voice a mere whisper.
"Shhh, I know, baby, I know," he cooed, his voice a jarring contrast to the brutal pace of his hips. "You've been so good. So good for me." He pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes locked onto your tear-filled ones. "Now, be a good girl and fuckin' cum for me. Let go."
He slammed into you one final time, hitting that perfect spot deep inside, and his fingers resumed their frantic assault on your clit. The dam broke.
Your orgasm ripped through you with the force of a supernova. Your back bowed off the bed, a scream tearing from your throat. Your body convulsed, your vision whited out. You were completely lost to the sensation. And then, you felt a gush of wetness. It was more than just your climax. You squirted, a powerful jet of liquid that soaked his stomach, your thighs, and the sheets beneath you.
"Ah—ah—shit—" you gasped, the words barely coherent as the pleasure wracked your body.
"Holy fuuuuuck," Katsuki groaned, his eyes wide with awe and dark delight as he watched you soak him. "Nngh—fuck—" He let out another low, dark chuckle, his hips never stopping. "Look at that. Made a fuckin' mess, didn't ya? So fuckin' hot."
But he wasn't done. He could see you were overstimulated, your body shaking uncontrollably, your sobs now quiet, exhausted whimpers. Your eyes were half-lidded and unfocused. You were a wreck. A beautiful, crying, overstimulated, shaking mess. And he was going to use you until he was finished.
"Too much—Katsuki, it's too much—" you slurred, your words barely coherent.
"I know it is," he grunted, his thrusts becoming sloppy and frantic. "But I'm not done with you yet. You can take it. Be a good girl and take my cock."
He chased his own release now, the sight and feel of your ruined, trembling body driving him to the edge. Your walls were squeezing him like a vice, still fluttering with the aftershocks of your own powerful orgasm. The wet, obscene sounds of his cock moving through your slick, soaked pussy filled the room.
"Fuck—I'm gonna cum," he snarled, his pace becoming brutal, almost punishing. "Gonna fill this messy little cunt up. You want that, don't you? Want me to fuckin' pump you full?"
You could only nod, tears still leaking from your eyes, too far gone to even speak. "Mhm—please—" was all you managed, a broken, desperate sound.
"Say it," he demanded, his voice ragged.
"P-Please… fill me up, Katsuki," you managed to whisper, your voice trembling.
That was all he needed. With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside you. A roar tore from his chest, a guttural sound of pure, unadulterated ecstasy. "Nngh—fuck—fuck—" His body went rigid, his head thrown back, the veins in his neck straining. You felt the hot, thick ropes of his cum painting your insides, pulse after pulse, as he emptied himself completely into you.
He collapsed on top of you, his heavy weight a strangely comforting anchor. For a long moment, the only sound in the room was the ragged sound of both of you trying to catch your breath, your bodies slick with sweat and the evidence of your shared depravity. Your body still gave little, involuntary twitches.
"Fuck..." he breathed out, his voice hoarse and spent. "Fuck..."
After a while, he propped himself up, his crimson eyes, now soft with a post-orgasmic glow, scanning your face. Your eyes were red and puffy, your cheeks stained with dried tears. You were a mess. And you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He leaned down and pressed a surprisingly gentle kiss to your lips.
"You okay?" he asked, his voice low and rough.
You could only nod, your throat too raw for words.
He smirked, a hint of his usual arrogance returning. "Told you I'd make you cry." He nuzzled his face into your neck, breathing in your scent. "And you looked fuckin' perfect doin' it."
He stayed like that for a long moment, his weight a grounding presence, his breath warm against your damp skin. Eventually, he shifted with a low grunt, carefully pulling out of you. The loss of him made you whimper, your body too spent to do anything but tremble.
"Easy," he murmured, his voice softer now, the rough edge smoothed away. He disappeared into the bathroom and returned with a warm, damp cloth. He cleaned you up with surprising gentleness, his calloused hands careful as they moved over your sensitive skin. "Gotta take care of my girl."
He tossed the cloth aside and pulled the ruined sheets from beneath you with a grunt, replacing them with fresh ones from the closet. Then he climbed back into bed, tugging you against his chest, his arms wrapping around you like a protective cage. His lips pressed to the top of your head, a quiet, wordless reassurance.
"Did so good for me," he rumbled against your hair. "So fuckin' good."
You felt his hand stroke slowly up and down your back, the rhythm steady and soothing. Your eyes grew heavy, the exhaustion pulling you under.
"Sleep," he commanded, but there was no bite to it. Just warmth. "I got you."