.⚝⚝⚝.

You hadn't scrambled to fix your posture. You had just looked at him with an expression of profound boredom.

The attendants behind him had turned white as ghosts, bracing for the inevitable spray of blood. Sukuna’s jaw had set, a terrifying, low growl vibrating from his chest. But you hadn't trembled.

If he wanted to kill you, he would kill you. Fawning over him wasn't going to change his nature, so you simply refused to waste the energy.

He hadn't killed you. Instead, he had left, the doors slamming shut with enough force to rattle the shoji screens.

And that was the exact moment the nightmare began. Because from that night onward, Sukuna became an insufferable, permanent fixture in your life.

"You are eating that wrong."

You stopped your chopsticks halfway to your mouth, letting out a long, slow exhale through your nose. It was midnight.

You had been looking forward to a quiet, solitary meal of cold rice and pickled plums, but Sukuna had simply materialized in the corner of your room ten minutes ago, dripping wet from a thunderstorm, and had proceeded to sit directly on the edge of your bedding.

"I am eating it the way I have eaten it for more than twenty years," you said, not looking at him. "If my technique offends you, the door is exactly where you left it."

Sukuna scoffed, leaning back on his palms. His massive, tattooed frame took up half the space in your small room, his lower arms crossed over his chest while his upper right hand casually reached over and swiped a plum straight from your bowl.

"You have a wretched attitude," he remarked, popping the fruit into his mouth and chewing lazily. "The women in the east hall weep with gratitude if I so much as glance toward their courtyard. You look at me like I am a stray dog that ruined your garden."

"Stray dogs are quieter," you muttered, finally looking up to glare at him. "And they don't steal my food."

Sukuna’s lower mouth twitched into a sharp, jagged grin. He loved it. The realization turned your stomach, a strange, dizzying mixture of irritation and heat.

He didn't come to your room because he wanted a concubine; he came because he was a creature driven entirely by conflict, and you were the only person in the entire empire who refused to give him the satisfaction of a fight. You gave him nothing. You gave him a wall of pure, unbothered apathy, and it was driving him entirely insane.

He leaned forward suddenly, crowding your space. The smell of the storm, ozone and rain, rushed over you. Before you could pull back, his large, calloused hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around your jaw.

It wasn't the brutal, bone-crushing grip he used on his enemies. It was controlled, a heavy, unyielding restraint that forced your face up toward his.

"You should fear me," he murmured, his upper eyes tracking the movement of your throat as you swallowed. His thumb thumbed the soft skin right beneath your lower lip, a deliberate, electric friction that made your toes curl inside your robes. "A single flick of my finger, and this pretty little throat splits wide open."

You met his gaze evenly, refusing to let the wild, frantic thudding of your heart show on your face. "Then do it. I'm tired of your bragging."

Sukuna froze. For a second, the silence in the room was deadly. Then, a loud, booming laugh tore from his throat, the sound rough and genuine as he released your jaw, shifting his weight until he was practically draped over your lap, his heavy head resting casually against your thigh.

"Insufferable," he muttered, closing all four of his eyes as if he owned the space. "Utterly insufferable."

You stared down at the King of Curses currently using your legs as a pillow, your hand hovering over his unruly pink hair, entirely tempted to shove him off. But you didn't. You just sighed, picking up your chopsticks again, ignoring the way his subconscious weight felt entirely too natural against you.

The shift happened. In Sukuna’s dictionary, words like love or devotion were meaningless concepts invented by the weak to justify their dependency. He would never admit to favoring you. If anyone asked, he would simply say you were a minor amusement, a dull distraction from his boredom.

But the rest of the estate wasn't blind.

The servants noticed that the rare silks brought from the western raids, the ones Sukuna usually threw into the treasury to rot—somehow kept finding their way into your wardrobe because he had casually grumbled that your current robes looked "like rags."

The guards noticed that if Sukuna left your courtyard irritated, he was significantly less likely to execute someone in the main hall.

And then there was the incident with the lord of the northern clans.

During a formal banquet, the lord had made a passing, disparaging remark about your status, calling you an "eccentric, useless mouth to feed" who didn't know her place.

You hadn't even heard the comment; you had been across the pavilion, systematically ignoring Sukuna’s attempts to make you try a cup of sake.

But Sukuna had heard it.

He hadn't made a scene. He had simply stood up, walked over to the lord’s table, and dismantled the man’s entire lineage within three seconds, leaving the pavilion drenched in red before sitting back down next to you, casually picking up his chopsticks as if nothing had happened.

"You're exhausting when you're angry," you had murmured, wiping a stray drop of blood from the sleeve of your robe with a click of your tongue.

Sukuna hadn't answered. He had just grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand toward him until you were forced to use your sleeve to wipe a smudge of gore from his cheek instead. He hadn't asked. He had just assumed your hands belonged on his skin.

Late one evening, weeks later, the heat of the summer had turned the air thick and oppressive. You were lying awake in your bed, staring at the ceiling, when the shoji screen slid open without a sound.

Sukuna stepped inside. He looked exhausted, the heavy marks of a curse battle still lingering in the tension of his shoulders. He didn't speak. He just shed his heavy outer robe, letting it hit the floor, before crawling directly onto your sleeping mat.

"Go away," you groaned, trying to roll over to the far edge. "It is too hot for this."

"Silence," he grunted, a large, heavy arm snaking around your waist from behind. He hauled you back against his chest with a single, effortless tug, his massive body completely enveloping yours.

His chest was blazing hot, a furnace of pure cursed energy, and his face buried itself directly into the crook of your neck.

"You cling too much," you muttered, though you didn't actually fight the hold. It was a useless endeavor anyway.

"What nonsense," Sukuna rumbled, his voice thick with sleep, his lower arms tightening around your hips, anchoring you so securely to him that you could feel the rhythmic, heavy thud of his heart against your spine. "You are small. You fit here. Stop complaining."

You lay there in the dark, his breath warm against your skin, his long, sharp fingernails absentmindedly tracing patterns into the fabric of your garment near your ribs.

He was completely unaware of how intimate the gesture was, how entirely possessive his body became the moment he was near you. He thought he was just resting. He thought he was just taking what was his.

You turned your head slightly, looking back at him. His eyes were closed, his expression unusually peaceful in the dim moonlight.

"You're an idiot, Ryomen Sukuna," you whispered softly.

A faint, arrogant smirk touched his lips, though he didn't open his eyes. His hand moved up, his fingers lacing through yours with a casual, unthinking pressure, locking your hands together against the bedding.

"And you are still breathing," he murmured into your skin, his grip tightening just a fraction more. "Be grateful I find your stupidity so entertaining."

You closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into his terrifying, inescapable warmth, finally accepting that while the King of Curses would never say the words, his actions had already rewritten the entire world around you.

............................................................................

Ending his workday means going home. And if he goes home, you’ll be there. And if you’re there, he’ll be reminded of your nasty argument from the other night. And if he thinks about that argument, he’ll have to face the fact that the two of you are still stubbornly refusing to speak to one another until the other apologizes first. It’s a ridiculous standoff—an unnecessary one, and he knows it. But neither of you seems particularly interested in ending it, and now his own apartment has somehow become the last place he wants to be. Every room feels charged with an uncomfortable tension. The living room is awkward. The kitchen is unbearable. Even lying down beside you at night feels weird, so Katsuki would rather avoid the whole thing if he can help it.

If he gets home late enough, you’ll already be asleep. Then he can shower, crawl into bed, and pretend the situation doesn’t exist for a few more hours. It seemed like a solid plan in his mind, but unfortunately, thanks to fucking Shitty-Hair, he has no choice but to head home and hang up his costume. 

And judging by the lights still glowing through the windows of his apartment, his luck has officially run out. You’re still awake. Of course.

He trudges in, and there you are—sitting stiffly on the couch in the living room, staring directly at him with your arms crossed and an infuriated glare on your face as you fix him with narrowed eyes. Great.

“Do you have any fucking clue what time it is?” you hiss without missing a beat.

Katsuki should’ve known you’d start nagging the second he walked through the door. Hell, he should’ve turned around and just left the moment he saw the lights on instead of coming in.

“S’not even ten,” he grumbles, kicking his boots off. “Would you fuckin’ drop it—”

“You were supposed to be home almost two hours ago!” Your voice rings through the apartment, sharp and incredulous, and Katsuki is so tired. So exhausted. Too exhausted to deal with this nonsense right now, of all times.

“Yeah, well. Now I’m home. There you go.”

The dismissal only seems to make you angrier. Katsuki practically watches the steam start pouring from your ears as you shoot to your feet, hands planting firmly on your hips. And he just knows your voice is about to get louder.

“That’s it?” you practically screech. He fucking knew it. “You’re out on patrol for an extra two hours, and I hear nothing from you—not even a text saying, I’ll be home late. I’ve been sitting here like an idiot, wondering what the fuck happened, or if you’re okay, and all you can say is now you’re home? Do you just get off on being an asshole or something, Katsuki?”

His shoulders tense immediately as he fixes you with an equally hard glare. There goes his wish for a peaceful, conflict-avoidant night. Of course, as always, you have to drag the conflict right to him and drop it at his feet, spike his temper, and make it ruin his evening. A simple shower and a good night’s sleep was all he wanted. But things are never quite that easy—not with you.

Katsuki feels a dull throb start behind his eyes as he shoots back, “What, was your phone broken or some shit? What exactly held you at gunpoint and stopped you from sendin’ me a text and asking, huh?”

Your jaw drops. “Are you serious?”

“I’m not laughin’, am I? Definitely no jokes here.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you scowl, and he snorts. There’s no humor behind the sound, however.

“Yeah, that’s real mature.”

“Oh no—you don’t get to tell me about what’s mature and what isn’t. Cause if you wanna talk about what’s mature, it’s not disappearing for two hours and acting like I’m insane for being worried!”

“I wasn’t disappearing, I was fuckin’ doing my job.”

“You were supposed to be done with that job hours ago!”

“Well, I wasn’t!”

“You have a smart little answer for everything, don’t you, Katsuki?” you smile sarcastically, “just think you’re so smart and above it all, huh?”

Katsuki doesn’t know if it’s the headache that’s been creeping on him, or the rage, or the pure adrenaline in his system, but he does know that for a short, fleeting second, all he saw was red. 

“Holy fuck, do you ever listen to yourself?”

Your expression hardens instantly. “No, I think you should listen to yourself. You might hear an idiot if you do.”

The apartment goes quiet. Dangerously quiet. 

“You know what?” he says coldly, “forget this. I’m goin’ the fuck to sleep—I’ve dealt with enough bullshit tonight—”

You throw your hands in the air, exasperated. There is a flash of hurt on your face that makes his chest ache, but the sharp stab of pain doesn’t last for long because as quickly as his heart bleeds, his mind makes him forget. It only lets him focus on the anger and the irritation and the way you’ve ruined his night, just like you ruined the one before. 

“Every single time I tell you something bothers me, you act like it’s a personal attack, and then you just dismiss me like I don’t matter—”

“Maybe I wouldn’t dismiss shit if every conversation with you didn’t turn into a fuckin’ laundry list of grievances you got with me!”

“You only take everything I say as a complaint because you refuse to communicate!”

“Because not everything needs to be a damn discussion like we’re in therapy!”

“Right,” you laugh bitterly. “Silly me. God forbid I expect basic consideration from you.”

Something ugly flashes across his face. He knows it. Katsuki knows that when he’s mad, he turns ugly—he’s always been that way. It’s the only way he knows how to be. For the longest time, he thought you were the only person he could hide it from. That you were the only person he could fight the urge to get ugly from because you are just that special. 

But Katsuki is who he is, and he’s learned that he’s a special kind of ugly just for you.

“Basic consideration?” he barks. “You’re sayin’ I’m not considerate?”

“No, sometimes you fucking aren’t and—”

“Oh, that’s fuckin’ rich! I break my back every day keeping this city safe—”

“Well, if the city is the only thing you can be considerate for, why the fuck are you even here?”

It’s silent as soon as the words leave your mouth. Katsuki goes completely still. He can feel it the second it happens—the way his expression shuts down. The way the anger drains out of his face and leaves behind something colder. Something worse. Something so ugly, he has to get out of here before you see it and realize he isn’t worth it. Isn’t worth you. 

“Yeah,” His voice is flat. “Why am I here, right? You know, you can just tell me to leave next time, it’d be a lot fuckin’ easier for you.”

“Katsuki—”

“No.” He grabs the strap of his duffel bag that carries his guantlets from where he’d dropped it by the door, throwing it over his shoulder as he bends down to lace his boots up again.

“Katsuki, that’s not what I meant.”

“Sure.”

“I was angry—”

“Clearly, you’re always fuckin’ angry at me. I’m always doin’ something the fuck wrong, aren’t I? Nothin’ I do is enough?”

Stop, stop, stop. His mind is screaming, begging him not to do this. To get out. To leave and fight that hideous part of him down until he’s far enough that you never, ever have to see it.

“Katsuki, don’t do this right now—”

“Do what?” His voice rises more than it should. Stop—stop now. But he can’t. The ugliest of him is already taking surface and showing his truest of colors. “What exactly am I supposed to say here, huh?” You flinch. He needs to fucking stop, but he doesn’t. “Because apparently, when I stay late to save people, I’m an asshole. When I’m home, I’m an asshole. I breathe, I’m an asshole. I exist, I’m an asshole.”

“That’s not—”

“So what’s the answer?” His laugh is bitter and so, so cold that he doesn’t recognize this version of himself. Not with you. He wants to stop desperately, but he can’t. Because Katsuki is an ugly, hideous, despicable person deep down. No amount of heroism on the surface can hide that part of him that’s on the inside, not from you. “Since you’ve got everything figured out, you tell me what the fuck I’m supposed to do.”

“Katsuki, let’s just sit down and—”

He shakes his head. For a second, he wants it to hurt. He wants it to hurt for you. Stop, stop, stop— “Y’know what? I’m done.”

His hand closes around the doorknob, and your voice comes out shaky and panicked as you whisper, “Katsuki, please just sit down and—”

“I’m not fuckin’ doin’ this shit anymore.”

Then he yanks the door open and walks right back out, slamming it hard enough behind him to rattle the picture frames on the wall.

────────────────────────

Katsuki is six when he first asks his father what the fuck the old man even sees in the hag that is his mother. He remembers the conversation vividly. 

“Dad, why did you marry Mom? She’s grumpy and old, and she yells all the time,” little Katsuki asks, crossing his tiny arms over his chest. “Why d’you even like her?”

Masaru nearly chokes on his tea. “Katsuki,” he coughs. “Your mother isn’t old. You shouldn’t say that—it’s rude.”

“But she is,” he huffs. “She smells like an old lady, too.”

“Well, if she’s old, then I’m even older,” Masaru points out, taking another sip. “So that can’t be a very good reason not to like her.”

“Well, she’s mean.”

“She’s not mean,” his father chuckles, thoroughly amused. 

No matter how many times he sees it, Katsuki doesn’t understand it—the way his father gets that dumb, starry-eyed look whenever Mitsuki comes up. She’s always in a bad mood, and if she isn’t, she’s probably due for one within the next thirty minutes. Why his father would choose to marry such a sour lady is completely beyond his six-year-old comprehension.

“She yelled at me this morning,” he sulks.

“You tried to use your explosions inside the house,” Masaru reminds him, leveling him with a pointed look. “We talked about that. Rules are rules for a reason, young man.”

Katsuki pouts harder. His father is supposed to take his side.

“But she still yelled. And it was mean,” he argues back stubbornly. Masaru only smiles into his tea, shaking his head with fond amusement. For a moment, neither of them speaks. Then Katsuki presses again, “So what do you even like about her?”

The question seems to catch Masaru off guard. He pauses, thinking. “Well,” he says slowly, “she’s funny.”

Katsuki blinks. His father cannot possibly be serious. “Mom?”

“Yes.”

“She’s funny?”

“Very.”

“No, she isn’t,” Katsuki says immediately, deeply offended by the blatant lie.

Masaru laughs, “She is.” Katsuki stares at him like he’s completely lost his mind. Masaru only smiles wider. “She’s honest, too. You always know what she’s thinking.”

“That’s because she says whatever she thinks.”

“Exactly.”

“And she says it loud.”

“That’s true.”

“She says it really loud, Dad.”

Masaru nods solemnly, sighing. “Also very true, son.”

“She should shut up,” Katsuki huffs. His father fixes him with a stern look at that, and he shrinks back just a little. 

“We do not say that about our mother, Katsuki.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes but slumps deeper into his chair all the same. “Fine.”

“Your mother is wonderful,” his father says. “She works hard. She cares about people. She loves our family—she loves us. One day, you’ll see that. And when you do, I think you’ll appreciate her a lot more.”

Katsuki picks at the food on his plate, turning the words over in his head. 

His mother does love him—he knows that much, even if she is annoying. She remembers all the snacks he likes and somehow always comes home with them without him ever having to ask. Whenever he asks for money, she gives him more than he requested—even if it usually costs him an irritatingly painful pinch to the cheek. She wakes up early to bathe him despite complaining about losing sleep because he prefers morning baths to evening ones.

His mother loves him; he knows that to be true. But it’s only true because she is his mother, and he is her son. Mothers love their sons—it’s the rules. Why his father would willingly choose to love that woman remains completely incomprehensible, however, in his mind.

“Mom is super annoying,” he says bluntly.

Masaru’s smile softens. “I suppose sometimes she can be, yes.”

“See?” Katsuki perks up immediately, his entire face screaming, gotcha!

“But,” Masaru continues, “I’m sure I annoy her, too.”

Katsuki deflates on the spot. 

More than that, he simply cannot imagine such a thing being possible. His father is calm and nice and makes good food. Katsuki thinks lots of women would like his father—women who also would not find Masaru annoying. The only person allowed to find Masaru annoying is Katsuki himself, and that’s because his father makes rules that Katsuki has to follow. He thinks he’s earned that right.

His mother, however, has no such excuse.

“She gets annoyed with you?” he asks incredulously.

“Of course. Every day, I’m sure there’s something I do that annoys her at least a little.”

“Then why does she like you?”

Masaru thinks for a moment, carefully choosing his words, trying to explain this odd phenomenon that is love. “Because loving someone isn’t about finding a person who never annoys you,” he says finally. “It’s about finding someone who still sees your value even when you’re annoying. Someone who chooses you anyway. Does that make sense?”

His nose wrinkles immediately. “No.” His father stifles a chuckle when Katsuki adds, “That sounds dumb.”

“Maybe,” Masaru hums, eyeing him with bright, endeared eyes.

“I’m not gonna marry someone annoying when I’m all big. Because I’m smart!”

That earns him a full laugh from his father. It’s the kind of laugh that makes Masaru lean forward and wipe at the corner of his eye. In fact, he laughs so hard he nearly spills his tea. “You say that now,” his father says, setting his mug down, “but that’ll change. You’ll understand when you’re older.”

“No, I won’t,” Katsuki grumbles. He doesn’t appreciate that he’s not being taken seriously.

“I think you will, son.”

“I definitely won’t.”

Masaru only smiles. He looks at Katsuki the way adults always do when they think he’s young and silly and doesn’t know what he’s talking about. And Katsuki hates that look. He’s smart—excellent, even. Just the other day, he caught his teacher’s mistake during subtraction when nobody else in his class noticed. At this rate, he’s well on his way to being smarter than most adults.

He absolutely knows what he’s talking about.

“Well, we’ll just have to see, Katsuki. If I’m right, you’ll take me out for ramen someday. Deal?”

“Fine,” Katsuki huffs, puffing out his chest confidently. “But you’ll never see that ramen.”

────────────────────────

Twenty years later, Katsuki sometimes wonders if he’s going to have to admit he was wrong and take the old man out for ramen after all.

You are, without question, the most annoying, irritating, vein-popping individual he has ever met. It’s like every decision you make is carefully calculated to inconvenience him specifically.

He has to keep an extra jacket in his car because you never check the weather before leaving the house. He has to double-check your grocery lists before you go shopping because if he doesn’t, you’ll somehow forget the one thing you actually need. He has to make sure you take your vitamins. Every night, he has to remind you to take your makeup off before bed because, apparently, that responsibility has become his problem—and if you wake up the next morning with mascara smeared under your eyes because you didn’t listen to him, then somehow you still find a way to blame him for not wiping it for you.

You are annoying. Every single fucking day, you annoy him. You annoyed him yesterday. You’ve annoyed him today. You’ll annoy him tomorrow. And he’ll tell you exactly that—he’ll call you a dumbass, and tell you to get your life together. Complain about the ridiculous thing you did this time, and accuse you of going out of your way to make his life harder on purpose. But after that, despite it all, he will still love you. 

Twenty years later, now that he’s older, Katsuki realizes he understands what his father meant. That loving someone doesn’t happen because they never annoyed him—loving someone happens because they annoyed him, and he still, despite that, sees nothing but the good.

He loves you. You are annoying and drive him up a wall, but Katsuki knows that you are good. The greatest good that there might ever be, and he might have just ruined it. He probably fucked it all up and lost all the good he had. All the good he’s ever wanted. All the good that he’s wanted to keep for the rest of his life and cherish.

The second the apartment door slams shut behind him, Katsuki regrets it. He regrets being the reason behind that look on your face. That brief flash of panic in your eyes right before he left. That way that your voice sounded when you said his name.

He can’t get it out of his head as he walks out of your building. “Fuck,” He runs a hand through his hair and keeps walking.

The only friends he’d willingly see right now are working, his parents are definitely sleeping (and would ask too many questions he doesn’t want to answer, even if they weren’t), and he is nowhere near calm enough to go back upstairs and just go home.

But his patrol route is still active. So instead of going home and into bed like a normal person who has morning patrol, Katsuki leaves his apartment building behind and heads toward work.

By the time he gets suited up again, it’s almost eleven. By the time it’s midnight, he’s still out. By the time it’s 1 AM, he should call it a night.

Instead, however, he keeps moving. One more block turns into one more street. Anything to keep himself from going home or thinking about the argument. About the way you looked at him. About the things he said. About the shit he ruined for sure.

His thoughts are loud enough in his head, turning him deaf to everything else. He misses things he normally wouldn’t—things like suspicious shadows and warning shouts from another hero.

By the time Katsuki realizes what’s happening for what it is, the villain goes down easily enough—too easily. He curses himself for being so naive, so rash. He’s been fighting as a pro for years. He was a war veteran before he was even a legal adult, for crying out loud. Still, despite all that, the second Katsuki realizes something is wrong, it’s already too late.

The construction site groans around him—metal screeches against metal, and his head snaps upward. All he sees is the upper half of the structure collapsing before he loses his balance and collapses with it. 

“Shit—”

The explosion leaves his palms a fraction of a second too late, and he doesn’t go propelling forward the way he’s supposed to. The half-built building comes down, and Katsuki goes down with it. 

Then everything goes dark.

────────────────────────

It’s 2 AM when you see it on the news. Kirishima sends you a text asking if you’d heard what happened, and by the time you’ve spammed him with messages asking what the hell he was even talking about, he’s gone silent. Something in your gut knows that he’s not answering because he’s too busy rescuing. Too busy being a hero.

Your heart tells you that the person he has to be a hero to tonight just so happens to be Katsuki.

The first report you see hits the news at 2:13 AM. The anchor’s voice is as smooth and polished as ever as she delivers the words that send your whole world crumbling around you. 

“We are receiving breaking reports of a major incident involving Pro Hero Dynamight.”

The footage that floods the screen makes you fall to your knees and muffle your sobs behind a shaky palm—collapsed concrete and emergency responders and heroes rushing in and out of the wreckage. The camera zooms toward the ruined construction site, and Katsuki’s body is nowhere to be seen on the screen. You don’t quite know if that’s a good thing or bad.

“Dynamight was reportedly responding to a villain incident when a structural collapse occurred. We are told he is trapped beneath the rubble. Emergency responders are currently on the scene, conducting rescue operations.”

At 2:37 AM, the hospital gives you a call as his emergency contact. You’re sick to your stomach, not sure how you’ll make the drive there when Kirishima finally texts you again.

Kiri <3: I already told his parents. They’re on their way so don’t worry about it Kiri <3: One of my sidekicks is outside your apartment. They’ll drive you down there Kiri <3: I still have to handle the aftermath and finish patrol so I won’t be there I’m sorry Kiri <3: Keep me updated?

You: Don’t apologize Kiri idk what I’d do without u You: Thank you and pls be safe You: I’ll lyk things as soon as I find out

Kiri <3: Take it easy okay? Kiri <3: He’s come back from worse. It’ll be alright

——

Kirishima’s sidekick gets you to the hospital efficiently, but you are still at your wits’ end by the time you can rush out of the passenger seat and bolt through the sliding doors.

Some part of you is grateful you didn’t have to drive here yourself because you know you would’ve sped dangerously over the limit, missed half the red lights, and probably would’ve gotten yourself pulled over. At the same time, you wish you could’ve been the one behind the wheel, just to get here faster.

“I’m here to see Kats—um, Dynamight,” you say in a rush. “Dynamight…I meant Dynamight.”

The woman at the front desk looks at you with a raised eyebrow, already typing away at her screen as she blandly says, “Valid ID, please.”

You curse under your breath, fumbling through your purse for your wallet, and then fumbling through your wallet for your ID like your hands suddenly don’t belong to your body anymore.

When you practically shove it toward her in your haste, she takes it too calmly for your racing heart and inspects it for a moment. Then looks at her screen. Then back to your ID. Then she types for what feels like an agonizing eternity before she finally hands the card back and says, “Fourth floor, room twelve. He’s stable, but he has some serious injuries that they’ll have to monitor and heal slowly due to his stamina—”

You’re already moving before she finishes. You’re bolting toward the elevators, heart slamming so hard it hurts. The ride up to the fourth floor is torturously slow. When you finally get out of the elevator, you’re halfway down the hallway before you even register the security guard stepping in front of you.

“ID.” Again. Of course. You suppose it is a good thing security is tight for the pro hero unit—even if it does add to your piling weight of anxiety. When you clumsily pull it yet again, he checks it for another cruelly long stretch of time, glancing between the card and the device in his hands before finally saying, “Go ahead.”

You’re already moving.

By the time you reach room twelve, your hands are shaking so badly you can barely hold yourself still. For a moment, you just stand there, frozen. Would Katsuki even want to see you? Is he fed up with you? Would you just make his already terrible night even worse?

You aren’t sure.

You don’t know why you’re in the predicament you’re in right now. You don’t know how you got here or why things escalated the way that they did. You don’t know what you do wrong to push his buttons the way you seem to, to upset him the way that he gets. You think you’re doing the right thing—that you’re doing what’s right for both of you—but somehow, you always seem to mess it up. Always seem to say the wrong thing. Always seem to ruin whatever good the two of you have managed to build between you.

But you love Katsuki, and if nothing else, you know that he loves you too, and you need to see him. So you force down the bile in your throat and push the door open. The first thing you notice when you see him is the bandages wrapped tightly around him. One arm heavily secured in a cast. Gauze lining his shoulder and collarbone that makes your stomach drop in a sick, immediate lurch. Machines hum quietly beside him, keeping track of his vitals.

You never see Katsuki hurt like this—he’s always been practically invincible when he’s on the field, always taking things down before they have a chance at even touching him. And then your brain, cruelly, supplies the thought: but he is not invincible. Not always.

“Katsuki,” you whisper, eyes already welling with tears.

He’s looking at you the second the door opens—but his tired eyes soften with relief, just a little, when they land on you. “You came,” he says, voice rough.

“Of course I came,” you say, sharper than you mean to. How could he think you wouldn’t? How far have you let things go that he could genuinely believe you wouldn’t show up for him? “What the hell happened?”

He sighs, almost embarrassed. “Just…work ‘n shit.”

You sniffle, and he lifts his good arm toward you. That’s all it takes. 

You’re at his side in an instant, squeezing into the small space beside him on the hospital bed and curling yourself against his chest. You’re careful not to disturb any of the machines surrounding him, but you can’t stop thinking about how wrong this feels. How you shouldn’t be the one being comforted right now. How he’s the one lying in a hospital bed, yet somehow he’s still the one rubbing your back and soothing your tears.

“I thought you were gonna die,” you sob. “I—I saw the rubble, and Kiri stopped texting back and...and I thought you got crushed.”

“M’not fuckin’ dying, babe,” he huffs, sounding mildly offended. “A stupid building isn’t killin’ me. That’s a dumbass way to go.”

“You don’t know that,” you shake your head. “You can’t promise that.”

“Listen—”

“And I was sitting there watching the news and thinking the last conversation I ever had with you was that stupid fight,” you continue, looking up at him with trembling lips.

His eyes soften. “I know, but—”

“And I don’t care about the argument anymore,” you say, your voice shaking harder now. “I don’t care about being right or winning or being apologized to first—I should’ve texted you, you’re right. You...you probably felt like I didn’t care, but I do. I care so much, and I love you more than anything.”

You take a breath that does absolutely nothing to steady you. Katsuki is trying to wipe your tears away with one weak arm.

“I love you too—”

“I just want you to talk to me,” you sob. “I know I’m annoying, and I nag and scold and get onto you all the time, and I’m trying not to do that as much—really, I am! But I just...I wish you’d tell me things, too. Y’know? I am the one person you’re supposed to do that with, Katsuki,” you add, your voice cracking all over again. “But sometimes, it feels like I’m the last person you want to do that with.”

His expression tightens. “That’s not—”

“And I want us to work because I’ve never liked someone so much—it stresses me out. Because I love you and I want this to work, and the thought of it not working makes me so anxious I wanna throw up, and...and you act like talking to me is harder than getting crushed under a fucking building—”

“Baby.” He squeezes your cheeks together and silences you as he pulls your face closer, pressing a kiss to your puckered lips. “You talk a lot, y’know that?”

You huff at him immediately, tears spilling down your cheeks even faster. “That is so rude, given the—”

“I’m sorry about the fight,” he interrupts. You pause, and he takes the opportunity to keep going, despite looking painfully uncomfortable the entire time. “And for...walkin’ out ‘n shit. That was fucked up. I don’t talk to you like I should. You’re right. S’weird for me, and I hate it sometimes. I don’t know how to just...say shit like you do. Okay?” He sighs. “But m’gonna try more because you’re right—I need to talk to you. But you gotta get outta your head so much—” He gives your forehead a small jab with his finger. You sniffle and swat his hand away with a watery scowl. It earns the faintest grin from him. “We’re gonna work,” he says. “’Cause we do. That’s all there is to it, okay?”

“But—”

“No buts,” he grumbles. “My ribs hurt. Jus’ let me be right.”

A watery laugh escapes you as you shake your head, cupping his bandaged face between your hands. “You’re really annoying sometimes, Katsuki.”

“Yeah,” he rolls his eyes. “So are you. Still love you, though.”

“Me too,” you breathe, leaning down to kiss the tip of his nose. “Love you so much.”

He pulls you back down against his chest again, rubbing your back as you listen to the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear. You trace small patterns into his shirt. He presses a kiss to the top of your head. And things are okay—they are not beyond repairing. You’ll inevitably annoy him tomorrow, and he’ll annoy you the day after that, but you’ll still work. You will still find a way to keep things good the way they always are.

After a few quiet moments, he mumbles, “Hey.” When you look up, he says, “When m’all healed and shit, you gotta force me to go grab ramen with my old man. On me.”

────────────────────────

Katsuki waits almost a month after being discharged from the hospital before he finally makes the call. He’s been trying to stall it for as long as possible, but Katsuki, even at the tender age of six, has always been a man (or boy) of his word. He’s standing alone on the balcony outside his apartment with his phone pressed to his ear, wondering if it’s too late to hang up before the call goes through.

It rings twice. Then his father’s voice is as gentle and cheery as ever. “Katsuki!” Masaru answers immediately. “Hi, son!”

“Yeah, yeah. Hey.”

His father laughs. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“I got discharged, didn’t I? S’been a whole month.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear you’re sounding just like your usual self,” his father says. Katsuki can hear the smile in his voice. “What’s up?”

“Nothin’.”

“Katsuki, you never call for just nothing.”

He groans, rubbing a hand over his face with a sigh—it’s now or never. He can’t keep stalling, and Katsuki is, and always has been, a man of his word. If he promised his father ramen over a stupid bet he made twenty years ago, then he’s going to get his father that ramen. Even if it kills his pride. Demolishes it, even.

“Listen, I was thinkin’...maybe we could grab food sometime.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Masaru hums. “Let me ask your mother when she’s free and—”

“Not the hag. S’just you,” he cuts in, rubbing at his temple.

“Oh?” Masaru sounds amused. “Well, okay. I suppose it’d be nice to spend some time as just father and son. What kind of food?”

Katsuki pinches the bridge of his nose. Just say it. Just fuckin’ say it, his mind urges. Just rip the bandage off and say it. Say it. Say the damn word—he grits his teeth and forces out, “Ramen.”

There’s a pause on the other end. The silence stretches on long enough that Katsuki’s eye twitches.

“Ramen, huh?” Masaru finally says, and the way he says it makes a vein all but pop in Katsuki's forehead.

“Old man,” he says warningly, “don’t push it—”

He’s cut off when Masaru starts laughing. “I was wondering when this day would come.”

“Hah? You really kept that shit in your head for twenty years?”

“Of course I did. It was one of my favorite conversations I’ve ever had with you.”

“Why? ‘Cause you love bein’ fuckin’ right all the time?” Katsuki grumbles.

His father’s voice softens as he says fondly, “No. I just wanted you to find someone who made you as happy as your mother makes me. That’s all I wanted, son—for you to understand what being happy is like.”

The conversation is getting oddly sentimental, taking a turn that makes his chest feel strange, and his heart feel far too fragile. He hasn’t felt like this since after the war, and he doesn’t intend to sit with it any longer. So he mutters, “I still think Mom’s annoying. She yelled at me last week, so she never fuckin’ changes.”

Masaru laughs again. “No, she doesn’t.” Then, after a moment, “So, how does Saturday sound for some ramen?”

“Yeah. Whatever.”

“Will my son be paying?”

Katsuki regrets this call more than anything when he says, “Yes. I’m fuckin’ paying.”

“You know, son,” Masaru murmurs, making Katsuki pause, “I’m glad you get it now. You’ve grown into a fine man.”

Katsuki swallows hard. He turns, eyeing you as you sleep soundly in your shared bed, hugging his pillow to make up for his absence. He can only hope that his father’s words are true—that he is a fine man to you, the way his father always has been to his mother. His eyes never leave your figure as he mutters, “Yeah, well…s’not like I had a bad example or somethin’.”

you tried sitting on the bed and just... existing, prettily so. you're in one of yunho’s hoodies and nothing else, legs bare, socks with cute little hearts on them. usually that's enough to make him drop everything, usually he'd be on you within seconds, all long limbs and eager hands.

but valorant has your boyfriend in a chokehold tonight, and frankly, you're tired of competing with a video game.

so you wait, you watch, and you plan.

yunho's got this thing he always does when he's focused — his tongue pokes out just slightly, wetting his lower lip, and his eyebrows pinch together. he's so so beautiful like this, all sharp concentration, but you want him beautiful in a different way; you want him wrecked.

you slide off the bed quietly, padding across the carpet until you're right behind his chair. he doesn't notice. of course he doesn't notice; his friends are yelling something about a rotate, and yunho's voice is all clipped efficiency:

"i'm anchoring, i'm anchoring, just push—"

you drop your hands onto his shoulders.

yunho startles, just a little.

"oh—hey, baby. one sec," his eyes never leave the screen.

you don't say anythin, you simply start kneading the tension out of his trapezius muscles, slowly and cautiously. yunho’s shoulders are tight as rocks under your palms, and you feel him exhale as your thumbs dig into a knot.

"that's nice," he murmurs. "feels good."

you lean down, mouth brushing the shell of his ear.

"yeah?"

yunho shivers; you feel it travel down his spine, but his hands keep moving on the keyboard, and his brown eyes stay fixed on that glowing rectangle of chaos.

you could cry from frustration, but instead, you get creative.

your hands slide down from yunho’s shoulders, over his chest, dragging slow across his pectorals; you can feel his heartbeat under your palm — steady, but picking up just a little.

your fingers find the hem of his t-shirt and slip underneath, skating across the warm skin of his stomach.

yunho's breath hitches.

"babe, i'm in the middle of—"

"i know," you say sweetly against his ear. "you're doing so so good, yun."

his stomach tenses under your touch.

you slowly trace the lines of his abdominals, feather-light, watching yunho’s grip tighten on his mouse. his character on screen does something jerky — misses a shot, probably, and one of his friends groans over comms.

"yunho, what the hell was that?"

"nothing," he says, voice slightly strained. "misclick."

you smile, and your hands drift lower, thumbs hooking into the waistband of his gray joggers; they're soft, slightly worn, and they hang low on his hips, and it’s so fucking hot—

"baby," his voice has a warning edge now, but it's shaky. "can this wait? we're in overtime."

you don't answer, you simply slip one of your hand under the waistband, palm flattening against his lower belly, fingers trailing through the fine hair below his navel.

yunho is already half-hard; you can feel it, the way his cock twitches against your questing fingers, the way his hips push forward just a little, involuntarily.

"oh," you breathe. "someone's distracted."

yunho's jaw clenches. his character is standing still in a corner of the map, and his teammates are yelling at him.

"yunho! move! they're pushing A!"

your boyfriend forces his hands to move. you watch his fingers fumble on the keyboard, and something hot curls low in your belly. he's trying so hard to focus. it's adorable.

your hand dips lower, wrapping around his half-hard length through his boxers. he's warm, already leaking a little, and you stroke him once — slow, measured, from base to tip.

yunho makes a sound. it's barely a whimper, swallowed down fast, but you hear it, and your body responds instantly, a rush of heat spreading through your core.

"shh," you whisper. "don't want your friends to hear, do you?"

he shakes his head, a tiny, frantic movement. his ears are now completely red; you can see the flush creeping down his neck, disappearing under his t-shirt collar, and he's gripping his mouse so hard his knuckles are white.

you pull your hand out of his joggers, just for a moment, and yunho makes a confused, almost wounded noise — but then you're hooking your fingers into the waistband and tugging down just enough to free him.

yunho’s cock springs up, flushed and already leaking, the tip shiny and pink. he's not fully hard yet but he's close, and god, you love this part, you love watching him get there.

you spit into your palm, and you hear yunho's breath catch as you wrap your hand around him again, slick and warm.

"oh," yunho breathes. "oh—fuck."

"language," you tease, but your voice is lower now, rougher.

you start stroking him properly, slow and firm, twisting your wrist at the top the way you know he likes, and yunho's hips naturally buck into your hand.

his character is still standing in that corner, and someone on his team is screaming about a spike.

"yunho, what the fuck are you doing?"

"i—" his voice cracks. "i got—someone's at the door, hold on—"

he's lying, and it's terrible. you're both aware of how terrible it is, but you don't call him out, you just keep stroking him, steady and unrelenting, and watch him fall apart in real time.

yunho’s thighs are trembling; you can feel it through the fabric of his joggers, the way his muscles keep twitching, fighting the urge to just shove back from the desk and drag you onto his lap. but he doesn't. he stays in his chair, hands still on keyboard and mouse, because he's stubborn and competitive and he really wanted to win this game.

well… too bad for him.

you speed up just a little, and your thumb swipes over yunho’s slit, spreading the slickness there, and your boyfriend makes a sound that's almost a sob.

"baby, please," he whispers, just loud enough for you to hear.

"please what?" you ask innocently, still stroking, still watching the way his stomach is clenching and unclenching.

yunho doesn't answer, because he can't.

one of his friends is yelling something about a flank, and yunho forces his character to move, running him across the map in a straight line that makes no tactical sense. he's not even trying anymore, he's just going through the motions, and you can feel how close he is — the way his cock is throbbing in your hand, the way his breath is coming in short, sharp pants.

"you're gonna cum," you murmur. "aren't you, baby?"

yunho nods frantically.

his bottom lip is caught between his teeth, and his eyes are glassy, staring at the screen without really seeing it.

"not yet," you decide, and you let go.

yunho actually chokes; it was a desperate, punched-out sound that he tries to turn into a cough.

"what—why—"

"i want to taste you."

you don't wait for permission, you simply drop to your knees behind yunho’s chair, nudging his thighs apart with your shoulders, and then you're leaning in, your mouth closing over the head of your boyfriend’s cock. yunho tastes like salt and skin, that familiar warmth that makes your mouth water.

you swirl your tongue around the tip, lapping up the precum that's beaded just there, and yunho's whole body convulses.

"oh my god," he gasps. "oh my god, oh my god—"

"quiet," you remind him, pulling off just enough to speak. "mic."

yunho slaps a hand over his own mouth, and his pretty eyes are huge, panicked and desperate all at once, and you don't give him time to recover; you take him deeper, sinking down until he hits the back of your throat, and you hear the muffled sound of his scream behind his palm.

his hand flies off the keyboard. his character is running into a wall now, and one of his friends is saying something like:

"yunho, are you okay? your character's just—"

but yunho doesn't answer. hell, he can't.

you're bobbing your head now, setting a rhythm that's relentless, your hand wrapped around the base of his cock to stroke what your mouth can't reach. you're messy about it; spit is dripping down your chin, down his length, and you don't care at all. you just want to make him fall apart.

and he completely is.

yunho’s thighs are shaking violently, his hips jerking up into your mouth even though he's clearly trying to stay still. his hand is still clamped over his mouth, but the sounds are escaping anyway — whimpers, high and desperate, barely muffled by his palm. his other hand is still on his mouse, but he's not moving it; he's just gripping it like a lifeline, knuckles white, his whole arm trembling.

you pull off with a wet sound, just to watch him, just to see the way his chest is heaving, the way his eyes are screwed shut, tears clinging to his lashes.

"look at me," you say.

he does. yunho’s eyes open, and they're so blown out you can barely see the brown. his lips are wet and parted, and there's a tear already tracking down his cheek.

"so pretty," you tell him. "you're doing so well."

he shakes his head frantically.

"i can't—i'm gonna—"

"i know."

you take him back in your mouth before he can finish, and this time you don't hold back; you suck him like you mean it, hard and fast, your throat working around him, and you feel the exact moment he breaks.

yunho cums with a strangled cry, muffled by his own hand, his whole body arching up out of the chair. his release hits the back of your throat, hot and thick, and you swallow it down without stopping, without slowing, even as his hips are jerking and his thighs are trembling and he's making these broken, keening sounds that you know his friends can probably hear.

but you don't stop.

yunho's hand drops from his mouth.

"wait—wait, please, i just—"

but you keep going.

your tongue drags slow and flat over the head, and the noise yunho makes isn't human; it's a raw, punched-out gasp that cracks in the middle, and his whole body seizes — not just a flinch, but a real convulsion, spine bowing forward, shoulders hunching, his hips snapping back like he's trying to escape. but the chair traps him. there's nowhere to go.

"s’too much," yunho wheezes.

his hands fly down to your head, but his fingers don't push you, they just tangle in your hair, gripping hard, knuckles pressed against your scalp.

"s’too much, baby, please—"

you ignore him, and you suck gently, just the tip, and yunho’s thighs slam together around your ears; you have to push them apart again with your forearms, and you feel the muscles there jumping, spasming, completely out of his control.

"i can't—" his voice breaks into a real sob, wet and loud, and you hear one of his friends on the mic go quiet for a second.

"yunho? dude, you okay?"

you've taken him deeper again, and his hips are twitching in these short, jerky little thrusts that he's clearly not deciding to do. his body is just doing things now. his stomach keeps clenching and unclenching under his shirt, and you watch a bead of sweat roll down his temple, catching in his eyebrow.

you pull off to breathe, and the sound yunho makes is almost angry, and so so so desperate.

"please," he gets out. "please, it's so much—it's so much—"

your hand wraps around him again, loose and wet, and you don't move it, you just hold him, feel how hard he's trembling.

"i'm gonna die," yunho whispers, and his voice is tiny.

you laugh softly and lean back in, and this time you don't even take him all the way; you just mouth at the side of his shaft, lips dragging over the sensitive skin, and yunho jerks so hard his elbow knocks his water bottle off the desk. it hits the floor with a loud thunk, but neither of you look at it.

you can feel him softening a little, his body trying to retreat from the overstimulation, but you don't let up.

no, instead, you lick a slow stripe from the base of his cock to tip, and yunho’s breath hitches into a rhythm that's not breathing anymore — it's just gasping, open-mouthed and wet, his chest heaving like he's been running.

"one more," you say against his skin.

"i can't," he gets out, but his voice cracks on the vowel. "i can't, i literally cannot—"

you take him back in your mouth, just the head, and you suck.

it's not hard, it's almost gentle, but it's too much for him now, and you feel it the second his body gives up fighting. his whole frame goes rigid first — every muscle locked, his hands fisting in your hair hard enough to sting — and then he shatters.

it's not a normal orgasm; there's barely anything left, just a weak pulse, a few drops of fluid that you taste more than feel, but yunho’s body doesn't care.

he convulses like he's having a seizure, hips bucking off the chair, back arching so hard his shoulder blades press together. his mouth falls open in a silent scream, no air left to power it, and then the sound comes after — a raw, guttural cry that tears out of his throat and doesn't stop.

yunho’s legs kick out; one of his feet catches the desk leg, and the whole thing rattles.

his mouse skitters off the pad, his keyboard clacks as his chest slams into it, and he's still shaking, still convulsing, little aftershocks rippling through his thighs and his stomach and his hands, which are still twisted in your hair, holding on like you're the only solid thing in the room.

you stay where you are, mouth soft around his cock, but you’re not moving, you’re simply waiting.

it takes a long time for the spasms to slow down.

yunho’s breathing is all over the place — three short inhales, one long shuddering exhale, then nothing, then a gasp like he forgot how to breath. his long fingers loosen in your hair one by one, and his hand falls limp against the side of your face, palm sweaty and trembling.

you pull off slowly, carefully, and yunho’s whole body flinches at the loss of contact.

"hey," you whisper. "baby, you're okay."

he's not okay.

yunho’s is wrecked — tears and snot and spit all smeared together, his lips chapped and bitten raw. his eyes are half-closed, unfocused, the pupils still blown wide, and there's a wet patch on his shirt collar from where he's been crying.

you sit back on your heels and just look at him.

he's still shaking; little tremors, constant, running through his shoulders and his hands. yunho’s chest is hitching with these tiny, involuntary sobs that he doesn't seem to be aware of anymore. his character is dead on the screen — you notice distantly that his team lost, that the defeat screen is glowing on the monitor — but neither of you care.

finally, finally, you stand up.

you reach out and brush the damp hair off yunho’s forehead, and he flinches at your touch, too sensitive, still. but then he leans into it, just a little, his eyes flutter closed.

"baby," you say softly.

"you're mean," he whispers, his voice is completely destroyed, raw and cracked.

yunho just lies there, breathing in shaky hitches, while you stand up and grab a towel from the bathroom to clean him up. you're gentle this time, wiping away the mess, and he hisses when you brush against his cock but doesn't pull away.

you're tucking him back into his joggers when you hear it; a small, tinny voice from his headset.

"uh... yunho? dude, your mic is still on."

yunho's eyes snap open, and all the blood drains from his pretty face, then rushes back twice as fast, turning him crimson from his chest to his hairline.

"oh my god," he whispers.

you bite your lip to keep from laughing, you really do.

"oh my god," yunho says again, louder this time.

and you can hear his friends in the headset — someone is wheezing, someone else is saying; "i'm never letting him live this down," and the third person just keeps repeating "i heard everything, everything, i need therapy—"

yunho rips the headset off and throws it onto the desk, and he buries his face in his hands, shoulders shaking, and you can't tell if he's crying or laughing or both.

"i'm never playing with them again," yunho says, muffled. "i'm moving to a new country. i'm changing my name."

you climb into his lap, ignoring his weak little protest, and wrap your arms around his neck. yunho still trembling, still so so so oversensitive, but he holds you back, completely burying his face in your shoulder.

"you lost your game," you say, pressing a kiss to his temple.

"i don't care about the fucking game."

you grin. "good. because i want round two."

yunho groans, but his hips twitch against yours, and you feel him start to stir again, and you know he's definitely going to let you ruin him all over again.

your thoughts were a jumbled mess of cuddling katsuki!! and what the fuck do i say. you'd been trying to figure out how to start the conversation, but for all the times you'd made up scenarios in your head of how you'd confess, they were really passing you by right now. you'd never really come up with one for confessing after sex, the order was usually flipped, and honestly, was this even the right time to confess? you valued your relationship with katsuki a lot, and post-sex didn't feel like the clearest headspace for either of you to talk about something like that. but it would be kinda weird to just leave things like this, and—oh, was he smelling your hair?

he was squeezing you in a hug, and he'd buried his nose into your hair and started inhaling deep breaths. it felt kinda nice being hugged so tightly, but it was, admittedly, a little confusing. you couldn't see his face, but his body language was oddly tense. after another squeeze, "you need to pee." ah, yeah, that was a thing you were supposed to do after sex. you'd been a bit distracted by cuddling with him.

"oh, right," you mumbled. he didn't move to let you go, though. just stayed with his arms wrapped tightly around you, holding you close to him. you didn't really want to get up, you were still so unsure about what this meant for you both. but man, getting a uti would suck. and it wasn't something you could procrastinate for long. you'd waited long enough already, you probably needed to do it soon.

you gave him a goodbye squeeze in return—oh, that's why he'd been hugging you so tightly—and mentally tugged yourself away, "need to get up." after another deep breath, he let you go.

you used the bathroom on autopilot, doing your business and washing your hands while your mind whirled. when you opened the door again, katsuki was half-dressed and slowly picking his shirt up off your floor. "oh, are you leaving?"

he paused, head lifting at the sound of your voice. the moment his gaze landed on your naked body, though, he was immediately looking in a completely different direction, eyes darting to find something else that could occupy his vision. "i, uhm—" he cleared his throat. his eyes settled on the shirt in his hands. "…guess so." he was staring at his shirt like it was a foreign object, like he hadn't realized he was holding it.

silence lingered between you two for a few moments. you watched quietly, doing your best to interpret his body language with all the knowledge you'd compiled after being his best friend for so long. "you guess?"

"yeah."

you picked your discarded clothes up off the floor, pulling them on so he could at least look at you straight. "i'd been hoping you'd stay for a little."

he reflexively looked back up at you when you said that. your eyes met, and you watched as he shifted shyly on his feet. he made a sound of acknowledgement, but couldn't seem to find the words to say anything else.

you sat down on the edge of your bed, watching him fidget. "katsuki? are you okay?" he seemed confused, startled, uncomfortable—nothing quite felt like the right word.

he grunted and roughly carded a hand through his hair. "i'm—mmf," he dragged his hand down his face in frustration. his voice came out gruff, "'m not tryin' to run."

"what?"

he leaned against your desk, turning to face you. "it looks like i'm running. 'm not."

that didn't really provide much clarification. you could make guesses, but that was it. "…okay," you spoke slowly, confused. "i still don't understand."

"we just had sex."

was his brain rebooting or something? "yes, i know, katsuki. i'm still processing that, too. what're you dodging around? i don't—what?"

he blinked. "shit, sorry," he grunted. he took a breath, visibly reorganizing his thoughts. "i didn't come to your dorm expecting to have sex."

you nodded, "right." it would've been weird if he did, since you hadn't done anything like that with each other before.

he nodded back. "i don't want us to be friends with benefits."

"good, i don't either."

his lips pursed. "good." he looked down, staring at the shirt in his hands again. "'sides that…" he sighed, face scrunching up in thought. "i… i need a little time. before we continue this conversation," his voice was low, the words all enunciated carefully.

"oh." huh. that's what he'd been trying to say. you nodded slowly, "okay, we can do that. you'll tell me when you're ready?"

he relaxed the moment you agreed, shoulders loosening as he inhaled a needed breath of air. "yeah," he responded immediately. he quickly pulled on his shirt, then stepped up to where you sat on the bed. he leaned down and pulled you into a hug, "yer still my best friend," he mumbled.

your arms wrapped around his neck. "you're mine too."

then just as quickly, he backed away, heading for the door. "i'll bring you food later."

you watched him go, a little stunned by that whirlwind of a conversation. "okay, bye."

and the door clicked shut.

"what's up with you and bakugou?"

you startled at the sudden voice right next to you, hands accidentally flinging droplets of soapy water into the air. you scrambled to catch the airborne bowl you'd been washing, breathing a sigh of relief when you managed to grasp a hold of it. your head swiveled to look at mina, "what?"

she grinned, snickering. "sorry, didn't mean to scare 'ya." she leaned over the counter next to the sink, voice intentionally low so it didn't travel. the common room was busy—most of the class was hanging out down here today. "i said, what's up with you and bakugou?"

you gave her a confused look and resumed washing. "what do you mean?" to your knowledge, you guys weren't acting that different. it'd only been a few days, and you still talked like normal, sat together at lunch, hung out in class. maybe you weren't hanging out as much outside of class as you usually did, but katsuki had been really busy lately. he'd been having tutoring sessions with kirishima, and meal prepping, and—

"c'mon, it's so obvious," she rolled her eyes. "i mean, maybe you're acting normal, but bakugou's definitely not."

you glanced up again, "huh? how?"

she leaned her head on her hand. "he's not making time for you like he usually does."

confused look.

"ugh, c'mon!! surely you know he does this??" but obviously you didn't, going by the look on your face. "bakugou always has time for you. if you ask to hang out, he's free, even when he isn't." she glanced over her shoulder at the table where katsuki was tutoring kirishima. kaminari was also nearby, claiming he was "learning too", but was clearly mostly there for the opportunity to ragebait katsuki. "when he plans out his week, you're like, top prio. he'll plan everything else around you."

top priority? you didn't know he did that. but thinking about it now, he was always free when you asked to hang out. "he does that?"

instead of answering you, she turned and called for uraraka. "ochako, can you c'mere for a sec?"

uraraka looked up from the sofa, quickly abandoning the game she'd been playing. she scampered over, "what's up?"

"quick question, just give your genuine answer. have you noticed bakugou acting differently?"

uraraka hummed, then almost immediately lit up. "oh my gosh, yes, i have! i was just thinking about it earlier," she grinned and leaned in closer, excited to share the gossip. "he's stopped ditching his plans just so he can hang out with y/n, right?"

mina's expression said that was exactly what she'd been looking for. "yes! i was just trying to say that, but y/n hasn't noticed it."

uraraka's gaze turned to you. "oh, he definitely does it. he's been doing it since, like, the beginning of november, right?" she looked back at mina, then. "i remember noticing it around that time."

november? it was february, now. had he really been doing that for three months without you picking up on it?

mina shook her head. "september, i think. he went to visit his parents one weekend and when he came back he started doing it."

september?? five months? wait, wasn't that when you went to his house for the first time? you two had bought snacks together, then went back to his house and built lego sets while watching movies. you had a really fun time, and you ended up having to stay over in their guest room since it was too late to go home alone.

uraraka's eyebrows shot up. "seriously?! i had no idea!"

"yeah, think so."

"wow!" uraraka was so animated, reacting with her whole body in amazement. "that's like—wow!"

mina gave you a look, see?

uraraka snickered, "hey, he's not that obvious about it. but i guess i don't spend as much time with him as you guys do." she looked over at you, smiling. "i dunno, maybe he's really subtle about it in front of you."

mina rolled her eyes. "definitely," she drawled sarcastically. "alright, thank you, ochako. that's all i needed," she waved uraraka away with a big grin. uraraka returned it, leaving with a soft "good luck!"

mina turned to you expectantly, clearly waiting for your reaction.

"oh."

she huffed, lips quirking. "yeah, 'oh.' you see what i mean now?" she crossed her arms. "it's usually not that big of a deal, really. it's more like—" she hummed, thinking of the best way to describe it. "—he'll just be doing something down here, or outside, and he'll suddenly decide to leave, and we later find out he went to your room. i don't think most people notice he does it."

her finger traced random swirls on the counter contemplatively. "i guess i shouldn't assume it's him. i don't know if it's actually you who stopped asking to hang out. i just know that he's been in the common room an awful lot lately." she leaned closer, trying to get just a little bit more privacy to ask her question, "so? are you guys, like, good? did you have an argument? is it serious?"

"uhm—"

"you don't have to tell me any details if you don't want to, i'm just concerned, y'know? 'cuz you guys are my friends and honestly it's kinda weird seeing you two like this."

you blinked. "…it's not an argument." you glanced over at katsuki. "and it's nothing bad. i think."

"so something did happen?"

"yeah, kinda." katsuki looked up from his textbook, eyes instinctively finding yours. you looked away. "sorry, mina. i don't think i should tell you much about it right now. maybe another time."

"it's alright," she reassured, her gaze trained on you. you could both feel katsuki staring at your backs. she watched your facial expressions carefully, like she was reading your soul. and maybe she was, "i get it. good luck with whatever it is. i'm here if you need me." then she grinned and ran off to join the table, already starting to poke fun at katsuki with kaminari.

you watched the sudsy water trickle over the sides of the bowl in your hold, listening silently to the loud bickering. you were too aware of the way the dish felt in your hands, the way the soap was starting to dry out your skin.

you breathed in a deep breath, and started to rinse off the bowl.

if it wasn't for the hickey sitting on your collarbone, you almost could've convinced yourself you had been imagining the whole thing. that you and katsuki hadn't had sex, that he hadn't been avoiding you the past five days, that he hadn't said some very vague things you were trying very hard not to read into.

was he really avoiding you?

it was hard to find another word for it, but "avoid" also wasn't the word you wanted to use. he just needed a little space and time to think, like he'd said, and you were proud of every bit of progress he made in (calmly) advocating for himself and processing his emotions, so of course, you were fine with it. it was leagues better than he'd been when you first started UA, for sure.

didn't necessarily make it any easier to not overthink, though. you really couldn't stop, actually.

he didn't want to be friends with benefits, he'd said that. but he was into you enough to be down for sex—a notion which had your thoughts skittering every time it came up. and why the hell did he even need time to think? you were really trying not to get your hopes up, even if it felt like all the signs were pointing to the same thing.

oh, and you kept catching katsuki staring at you. sometimes in class, sometimes in the common room—whenever you two were in the same room together. and sometimes he'd look away, and sometimes he wouldn't.

like now.

both hero classes were going through team exercises, and you and katsuki had both already gone. your teams were sat in the observation area, watching the others through the big screens in front of you. katsuki was across the area, leaning against a wall.

you'd caught him staring at you maybe five seconds ago, and he hadn't moved at all—besides a quick few blinks, which told you he wasn't spacing out, like you'd first thought. no, instead, his red eyes were boring straight into you, holding eye contact unflinchingly.

you couldn't help but start to squirm a little, glancing away then back again. you looked confused, like there was an imaginary question mark above your head. katsuki's lips quirked a little, into a satisfied smirk. and then he finally looked away, to midoriya, who had just started talking to him.

what fucking planet were you on? was katsuki just flirting with you? via eye contact?

flirting that way felt so fucking juvenile in the moment, but your heart was undeniably thumping faster in your chest. your hand covered your face as you turned away from him, trying to figure out what the hell just happened.

right, so, add "odd eye contact flirting" to the list of confusing things katsuki had done recently. it was yet another clue pointing to the very obvious conclusion that he liked you back.

but… what were you meant to do with that? normally, you'd figure you should just ask him out, but he'd explicitly asked for some time to think. should you just wait longer? but it'd already been five days, maybe you should check in? you weren't sure, but you were getting antsy.

in the end, you decided you were worrying about it too much, and you needed to relax. so, that weekend, that's what you did.

you took a long, hot shower, spent extra time putting on lotion, checking over your nails, everything. you grabbed some cut-up fruit from the kitchen, plopped down on your freshly washed bed sheets, and settled in to watch one of your favorite shows. it was nice, and quiet, and private.

until around an hour in, anyway. your fruit was long since gone, and you were left laying in your pajamas, watching the show on your laptop. your mind was starting to drift, guiding itself back to the very topic you were trying to avoid.

katsuki hadn't been in the common room any of the times you'd been down there, earlier in the day. not when you washed your bedsheets, not when you ate lunch, not when you grabbed a snack after your shower. but, thinking about katsuki now, you weren't nervous like you'd been all week. you felt more relaxed, just curiously wondering where he was. maybe your de-stressing time was helping.

the door creaked open suddenly, and you quickly moved to tap the space bar on your laptop, the sound of the characters onscreen abruptly cutting off as you glanced up. speak of the devil, katsuki was standing in your doorway. figures.

"are you doing anything right now?" he spoke casually, like nothing different was happening between you two. somehow, it felt both perfectly appropriate and completely wrong.

"uh, i was just relaxing. watching a show."

he leaned against the wall, pushing his hands into his pockets. "have you eaten? i made dinner."

"oh, um—" your eyes darted to the empty bowl on your nightstand. the fruit hadn't been very filling, and it'd been an hour ago, so you could go for a full meal now. some part of you felt a little stubborn, not wanting to abandon your plans just because he asked you to. but, katsuki was really good at cooking. and he was finally coming to you after kind-of-avoiding-but-not-really-avoiding you the past few days. and maybe you missed him, more than just a little.

"…sure, i could eat," you agreed, pushing your laptop back so you could get out of bed. "did you want to eat here? or your room, maybe the common room…?"

he shook his head, "outside."

outside? it was nice out, but it was still february. katsuki hated being cold. "outside?"

"yeah." he stood up from the wall, padding back to the still open door. "c'mon."

you pushed yourself up from the bed quickly, stumbling over to your closet. "okay, okay, just let me put on some warmer clothes first."

he watched you go, eyes darting down to your pajamas when you mentioned clothes. he hummed and stepped out, shutting the door so you could change.

and soon enough, you and katsuki were slipping on your shoes and stepping outside. it was chilly out, but not too bad. you'd only grabbed a coat to keep you warm, but katsuki was fully decked out in multiple layers, with a jacket thrown over a hoodie, and presumably a shirt underneath. you watched him heft the bag with the food higher on his shoulder as he started down the steps. you quickly joined him, falling into stride next to him. he was taller than you, so his stride was longer, but he was careful to keep the pace comfortable for you.

neither of you said anything for a little while. katsuki seemed absorbed in whatever he was thinking, staring unblinkingly ahead, so it was left to you to make conversation. "what'd you make?"

he blinked and glanced at you, returning from his journey inside his head. "curry."

you made a soft oh, nodding and humming. "so, uh, why outside?"

"there's too many people around the dorms."

so he probably was trying to continue your conversation. but it was odd that katsuki was insisting, now, that you go somewhere different. people hardly ever bothered you two when you were hanging out in one of your dorm rooms.

"fair enough," you agreed, looking ahead to try to guess where he was taking you. but after a few seconds of squinting, you weren't really having any luck, "where—" you cut off as he suddenly stopped, brows furrowed and lips set in a tight frown. "katsuki?"

"did you feel that?" he asked, looking up at the sky and holding out a hand to feel for rain.

you followed his gaze, noticing the darkening clouds. "uh—" a raindrop landed on your face. "oh. yeah."

he groaned, brushing his hand through his hair. "fucking rain, it ruins everything," he grumbled to himself. he sighed and tugged his hood over his head. you could already see the rain starting to fall faster, hitting the ground with soft plips. "you wanna go back?"

your eyes landed on him the moment you heard the disappointment in his voice. he was staring at you blankly, waiting to see if you wanted to leave, but his shoulders had slumped. you weren't eager to get caught in the rain, but you'd been really excited to get to share a meal with him, and hopefully clear everything up between you. and he was obviously attached to whatever he'd had planned. "…it's okay," you decided. "we could eat under one of the picnic shelters." if you headed back now, you'd probably get drenched anyway.

he blinked quickly in surprise, clearly not having expected that. he coughed, looking down and away. "right," he nodded to himself. he slipped the bag of food off his shoulder, holding it out for you to take. "i gotta go get something," he offered in explanation.

"oh," you took the bag carefully. "okay. i'll meet you there, then." you stepped back, towards the smaller offshoot path that led to a pavilion.

"yeah," he mumbled, watching you. he heaved a long breath in, then turned and started down the path again.

the rain was really coming down, now. you guys were lucky you'd been in the park section of the campus—cover was readily available. or, you were lucky. katsuki, not so much, given that he hadn't come back yet.

you were sat at a table under the pavilion, with one box of food in front of you and the other across from you. the pavilion was large enough you wouldn't get hit with any rain, which you were grateful for. the rain droplets pattered loudly against the roof, rolling off and forming puddles on the pavement.

you were getting distracted watching a tree wave in the wind when the light splash of footsteps finally reached your ears. katsuki stood just under the pavilion, soaked head to toe and panting softly from running. what drew your attention, though, was the bouquet in his hands. the paper was drenched, and so were the flowers, but—katsuki had flowers. you stared wordlessly at the beautiful bouquet, heart stuttering in your chest as you tried to wrap your head around what was happening.

katsuki cleared his throat. "this went different in my head," he pursed his lips, staring down at the bouquet. his fingers gently played with the paper, accidentally ripping it a little. he winced. "we were supposed to eat first. and there was supposed to be less water. but…" he sighed, trailing off.

he flipped his hood down, shaking his hair loose. his eyes found yours, and all you could do was stare as he started talking. "when we had sex last saturday, i had to leave because that wasn't how i wanted to tell you." his voice came out straightforward and confident, despite how much his plans had been derailed. "you deserve better than a shitty post-sex confession. so, i'm telling you now."

he breathed in deep, needing the air. "i like you, a lot. i have for months. you're the person i pick to spend all of my free time with, and…" he stepped forward, holding the bouquet out towards you. "let me take you on a date. please."

your eyes darted from his face down to the bouquet, then back up again. this was what you'd suspected, but it was hitting you now that this was real, and he meant it. an uncontainable grin formed on your face, the kind that made your cheeks hurt. you quickly scrambled up from the bench, gently taking the bouquet from him. "i'd love that."

he couldn't suppress the way his lips quirked, looking down as he processed. you carefully set the bouquet on the table, and stepped forward into his space. your arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him into a hug. his hands immediately found your cheeks, tilting your face up towards him. he was grinning wide and big now, completely uninhibited. "can i kiss you?"

you nodded, and his lips pressed softly against yours. it was long and slow, his thumbs gently brushing over your face. the way he kissed you stole your breath away, completely overwhelmed by how long you'd been wanting this. your thoughts had gone quiet, everything in you was focused on the shared joy you both felt. it felt cliché to say, but it really felt like the whole world had just dropped away, and left only you and him.

when he pulled away, you both just grinned at each other, all silly. "curry?"

notes -> THANK YOU ALL FOR THE LOVE & SUPPORT ON MY P1!!!!! I HOPE THIS LIVED UP TO THE WAIT I SHED BLOOD SWEAT AND TEARS WORKING ON THIS!!! comments and reblogs appreciated!! my inbox is open!! and special thanks to everyone who wanted to be tagged. cannot believe so many of u liked my fic that much :') this taglist is wild to me

you and katsuki were best friends, as everyone knew. you hung out all the time, just the two of you together. when katsuki wanted some quiet time, companionship, someone to rant to, he came to your dorm, because he knew you’d understand. you were always there for him, and he appreciated that. you both hung out often enough that you’d both just started entering each other’s dorms unannounced—well, sometimes you still knocked when entering his. he was a little more sensitive around personal space. but katsuki regularly entered your dorm without knocking, it was common.

luckily for you, when he opened the door, he didn’t catch you undressed, like you’d been just a few minutes ago, but he did catch the tail end of your fit. muffled scream of frustration, dull thump of your fists and feet against the mattress, all of it.

your head shot up the moment you heard the squeak of the door, making eye contact with him. he stood stock still, dressed in a casual black shirt and gray sweats, staring at you with an odd look. his red eyes flit over you, trying to see if he could understand what exactly was happening, but he found no clarity. “...you good?” he eventually rumbled, stepping into your room and pushing the door shut behind him. “the hell are you beatin’ up your bed for?”

maybe another time you’d try to find an excuse, or maybe just clearly try to tell him it was really personal, but right now your sex addled brain was kind of messing with your communication skills. “you don’t wanna know, kats,” you just grumbled, collapsing into your bed again, face smushed into your pillow. “you should leave.”

“yes, i do, that’s why i asked,” he shot back. his voice was a few steps closer now. peeking up, you saw he was leaning against your desk. “why should i leave? are you upset?”

“no, you don’t, no i’m not, and you should just leave.” normally, you’d love to spend time with him, but right now you were pretty sure he’d just make the urge worse.

“just fuckin’ tell me.”

“it’s nothing serious, it’s fine.”

“then why don’t you wanna say it?”

you turned your head to the side to give him a flat look. this is what you got for oversharing all of your personal details with him. the moment you didn’t want to, he thought it was weird. “‘cuz, you’re gonna get embarrassed.”

his face scrunched up and his jaw shifted when you said that. oh, of course he was taking it as a challenge. “no i won’t?? i can handle anything you fuckin’ tell me, i don’t care.”

you groaned, “kats, i’m serious. leave.”

“so am i!”

“you’re gonna think it’s weird.”

“no i won’t! just tell me!”

your eyes rolled. he was so annoying sometimes! but, if he wanted to know so badly, “i’m ovulating, and horny out of my mind, and so help me god i’m gonna jump the next person with a penis i see, and unless you want that to be you, you should really leave for your own personal safety.”

his jaw clicked shut. you watched his reaction for a moment, trying to decipher what it meant, but he’d gone very still. you couldn’t tell if it was discomfort, or just shock. boys always get weird about menstrual cycles, maybe katsuki did too? feeling like you’d fucked up the interaction, you sighed and turned your head back into the pillow. “stupid—fucking—cycle—” you started muttering to yourself, each word accompanied by a soft kick into the mattress again. anything you said now couldn’t make this interaction much worse, so you might as well continue letting your feelings out.

there were a few seconds of silence from the other side of the room as katsuki watched your struggle. eventually, “is it really that bad?” he asked. his voice sounded a little rougher and quieter than before.

you stopped, lifting your head again to look at him. he was scowling, arms crossed, but his ears were red, and that combined with the way his voice had sounded—was he shy? It wasn’t the most uncommon sight, the class had long since figured out how to fluster him. but in this context, you couldn’t quite tell what it meant. “yeah,” you said simply. he just stared at you, waiting for you to continue. you pursed your lips for a moment, but gave in. “when it’s bad, it’s bad. it’s on my mind all day.”

“and masturbation doesn’t help?” okay, this was getting a bit more detailed than you’d been expecting. you’d never really talked about sex with katsuki, before.

“not really, no.”

he went quiet after that, his gaze darting away. you watched as his jaw shifted, hands dug into his biceps, brows furrowed as he glared at the ground. you exhaled a sigh, looking away. “katsuki, you can go, it’s—”

“it’s fine,” he cut you off.

you gave him another odd look. “what do you mean?” you were getting a little annoyed now. the least he could do is leave you alone to masturbate, right?

he shifted, gaze darting up to yours again. “i’ll help you,” he spoke again. he still sounded shy, but it was that sound of someone trying something they were nervous about. guess that made sense, actually, since he didn’t know you were into him. he basically felt like he was throwing a shot into the dark, even despite what you’d said. “you said to leave, unless i ‘want that to be me’, right?” and oh, he was actually asking you, now, if you wanted it. “well, i’m fine with it. if you want the help.”

you just stared at him for a few seconds, completely surprised he was actually offering this. “you’re serious?”

his face scrunched, “if you don’t want it—”

“no! no, i do, i do,” you cut him off, jumping up from your bed in worry that he was about to storm off. “i just—wasn’t expecting it, is all.”

he went quiet, but he didn’t leave. just kept staring at you, wordless. your heart lifted in elation (finally, finally, you could touch him like that!!), your nerves vibrated beneath your skin. could you really just, pull him into a kiss? was it okay?

“well, i’m serious,” he interrupted your thoughts.

you blinked at him, wide-eyed, then you were stepping forward and yanking him into you by the front of his shirt. he stumbled, but you caught him, and your other hand wrapped around the back of his neck and pulled him into a clumsy kiss. his breath hitched in surprise, but he melted immediately. “fuck,” he breathed against your lips, the expletive immediately followed by a groan of your name. his right hand found your jaw, tilting your head so he could kiss you at a better angle. his other hand landed on your waist, tugging you close to him.

you walked backwards towards your bed, tugging katsuki along with you. the two of you stumbled over your steps as you desperately fought to keep your lips locked. his hands on your skin, his heavy breaths mixing with yours, lips moving against each other’s. you’d wanted this for so long, you didn’t want to separate from him for even a second. who knew if he’d want to do this again? if this was a one time thing? luckily, he didn’t seem to want to stop kissing you either, so he made it easy on you.

he was a little too distracted to notice what you were doing, the way your hand on his shirt was maneuvering him closer to the bed. you turned him so his back was to the bed, and you were in front of him. his knees hit the edge of your mattress, and he stumbled, accidentally pulling away from the kiss. you pushed him and he fell back onto the bed, catching himself on his hands. you quickly clambered onto his lap, hands placing themselves on his shoulders. “damn, you’re aggressive,” he breathed, gaze dragging itself down your body.

cue the eyeroll. “duh, just told you I’ve been horny all day,” you mumbled back, hands smoothing down his chest to slide beneath the hem of his shirt. “you think i was lying?” your teeth caught your lower lip when you felt the warm skin of his abdomen beneath your palms. you’d thought about this a thousand times, having him under you like this, alive and real. imagination really couldn’t compare to the real thing. your heart was going crazy in your chest.

his right hand caught one of your wrists, guiding you to press your hand against him harder. your eyes darted to his, surprised. “quit sassin’ me,” he muttered, his other hand slipping beneath your hoodie to grip your bare waist. he tugged you forward, slotting your hips to rest above his groin. he rolled his hips up against yours, and arousal rapidly pooled in your gut. your lips fell open on a breathy sound, your lashes fluttered quickly. it’d been a while since you’d had sex, you’d forgotten how good even foreplay could feel. and it was katsuki that was doing this, which made your heart rate spike 10x worse.

you groaned in annoyance (embarrassment) when you saw the smug smirk on his face, lightly pinching his stomach in retaliation. “oh, shut up.”

he jolted from the pinch, gently smacking your hand to get you to stop. “didn’t say anything.” his right hand landed on your thigh, this time. “‘m not makin’ fun of you. it was hot.”

you didn’t say anything back. your face was feeling a little hot.

he leaned in for another kiss, both his hands guiding you to start rolling your hips against him. “mm, fuck, you feel good,” he mumbled against your lips. you could feel him under you, a bulge pressing at your thigh with each grind. he slid his hands up your body, under your hoodie, thumbs flicking over your nipples. “you really got nothin’ on under here, huh?”

“wasn’t really expecting anyone,” you breathed back, a breathy whimper slipping out along with your words. “should’a known better, i guess.”

“nah, ‘s perfect.” he moved his head to the side, kissing at your jaw. “want it off,” he requested, hands shifting to slowly lift up the fabric. “can i?”

you chewed on your lip, focused on how nice his hands felt on you. “sure.” the moment he lifted the hoodie over your head, you were tugging on his own shirt. he huffed a laugh, but quickly removed it.

he eagerly pulled you into him again with his hands on your back, lips latching onto your neck. the sensitive area made you moan, hips rolling slowly into him. he groaned back, mostly out of arousal from the sound you’d made. you felt as his right hand skirted over the soft skin of your back, down until it slipped beneath your pajama pants. he groped at your ass through your panties, pressing you close to him, forcing you right over his bulge. it made you wet, the way he just moved your body how he wanted. made you grind against him, push where it felt good.

his other hand continued to smooth up and down your back while he moved down your neck to your collarbone. he was currently licking and sucking at the area, tongue rolling over your skin. his hand that was currently palming your ass finally slipped around to the front, cupping you through the thin fabric. “man, you’re wet,” he mumbled, his middle and ring fingers gently rubbing circles against your entrance through the damp fabric.

“ovulation does that.” your voice was breathy, completely distracted now. you’d been trying to make him feel good, too, but he was making it hard to focus. both of your hands had gone still, clinging to him for some sense of stability.

he grinned against your skin. you felt a little puff of air from the amused huff he made. “oh, it’s ‘cuz of ovulation, huh?” his fingers teased the edge of the fabric, hooking his index finger into the crotch of your panties. he slowly pulled it to the side, just enough for his fingers to slide against your clit. “no other reason?”

you didn’t say anything back, just moaned and rolled your hips into the contact.

he pulled back to get a good view of you. you caught the way he looked you up and down with half-lidded eyes, watching you buck into his hand while he made slow little circles on your clit. his other hand was cradling your ribcage, lightly thumbing at your side. “you look real pretty like this,” he mumbled, eyes catching on your chest for a moment before they continued down. his gaze locked on the bit of your panties he could see, eyeing the way they looked on you. “sound pretty, too.”

his eyes darted back up to your face, watching your expression as his fingers slid farther back, pressing at your entrance. he didn’t give any other warning, abruptly sliding two of his fingers in. you choked on a moan, falling forward to lean against him. “katsuki,” you breathed, already dizzy with pleasure. he just hummed, nosing at your shoulder while he rubbed at your walls. he thrust his fingers a few times, but he intentionally kept his fingers only up to two knuckles in, teasing you with the stretch.

he rubbed his palm up against you, making you whine from the pressure. his fingers slid deeper, until they pressed against a gummy patch inside you. his other arm slid to wrap firmly around your back, keeping you in place. he kept his palm flush against you to give your clit friction while he gently teased that spot. he mouthed at your neck, listening to the breathy moans slipping from your lips. “feels good, right?”

he snickered when all that left your mouth were garbled, half-formed sentences. he held you against him while he shifted, laying you down against your bed with your head on the pillow. you breathed in the short reprieve, gaze following him as he moved down your body. he kept his eyes on your face while his left hand tugged down your panties along with your pants, his fingers still inside you. the last of your clothes slipped off, and you were left bare.

his gaze hadn’t left your face, watching for any discomfort. you shyly bucked your hips against his fingers, silently begging for him to do something and stop watching you. he blinked and looked away, down between your legs. he groaned, finally able to see you. the thumb of his left hand gently spread your folds so he could see better, his eyes glued to the sight of his fingers buried deep in your heat. he gently rubbed at that spot inside you again, groaning in arousal. “you’re so hot down here,” he rumbled, licking his lips. “shit, you feel…” you watched him closely, taking in the look on his face. he was clearly deep in some mental fantasy right now, but he quickly blinked himself out of it, focusing on you again.

his fingers started moving again, thrusting into you at a moderate pace. they dragged against your walls intentionally, sliding over that gummy patch each time. then he dipped down, pressing a kiss to your clit. he smirked at the whimper you made, the way your legs were already shaking from stimulation. his fingers pushed all the way in, pressing flush against that particular spot, and then his tongue rolled over your clit. he rubbed at that spot while he sucked on your clit, riling you up until your moans climbed higher and higher. then his fingers inside you sped up, repeatedly pressing against you. the sucking on your clit was perfect, not too much, just enough for a knot to coil in your gut until you finally reached your peak. he kept going while you came, his left hand gently rubbing over your stomach.

he pulled away when your orgasm ended, kneeling between your legs as your body shuddered with aftershocks. his eyes trailed up to your chest as it rose and fell rapidly with quick breaths. his hands rubbed at your thighs soothingly, letting you come down. you felt almost light-headed, you were so dazed from how good it all felt. this was easily the most satisfied you’d been all day.

when you came back to yourself, your eyes fell on him. you realized katsuki was waiting for you, waiting to see whether you wanted to stop. your legs fell further open. “we can keep going.” you weren’t gonna stop here. who knew if this was a one-time thing?

he looked at you blankly, gaze darting between your spread legs and your face. you watched in silent confusion as he just sat there, unmoving. when he finally spoke, his words came out slow and intentional, “what do you want to do?”

ohhh. your lips twitched into a smile. “are you okay with putting it in? penetration?”

he nodded casually, “yeah, i’m good with that.” he seemed a little excited? he quickly hooked his fingers into his bottoms and tugged them down, until he was also naked. your eyes couldn’t help but follow the movement, watching as his cock sprung out.

he moved back up your body, pressing his lips to yours in a tender kiss. you sighed softly into it, wrapping your arms around his neck. your body was thrumming with anticipation, waiting for him to press into you. instead, you felt his fingers slip inside you again. “kats?” you mumbled against his lips, confused.

his fingers gently scissored inside you, twisting around. “sorry, baby—” your pulse spiked at the intimate nickname. “just need to make sure,” he breathed back, kissing you again. you moaned softly, deciding to just wait.

his fingers withdrew, and the next thing you felt was the head of his cock pressing against you. he broke the kiss to breathe for a moment, like he was preparing himself. “tell me if it’s uncomfortable, okay?” he waited for you to nod, then slowly pressed his hips forward.

the head of his cock slipped into you with a wet noise, and he immediately groaned. his forehead was pressed against yours, eyes closed in pleasure and mouth slightly open, letting soft pants slip from his lips. “fuck, knew you’d feel amazing.” his cock slowly eased further in, the slide slick and effortless. he let out another loud groan and began rhythmically pumping his cock into you. he was leaning on his forearms, positioned on either side of you, so you got the perfect view of him. the way his face was screwed up in pleasure, abs tensing with each piston of his hips. a droplet of sweat slid down his neck, and it made you distinctly aware of how hot your own body was. how hot he felt pressed against you, how hot the space between you was.

katsuki was loud, you realized. moaning non-stop, muttering curses and praises of how good you felt. “so warm and soft,” his voice was gravelly, sounding like pure honey. even the way he fucked into you was loud, making slick sounds as he dragged his cock in and out.

you couldn’t help but watch him, mesmerized by how he looked when he was like this. you wanted to do this more often with him, wanted to be able to kiss him whenever you wanted to. thoughts racing, you dragged him into a passionate kiss.

he groaned, long and low, and you felt him adjust his position over you. the angle changed, and now each thrust felt like he was pushing into pure heat, so slick and heavenly. your moans against his lips changed, the pleasure going to your head and making you dizzy. he seemed to feel the change in the angle too, and his cock began pumping into you faster.

he slipped away from the kiss, burying his face into your neck. “shit, baby, fuck, fuck,” his voice was low but whiny, overwhelmed by the feeling of you wrapped around him. your pussy was tingling in pleasure, skin hot to the touch. you were feeling so so good, and he must’ve been more lucid than you, because suddenly there was a finger rubbing circles on your clit.

your back immediately arched, legs clamping together around his waist. moans climbing higher and more frantic, while he kept fucking into you and stimulating your clit. your breaths turned gasping, and then your orgasm washed over you. your walls tightened around him, and he immediately stilled, body tensing as he fought to not come inside you. “oh, shit,” he growled, gritting his teeth.

when your orgasm ended, he pulled out, hand wrapping around himself and pumping his cock to completion. you watched in a daze as he finished a few seconds later, cum spurting over your stomach.

he stayed leaned over you, breathing hard and gaze trained on your stomach. he stared for a few moments, unblinking. then he grabbed for your nightstand, tugging out a few tissues out of the box sitting on top. he cleaned you off carefully, pressing kisses to your neck while the tissues wiped off his cum. “thank you, baby,” he mumbled.

when he finished, he relaxed against you, still catching his breath. you were still hugging his neck, his face burrowed into your shoulder. you both breathed in the silence after, relishing in the afterglow. you ignored the anxious thoughts, the ones panicking about what this meant for you two.

a minute later, he tried to push himself up with a grunted “sorry,” but you pulled him back down, shaking your head. “let’s just lay here for a moment. please, katsuki?”

he stayed silent for a moment. like this, all you could see was the top of his blonde head of hair. you couldn’t see what face he was making, what he was thinking. “okay,” he breathed. he rolled onto his side, tugging you against his chest. “we’ll lay here for a bit.”

you pressed flush against him, cuddling as close as you could. you were sweaty and sticky, but it was better than getting up. getting up felt like leaving this behind. and you weren’t ready for that yet. “okay. thank you.”

he hummed and hugged you tighter.