There’s a section of her walk that Mattie can do on the sidewalk downtown, or cut through the woods. Of course she’s going to go through the woods today. She loves the purple flowers that grow from patches of what looks like too-bright fake grass. They always come up so early.

She takes the little alleyway that goes to the woodsy part. Someone’s car is parked in the middle of it.

Mattie crosses the little bridge into the woods, and, oh, this is why she comes out here. The stream under the bridge is crackling under the ice. Everything is wet and muddy from the constant snowmelt. Mattie grins from ear to ear as she steps between the trees. Her shoes are already wet.

On the first day of spring, Mattie can forget about getting home and pick her way off the path. All she needs to look at is her feet and there’s enough to keep drawing her further into the forest. She spends several blissful minutes exploring deeper into the woods, chasing the source of the stream and the scraggly little patches of flower leaves growing straight up out of the snow. She doesn’t get to anywhere she doesn’t already know about. This patch of woods is not very big. But she doesn’t go into it very often.

She stops. Someone is leaning against a tree in front of her. She has long, blonde hair with shaved sections underneath. From what Mattie can see her clothes are very clean. Not what you would expect for someone deep in the woods. She decides she’s going to head back now. Something about the tree girl is rubbing her the wrong way, she doesn’t know what, but she’s in the habit of listening to her instincts. She turns back towards the path.

There’s another person in the direction that she came from. Dark, close-cropped hair, tall frame. She feels really uneasy now. She starts walking diagonally towards the path, between the two of them. She puts on her best “don’t bother me” scowl, tenses her shoulders, makes her hands into fists by her sides. This is usually the look she gives to men, not women. But these girls really scare her.

She looks behind her. The blonde girl is walking towards her, leisurely. Her heart drops into her stomach. She turns around hurriedly and keeps walking towards the path. The black-haired girl is strolling along the path in the same direction that she is.

She pulls her phone out of her pocket and breaks into a jog, heading for the path. In front of her, another girl steps straight out of the forest. Her long curls bounce around her shoulders. She looks like a girl Mattie would be friends with.

Mattie stops. She spins around slowly. She’s not surrounded, but there is no easy way out.

The blonde girl gives her a vicious, toothy grin. She shudders and turns away. She looks like she wants to eat her.

With Mattie successfully caught, the women are no longer trying to appear natural. They close in on her. Around them, more women emerge. They’re all as big and tall as the first three. Muddy, treaded boots, heavy shirts, jackets that cling to their arms. Mattie’s eyes flick down to the hand of the first girl, the blonde one, which is tugging at her belt loop. She has big hands and short nails. Oh god. Mattie looks around again. There are seven of them in all now.

She can’t keep them all in her line of sight. She can hear some of them talking to each other, low muttering and laughing that she can’t describe as anything but dirty. They’re getting close to her slowly, circling her like she’s prey.

“Excuse me,” Mattie says. “I want to get — can I get home, please?” It never hurts to be polite when dealing with strangers.

“Oh,” says someone behind her. “You wanna go home? We’ll let you go in a second, baby, just be patient.” The voice is leering. There’s another laugh somewhere from the side.

“Yeah,” says someone else. There’s a hand on her arm. “You’re gonna stay with us for a little bit. We’re gonna have fun.”

“No, thank you,” Mattie says. She steps back. Someone comes forward and catches her, warm hands around her waist.

“We’re not asking, sweetheart.”

This is the crucial moment where she needs to make herself a problem. She needs to struggle and fight and try and get a knee into someone’s crotch, but she doesn’t even know if that would work because these are all women.

She tries anyway. She tries to kick backward, step on the foot of the person who’s holding her. She laughs. Her arms wrap tighter around Mattie, lifting her up.

“Someone’s feisty,” she says, warm and deep in Mattie’s ear. Mattie squirms wildly against her grip, trying to kick her in the shins. She doesn’t even seem to feel it.

“It’s okay,” says another girl, whose deep caramel skin is split in a grin that reveals sharp, perfect white teeth. “She doesn’t have to like it.”

Mattie pants and strains against the strong arms that hold her up. If she just keeps moving, if she annoys them enough that they let her go…

“Come here,” says the one that’s holding her. “You wanna taste?”

“No,” says Mattie. Even though she’s sure they weren’t talking to her. “No, no, no.”

The girl with the curly hair, the one Mattie thought looked nice, comes over to Mattie and sets her hands on her hips. She drags her hand up Mattie’s side until she gets to her face, and then she takes Mattie’s chin in her hand, holding her still, forcing her mouth open a little bit, and kisses her.

There’s nothing Mattie can do about the kiss. She’s held still, and her mouth is held open, so she just makes muffled sounds of protest as her mouth is invaded. She’s gentler than Mattie thought she would be, but insistent, swallowing all the sounds Mattie makes as she drags her tongue along Mattie’s, filthy, sweet. There are sounds of approval from the other girls, more bodies pressed against Mattie’s, hands on her sides, in her hair, combing it out of her face for the girl to kiss her.

When she lets go Mattie is breathing hard, her mouth full of the taste of wet earth. Everyone looks eager, hungry. If Mattie didn’t know exactly what was going to happen to her before she certainly does now.

Mattie is dropped onto the ground. She catches herself on her hands, not wanting her jacket to get dirty. It’s her favorite. She spent almost half a paycheck on it. She has a feeling it might need to be put far away.

Someone’s boot kicks Mattie’s hands out from under her. Mattie yelps.

“I think she’s worried about the jacket,” the dark-haired girl says.

Someone else laughs. “She’s gonna be worried about a whole lot more in a second,” they say.

“Don’t be mean,” the dark-skinned girl chides, in a way that does not make Mattie feel safer. She looks down at Mattie. “Let’s get that shit off you, then, if you don’t want it getting dirty.”

Mattie clutches the jacket around herself.

The girl laughs. “Give that to me,” she says.

Mattie refuses to take it off.

Someone behind Mattie yanks her up and pulls the jacket off of her. She drops it on the ground. Mattie looks away. She’s wearing a plain white tank top under that, and no bra. The girl behind her reaches to squeeze her tit, grabbing it and pushing it up under her shirt. Someone’s hand is going to their pants now, palming themself over the fabric. Mattie looks away from that too. They laugh at how she turns away. Someone grabs her hair and forces her to look at the girl who’s touching herself through her pants.

“Don’t be shy,” they say in her ear. The person playing with her tits is being rough, grabbing them hard so they spill out between their fingers. “That’s all for you, pretty girl.”

There’s something very strange about these girls, the way they work together in such a practiced way, the way they degrade her like she’s not even human, the lack of concern for consequences. They laugh at her like they know something she doesn’t, like it’s going to be worse than she’s imagining.

“Come on,” someone says. “Get her pants off.”

The other thing about them is that they’re all so inhumanly big. Not to an extent that you’d notice if you saw them in passing, but so close, they overwhelm Mattie. They’re tall and strong in a way that makes them seem supernaturally powerful.

Mattie is thinking about this so she doesn’t have to focus on the hands that barely bother to unzip her pants before they pull them off, taking her boots too when her pants refuse to go over them. Her clothes are dumped unceremoniously to the ground. There are more laughs and comments and approving sounds, as they pull Mattie’s legs open, show her cunt to the rest of them. Mattie cringes and tries to close her legs. They’re so strong. She knows her cunt is shiny already and she doesn’t want them to see.

“Oh,” someone says. “Look at that. That’s pretty.”

The blonde girl smiles, that same sharp, hungry grin. She unbuttons her own pants. She has…oh. She’s not packing. That’s real.

It doesn’t look right. There’s something else around the base, where there shouldn’t be. The hands on Mattie’s thighs spread them further, someone else grabbing one of her calves and holding it far out of the way. Her shirt and socks are still on, and that’s it, and someone’s hands are ripping through her neckline so now her shirt isn’t giving her very much protection.

The blonde drops onto her knees between Mattie’s legs. She doesn’t seem to care about the mud. One of the girls holding her legs drags her fingers between Mattie’s labia, feeling the wet opening of her cunt, teasing over her clit, and then she puts two fingers inside her, rough, all at once, just to see. Mattie makes a horribly loud sound at that. The blonde laughs at it, pleased, one hand on herself, and then forces her own finger in next to the others. Oh, fuck. Fuck fuck fuck that’s three fingers so fast and it’s two different people oh god. The blonde’s digs deep inside her, feeling the wet press of her walls all the way until Mattie grunts in discomfort. She’s so wet, though. All the hands on her. She’s a bit of a size queen and she loves the three fingers shoved into her unceremoniously.

“That’s a good girl,” the other girl, the dark-haired one, says. “You take it so well.”

“Look at that,” the blonde says, taking her hand out of Mattie, showing them how it glistens. “She likes this.”

“Aww,” someone says. “That’s so cute. She likes us.” Hands on her bare tits, under her shirt, pinching them into hard points and tugging on them. Someone else gets behind her and rips her shirt all the way off. Now she’s just in socks.

“You do, don’t you,” says the dark-haired girl. She spreads her fingers in Mattie’s cunt. Mattie knows she’s leaking between them, more as she pulls them out and spreads them around her clit, pulling her lips apart, baring her. The blonde growls, and it sounds not like a person but like an animal. Mattie’s cunt pulses.

“I’m going to fuck that sweet little cunt,” she says, getting her hand on Mattie’s inner thigh, pulling her so so open, “and then everyone else is, too.” Mattie bites her lip to stop herself from whining. Oh, god, all of them. She’s so scared and turned on at the same time.

She teases the head of her cock along the outside of Mattie’s cunt. “Is this what you want?” she says. Mattie doesn’t say anything, but she shakes her head no, no, no. I don’t want this. It feels so wrong, so much, they’re being so mean…

She bends forward and slips the head of her cock inside Mattie. They both moan at the same time, Mattie arching off the ground, into the hands that hold her. She’s held down by the hair for the girl to fuck all the way into, all the way until it hurts, because even if she’s wet she’s not prepared and all she’s had is three fingers for ten seconds. And she’s just as big as the rest of her. She gives a satisfied groan as she bottoms out inside Mattie, and Mattie grits her teeth, clenching her hands in the dirt.

“Fuck,” someone says, “look at that shit. She’s so perfect.” There are more hands on her tits, in her hair, someone slipping their thumb into her mouth. Some of the other girls have their hands down their own pants. Mattie pants, her eyebrows knitting together as she gets fucked. It hurts. Fuck, she’s fucking big. She’s not being gentle. She likes Mattie’s tight cunt, likes her small and painful.

“That’s just one,” says someone with their hands in Mattie’s hair. “You have to keep the rest of us busy too, slut.” She pulls Mattie’s head back. The girl who has her thumb in Mattie’s mouth says something in agreement, sweeping her thumb over Mattie’s tongue, making her drool.

Mattie doesn’t want that, doesn’t know how she’s gonna handle all of that at once, but of course the choice isn’t up to her.

“Everyone’s gonna take their turn in your cunt,” she continues, and Mattie can’t hold back a whimper at that. I don’t want it, I don’t want it, I don’t want it. “And then we’re gonna have to see what else we can use to keep ourselves entertained, huh?”

“Are you gonna—” Mattie starts, and then cuts herself off with a moan of pain. “Gonna— gonna come in—”

“Ohh,” comes the growled reply, “yes, we are, baby, in that pretty fucking cunt. Yes, smart girl.”

“Oh,” Mattie says, and her head falls back, “oh, oh, no,” — of course they were, of course. The cock in her cunt feels like a weapon, a punishment, cruelty. And she’s still dripping down it.

“You’re gonna take it all, aren’t you, good girl,” she says — Mattie hates how nice she is, different from the rest but just as bad — and oh fuck there’s a warm tongue on one of her nipples, and then the other one is being pinched, hard, and they both feel so good. Mattie feels herself tighten around the cock inside her.

“Yes,” grunts the blonde girl, “play with her tits like that, she gets all tight when you do that.” So they do, and Mattie squirms and writhes under them, the feeling going straight to her clit, torturously good. She doesn’t want her to come, fuck, please don’t let her come, please not there. She knows she’s gonna.

“Slut,” the blonde girl says — they don’t know her name, Mattie remembers — “so fucking tight for me, hot little cunt, I’m gonna fill that shit up.”

“No,” Mattie says, as she holds her down and fucks her harder into the mud, “please don’t.”

“Shh,” fingers are pushed into the side of her mouth, “shut up and take it, sweetheart.” Mattie squirms and tries to protest through the fingers in her mouth, tries to buck her cunt away from her.

“Hold her down,” someone says, “someone make her shut the fuck up.”

Mattie yelps as the dark-skinned girl sits down hard on her stomach. It pushes the air right out of her lungs. It all aches with how deep she’s full. The girl gets three fingers in her mouth next to the other girl’s. The moans that are forced out around them are garbled so much it makes Mattie sound subhuman.

“That’s a pretty fucking hole,” the girl on top of her says. She shoves her fingers down Mattie’s tongue. Mattie coughs.

“Mmh,” says the other girl with her hand in Mattie’s mouth, “if we fuck her throat she won’t be able to talk, will you,” she says to Mattie, fucking her fingers into the back of Mattie’s mouth.

“Good girl,” someone says. “She just fucking takes that shit.”

Mattie whimpers when they take their fingers out of her mouth. She’s so nervous. They’re not being nice to her. They’re going to really hurt her.

The girl on top of her has her pants unbuttoned now and she’s smiling wickedly down at Mattie, stroking herself. Mattie presses her lips shut and turns her head away. She has to force herself not to make sounds at the blonde’s thrusts.

“Ohh,” someone says, “come back here, baby, she’s trying to get away.”

Someone’s hand in Mattie’s hair holds her head still. There are so many of them. Mattie is never going to be able to get away. There’s a thumb prying her mouth open, and when she clenches her teeth harder they pinch her nose shut so she can’t breathe.

She tries to hold out for as long as she can but she has to breathe. The girl is sitting all the way up on her chest, leaning forward over her face, pushing her dick up against her cheek. As soon as she opens her mouth to gasp for breath she shoves it inside, thick and choking. They let her breathe through her nose, thank god. The hands in her hair push her up on it and she chokes, not able to get it into her throat even a little. She’s not doing anything. She’s just lying there as they use her.

“There we go,” says the blonde. “That’s good. That’s a good slut.” She’s fucking Mattie faster and faster, more unsteadily.

“Fuck,” Mattie chokes out. She can barely understand herself when it comes out.

“Yes,” she hisses. “Just like that.” Her voice is so strained. She’s close. Mattie sobs.

When she finally crushes herself into Mattie, pinning her down hard as she comes, twitching into her, Mattie makes a broken little sound of pain.

“Don’t knot her cunt,” someone says. “I wanna fuck her when she’s tight.”

“That’s not how it works, idiot,” says someone else. Mattie is just confused. She doesn’t know what a knot is.

“She doesn’t even know what that means,” someone says. There’s a hand on her cunt where it’s spread out around the blonde girl’s cock. “She’s got a cute little virgin cunt.” Mattie has definitely been fucked before. She doesn’t understand what she’s talking about.

“Yeah,” hums the blonde, “I’m gonna break your little cunt open, okay, sweet thing?” And Mattie feels something big and hard and swelling inside her, just inside the opening of her cunt. She moans around the cock in her mouth.

“That’s gonna keep it all inside, baby,” says someone else, voice a contented hum. A different hand comes to stroke the outside of her cunt, her clit. She feels it twitch around the knot. Oh, god, she’s so wet. She’s scared of what it’s going to make them do to her, if they think she likes it. “Right where that shit belongs, huh? In this whore cunt.” She says it sweetly, reassuringly, condescendingly.

The girl who has her cock in Mattie’s mouth is fucking her face as well as she can with Mattie unresponsive and choking hard whenever she tries to go further. She pulls out and grabs Mattie’s face in her hands. She spits in Mattie’s mouth and it runs straight down her tongue, making her even messier.

“Suck my cock, slut,” she says. “Use your tongue. Or I’m gonna force it in your fucking throat, understand?”

“Yes,” Mattie gasps, spit running down her cheek, feeling so messy and used. She puts her tongue out over her teeth.

“That’s a good girl,” she says, and pulls Mattie’s head up to meet her. This hurts worse than Mattie’s cunt. She’s not being careful. She’s brushing up against Mattie’s gag reflex over and over.

The blonde girl isn’t moving inside her. She’s just holding Mattie still on her cock, making Mattie’s cunt ache with how full it is. Mattie wants it to be over. She knows that when she pulls out there’s gonna be come and slick seeping out of her, that her hole is gonna wink so open and so empty.

She’s not doing a very good job of pleasing the other girl, although she’s trying, trying to swirl her tongue around the tip and lick and suck. She has no idea what she’s doing and she’s overwhelmed and the girl is being so rough she can barely move anyways.

“Does she need a little more motivation?” one of the other girls asks, and then, not waiting for a reply, “You can breathe when you make her come,” pinching Mattie’s nose shut again.

Mattie chokes around the cock in her mouth, her throat full of her own spit, panicking. She really can’t breathe. She is trying so hard to comply, she doesn’t need to be threatened any more, oh god what if they really choke her until she blacks out. They might kill her. She thrashes against them, all of them holding her down without even trying. They grab her and hold her still, more of them holding her arms down, making her helpless.

The woman ruts into her mouth, using her like a ragdoll. If anything Mattie is worse at sucking her cock now, but she doesn’t seem to care. She just fucks into her hard and rough and growls in frustration when Mattie can’t take her deep. Salty precum drips from her and Mattie swallows it, left with no other choice. Her lungs are aching now. She needs them to let her breathe.

They must see her eyes go wide, feel her go limp, because they let go and she gasps, wheezing, everything full of sticky spit but so grateful to be breathing. She lays there and pants. The girl who was fucking her mouth is kneeling over her face, jerking herself off over Mattie’s open mouth. Mattie is smart enough to lay there and take it this time, even when she grunts and gasps and comes in bitter strands all over Mattie’s face. Mattie blinks it off her eyelids, lies there all painted and watches as the girl’s knot swells in her hand.

The blonde girl eases herself out of Mattie’s cunt. She plays with it with her hand for a second, rubbing circles over Mattie’s clit. Mattie gasps and bucks her hips into the hand before she knows what’s happening. She laughs and stops and smacks Mattie’s cunt with her flat hand. Mattie lets out an exhale that has a hint of a whine on it.

The girl on top of her demands her attention back. She shoves her knot against Mattie’s face, forcing it between her hand and Mattie’s cheek.

“Open up, slut,” she demands, pushing herself against Mattie’s lips. Mattie does. It makes her feel hot to obey before she’s forced. They’re teaching her.

She rubs her knot over Mattie’s tongue. Mattie takes it, tries her best to lick it in a way that feels good. She has to open her mouth wide to get her lips around it.

She feels hands on her hips again. Her head is back and she can’t sit up and see. The hands smooth over her thighs, and then press down on her stomach, just above the ridges of her hipbones.

She stays put and focuses on trying to please the girl, the hands on her body sending heat coursing through her. She takes her knot in her mouth, messy and clumsy, and laves over it desperately with her tongue, and there’s a surprised, “Ohh, there’s a good girl,” and then Mattie opens her mouth even more with a gasp because oh god she’s being filled again. The girl between her legs drives her cock into Mattie with one hard, deep stroke, and Mattie’s sore pussy is so open but it hurts it hurts she’s done she whimpers and bucks and tries to get away.

“We told you we were taking turns, sweetheart —” and a hand brushes a tear off Mattie’s cheek “—all of us, even if it hurts.” The girl between Mattie’s legs holds her down and fucks her slow and hard and deep. Mattie cries.

“Oh,” someone says, “here, we’ll help you like it, baby.” And then there’s a broad hand between her legs, on her clit, right where she’s hurting from being split open. She hates how it feels good, hates how it makes her chase it by pushing her hips up towards them. They all like it, of course, sounds of approval for her for being such a good, slutty little girl, more firm pressure on her clit.

Mattie is going to come. It’s been building for a long time, and now with the hand on her clit it’s inescapable. She moans softly and squirms, trying to get away from it, but of course they hold her down and hold her legs open and find her most sensitive little spot, and rub it over and over again. There are waves of different feelings that start in her cunt and wash over her, and it feels good and uncontrollable and uncomfortable and she moans and pants and twists in their arms. She’s getting so, so tight around the second girl’s cock. The girl groans and falls forward over her and fucks her harder.

When Mattie comes it’s a slow, rolling thing, and it overwhelms her. She moans open-mouthed again and again as the waves roll over her, her hands flexing in the grip of the werewolves (because that’s what they are, she knows, so big and strong, a pack), and the girl over her moans in her ear, she’s going to come too. Mattie’s cunt is still clenching rhythmically when she pulls out, last drops of cum falling over Mattie’s stomach, to knot her own fist. Mattie is so painfully empty and she knows there’s going to be another, all of them watching her and stroking themselves and waiting for their turn in her.

When the next one fucks her it hurts a little, her cunt throbbing and oversensitive. One of the other girls grazes her finger over Mattie’s asshole, and Mattie twists, terrified. The girl laughs.

“We all wanna try,” she says. “If we fucked all your holes you could take two at once, huh? Be a lot quicker.” She gives Mattie a vicious smile.

Mattie thinks about how much it would hurt to be stuffed airtight like that, two of them stretching her out and filling her to the brim, and she prays that she keeps them happy enough that they don’t.

One of the other girls is close, and she takes Mattie’s hair and pulls her mouth onto her.

“She have enough in her pussy?” someone asks. “To knock her up?”

“Oh, fuck,” Mattie slurs around the cock in her mouth. They laugh at that.

“Yes she does,” someone else says. “Look at that shit. She’s so fucked out.”

The girl fucking her mouth grunts something unintelligible. She pushes Mattie onto her hard when she comes, holds herself inside and forces Mattie to swallow. She does. She’s losing track of how many times she’s been used, how many people have come in her and on her and made her please them.

The rest of them have their turn, just like they said, and Mattie can’t do anything but lie there and take it and open her mouth for them when they make her. By the time they’re done she’s sore and exhausted.

“That’s a good whore,” says the last girl, as Mattie rolls her knot over her tongue. There are still hands on her, playing with her.

“Are—” Mattie mumbles, so tired, her words blurring together, “---are y’gonna let me go?”

“Maybe soon,” she says, lazily, satisfying herself with Mattie’s mouth.

When she finally finishes, she holds Mattie’s head down and sits up off her. Mattie looks up at her dumbly. Her brain is fucked out and she doesn’t know what’s going on anymore. So she barely reacts when the girl straddles Mattie’s face, when the other girls pin Mattie down. And then it hits her face, hot and filthy and wet wet wet, and she makes a surprised squeak and it runs into her mouth, burning and acrid on her tongue. She tries to spit, and the girl laughs at her, in a sort of hiccuping way that Mattie would find cute under normal circumstances, and stuffs herself in her mouth, making her swallow it.

“You know,” she sighs, clearly feeling good and pleased, “you know how we mark our territory. Take it like you took our cum, baby.”

Mattie can’t say anything. Her mouth is full and drowning and overflowing, piss and spit leaking out around the girl’s cock, Mattie choking and struggling and disgusted.

“That’s a good, good girl,” she says when she finally pulls out, her cock leaking onto Mattie’s face. Mattie’s head is still held still. She can’t turn over and spit it out. She can’t move at all.

Someone else slots herself between Mattie’s legs. Mattie knows, knows what she’s going to do, because of course she has to get marked by all of them, marked everywhere. She doesn’t expect it, though, when she forces the tip of herself soft inside Mattie. Oh god no not there, not inside, please not inside.

“Careful,” someone says, “that’s where she has all that seed.”

“Yeah,” she murmurs distractedly, “we’ll just have to fuck her again, then,” and she lets go inside Mattie’s cunt, sighing in relief. It fills her up and leaks out around her cock and runs over Mattie’s hole, mixing into the wet mud underneath them. She pulls herself out after a little while and paints Mattie’s stomach, and Mattie thinks this is maybe the dirtiest thing that’s ever been done to her, cum and piss dripping out of her pussy, buried deep inside her, all over her.

“Good girl,” she sighs, standing up off Mattie. Mattie doesn’t even know how to get up. She feels like she’s stuck sunk into the mud. Everything hurts.

“Now,” says one of the girls who’s less tired. “You wanna go home, don’t you?”

“Yes, please,” Mattie says, ever polite, and they all take her, “because that’s the gentlemanly thing to do, isn’t it?” one of them says, laughing. They won’t let Mattie go alone.

The sound of their collective panting filled the air, the thud of fists against skin echoing off the walls as they tested each other.

Quick jabs, hits to the ribs; it was push and pull as they were nearly on equal ground, two decorated professionals with national titles.

You had to keep a close eye— track his movements to take note of any injuries, run over how exactly you would deal with each one. It was your job to.

But, admittedly, you found your gaze wandering against your will lately. More often than you wanted to admit.

It was difficult to ignore the way his biceps flexed with each jab, how soft blond tufts fell over his face, stuck to the sweat lining his forehead, the low hang of his boxing shorts highlighted his abs straining with each motion.

"Fuck!"

The sharp curse broke your trance, eyes snapping up, immediately alert.

Eijirou's hands flew over his mouth, his fighter's stance softening, hesitant hands reaching out towards his friend whose head was angled down, fighting to not reel.

"Woah, man, I am so sorry—"

Katsuki slapped his hand away, wiping at the blood beginning to drip down his nose with the back of his hand, unyielding eyes meeting Eijirou's.

"Keep it goin', Shitty Hair. And you,"

He didn't bother to look at you as you approached, keeping his burning stare on his opponent while waving you off with a harsh motion of his free hand. "Get back."

His bite was nothing new. You didn't bother to fight the eye roll, stepping closer to assess the extent of the damage. "Don't be dumb. Let me look."

"You deaf or something? Beat it."

More blood trickled down, coming over the curve of his lip. You had worked with Katsuki long enough to know that he pushed himself until he was battered, had nothing left to give.

Your job was to keep that from happening.

With a sigh, you grabbed him by the crook of his elbow.

"You are gushing blood. Come on—"

"Get your fuckin' hands off me, you piece of—"

"Again, don't be dumb—"

Eijirou blinked between the two of you, watching as you wrestled to keep Katsuki's arm in your grip, ineffectively attempting to drag him away. With a smile that didn't quite meet his eyes, he began to take backwards steps towards the bench where he kept his water, knowing there was little else he could do in this situation.

"I'm gonna take five. Go with her, man."

Feeling Katsuki's resistance give in just enough, you tugged him towards the med bay, giving Eijirou a grateful look over your shoulder. You hoped he didn't feel too guilty. Sparring was never supposed to get this intense, after all. But, mistakes happened.

You offered soft apologies under your breath to the few nurses on the same late shift as you were with a tight smile as you rushed past them to guide him into the room at the very back, shutting the door behind you.

It was just you two now.

Katsuki was still panting, worked up from the fight. There was probably enough adrenaline in his system to keep him from feeling the real pain of his affliction.

You pushed him back onto the bed against the wall to your right with a hand over his chest, feeling the warm muscle rise up and down under your palm before you turned to rummage through the cabinet, fishing out a medical kit with a crease forming between your brows.

"Are you trying to get yourself put on medical leave before your match next week?"

He didn't say a word, only the sound of his heavy breathing filling the room as you felt his glare against your back.

You sighed.

"Right before I get off too..."

"Yeah," He scoffed, a mocking edge to his voice. "'Cause I did that shit on purpose."

"You kept pushing. That was stupid and you know it, the best athletes know when to call it quits."

Katsuki scoffed, his jutted lower lip pursing as you set down the kit beside him, opening it up to fish out some gauze. "Maybe we should get you in the ring. Since you're such an expert."

You pushed his thighs apart with an unimpressed look, standing between them to get as close as you could.

A hand went behind his neck, gently tilting his head down so the blood wouldn't trickle back into his nose, go down his throat.

You carefully pinched the sides of his nose bridge to stop the blood flow, wiping away at what had escaped with clean gauze.

“You love making my life harder,” you muttered under your breath. “Can’t you just admit I'm right? Say you’ll be more careful?”

“The day I say that shit you can put a gun to my head.”

You rolled your eyes, but he continued.

"I don't say shit I don't mean," he sighed out, abs flexing as he winced slightly. “If your meddling ass didn't get in the way, I would've won.”

“Or you would've gotten your ass beat, but whatever.”

“I've had worse. A fucked up nose is nothing."

"Is that supposed to be a good thing?" you raised a brow, getting a new piece of gauze. "You never know when to stop, Katsuki. That's your issue."

The room settled into silence only the hum of the AC, your shifting, and the quiet, reluctant winces that slipped past as you tended to him.

His eyes never left you.

Sometimes, you wondered why.

Why he allowed you to treat him, why he let you get close. But you shook yourself out of those thoughts, reaching down to grab an ice pack. No time to get sidetracked, not now. Especially on something that was very likely nothing.

"Bleeding stopped."

He didn't respond, eyes downcast as you alternated between pressing it to either side of his nose bridge.

When he finally spoke, his words were quick. Quiet.

"I was going for his blind spot."

Said like he had to explain himself to you, or maybe himself.

But he didn't have to. You knew that his slip ups were extremely rare, he never made the same mistake twice— he beat himself up over every error, obsessed over earned perfection, victory.

His high standards for himself were what got him so far, but you knew they got to him. That, quietly, he sometimes needed reassurance, like anyone would.

“I know you were.” you finally responded, voice gentle, without pity.

"Eijirou's right side was open and he was getting tired. That was the right move. You would've gotten him."

He blinked down at you, as if assessing your honesty before a slight smile touched his lips. He gripped the edge of the small bed a little tighter, leaning down closer.

"Knew you were starin'."

Your heart jumped in your chest, but you pushed it down.

"Well, that is my job."

"It's your job to watch for injuries. Not stare."

You couldn't help what came out of your mouth next.

"Maybe I was staring at Eijirou."

"You think you're so funny."

"I think your ego's inflated."

"Wanna say that again?"

You pressed the ice a little too harshly into the side of his nose, drawing a small groan from him.

"Save it, Katsuki."

You packed up your kit and gathered the bloodied gauze to throw away, rinsing your hands before coming back to assess your work.

Blood clean, no signs of continued bleeding. A small bruise forming under his right eye from the trauma, expected.

It took everything in you to ignore the weight of his eyes, how he looked at you with an intensity reserved for his opponents in the ring. Calculating, searching. You could feel the burn crawling up the back of your neck. Professional, keep it professional.

You nodded a little too quickly, turning on your heel. "Yep, all good. No more sparring, but you can go back now."

He tugged you by the back of your shirt collar before you got too far, pulling you back between his legs, face only inches away from yours.

"You don't want that."

The sudden proximity along with his words made your heart spike, as if caught.

What did you want? The question made you uneasy.

(Or, maybe it was the answer that you knew deep down that made you want to crawl out of your skin.)

You pushed back slightly, deflecting.

“I want you to see Dr. Tanaka as soon as you can. I'll make an appointment for tomorrow morning since he left for the day. I think your nose is broken.”

“No it's not.”

It wasn't. If it had been broken, you would've known from one look, you would have been angrier with him. But that was your out, your excuse to get away. And he had called your bluff, gaze unmoving.

"Don't play dumb right now."

“I'm not playing dumb." the words came snappy, brave; but you were just so close, that fire faltered. His hand that had gripped the back of your collar had shifted carefully to the front, so close to your neck that you were afraid he might feel your heart try to burst out of your throat.

"You're just…" you trailed off, struggling to find your words. "…difficult. You're being difficult.”

"Difficult?" a dry sort of laugh. "You're the difficult one. For someone smart you can be pretty fuckin' dense."

You bit the inside of your lower lip, eyes darting between him and the door.

You knew what he meant. This back and forth between you was nothing new. But when it got too real you had always gotten away, said something and acted like nothing had happened once you cooled down.

The sounds outside seemed to be getting louder, closer. These doors didn’t have locks. Anyone could come in, find you like this. One of the nurses checking in, a gym goer looking for band-aids.

“Or maybe you do know. Hm?”

The question pulled you from your thoughts in an instant, made your eyes snap to his— first mistake. Once his crimson stare bored into yours, you couldn’t look away.

Could you have been that obvious? You thought your moments of distraction were fleeting, imperceptible to the average eye.

He had never commented on it before, slipping back to his normal self even after your closest calls.

But you should’ve known better. Katsuki Bakugou was not average in any sense of the word.

(Of course, he noticed. Of course he did.)

You sputtered something before you could think, just wanting to hear something other than the sound of your own thoughts.

"Some…someone could—"

"No one's gonna come in." his voice flat, dismissal easy. All matter of fact as he craned his neck down closer to you.

"Unless you want Eijirou to come in. Since you were, what, staring at him, right? That what you want?"

"What?!" the word was almost a squeak, high and taken aback. "That's not— "

You fought the strange heat crawling up your face by shooting him a look, eyes narrowing.

"Katsuki. I was joking."

He hummed.

(Unbelieving? Amused? A bit of both?)

"Sure you were."

You opened your mouth, then closed it. The deflections that had once come so easy were heavy on your tongue. There was no joke, no eye roll, nothing you could say to slip away. Not this time.

You sighed, next words defeated.

"What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to be real with me." you could feel his breath against your lips; hot, charged. "Tell me you don’t want this, that you haven't thought about it.”

“Katsuki…”

It came out weaker than you wanted. Small, kind of breathless. Almost pleading.

For what— to let you go?

(To keep going?)

He kept egging, eyes not once leaving yours. “Say it. I'll stop.”

And you knew he would. Because he was being serious, you could tell by his voice— how it was low under his breath, softened. 

For you, he was being intentionally careful.

Just the thought made you want to cave. But the entire reason your relationship worked, why you were able to handle him, was because you didn't give in.

"There are rules about this sort of thing—"

"You think I give a fuck about bullshit rules?"

"Yeah, I know you don't." you gave him a look. "But I do. I could lose my job, you could get me fired, or…"

You swallowed back the rest of it.

He didn't have to know how it made you afraid, testing the fragile nature of this relationship. How giving in meant that all of this could shatter, that this could all amount to one big mistake.

Katsuki blinked, taking in your expression. He looked off to the side for a beat, lips pursing in thought before, carefully, he took your hands into his.

"You know I won't let that happen. I don't see any of the other shitty medics here."

You snorted a little. Because you did know. You cocked your head to the side, a small smile tugging at your lips. "They're not shitty."

He didn't retaliate, just raised his brows slowly. The truth of his words wasn't what mattered, it was the implication behind them.

(You're the one I see. You.)

His earlier words rang in your ears.

Tell me you don't want this, that you haven't thought about it.

You couldn't, because you had.

Countless times— whenever you watched him hover over his opponents, keep them locked underneath him, the heat in his eyes, a cocky smile on his lips.

He wormed his way into your mind, more often than not, late at night. When sleep couldn't find you and your bed felt exceptionally cold. Empty.

(Him. You imagined him.)

Denying all of that was exactly what you should have done. That would have been the rational thing to do, the smart thing.

But as you traced his face, followed the soft curve of his cheeks against the otherwise harsh lines, watched the furrow of his brow deepen ever so slightly, as if he, of all people, was nervous— you couldn't fight the feeling anymore.

Because you wanted to kiss him, and you wanted him to kiss you— more than anything.

Hesitantly, you brushed your thumbs over the bruises on his knuckles.

“No, I… I do. Want this, I mean."

Something in his expression shifted. Surprise, for a brief second, before that cocky gleam in his eyes that you had seen when he was in-action settled over his face. Only, a little different. (A little sharper, hungrier.)

"Yeah?" he pushed closer, nose just barely brushing yours. "You want this?"

Slowly, you nodded.

"Yes."

His gaze darted from your eyes and lips before the sliver of space between you finally disappeared.

The kiss was tentative, careful. So unlike him that it caught you a little off guard.

Soft. His lips were so soft against yours.

He kissed you like he was trying to figure out the shape of your lips, go slow enough to savor the moment, commit the feeling to memory. The hand near your collar came up to cup your jaw, angle your face just right.

You had thought about what this would feel like for longer than you would ever admit. Did he think of you the same way? Were you what he had expected?

When he pulled back just enough to breathe, he drank in your expression; your pretty lips plush and parted, wide doe-eyes blinking up at him.

He groaned, "Fuck it."

You yelped when calloused hands gripped your arms, hoisted you up like you weighed nothing, thick biceps flexing as he pulled you down to straddle his thigh.

You planted your hands on his chest to steady yourself on instinct, unable to process it for a second. Your thighs were around his leg, his hands at your waist, holding you in a way you had only ever thought would exist in the secret fantasies you let yourself indulge in. The small bed creaking under your combined weight. His chest rising and falling under your palms.

Sometimes, you forgot how strong he actually was. How he wasn’t just some other annoying, short-tempered guy— his body was molded to his profession; brute strength and jagged lines carved from a life in the ring. His shoulders broad, a tapering waist, arms nearly the size of your head. He could probably pick you up and snap you in half if he really wanted to. Your stomach flipped at just the thought.

Before you could open your mouth to speak, he flexed the muscle of his thigh; deliberate, testing. Sharp eyes watching as your face flushed at his bare muscle pressing up against your core.

Your breath hitched, warmth pooled down between your legs, heart beating in your ears as his large hands slid down to rest over your hips, holding you steady— pulling you down closer.

"Feel good?"

Your ears burned at the mocking edge to his voice. You squirmed, caught between wanting to slap that smug look off his face and slowly seek more friction by grinding down.

You didn't have to choose, not when his hands slowly guided your hips down, back and forth against his hardened muscle. You bit your bottom lip between your teeth, clearly embarrassed, ineffectively fighting the whimpers that threatened to slip past with each movement.

His gaze never once left you, taking note of every little reaction.

Heat crawled up your face at being watched so shamelessly.

Leaning forward, you distracted yourself by pressing soft kisses up the side of his throat, staring to grind down on him yourself, your tongue darting out before gently sucking soft marks into his skin.

He let out a strained sigh, tilting his neck back just enough to give you more access.

You hooked your arms loosely around his neck, pecking across his jaw. Your fingers curled into the hair at his nape, giving it a soft tug, pulling his head back so his eyes met yours.

Pupils blown, eyes heavy with want, hair falling over them all messy and disheveled.

You didn't know how you had gone so long without this, how you could have ever wanted to keep your distance. Now that you let yourself have a taste, you didn't think you could ever get enough.

Tugging him to you by the hair, you pulled him to kiss you again.

This time, it was feverish, insatiable. Months of tension and denied desire pouring over all at once.

He kissed like he was still chasing you; like he had something to prove, like he wanted you to feel that you were his favorite taste. A clash of tongue and teeth, nipping at your bottom lip. Each time he pulled back to breathe it lasted less than a beat before he rushed back to steal the soft sounds that slipped past your lips as your hips continued to buck against his thigh.

But the fabric, it was in the way. No matter how hard you grinded down on him, there was too much between you and what you wanted, and the frustration was showing. Your slight sighs turning into small huffs, brows pinching against your will.

The next time Katsuki pulled back, you didn't let him kiss you again. The small string of saliva between your lips broke as you spoke, softly panting. "I want 'em off."

He looked down at your request, pinching the fabric of your pants between his index and thumb. Eyes looking up into yours carefully, like he was uncertain if that was something you really wanted.

You nodded, a little frantic.

"Off. Please."

He got straight to it. Getting them off wasn't pretty, but a controlled sort of desperate.

His movements were precise as always, fairly smooth, but you could feel that something was simmering under his palms as he moved you around to get them off just right, even more so when they finally rested over your bare legs, eyes slightly dazed as he gave the flesh a tentative squeeze.

You bit your lip at the feeling, skin burning under his touch, wanting it all over you.

You glanced down at your shirt.

"This too."

He scoffed, but there was something like a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. "Fuckin' bossy."

His hands slid under the hem, bunching the fabric up over your chest, too impatient to get it all the way off. He reached back to unclasp your bra, letting it fall to the floor as he took in the shape of your bare chest, the way your nipples hardened at the cool air of the clinic.

For a beat too long, he just stared.

On instinct, you wondered if something was wrong, if there was something about you that was weird or unappealing, the feeling twisted in you. But before you could tug your shirt back down, he cupped your tits with both hands, feeling the weight of them, squeezing slightly.

"Been waiting for this shit for so fuckin' long, y'know that?" He groaned out, leaning forward to bury his face into them.

You whimpered as he pressed wet kisses across the skin, thumb brushing over one of your nipples while his tongue lolled out to lick over the other, sucking it between his lips.

You began grinding down on his thigh again, the feeling so much more intense with just your panties on. You shifted your hips to find the angle that felt best, rubbing yourself down against the hard muscle of his thigh beneath you, solid and perfect, the friction sending sparks up your spine, your breaths coming out in shallow pants.

Each roll of your hips made your breath come a little faster, especially as his mouth pulled off one of your tits to give the other a fair share of attention.

Your nails dug into his shoulders when he nipped at your chest, sucking harshly, catching your sensitive peak between his teeth just to hear you whine. His tongue was hot against your skin, wet and needy.

Katsuki could feel your arousal starting to coat his thigh, soaking through your panties, smearing over his leg with every drag of your hips. Smiling against your chest, he pulled back with a soft pop, looking down at the glistening mess you left behind.

He moved a hand down between your bodies, slightly nudging your hips up with his leg to give him enough space in between to feel you over your panties, the fabric evidently damp as his index and middle finger stopped right above your clothed clit, pressing against it just slightly, enough to pull a shaky sigh from your lips.

"All this from just my thigh?"

There was a smug, slightly demeaning tone to his voice, like he was surprised you were so wet, as if it wasn't his fault. It made you want to throttle him. Or kiss him. Or both.

Your brows furrowed. "Shut up."

He only chuckled, drawing a line down your clothed slit. All slow, agonizing. Self-satisfied at the soft whimper that slips out of you.

"It's a simple fucking question. Haven't even touched you properly yet."

You huffed, mustering your most serious expression to meet his eyes. "God, just quit teasing, Katsuki. You're being mean."

He raised his brows, that smile on his face only widening. "You think this is mean?"

Finally, finally, he hooked his fingers into your panties, pushing them aside. The first touch, skin-on-skin, made you gasp. He dragged his fingers between your folds, coating them in your slick, slow and deliberate, before circling your entrance.

"I can show you mean."

His eyes were locked between your legs, watching his own fingers move. "Look at you," he murmured, almost to himself. “Fucking soaked."

He pushed one finger inside, slow enough that you felt every inch. You whimpered softly, walls fluttering around him.

He groaned softly, watching your face contort, feeling himself get even harder in his shorts.

"Tight," he breathed. "Gonna add another. That okay?"

You nodded frantically, beyond words.

The second finger stretched you more, made you bite down on your lip to keep from moaning too loud. He worked them deeper, curling them slightly. Your chest heaved at the intrusion you fought to not cry out, your nails digging into his shoulder as he hit just the right spot.

"There?" His voice was rough, satisfied. "That the spot?"

You couldn't respond, forehead falling into the crook of his neck, clinging to him as he curled his fingers again, rubbing that soft patch inside you with devastating precision.

Once he found it, he didn't stop, pumping his fingers in and out, hitting it with precision each time.

You grinded down into his hand, feeling the heel of his palm press up against your clit. You chase the feeling, shameless. Lost in the sensation, the overwhelming feeling of him all around you.

You mumbled into the skin of his neck incoherently about how you were: "Almost… 'm gonna…"

You could hear his voice right by your ear. Hoarse, determined.

“Yeah?” his efforts nearly doubled. “Close?”

You could only nod, coherent thoughts gone from your mind, only a desperate haze of want.

"Yeah. Yes. Please, please more…"

He kept at it, silently savoring your desperate sounds.

You wrapped your arms tight around his neck, moans muffled into his skin as the tightly wound up knot came undone. Your breaths getting heavy in your lungs, head getting fuzzy, eyes fluttering shut, nails having left angry red lines down the skin of his upper back.

He ran a hand up and down your back as you collapsed against him, coming down from the high. He let you rest against him, breathing from a moment before pulling you back with a small kiss to the side of your head.

"Look at me."

It didn't sound like a request.

"Hm?"

You watched with hazy eyes as he slowly pulled his fingers out of you, the loss making you whimper. They glistened under the harsh light of the clinic, coated with the evidence of what he'd just done to you.

He held your gaze as he brought them to his mouth. His tongue darted out first, licking a long strip up the slick-covered fingers. Then, he took them fully into his mouth, sucking them clean, eyes never once leaving yours.

Your breath caught in your throat. Heat flooded through you again, despite having just come. Tasting you off his own fingers like you were the best thing he'd ever had— it was almost too much.

When he finally pulled his fingers from his mouth with a soft pop, he smirked at your expression.

"Tastes good," he said simply, like commenting on the weather.

You clenched around nothing, already missing him inside you, feeling spent but somehow needing more.

"You're shameless."

"Last I checked, I wasn't the one humping your thigh."

Your face burned, a small, angry sort of pout settling on your lips.

He snickered, hand sliding up to your waist, giving it a small squeeze. "Little too late to get all embarrassed. Shit was hot."

"Uh huh…" You gave him a look, "Um. Thanks, by the way... that was—" You trailed off, not knowing how to express what you feel just the right way. "Good. It was good."

Katsuki snorted. "Just good?" you rolled your eyes, but leaned into his teasing with sweetness, something he didn't quite expect.

"Much better than good."

He searched your eyes for a beat, a hand coming up to brush back some of your hair. Then he pecked your lips— soft, almost sweet — before tugging your shirt back down carefully.

That was when you slowly realized, he was wrapping this up. But… he didn't cum?

He didn't cum.

"Hey, wait you didn't—"

He knew what you were talking about, the strained bulge in his shorts was nothing short of obvious.

"Does it look like I care."

His dismissal of his own need threw you off.

"Katsuki, that's not fair. I can't just—"

"Sure you can. You just did."

You turned his head towards you, pulling him into a soft kiss, parting his lips with yours, trying to not get lost in tasting yourself on his tongue. Gently trying to urge him to let you have him the way he had you.

You try to convince him, urge him to let you return the favor, do something.

You ran your hand over the bulge in his shorts, traced it gently, wanting. He groaned against your mouth, the sound strained in the back of his throat, like he was holding himself back. "C'mon, Katsuki," you palmed him over his shorts, wanting to hear more. "Let me? Please?"

He looked like he could give in, his jaw tense, eyes screwing shut as your finger hooked into the waistband of his shorts, drawing out a breathy sigh. You froze when the intercom crackled above you.

"The gym will be closing in ten minutes. Please begin wrapping up your sessions and make your way to the exit. Thank you."

You blinked. Fuck.

"…I can be quick?"

That was a lie. Ten minutes wasn't nearly enough time to do what you wanted to.

He waved you off with a snort, tugging your hand away from his throbbing cock, taking it upon himself to adjust the hem of your shirt with more care than you thought possible from someone like him.

"Relax." He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. "Shit’s not a big deal. Can take care of it in the shower."

The mental image of him standing under the shower, hand wrapped around his cock, thinking about this — you — made something low in your stomach tighten.

You must have made a face, because he huffed out a laugh.

"But if you want to make it up so bad," He leaned in closer, nose brushing yours. The soft curve of his lashes was so much more apparent this close. He pressed a final, lingering kiss, grinning softly as he spoke. His voice low against your lips, promising. "We'll go for round 2."

may blabs: baby's first smut dont throw tomatoes at me.. ok

btw if u ever genuinely have a bloody nose do NOT tilt your head back. that blood will go down your throat and if it gets into ur stomach u could throw up and that is not good so do NOT do that ✌️✌️

big special thank u to the mutuals ( @updownandbatty & @cupidkats & @hushedlotus ) AND irls i bothered w this fic… u are goated ❤️‍🩹

again, art in the header is not mine, credits to the artist !!!

taglist: @nanakamii 𓂃˖ ࣪⊹ :

He circles your entrance, humming softly to himself when he feels how wet you are, feels the way your desperate cunt tries to clench around his fingers and suck him in. Bringing the pads of his fingers up and over your clit he spreads your arousal all over your pussy then slaps at your soaking clit.

His hand makes a wet smack each time he slaps you and burning heat scathes up your throat in embarrassment. Whimpering quietly your thighs tremble and Dick chuckles, eyes gleaming with something lustful, something dangerously interested and intense.

“Hold your legs open for me, sweetheart.” Dick says, sliding his fingers back and forth over your twitching clit. “I’ve got a feeling I could make you come from just slapping your greedy pussy.”

Choking out a quiet whine of his name you slip your hands under your knees and hold yourself open, give Dick a clean view of your aching cunt. Arousal leaks from your entrance and slides between your cheeks and Dick drags his pointer finger down until he rubs over the tight, slick hole.

Tipping your head back you gasp and expose the long arc of your throat. Dick pulls his finger back up to your slick folds and starts slapping lightly at your clit, making sure to hit it with every movement.

“Please.” You finally manage, voice barely audible over the wet smack of his palm meeting your cunt. Each time he pulls away to deliver another slap your slick sticks to his hand, strings of wetness connecting him to your pussy. “I don’t know if I can come from this.”

Dick coos and keeps slapping your swollen, sensitive clit, “You can, baby. You can come from this, I’ve made you come from less, haven’t I?” The countess memories overlap in your head and you moan, almost whimpering. “I’ve kissed your pretty little pussy until you’ve come. You’ve rubbed yourself on my thigh until you’ve cried. I’ve even seen your sweet cunt cream itself from just one little finger touching you.”

“Dick—please.” You try, shaking yourself apart. “Mmm—please, I don’t—can’t…oh please.”

“Come for me.” Dick orders, and his tone is hard, nearly demanding. He slaps at your pussy three times in quick succession and your whole body stiffens. “There we go. I knew you could do it.”

Sliding two fingers into your grasping pussy he twists his wrist and drags over that spongy patch of nerves inside you. Your hips kick up immediately and you cry out, wetness gushing over Dick’s hand.

“I can’t—“ You cry, letting go of your knees so you can close your legs. “—I can’t, it’s too sensitive, I’ve just come.”

“And you’ll come again—” Dick says, and uses one hand to hold you open. He crooks his fingers just right and you wail, nerves sparking from the tips your fingers to your toes when you tighten up and come for a second time. “—and again, and again.”

Releasing his hold on your thigh Dick leans over to grab something and when he brings it up so you can see, you whine, fingers twisting desperately into the sheets.

Turning it on, the vibrator hums to life and Dick slips a third finger into your soaking hole, stretching you open.

“You’ll come until I think you’ve had enough.” He grins, and presses the vibe to your oversensitive clit. “A few more and I think you’ll be ready to take my cock, sweetheart.”

The sound of their collective panting filled the air, the thud of fists against skin echoing off the walls as they tested each other.

Quick jabs, hits to the ribs; it was push and pull as they were nearly on equal ground, two decorated professionals with national titles.

You had to keep a close eye— track his movements to take note of any injuries, run over how exactly you would deal with each one. It was your job to.

But, admittedly, you found your gaze wandering against your will lately. More often than you wanted to admit.

It was difficult to ignore the way his biceps flexed with each jab, how soft blond tufts fell over his face, stuck to the sweat lining his forehead, the low hang of his boxing shorts highlighted his abs straining with each motion.

"Fuck!"

The sharp curse broke your trance, eyes snapping up, immediately alert.

Eijirou's hands flew over his mouth, his fighter's stance softening, hesitant hands reaching out towards his friend whose head was angled down, fighting to not reel.

"Woah, man, I am so sorry—"

Katsuki slapped his hand away, wiping at the blood beginning to drip down his nose with the back of his hand, unyielding eyes meeting Eijirou's.

"Keep it goin', Shitty Hair. And you,"

He didn't bother to look at you as you approached, keeping his burning stare on his opponent while waving you off with a harsh motion of his free hand. "Get back."

His bite was nothing new. You didn't bother to fight the eye roll, stepping closer to assess the extent of the damage. "Don't be dumb. Let me look."

"You deaf or something? Beat it."

More blood trickled down, coming over the curve of his lip. You had worked with Katsuki long enough to know that he pushed himself until he was battered, had nothing left to give.

Your job was to keep that from happening.

With a sigh, you grabbed him by the crook of his elbow.

"You are gushing blood. Come on—"

"Get your fuckin' hands off me, you piece of—"

"Again, don't be dumb—"

Eijirou blinked between the two of you, watching as you wrestled to keep Katsuki's arm in your grip, ineffectively attempting to drag him away. With a smile that didn't quite meet his eyes, he began to take backwards steps towards the bench where he kept his water, knowing there was little else he could do in this situation.

"I'm gonna take five. Go with her, man."

Feeling Katsuki's resistance give in just enough, you tugged him towards the med bay, giving Eijirou a grateful look over your shoulder. You hoped he didn't feel too guilty. Sparring was never supposed to get this intense, after all. But, mistakes happened.

You offered soft apologies under your breath to the few nurses on the same late shift as you were with a tight smile as you rushed past them to guide him into the room at the very back, shutting the door behind you.

It was just you two now.

Katsuki was still panting, worked up from the fight. There was probably enough adrenaline in his system to keep him from feeling the real pain of his affliction.

You pushed him back onto the bed against the wall to your right with a hand over his chest, feeling the warm muscle rise up and down under your palm before you turned to rummage through the cabinet, fishing out a medical kit with a crease forming between your brows.

"Are you trying to get yourself put on medical leave before your match next week?"

He didn't say a word, only the sound of his heavy breathing filling the room as you felt his glare against your back.

You sighed.

"Right before I get off too..."

"Yeah," He scoffed, a mocking edge to his voice. "'Cause I did that shit on purpose."

"You kept pushing. That was stupid and you know it, the best athletes know when to call it quits."

Katsuki scoffed, his jutted lower lip pursing as you set down the kit beside him, opening it up to fish out some gauze. "Maybe we should get you in the ring. Since you're such an expert."

You pushed his thighs apart with an unimpressed look, standing between them to get as close as you could.

A hand went behind his neck, gently tilting his head down so the blood wouldn't trickle back into his nose, go down his throat.

You carefully pinched the sides of his nose bridge to stop the blood flow, wiping away at what had escaped with clean gauze.

“You love making my life harder,” you muttered under your breath. “Can’t you just admit I'm right? Say you’ll be more careful?”

“The day I say that shit you can put a gun to my head.”

You rolled your eyes, but he continued.

"I don't say shit I don't mean," he sighed out, abs flexing as he winced slightly. “If your meddling ass didn't get in the way, I would've won.”

“Or you would've gotten your ass beat, but whatever.”

“I've had worse. A fucked up nose is nothing."

"Is that supposed to be a good thing?" you raised a brow, getting a new piece of gauze. "You never know when to stop, Katsuki. That's your issue."

The room settled into silence only the hum of the AC, your shifting, and the quiet, reluctant winces that slipped past as you tended to him.

His eyes never left you.

Sometimes, you wondered why.

Why he allowed you to treat him, why he let you get close. But you shook yourself out of those thoughts, reaching down to grab an ice pack. No time to get sidetracked, not now. Especially on something that was very likely nothing.

"Bleeding stopped."

He didn't respond, eyes downcast as you alternated between pressing it to either side of his nose bridge.

When he finally spoke, his words were quick. Quiet.

"I was going for his blind spot."

Said like he had to explain himself to you, or maybe himself.

But he didn't have to. You knew that his slip ups were extremely rare, he never made the same mistake twice— he beat himself up over every error, obsessed over earned perfection, victory.

His high standards for himself were what got him so far, but you knew they got to him. That, quietly, he sometimes needed reassurance, like anyone would.

“I know you were.” you finally responded, voice gentle, without pity.

"Eijirou's right side was open and he was getting tired. That was the right move. You would've gotten him."

He blinked down at you, as if assessing your honesty before a slight smile touched his lips. He gripped the edge of the small bed a little tighter, leaning down closer.

"Knew you were starin'."

Your heart jumped in your chest, but you pushed it down.

"Well, that is my job."

"It's your job to watch for injuries. Not stare."

You couldn't help what came out of your mouth next.

"Maybe I was staring at Eijirou."

"You think you're so funny."

"I think your ego's inflated."

"Wanna say that again?"

You pressed the ice a little too harshly into the side of his nose, drawing a small groan from him.

"Save it, Katsuki."

You packed up your kit and gathered the bloodied gauze to throw away, rinsing your hands before coming back to assess your work.

Blood clean, no signs of continued bleeding. A small bruise forming under his right eye from the trauma, expected.

It took everything in you to ignore the weight of his eyes, how he looked at you with an intensity reserved for his oppenents in the ring. Calculating, searching. You could feel the burn crawling up the back of your neck. Professional, keep it professional.

You nodded a little too quickly, turning on your heel. "Yep, all good. No more sparring, but you can go back now."

He tugged you by the back of your shirt collar before you got too far, pulling you back between his legs, face only inches away from yours.

"You don't want that."

The sudden proximity along with his words made your heart spike, as if caught.

What did you want? The question made you uneasy.

(Or, maybe it was the answer that you knew deep down that made you want to crawl out of your skin.)

You pushed back slightly, deflecting.

“I want you to see Dr. Tanaka as soon as you can. I'll make an appointment for tomorrow morning since he left for the day. I think your nose is broken.”

“No it's not.”

It wasn't. If it had been broken, you would've known from one look, you would have been angrier with him. But that was your out, your excuse to get away. And he had called your bluff, gaze unmoving.

"Don't play dumb right now."

“I'm not playing dumb." the words came snappy, brave; but you were just so close, that fire faltered. His hand that had gripped the back of your collar had shifted carefully to the front, so close to your neck that you were afraid he might feel your heart try to burst out of your throat.

"You're just…" you trailed off, struggling to find your words. "…difficult. You're being difficult.”

"Difficult?" a dry sort of laugh. "You're the difficult one. For someone smart you can be pretty fuckin' dense."

You bit the inside of your lower lip, eyes darting between him and the door.

You knew what he meant. This back and forth between you was nothing new. But when it got too real you had always gotten away, said something and acted like nothing had happened once you cooled down.

The sounds outside seemed to be getting louder, closer. These doors didn’t have locks. Anyone could come in, find you like this. One of the nurses checking in, a gym goer looking for band-aids.

“Or maybe you do know. Hm?”

The question pulled you from your thoughts in an instant, made your eyes snap to his— first mistake. Once his crimson stare bored into yours, you couldn’t look away.

Could you have been that obvious? You thought your moments of distraction were fleeting, imperceptible to the average eye.

He had never commented on it before, slipping back to his normal self even after your closest calls.

But you should’ve known better. Katsuki Bakugou was not average in any sense of the word.

(Of course, he noticed. Of course he did.)

You sputtered something before you could think, just wanting to hear something other than the sound of your own thoughts.

"Some…someone could—"

"No one's gonna come in." his voice flat, dismissal easy. All matter of fact as he craned his neck down closer to you.

"Unless you want Eijirou to come in. Since you were, what, staring at him, right? That what you want?"

"What?!" the word was almost a squeak, high and taken aback. "That's not— "

You fought the strange heat crawling up your face by shooting him a look, eyes narrowing.

"Katsuki. I was joking."

He hummed.

(Unbelieving? Amused? A bit of both?)

"Sure you were."

You opened your mouth, then closed it. The defelctions that had once come so easy were heavy on your tongue. There was no joke, no eye roll, nothing you could say to slip away. Not this time.

You sighed, next words defeated.

"What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to be real with me." you could feel his breath against your lips; hot, charged. "Tell me you don’t want this, that you haven't thought about it.”

“Katsuki…”

It came out weaker than you wanted. Small, kind of breathless. Almost pleading.

For what— to let you go?

(To keep going?)

He kept egging, eyes not once leaving yours. “Say it. I'll stop.”

And you knew he would. Because he was being serious, you could tell by his voice— how it was low under his breath, softened. 

For you, he was being intentionally careful.

Just the thought made you want to cave. But the entire reason your relationship worked, why you were able to handle him, was because you didn't give in.

"There are rules about this sort of thing—"

"You think I give a fuck about bullshit rules?"

"Yeah, I know you don't." you gave him a look. "But I do. I could lose my job, you could get me fired, or…"

You swallowed back the rest of it.

He didn't have to know how it made you afraid, testing the fragile nature of this relationship. How giving in meant that all of this could shatter, that this could all amount to one big mistake.

Katsuki blinked, taking in your expression. He looked off to the side for a beat, lips pursing in thought before, carefully, he took your hands into his.

"You know I won't let that happen. I don't see any of the other shitty medics here."

You snorted a little. Because you did know. You cocked your head to the side, a small smile tugging at your lips. "They're not shitty."

He didn't retaliate, just raised his brows slowly. The truth of his words wasn't what mattered, it was the implication behind them.

(You're the one I see. You.)

His earlier words rang in your ears.

Tell me you don't want this, that you haven't thought about it

You couldn't, because you had.

Countless times— whenever you watched him hover over his opponents, keep them locked underneath him, the heat in his eyes, a cocky smile on his lips.

He wormed his way into your mind, more often than not, late at night. When sleep couldn't find you and your bed felt exceptionally cold. Empty.

(Him. You imagined him.)

Denying all of that was exactly what you should have done. That would have been the rational thing to do, the smart thing.

But as you traced his face, followed the soft curve of his cheeks against the otherwise harsh lines, watched the furrow of his brow deepen ever so slightly, as if he, of all people, was nervous— you couldn't fight the feeling anymore.

Because you wanted to kiss him, and you wanted him to kiss you— more than anything.

Hesitantly, you brushed your thumbs over the bruises on his knuckles.

“No, I… I do. Want this, I mean."

Something in his expression shifted. Surprise, for a brief second, before that cocky gleam in his eyes that you had seen when he was in-action settled over his face. Only, a little different. (A little sharper, hungrier.)

"Yeah?" he pushed closer, nose just barely brushing yours. "You want this?"

Slowly, you nodded.

"Yes."

His gaze darted from your eyes and lips before the sliver of space between you finally disappeared.

The kiss was tentative, careful. So unlike him that it caught you a little off guard.

Soft. His lips were so soft against yours.

He kissed you like he was trying to figure out the shape of your lips, go slow enough to savor the moment, commit the feeling to memory. The hand near your collar came up to cup your jaw, angle your face just right.

You had thought about what this would feel like for longer than you would ever admit. Did he think of you the same way? Were you what he had expected?

When he pulled back just enough to breathe, he drank in your expression; your pretty lips plush and parted, wide doe-eyes blinking up at him.

He groaned, "Fuck it."

You yelped when calloused hands gripped your arms, hoisted you up like you weighed nothing, thick biceps flexing as he pulled you down to straddle his thigh.

You planted your hands on his chest to steady yourself on instinct, unable to process it for a second. Your thighs were around his leg, his hands at your waist, holding you in a way you had only ever thought would exist in the secret fantasies you let yourself indulge in. The small bed creaking under your combined weight. His chest rising and falling under your palms.

Sometimes, you forgot how strong he actually was. How he wasn’t just some other annoying, short-tempered guy— his body was molded to his profession; brute strength and jagged lines carved from a life in the ring. His shoulders broad, a tapering waist, arms nearly the size of your head. He could probably pick you up and snap you in half if he really wanted to. Your stomach flipped at just the thought.

Before you could open your mouth to speak, he flexed the muscle of his thigh; deliberate, testing. Sharp eyes watching as your face flushed at his bare muscle pressing up against your core.

Your breath hitched, warmth pooled down between your legs, heart beating in your ears as his large hands slid down to rest over your hips, holding you steady— pulling you down closer.

"Feel good?"

Your ears burned at the mocking edge to his voice. You squirmed, caught between wanting to slap that smug look off his face and slowly seek more friction by grinding down.

You didn't have to choose, not when his hands slowly guided your hips down, back and forth against his hardened muscle. You bit your bottom lip between your teeth, clearly embarassed, ineffectively fighting the whimpers that threatened to slip past with each movement.

His gaze never once left you, taking note of every little reaction.

Heat crawled up your face at being watched so shamelessly.

Leaning forward, you distracted yourself by pressing soft kisses up the side of his throat, staring to grind down on him yourself, your tongue darting out before gently sucking soft marks into his skin.

He let out a strained sigh, tilting his neck back just enough to give you more access.

You hooked your arms loosely around his neck, pecking across his jaw. Your fingers curled into the hair at his nape, giving it a soft tug, pulling his head back so his eyes met yours.

Pupils blown, eyes heavy with want, hair falling over them all messy and disheveled.

You didn't know how you had gone so long without this, how you could have ever wanted to keep your distance. Now that you let yourself have a taste, you didn't think you could ever get enough.

Tugging him to you by the hair, you pulled him to kiss you again.

This time, it was feverish, insatiable. Months of tension and denied desire pouring over all at once.

He kissed like he was still chasing you; like he had something to prove, like he wanted you to feel that you were his favorite taste. A clash of tongue and teeth, nipping at your bottom lip. Each time he pulled back to breathe it lasted less than a beat before he rushed back to steal the soft sounds that slipped past your lips as your hips continued to buck against his thigh.

But the fabric, it was in the way. No matter how hard you grinded down on him, there was too much between you and what you wanted, and the frustration was showing. Your slight sighs turning into small huffs, brows pinching against your will.

The next time Katsuki pulled back, you didn't let him kiss you again. The small string of saliva between your lips broke as you spoke, softly panting. "I want 'em off."

He looked down at your request, pinching the fabric of your pants between his index and thumb. Eyes looking up into yours carefully, like he was uncertain if that was something you really wanted.

You nodded, a little frantic.

"Off. Please."

He got straight to it. Getting them off wasn't pretty, but a controlled sort of desperate.

His movements were precise as always, fairly smooth, but you could feel that something was simmering under his palms as he moved you around to get them off just right, even more so when they finally rested over your bare legs, eyes slightly dazed as he gave the flesh a tentative squeeze.

You bit your lip at the feeling, skin burning under his touch, wanting it all over you.

You glanced down at your shirt.

"This too."

He scoffed, but there was something like a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. "Fuckin' bossy."

His hands slid under the hem, bunching the fabric up over your chest, too impatient to get it all the way off. He reached back to unclasp your bra, letting it fall to the floor as he took in the shape of your bare chest, the way your nipples hardened at the cool air of the clinic.

For a beat too long, he just stared.

On instinct, you wondered if something was wrong, if there was something about you that was weird or unappealing, the feeling twisted in you. But before you could tug your shirt back down, he cupped your tits with both hands, feeling the weight of them, squeezing slightly.

"Been waiting for this shit for so fuckin' long, y'know that?" He groaned out, leaning forward to bury his face into them.

You whimpered as he pressed wet kisses across the skin, thumb brushing over one of your nipples while his tongue lolled out to lick over the other, sucking it between his lips.

You began grinding down on his thigh again, the feeling so much more intense with just your panties on. You shifted your hips to find the angle that felt best, rubbing yourself down against the hard muscle of his thigh beneath you, solid and perfect, the friction sending sparks up your spine, your breaths coming out in shallow pants.

Each roll of your hips made your breath come a little faster, especially as his mouth pulled off one of your tits to give the other a fair share of attention.

Your nails dug into his shoulders when he nipped at your chest, sucking harshly, catching your sensitive peak between his teeth just to hear you whine. His tongue was hot against your skin, wet and needy.

Katsuki could feel your arousal starting to coat his thigh, soaking through your panties, smearing over his leg with every drag of your hips. Smiling against your chest, he pulled back with a soft pop, looking down at the glistening mess you left behind.

He moved a hand down between your bodies, slightly nudging your hips up with his leg to give him enough space in between to feel you over your panties, the fabric evidently damp as his index and middle finger stopped right above your clothed clit, pressing against it just slightly, enough to pull a shaky sigh from your lips.

"All this from just my thigh?"

There was a smug, slightly demeaning tone to his voice, like he was surprised you were so wet, as if it wasn't his fault. It made you want to throttle him. Or kiss him. Or both.

Your brows furrowed. "Shut up."

He only chuckled, drawing a line down your clothed slit. All slow, agonizing. Self-satsfied at the soft whimper that slips out of you.

"It's a simple fucking question. Haven't even touched you properly yet."

You huffed, mustering your most serious expression to meet his eyes. "God, just quit teasing, Katsuki. You're being mean."

He raised his brows, that smile on his face only widening. "You think this is mean?"

Finally, finally, he hooked his fingers into your panties, pushing them aside. The first touch, skin-on-skin, made you gasp. He dragged his fingers between your folds, coating them in your slick, slow and deliberate, coating them before circling your entrance.

"I can show you mean."

His eyes were locked between your legs, watching his own fingers move. "Look at you," he murmured, almost to himself. “Fucking soaked."

He pushed one finger inside, slow enough that you felt every inch. You whimpered softly, walls fluttering around him.

He groaned softly, watching your face contort, feeling himself get even harder in his shorts.

"Tight," he breathed. "Gonna add another. That okay?"

You nodded frantically, beyond words.

The second finger stretched you more, made you bite down on your lip to keep from moaning too loud. He worked them deeper, curling them slightly. Your chest heaved at the intrusion you fought to not cry out, your nails digging into his shoulder as he hit just the right spot.

"There?" His voice was rough, satisfied. "That the spot?"

You couldn't respond, forehead falling into the crook of his neck, clinging to him as he curled his fingers again, rubbing that soft patch inside you with devastating precision.

Once he found it, he didn't stop, pumping his fingers in and out, hitting it with precision each time.

You grinded down into his hand, feeling the heel of his palm press up against your clit. You chase the feeling, shameless. Lost in the sensation, the overwhelming feeling of him all around you.

You mumbled into the skin of his neck incoherently about how you were: "Almost… 'm gonna…"

You could hear his voice right by your ear. Hoarse, determined.

“Yeah?” his efforts nearly doubled. “Close?”

You could only nod, coherent thoughts gone from your mind, only a desperate haze of want.

"Yeah. Yes. Please, please more…"

He kept at it, silently savoring your desperate sounds.

You wrapped your arms tight around his neck, moans muffled into his skin as the tightly wound up knot came undone. Your breaths getting heavy in your lungs, head getting fuzzy, eyes fluttering shut, nails having left angry red lines down the skin of his upper back.

He ran a hand up and down your back as you collapsed against him, coming down from the high. He let you rest against him, breathing from a moment before pulling you back with a small kiss to the side of your head.

"Look at me."

It didn't sound like a request.

"Hm?"

You watched with hazy eyes as he slowly pulled his fingers out of you, the loss making you whimper. They glistened under the harsh light of the clinic, coated with the evidence of what he'd just done to you.

He held your gaze as he brought them to his mouth. His tongue darted out first, licking a long strip up the slick-covered fingers. Then, he took them fully into his mouth, sucking them clean, eyes never once leaving yours.

Your breath caught in your throat. Heat flooded through you again, despite having just come. Tasting you off his own fingers like you were the best thing he'd ever had— it was almost too much.

When he finally pulled his fingers from his mouth with a soft pop, he smirked at your expression.

"Tastes good," he said simply, like commenting on the weather.

You clenched around nothing, already missing him inside you, feeling spent but somehow needing more.

"You're shameless."

"Last I checked, I wasn't the one humping your thigh."

Your face burned, a small, angry sort of pout settling on your lips.

He snickered, hand sliding up to your waist, giving it a small squeeze. "Little too late to get all embarassed. Shit was hot."

"Uh huh…" You gave him a look, "Um. Thanks, by the way... that was—" You trailed off, not knowing how to express what you feel just the right way. "Good. It was good."

Katsuki snorted. "Just good?" you rolled your eyes, but leaned into his teasing with sweetness, something he didn't quite expect.

"Much better than good."

He searched your eyes for a beat, a hand coming up to brush back some of your hair. Then he pecked your lips— soft, almost sweet — before tugging your shirt back down carefully.

That was when you slowly realized, he was wrapping this up. But… he didn't cum?

He didn't cum.

"Hey, wait you didn't—"

He knew what you were talking about, the strained bulge in his shorts was nothing short of obvious.

"Does it look like I care."

His dismissal of his own need threw you off.

"Katsuki, that's not fair. I can't just—"

"Sure you can. You just did."

You turned his head towards you, pulling him into a soft kiss, parting his lips with yours, trying to not get lost in tasting yourself on his tongue. Gently trying to urge him to let you have him the way he had you.

You try to convince him, urge him to let you return the favor, do something.

You ran your hand over the bulge in his shorts, traced it gently, wanting. He groaned against your mouth, the sound strained in the back of his throat, like he was holding himself back. "C'mon, Katsuki," you palmed him over his shorts, wanting to hear more. "Let me? Please?"

He looked like he could give in, his jaw tense, eyes screwing shut as your finger hooked into the waistband of his shorts, drawing out a breathy sigh. You froze when the intercom crackled above you.

"The gym will be closing in ten minutes. Please begin wrapping up your sessions and make your way to the exit. Thank you."

You blinked. Fuck.

"…I can be quick?"

That was a lie. Ten minutes wasn't nearly enough time to do what you wanted to.

He waved you off with a snort, tugging your hand away from his throbbing cock, taking it upon himself to adjust the hem of your shirt with more care than you thought possible from someone like him.

"Relax." He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. "Shit’s not a big deal. Can take care of it in the shower."

The mental image of him standing under the shower, hand wrapped around his cock, thinking about this — you — made something low in your stomach tighten.

You must have made a face, because he huffed out a laugh.

"But if you want to make it up so bad," He leaned in closer, nose brushing yours. The soft curve of his lashes was so much more apparent this close. He pressed a final, lingering kiss, grinning softly as he spoke. His voice low against your lips, promising. "We'll go for round 2."

may blabs: if u ever genuinely have a bloody nose do NOT tilt your head back. that blood will go down your throat and if it gets into ur stomach u could throw up and that is not good so do NOT do that ✌️✌️

big special thank u to the mutuals ( @updownandbatty & & @cupidkats & @hushedlotus ) AND irls i bothered w this fic… u are goated ❤️‍🩹

again, art in the header is not mine, credits to the artist !!!

taglist: @nanakamii 𓂃˖ ࣪⊹ :