Wuhluhwuhwarrior10

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˖ ࣪⊹ :