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wecantalktomorrow · 1 year ago

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Welcome to Kay's 25 Days of Smutmas!

Starting on December 1st, I will be posting a new smut fic everyday until Christmas! These are all one shots of varying lengths and content. As they are posted, I will add the links to this post, summaries and lengths will be included under the break!

All fics will be Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson.

You can subscribe on AO3 here!

NOW COMPLETE!

🎄 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 🎄 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 🎄 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 🎄 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 🎄 21 - 22 - 23 - 24 - 25 🎄

🎁 December 1: 2.2k

The actions had Harry’s back arching, a low moan resonating in his throat as his hands found Louis’s hair. “Wha?” Was his garbled response as he blinked into the darkness, trying to orient himself while simultaneously pushing his cock farther into Louis’s mouth. Lifting his head, he blinked down at the scene before him, his fingers knotting into his husband’s hair immediately. “Oh, fuck me,” he whimpered as his brain seemingly processed what was happening.

🎁 December 2: 1.9k

Louis smiled down at Harry in approval, bringing his hand up to knot it into his hair, stroking at his scalp affectionately. “There’s my good boy,” he murmured. His cock was standing at attention almost directly in front of Harry’s face and his boy managed to keep his gaze on Louis’s face. He was so proud of him. “Gonna use your mouth a little, baby."

🎁 December 3: 3.3k

Louis couldn’t help but grin, a small laugh escaping him, at the way Harry voiced his own previous thoughts. Nodding through a moan, he pulled at his husband’s left hand, bringing it to his lips so he could press a kiss to the band adorning his finger before peppering kisses to the rest of his knuckles, gaze never leaving Harry’s face. “Wouldn’t have it any other way, m’love,” he answered quietly, giving the hand he was holding an affectionate squeeze before moving his hands to the man’s hips.

🎁 December 4: 1.3k

He was going to die in their bed, on his back with the most beautiful man between his legs, licking him out like his life depended on it and teasing him until he felt as if he was on the verge of combustion.

🎁 December 5: 2.0k

“Was just thinking about that night, how you came onto me under the guise of your high,” Louis teased further, watching the way Harry sputtered through his exhale, an appalled look on his face. Louis started to laugh, body shaking with it as his grip tightened on Harry’s hips to keep him from getting up. “You had such a crush on me that you were willing to choke to death? That’s embarrassing.”

🎁 December 6: 1.9k

Louis hummed in response, opening her palm and pressing down on Harry’s pubic bone to still her hips once again. “I am touching you, but if you don’t keep still and be my good girl, I will not be touching you any further. Do not be greedy, Harry. You will get what I give you, understand?” Louis’s tone was gentle yet firm, turning her head only to raise an eyebrow at Harry.

🎁 December 7: 2.3k

“Fuck, baby,” Louis moaned, tugging at Harry’s curls. “Don’t think this kind of content is allowed in the documentary or on my Instagram, yeah?”

🎁 December 8: 3.3k

He turned around, grabbing at Harry's waist and pushing him up against the closed door. "M'sisters seem to think you want a baby," Louis whispered hotly, sucking at Harry's earlobe as his hands tightened their grip on his hips, bringing his own closer to pin his husband against the door. "Is that true? Do you want a baby?"

🎁 December 9: 2.5k

“Louis, I have an idea.”

And isn’t that how they usually ended up in these situations?

🎁 December 10: 2.3k

Harry closed in on Louis’s frame, mouth dry and brain still buffering. When she opened her mouth to answer, agree with the statement, do something other than stand there and stare at her girlfriend – all that came out of her was, “Does the skirt pass the head test?” And with that, she was stepping closer until her chest was pressed to Louis’s back, urging them both forward into the stall, allowing the door to close behind her before she was dropping to her knees.

🎁 December 11: 3.6k

Louis couldn’t help but smile proudly, holding an intense infatuation with the way Harry was always so eager to please; to be good for him. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, tucking one of her loose curls behind her ear before cupping her cheek in his palm, stroking at her jawline with his thumb. “How’s this? You get down on those pretty knees of yours, kneel for me for a while beneath this desk, maybe hold my cock in that beautiful mouth of yours and keep it warm for me? If you can be my good girl while I do this interview, I’ll put my mouth on you in return when it’s done, hm?”

🎁 December 12: 2.2k

Louis, seemingly snapping out of his possessive trance, lifted his gaze to Harry’s face and smiled, a light blush dusting his cheeks. “Yeah, well, you look fucking amazing. Knowing that’s our baby in there is just… It’s so…” He trailed off, looking at the Omega and offering up a helpless shrug, unable to word why exactly his response was the way it was.

🎁 December 13: 3.8k

Louis groaned at the applied friction to his cock, tugging sharply at Harry’s curls when his hips rolled forward. “Nice to meet you, Harry, ‘m Louis,” he answered, panting into the other man’s mouth. “Yeah? Do you have a thing for married men, then?” He smirked at the shuddery breath Harry released, slipping a hand under the front of the jumper he was wearing, teasing his fingertips over the abs there.

🎁 December 14: 4.0k

That was how, some hours later, Harry found herself face down and all but begging for mercy as she fisted the sheets. Her thighs were trembling, her breath leaving her in wet, labored pants as she pushed back into the sensation.

🎁 December 15: 2.6k

Glancing down, Harry keened at the liquid leaving his nipples. His cheeks flushed a brilliant crimson, gaze darting over the Alpha’s shoulder as he pulled his lower lip between his teeth. Despite the embarrassment flooding his being, he couldn’t help but arch into Louis’s persistent touch that was still working his nipples. “F-fuck,” he breathed, a shiver running through him, “I’m sorry.”

🎁 December 16: 2.3k

A shocked gasp left Harry’s lips when the hot wax came in contact with her skin, cunt clenching around Louis’s cock with a please moan. “Fuck, Louis,” she breathed after a moment, staring down at him with eyes blow wide with lust. The pain paired with the way Louis’s cock hit every space deep within her so perfectly had her lifting her hips slightly only to force them down again quickly. “So good,” she panted.

🎁 December 17: 2.1k

“Does my girl want me between her legs, hm?” Louis answered, lifting his gaze to watch the way Harry’s face changed under the endearment, looking to ensure that he read the situation correctly. “Looked so pretty tonight, did my girl need some attention?” His words were muffled into Harry’s skin as he moved to bite at her thigh once again, sucking at the skin as his hands continued to travel over whatever expanses he could reach.

🎁 December 18: 2.0k

It was a silly question. Louis recognized the sounds, the distinct tone in Harry’s voice, the vulnerable Omega tone that had slipped into his pleads. His mate’s heat was starting early and he was on the other side of the world. The reality of the situation settled in and had his Alpha clawing at his chest as he grew restless, pacing the floor with the phone still stuck to his ear.

🎁 December 19: 1.7k

The curly-haired man was sobbing into the sheets, hips fidgeting every time Louis’s fingers grew closer to that spot inside of him where he craved it the most – only to slip away, never providing him the satisfaction he needed. It was driving him insane, his knuckles aching with how tightly curled his fists were. The additional feel of Louis’s scruff scratching his skin did not help the situation. “Louis,” he choked out, shifting his face in an attempt to look back at the older man, “please.”

🎁 December 20: 2.1k

“Think you can hold it for me, H? Be a good girl?” Louis asked, quirking an eyebrow at Harry. He left the decision to her, stroking over her cheek with his thumb. His eyes stayed locked on her face, watching for any signs of apprehension to the prospect of playing today. “Up to you, princess,” he commented, scratching lightly at her scalp.

🎁 December 21: 2.0k

Louis blatantly sniffed the air, his grip tightening on Harry’s hips as he pulled him closer. “Omega,” he rasped, leaning in to get another whiff of the boy before he continued, “love, I think you’re going into heat.” The statement brought a moment of clarity upon the Alpha as he took a minute to think, holding the – now whining – Omega closer to him.

🎁 December 22: 2.0k

“Alright, then?” Harry asked gruffly, her lips brushing the shell of Louis’s ear as she pulled her closer to her own chest. She would like to say that she isn’t usually the jealous, possessive type, that it’s only because of the alcohol currently running through her system but, unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. When your girlfriend looked like Louis, it was understandable for people to stare but never for them to touch.

🎁 December 23: 2.4k

Harry surprises Louis with a new piercing when he returns from tour.

🎁 December 24: 1.4k

It had started with Harry leaning in and lapping a drip of ice cream from the side of Louis’s mouth, kissing him deeply when their lips met. A whisper of happy birthday and I love you passed between them. The action had lit a fire in Louis’s eyes, a considering look on his face as he appraised Harry before he was sinking to his knees with the carton and spoon in his hand.

🎁 December 25: 5.3k

The reassurance from Louis had Harry grinning and running his hands down his husband’s sides. “I think you’re going to like it,” he murmured confidently, starting to play with the hem of his own jumper when he sat back against his husband’s bent knees. “Sorry you don’t get to unwrap it, though. Knew you’d be more reluctant to be tied up if you saw it first.”

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willowser-but-nsfw · 2 years ago

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[ nsfw ] — smut (18+) ; soft fantasy bakugou ; implied arranged marriage ; a lil' bit breeding kink-y ; some perceptions surrounding virginity that i only added because of the genre/setting (medieval fantasy-ish) and not because it aligns with my personal views ; reader and bkg do not speak the same language — but they are learning ; reader and bkg are both a little bit drunk, but very much consenting ; i invented a language for katsuki's people because i am hopeless.

[ wc ] — 4k+

[ ficmas ] — this is my silly little fic for the lovely, lovely @odieoats !! i hope that you enjoy it !! — but, most importantly, i hope that your holidays are treating you well and with love and that your new year be warm and welcoming 🧚‍♂️✨️🎁

It's Midwinter.

Shortest day and longest night of the year, Yagi tells you, and therefore cause for a feast. Never in all your life have you consumed as much mead as you have within the short three months since you've been married, and yet still you have not grown accustomed to it; the honeyed taste, yes, but not to the warm, woozy feeling that takes root between your ears.

One moment you are admiring the many gifts that adorn the great evergreen in the middle of camp, and the next you are cross-eyed, struggling to find the top of the tree and the carefully carved sun that reigns in favor of the Allfather. It's just so tall, you muse, stretching so far into the heavens that one could worry its beauty and grandeur might cause offense to their Gods.

A hand is at your shoulder, then, to steady you. “Are you well, Chieftess?”

Chieftess: another novelty with which to grow accustomed.

In the firelight, Yagi’s features are sharpened, shadows long and dark with worry. Frightening is the down-curve of his brow as he stares carefully into your eyes—so tall, you muse—but he must only find your drunkenness, as a smile softens his thin face.

“Oh, yes, thank you,” you return it with ease, cheeks warm, and bring up the small, well-bundled plant in your hands. “It looks as if there’s no place for what my husband has given me.”

“Ah,” carefully, he takes it by the stem and holds it up high to better see, the contrast of its white berries crisp against the night sky. “And do you know where our Chieftain has gone?”

Like slow-falling snow, his words settle in your mind, the flurry of them gathering until the meaning is new and clear. You spin a slippery heel over the snow, looking across the encampment to where you'd last seen your husband: before, he was locked into a fierce embrace with Midoriya, too proud to turn down the invitation to wrestle, but now only his shield-brothers remain, arranged in a circle as they dance and chant and pound their heavy fists against their bare chests. Among the lot of them, you watch on for the ashen mess of his hair, the familiarity of the scars he bears, the drunken, crooked grin that comes so rarely—but Katsuki is not among them.

"I—" you breathe, dizzy, suddenly, as your eyes jump from warm-body to warm-body in search of him. With the fires roaring, the camp is aglow and clouding your vision in an amber haze, and you don't realize you've begun to spin until a firm hand steadies you again.

“Mistletoe,” your Elder murmurs in translation, drawing you from the honeyed-hold. Giant that he is, finding an open branch on the tree poses no issue, and he hangs your gift with a care that melts a nameless tension; still, their traditions are foreign, another language you struggle to interpret. “It says that Young Bakugou is…giving you great love and…asking for your fertility.”

"Fertility?" Such heat flushes your face that you wonder if it could be steaming, and the waver in your voice makes him laugh.

"A common thing wanted of a claimed man," Yagi chimes, voice like mischief as he bows his head to take his leave. Off somewhere behind you is where his gaze falls and freezes, where it thaws and warms with admiration. Your Elder nods, and when you turn to follow his lead, you see why such seasons could come and go in his eyes. "The night will be long, Chieftess, and one should not spend Midwinter alone."

Katsuki stands at the worn-end of the trodden camp trail with shoulders back and squared, covered by the grand furs of his cloak; a God already watching on. It must be the mead that has made him so crystalline and easy to see through, as there's not a hint of hesitation in his gaze as it darkens and lids, as he slowly pulls the material from his broad back in a gesture that seems all too inviting.

And then he is turning, leaving the young night and its celebration for the sanctity of your shared tent.

You are left within the heat of the fire, all too aware, then, of how it has slipped beneath your furs with such a smoldering intensity; the Elder's revelation has a fever starting in your belly and sweat breaking across your skin.

It has been six days since you've last laid with your husband.

A full fortnight had passed before your marriage was consummated, for no other reason than that you were untouched and afraid. Before knowing him as you do now, Bakugou Katsuki came across as little more than a brute, one that seemed likely to hold you down and ravage you as he so pleased, as your mother had tried to warn you, and yet the night of your wedding, he sat across the pillows and told you that he, too, was just as untouched.

Standoffish and a bit shy, more drawn to actions than words as there were not many the two of you shared. Midoriya has been a constant presence, always dragged one way or another so that he may translate the more difficult words Katsuki is most unfamiliar with. Some nights you can hear them near the hearth, the voice of your husband low as he tries in earnest to learn all that he wishes to say to you.

To enter his manhood with one he so loved is considered a great honor, as Yagi had told you, and to hear him sounding at words in the dark that are so foreign to him, to know that he was just as pure as you, to learn that you were not a thing to be ravaged, but to be cared for; love-making after that seemed only natural.

You watch the firelight dance against the canvas of the tent, wild and without caution, hindered only by your shadow as you approach. Katsuki's boots lay at the entrance—one on its side and the other upright—and despite the snow and ice covering the ground, you shed your own right beside his.

If he hears you enter—and you're sure he must, the savage beat of your heart at the very least, something attuned to his ear only—he offers nothing; instead, his head is back, leaned over the edge of the round, steel tub that sits across from the hearth. Even from where you stand, the steam wisping above the water is visible, causing you to shiver as you begin to undress; if there is one thing you will always have with a Chieftain of Dragons, it’s a boiling bath.

The rustle of your furs finally captures him and Katsuki raises his head just to turn it, to peer over his shoulder at you with one bright red eye. Slow, he blinks, the heat of his gaze searing over your body as it becomes bare to him, lingering on the few, faded burns that sit at your hips from when last you were together.

Virginal and green as he once was, your husband did not—and still does not—lack enthusiasm whenever he is tangled up within you; the ache you’ve been nursing in your lower belly in the recent days seems to have subsided, though you wonder if it is only your rapidly building arousal that has dissolved pain to pleasure. One broad hand breaks the surface of the water to rise and trace over your forearm, and Katsuki looks at you as if you are a deity to worship—and you find you couldn’t care less about any lingering soreness.

"May I join you?"

Already he’s begun to make room for you, but he hums in assent, nodding. "Yes."

At your hiss of surprise from the temperature of the water, a crooked grin breaks across his face and he leans forward, wrapping his arms around your thighs as he presses his mouth into the soft skin below your belly button. Not to kiss but just to soothe, laving you with a drunken affection.

When you can finally stand it, Katsuki pulls you into his lap, slotting your legs around his hips with such ease that you need not ask the Gods if he was made for you or you for him; one and the same, you are, neither existing without your shared heart. Its beat flourishes, spreading to the points of your fingers and the pit of your stomach and the thick of your neck. Only now do your bones thaw, made warm from the water and the lingering dregs of mead and his love, from the home he has made your own.

You kiss away the natural crease of his brow, following down the marks of war that scar his cheeks, his neck. It earns you a small grunt and he eventually turns, overwhelmed, then, by your attention to his intimate details.

“Thank you,” you tell him softly, “for the gift. I didn’t—” guilt rushes through you like a winter wind, returning with a bite for all that you still have to learn of his people. Your people. “I didn’t think to find one for you.”

“No need for gift.” He murmurs, into your skin like a secret.

A frown he doesn’t see deepens your lips, and you run your now wet hands through the strands of hair at the base of his spine, dampening them. “I would have liked to give you one.”

“No need for gift.” Katsuki repeats, pinching you beneath the water until you are squirming against him, until you can argue no longer. His hands grow bold, mapping you carefully, adding every crease and curve to what he already knows of your body.

You speak up when he cups your bottom, before either of you can get too lost. “Yagi tells me it’s a symbol of love, your mistletoe.”

It does little to distract him; the fine point of his nose drags up the column of your throat, breath tickling just under your ear. “...yes.”

“And…fertility.”

Katsuki’s head pops up then, eyebrow raised. “Hah?”

“For—” you pause, thinking, “—having children.”

A common thing wanted of a claimed man, Yagi told you, but in the slow burning light of the hearth, your husband’s face pinkens and he glances away, instead watching his hands below the water. It’s something you know is expected, though it remains a conversation yet to be had, perhaps when you know the words, the both of you; in the meantime, you’ll continue to learn his sensitivities and delights, to teach him yours—all that there is left to know, at least.

“Yes,” he murmurs, fitting his thumbs back into the grooves he’s left on your hips, what of his hands he’s engraved in your skin. Despiste the claim it marks on you, Katsuki frowns, watching you carefully as his fingers move in slow, firm circles. “Pain here?”

“No,” you smile, to this man that you thought would ruin you. “No pain.”

Warmed, he spreads beneath you easily, shifting you along with him as he presses where you are soft to where he is hard. The pressure surprises you both despite the heady weight circulating throughout the tent, and Katsuki exhales like he wants his breath to move through you.

"For love," he speaks to your heart, the devotion molded in his image. "And…what is it?"

You snort, pressing your lips into his hairline. "And fertility."

He is silent for a long moment, thinking in your tongue, before planting kiss after kiss along your chest, your collarbones, the hollow of your throat. "'n givin' babies."

A true laugh startles out of you, shaking you both with its sincerity, but Katsuki only continues to sigh into your skin, his hands moving to the dip of your waist, up the stretch of your spine and back, walking every last mile of your distance.

There's a soft tickle from where his mouth trails and you think he means to make you squirm again, but you soon realize he is murmuring —"...engitt vakvaniki?"—though you think the words are more for him than yourself; a reiteration, some kind of assurance that you've outgrown the intimate soreness he once gave you.

"No," you breathe again, quietly. "No pain."

It's all the promise he needs: Katsuki's grip tightens, meaningful, and then he is pushing and pulling you over him until the stars are shooting through your every nerve. A haze develops in the soft bicolor of both his eyes, and you can see him fighting to find you through the clouds as you follow the silent commands of his hunger.

Desire leads you; top to bottom, back and forth, head to base. Against your chest, you can feel the slight part of his mouth, the flare of his nostrils as the lap of the water grows. One of his arms slowly winds behind your waist as you gasp, the swollen tip of him catching your most sensitive spot, tenderness making you both groan.

You lose yourself to the movement, dragging just behind Katsuki's stifled, narrow upward thrusts. Wide as the tub may be, it's nothing to having him underneath you amidst his thick, woolen blankets, but the seedlings of lust are growing, blooming, into something with roots you don't want to unearth just yet.

Fingers tangle in your hair, angling your head down towards him so that he can press wet, open-mouthed kisses against your lips; full of bite and teeth, revealing what little control he has over the animal of his body, just as wild and without caution as the fires that blaze in a dragon's honor.

But—his attention to the water is lost and its heat is steadily fading, smothered out by the winter winds slipping between the flaps of your tent. A shudder wracks your spine, but despite the rough hand that trails up to cup your breast, their stiff peak isn't from Katsuki's touch.

Voice low, you pull back just enough to fit the gruff of his name, stopping him mere seconds from sucking your soft, pebbled skin into his mouth.

His eyes dart up to your face, half-lidded. "Hah?"

If he wasn't so cute, you might prove a stronger willed woman; a light kiss to his nose has him scrunching it, and a light kiss to his lips has him surging, welcoming the wet dip of your tongue into his mouth.

Only when the frost creeps further in are you able to steady yourself, now swollen and bitten. "I'm cold."

As if finding himself after ages lost, Katsuki leans back, seemingly surprised, to peer down into the water, glaring at it like it's betrayed him in some way. With a lip between his teeth, his attention shifts from you to the nest of furs you've been bedding in this season, and it's not long before his arms are tightening around your body.

"No, wait—!"

He rises at once, laughing meanly in your ear as you struggle to cling to him; in return, you bite his lobe and snort into his cheeks as he hurries across the tent. Cradling the back of your head as if you were a child, as if you were something more special than you are, Katsuki lays you down amongst the wool and feathers, eager to slot himself behind you.

A shiver tears through even him, has him burying his face into your neck as he pulls the blanket up around your heads. It only takes a moment for his hands to heat, for his heat to spread, to have you loose and wide open once again; hips against your backside, your husband hikes your leg up, tucking your foot behind his thigh so that you are bared for the fever of his touch.

"Need no gift," the words are lost to your gasp, when the too-light pad of his fingers swirl where you are tender and slick. "No-thing but you."

And then the thick weight of him is gliding over your core, teasing, before he can no longer stand to be without you; a plead falls from his mouth as he guides himself into you, needy and wanton against your temple. Surrounded by his love and touch and sounds and entwined in such a way has your stomach tight with want, and with every inch Katsuki pulls out and pushes back in, you angle your hips so that he is seated as deep as your body will allow.

"Katsuki," you gasp at how he carves himself into your nave, arching your back and groping blindly at his body.

One of his hands finds your cheeks and he seizes them, turning your face so that he may press his lips into yours. "Fuck," he hisses, capturing a rhythm that rattles you both. "Var in svo—good. Fuck, s'good."

You can only wordlessly agree, settling for a noise he eagerly drinks down. Only once he's certain your head will not fall away from him does his hand return to the seam of your body, pads of his fingers stroking you and the mess already leaking down your thighs. When your lips part, he hums in appreciation and presses down further, as if your pleasure is feeding his own.

The wet sound of skin against skin grows, a drumbeat to the song you both sing as your fires rage; sweat builds in all your creases and curves, dampens your hairline and his as you fall prey to a savagery you once feared—and now have come to crave.

Katsuki groans into your mouth, worship in a language you do know. The rough drag of him in and out of your heat never ceases and beneath your touch, he starts to tremble, too deep into something neither of you can stand.

"Ah," he props himself up on an elbow, fingers digging into the fat of your hips so that he may pull you to meet his every thrust. You look back over your shoulder at him, core pulsing at how his head has fallen slack, with mouth open and eyes shut as he fucks himself into a euphoria he only finds with you.

You make a weak attempt at his name, lost in the throes of your own pleasure, and wait for the hot spill of him inside of you, but—you are all at once empty.

"I—shit," a hand is fisted into his own hair like he's trying to hold back his tide, to keep it low for now. His skin gleams in the firelight, a God wrapped in gold.

Chest heaving, he shuffles around your leg, finding the home between your thighs as he presses a weak trail of kisses down your chest, down your sternum and to your stomach. You know where he's going; at the mere thought of how he drank from you the last time you were together, your core clenches, something that doesn't go unnoticed by him as his crooked smile is pressed into your skin.

It's an act that still has you a bit shy, and as the furs shift and the cold clings to the droplets lingering on your skin, you shiver. Katsuki struggles a bit to bunch himself up beneath the blanket, so that he and you may stay covered, and the stars are still burning in your veins, in your nerves, and so you pull at his shoulders.

"Later," you can't help but to laugh when he frowns. "When it's not so cold."

Words you know to be little, childish insults tumble from his lips, foreign, as he crawls back up the expanse of your body. You tug a bit harshly on his hair and his lips curl, the brat, mischievous and taunting with a bite to your cheek.

"Baby," he grumbles, although smiling.

You mean to nip back at him, but Katsuki pulls one of your legs over his shoulders and your attention is drawn to his body now that it sits in plain view. Scars that color him, that bear proof to the strength he's grown; such a body like his seems carved from marble, and your heart softens at every memory of his unfouded shyness.

A God at your center, heart shared. Katsuki looks upon you just as you look upon him and the honey-mead warms in your belly, drips down your spine with the weight of all the love you hold for him—and he for you.

You tell him quietly, as he bows his head to spit where he means to join you. "Ig siggna vik."

Though the words fit odd inside your mouth, their shape is known to him; he glances up as if in awe, and his answer is a breathless exhale of your name as he slips inside you once again. His face goes directly to your neck, already trembling hands slipping up to hold your face so that you are always close, so that his breath is yours and your moans are his.

"Var in svo hott," he tells you again; it's so good, a common phrase that has your threads wearing thin.

It's take little time before he is falling back into the same bruising pace, chasing the high you're eager to grant him. You fist a hand in his hair as his teeth sink into your skin, as he bullies into the sweet spot that has your stars aligning, has them shining behind the lids you can't help but to close.

"Fuck," you breathe, arching into him. "Katsuki—Gods—"

Your vulgarity has his breath pitching and exhaling sharply and he stops, only for one long, horrible moment, before he can't bear it.

"Fu—sorry," he breaks, the sound so fragile on his tongue. It's not a word you've ever heard from him and your chest tightens at the thought of him asking Midoriya for it. "Sorry, sorry."

With a desperate moan, he's sitting back on his knees, brow crumpling as his eyes are forced shut. "Oh, I—" and his hold finds the dip of your waist, grip tight enough to steal your breath so that he can pull you up into him as he cums. Deep and hard, shoulders shaking as he tenses over you, groaning on such a low sound that your own tide nearly crests.

The sight of your husband—Chieftain of Dragon's, the warlord that won you from the hands of your father, that loves you as winter loves the wind—reduced to ashes at your heat, trembling on the breeze as he twitches and spills inside of you; wild is your desire, without caution.

Katsuki only takes the time to press a sloppy kiss into your cheeks, to push back the damp hair that has fallen into your face before his hands are re-molding to your hips. Though you are more than slick enough, still he leans back to spit into the space between you, spreading the wetness as he circles you again with the pad of his thumb.

And then you are following not far behind him: it's the pressure around your tenderness and the deep sink of him inside you and the eyes rolling back into his head as he fucks through his own sensitivity. Your cries mingle, him at the sudden flutter of your walls, and you at the honeyed-bliss that he gives you.

"I—fuck," he pants, running a hand up your stomach as your trembling slows into delayed, sporadic aftershock. You feel him kick inside of you at the sight and you laugh despite your sudden weariness. "I love you."

Though he is flushed in you and the firelight, his cheeks brighten, if possible, like such an admission is yet another display of his idle bashfulness. You smile and his own grows in return, crooked and dazzling, and you open your arms for him to slump down onto you.

Katsuki does, but it's not long before he is reaching to toss the wool off his back, murmuring, "hot," into your ear—and then because he is a terror, he hisses, "baby," too, like an overgrown child.

There are other words he whispers into your skin, some you know and some you don't. Some you'll come to learn, some he'll share with you, this language that will tell him all you cannot. You're not worried, however, at either his understanding or yours, with a love as true as stars in the sky, like white berries—crisp—against even the longest and darkest nights.

#it looks like a lot of warnings but i promise it's not LOL #all my little made up words are in bold oh no why i am i shy about it now LOL #i hope to god i pasted this right !!#i have stared at this for too long idk if i love it or hate it !!#happy holidays to dear dear odie !!#bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #[ bakugou ]

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