Work Text:
A hot mug of coffee from your home steamed up your face as the heavy back door to the small storefront you own creaked open. You braced yourself as you flick on the lights, squinting anyway as the buzzing overhead lights flickered on to life.
The stainless steel countertops and quiet ovens glared back as you made your rounds, turning everything on with one hand as you sip your coffee from the other.
As the ovens warmed up, you made it to the fridge to get your ingredients and walk across the kitchen to the line of stand mixers. You only put your coffee mug down to crack eggs and pour flour in the other mixer, turning them on before returning to your hot bean juice.
Batter is mixed and poured into prepped cake pans. As they’re baking, you set a timer on your phone and glare at the 5:13 am time stamp. You set another mixer on to start the buttercream before finishing your coffee and heading towards the small office in the back, contemplating on popping in the “caramel macchiato” or the “mocha” K-cup.
By the time your second cup of coffee was brewed, the cakes were ready. You pull fresh fruits that were prepped the night before from the fridge and continue your work.
It’s almost 8 by the time all of the cakes are frosted and decorated. You hear the back door swing open to welcome your only other employee.
He’s grunting and trudging through the shop, shuffling his way to the office to presumably get himself a coffee from the Keurig. You keep yourself busy, pushing the swinging door to the main room and setting the cakes on the trays in the glass display case.
“Nikki,” you call as you struggle to open the display case.
The larger man comes at your call. He immediately goes to the display case and opens the door. Additionally, he takes the heavy tray of cakes from you and begins to put them away. You give him a pat on his broad back as thanks before returning to the kitchen to continue baking.
Nikki unlocks the doors at 9:30 and the first few customers are already streaming in. They’re mainly parents who are picking up pre-ordered cakes, but the rest were sweet toothed maniacs who were looking for a treat to go with their morning commute.
As you were drifting in and out of the swinging door, refilling the display case with fresh cakes and other sweet treats like crepes and coffee jelly cups, you also said hi to your patrons. Some made jokes, some asked about your day. In return, you asked how theirs were, whether or not they got that promotion, and a warm happy birthday to their son.
Nikki manned the front for the most part. You baked him a croissant and put cheese and ham on it for lunch. You switched places so he could eat and swapped again at around 1:20 for you to eat.
It was upon your return that you heard the commotion.
“They’ve got the cutest cakes here!” A high-pitched voice chirped. “There’s these mini cakes you can get and sometimes they’re little bunnies, sometimes they’re little Shiba Inu dog faces, and sometimes—”
“I fuckin’ told you,” a deep voice barked. “I don’t fuckin’ do cute.” The word is spat out like it was poison.
Nikki patiently waited for them to stop bickering before offering today’s special—a mini crepe and a small cake for the price of one.
There’s more voices overlapping one-another before they could decide on what they want.
That’s when you burst through the swinging doors, carrying a tray twice your size over your head and exclaiming a warning to Nikki. He doesn’t move from his spot at the POS to make sure he is out of your way.
You place the heavy tray on a cart near the display cases and add the freshly piped animal cakes you overheard being spoken about.
“Ohhh~!” The voice squealed. A figure jumps in front of the display case, nearly squishing her face against the clean display case. “They’re little hedgehogs today! Soooo cute! Just like the ones I saw on Instagram!”
That’s when you realize the pink face staring starry-eyed at your hard work was none other than the Pro Hero Pinky. Your anxiety froze you to your spot as your hands worked to push the cakes into the display case and all you could muster up was a sheepish smile.
“Kirishima, we have to get one!” She squeaked.
You glance up to suddenly realize that your shop was filled with Pro Heroes. You chastised yourself for having such tunnel vision when you were working and felt the familiar cold tendrils of anxiety grip your shoulders and wrap into a vice grip around your chest.
Red Riot, Chargebolt, Uravity, Deku, and a very annoyed Dynamight stood in your small shop. No wonder you didn’t notice them at first—they looked like regular citizens in their street clothes.
Nikki must’ve noticed your anxiety creeping on you because he snapped his fingers below the counter so the customers couldn’t see it was him. It catches your attention and he motions with his head for you to go to the back. His firm nod told you he had this handled. You exhale relief as you finish putting away your small hedgehog cakes and retreat to the back to make more.
You can hear more arguing as you pipe your next set of hedgehog cakes, getting lost in making their spikes. When your anxiety wouldn’t leave you alone, you found your AirPods from your purse and put them in. Your favorite music blasted as your phone recognized where you were and pulled up the music app automatically.
Soon, you forgot about the high profile guests in your lobby and continued your work.
You’re happily humming to your tune as you hoist a large tray of five 12-inch cakes over your shoulder. You let out a shout of warning to Nikki as you burst through. You’re blinded by the large tray and miss the fact that Nikki nonchalantly ducks as you enter, continuing to put the recently ordered pastry into a box before handing it to a customer.
You’re so enthralled in your work and music that you fail to notice that the high profile guests were still in your lobby, taking up the largest table you farthest away from the entrance, chatting and laughing over your desserts.
You also fail to notice a pair of gleaming red eyes snapping up every time you enter and watch you work. And how Kirishima teasingly smacked his “bro’s” arm when he caught him staring.
Nikki doesn’t seem pleased at the gawking, because he began to take the liberty of standing protectively between the two of you as you came and went.
Soon enough, they left and you didn’t have to worry about them again for a while.
That is, a few days later, Dynamight was dragged back in by Chargebolt, who seemed too happy to see you behind the counter cleaning it off with a wet rag. As soon as he ordered a coffee jelly from Nikki, he went to the side of the counter where you were at and leaned on it like a child with both elbows on the granite.
“Hey,” he smiles a big toothy grin. “Are you the one who makes the cakes here?”
Your eyes bolt up to him with a blank expression. Realizing he was talking to you, you pull out an earbud that was hiding behind your hair. He looked slightly taken aback that you didn’t hear him.
“What?” You say intelligently.
“Are—” All of the confidence he had a moment ago seemed to disappear. “Are you the baker…here?”
You stare back blankly. You’re wearing your work apron that’s covered in flour. You’re pretty sure some buttercream was in your hair and you smell like you were dunked and roasted in sugar.
“Yes,” you finally say after a long moment.
“Well you’re great,” he smiles. Then his eyes widened to hear what came out of his mouth. “They’re great. The cakes. Your cakes are great. No, not like that. You make sweets. You’re sweet. No, no, the cakes are sweet! Of course they’re sweet, they’re cakes…You make good food that’s sweet but I’m not saying you’re not sweet I’m just assuming because the stuff you make is good and—”
Finally, a large hand clasps over his mouth to shut him up. The thick fingers curl hard against Chargebolt’s cheeks, pulling the skin taut and yellowed from the pressure. You look up to see Dynamight looming over the both of you with fury in his eyes.
“Shut. Up.” He snarls. He lets go aggressively as Chargebolt gasps for air, leaving red fingerprints on his cheeks.
“Sorry,” he says shyly and slinks away to the far corner table you last saw him sit at.
“Two coffee jellies,” Nikki says to you, handing you a ticket. “And the animal cake of the day.”
You nod and pull the treats out of the display case as Nikki greets the next customer. You see that they're “for here” and pull out two small decorative plates from the cupboard under the display case and silverware. You call out the ticket number and the plates out on the pickup side of the counter.
Chargebolt slinks into his seat and you see Dynamight give a reluctant groan as he gets up to retrieve their food. When he makes it to the counter, however, he makes direct eye contact with her before taking the plates. He glances down only to observe the animal cake of the day. Today, it was a cat with a little sugar rose on its right ear and a pink buttercream pawprint on the opposite cheek.
“You have good piping skills,” he finally says. “Did you make the rose, too?”
All you could do was give a small nod and a slight “mm-hmm”. He gives a nod before returning to his table. And for the rest of their time, they leave you alone and you continue your work.
Word spread that Pro Heroes were regularly visiting your little shop and soon you were flooded with Instagrammers, influencers, bloggers, and others of the like. You were now selling out by noon and it was hard to keep up with demand. So much so that you had to put an order cap per customer and ask for pre-orders for pickup if they were ordering anything more than four items.
Nikki reassures you that, just like any internet fad, the commotion will die down. Though this was good for business, you were eager to go back to your comfortable pace and calm job.
Weeks go by until orders begin to dwindle. It was an additional month before the pace slowed down enough that you were able to remove the order cap.
That was when, at around 11:56 and right before Nikki’s lunch break, the ground began to rumble. You exchanged glances but shrugged it off as another small earthquake.
But then the screams started to happen.
Immediately you run out the front door with Nikki grabbing the first aid kit from the office. You see people running and screaming down the street. You immediately prop your door open with your body and begin screaming at people to get inside.
You reach over to help an elderly man hobble in as more people begin to flood inside. You see that the small businesses around you were taking the same liberty and opening up their doors to offer protection.
There was smoke and the smell of gunpowder and burning paper. You try to look past the commotion to see the cause of the panic but it was shrouded with smoke. Instead, you focus on the people huddling inside your small storefront, wishing now that you had more room while Nikki made rounds offering first aid.
As you reached out to pull in another person, there was a loud explosion that made your ears ring. As the person stumbled into your bakery, you looked up just in time to see a chunk of asphalt flying your way. You duck, arms shooting over your head and braced for impact.
There’s a loud pop, pop and you feel your face squash into dark cloth. There’s arms around your body with a hand behind your head to protect you from whiplash. It happened so quickly it takes you a moment to register that you’re inside your own bakery, held close by your savior.
You pull away to see the familiar black-and-orange uniform first before feeling the thick gloves removing themselves from your head and back. You look up to see red eyes scanning you for injuries, the bright color enhanced by the black mask. Blonde spiky hair were dusted with debris.
“Dynamight!” A voice in the crowd chirped and the crowd began to applaud him.
He gently sets you down and you stagger back as he stands to his full height. He’s much taller up close and you can’t help but dart your eyes away from him.
But he’s not paying attention to the crowd or to the growing applause. He’s still looking at you.
“That’s a dumbass move to stand out in the middle of a fight,” he growls. “But…good job. Saving these people.”
That’s when you finally look up to meet his gaze. His voice was rough but now, looking at him, you could see that there was a hint of worry and softness in his expression. He looked up to make sure that everyone was in before turning towards the door.
“Don’t open this door again until I come back,” he commands. “And lock the door behind me.”
And with that, he was gone.
From that incident on, Dynamight began to visit the bakery more often. He didn’t say much, but he would oftentimes just order one thing and sit alone on his phone for hours. Sometimes, he made small talk with you. Slowly but surely, you began to get to know each other.
You learned that he knew how to cook and possibly bake, but he also neither confirmed nor denied the notion. Nikki would tease you about how you have a Pro Hero coming in just to see you, but you dismissed it every time. You learned that he preferred more bitter things unless you had your strawberry shortcake on sale that day, which he preferred out of all of the desserts you made.
You also learned his relationship with his parents was rocky. That he lived alone and Chargebolt would crash there if he was too drunk. And that, unlike what the tabloids claimed, he didn’t do one-night stands.
One late afternoon as you closed up, Nikki eyed Dynamight as he locked the front door. He begins quietly sweeping and putting up chairs, trying to give the Pro Hero a hint that they were officially closed. But when he doesn’t budge, Nikki finishes his other closing tasks before checking in with you.
“He won’t leave,” he mumbles as he helps you scoop the freshly cut strawberries into carefully labeled camboros.
“That’s okay,” you say. “He’s a Pro Hero. He can’t afford to do anything criminal. You can go home, I’ll make sure he’s out before I leave.”
Nikki stares at you for a moment hesitantly before you pause long enough to meet his eyes. He doesn’t have to say anything to express his concern.
“I’ll be fine,” you say firmly. “He saved me. Why would he try to kill me now?”
“That’s not what I’m worried about,” he grumbled as he takes the container to the fridge. Together, you finish the rest of the prep before all that was left was to wipe everything down. He checks his phone.
“It’s only 4:30,” he says. “You could come over to play games or something. We can order pizza.”
“I hate your roommate,” you scoff. You skip past him to put away the knives as he continues the conversation while wiping down the counters.
“You mean my snake? I thought you loved reptiles.”
“I do. Pepper has this evil glare in her eye. I don’t trust her.”
“She doesn’t even have fangs.”
“She’s a jealous gal, I don’t want to interfere. And drink poisoned wine.”
That’s when Nikki tosses his head back in a loud guffaw before relenting to your rejection. He helps her a little longer before grabbing his jacket and leaving through the back door.
When everything is finally clean and ready for the next day, you grab your jacket, lock the back door, and go out to the lobby. Dynamight is still there, scrolling through his phone. His brows are furrowed and his lips pursed. When he sees you, his expression immediately relaxes.
“We’re closed, you know,” you say with a smile, leaving the counter and making your way to the door.
Dynamight follows you to the exit before holding the door open for you. You raise a brow but strut past him with faux confidence. After you lock up, you look up at him expectantly.
“Do you have dinner plans?” He asks. “I heard that guy as you out.”
Your eyes widened before letting out a loud laugh. Dynamight obviously didn’t appreciate this and it showed through his furrowed brows and a scowl forming on his face.
“What’s so funny?” He snaps.
“You thought—” you gasp between laughs. “You thought he—and I—Nikki—” You can’t get words out as laughter keeps interrupting you.
Dynamight waited impatiently for you to finish your fit of giggles. Even as you settled and began walking towards the train station to go home, he fumed.
“Nikki’s my cousin,” you suppress another giggle. “A very, very asexual and blood related cousin.”
He felt foolish. Now that he thought about it, they did have very similar noses and hair types. He groans in embarrassment as he rubs his face.
“That doesn’t fuckin’ answer my damn question,” he growls.
“Wow, language,” you scoff. “But no, I don’t have any dinner plans.”
There’s a few stares as they walk past a group of high schoolers, a few sneaking a picture or two on their phones. The girls giggled as the boys looked on in jealousy. Dynamight ignores them as he continues to match your stride.
“Come over to my place, then,” he says boldly. “I’ll make you dinner.”
“Excuse me?” You try not to falter as you look up at him.
“I don’t like eating out,” he explains. “Too many people up in my damn business.”
You didn’t even think about that. It must’ve been a nice change of pace to visit your smaller bakery without the press and fans shoving cameras and pens in his face all the time.
“Just dinner?” You ask as you move to the side for an oncoming bicyclist. Your hip bumps with Dynamight’s and you try to ignore how sturdy he is.
“That’s what I fuckin’ said,” he huffs. “But you gotta let me know soon because my place is the other way.”
You shrug.
Free food. Why not?
“All right,” you smile up at him. You can’t help but notice the pink that dusted his face. Or maybe it was just the cold. “Show me what you got.”
The rest of the trip to Dynamight’s place was relatively quiet except for a few bantering. The two of you took a train and then a taxi to his house.
It wasn’t what you expected—it was a small two-story place with a garden in the back. You half-expected him to live at some sort of rich penthouse, but humble living also seemed to suit him.
When you went inside, you were overwhelmed with the smell of him. It was hard to describe as he kicks his shoes off at the door and slings his jacket over a coat rack. You do the same and follow him quietly through to the living room.
There’s a kitchen attached to the living room, divided off by a counter. There’s a low, setting table and cushions for seats. It was a lot more traditional of a place than you expected.
“You want anything?” He offers as he makes his way to the kitchen. He opens up the fridge and holds out a beer.
“O-oh, no,” you shake your head. “I…I don’t drink.” He pauses before offering a bottled green tea instead. You take that.
He grumbles at your thanks and turns to reach for a pot. You sit down at his table and awkwardly fidget before pulling out your phone to see that you have a text from Nikki. He was asking if you made it home safely.
Sent: You won’t believe where I’m at right now.
It doesn’t take long for a response.
Received: No. No you didn’t.
Sent: Wdym??
Received: You are not that desperate to get laid that you went to his house! WTF!!!
Sent: It’s just dinner! He didn’t want the press around so we went back here.
Received: yeah. Suuuuure you are.
“Yo, you have any allergies?”
His deep voice snaps your attention to him.
“Oh!” You make a noise to stall for an answer. “No! I’m good.”
“All right.”
You exchange a few more texts, denying everything Nikki was accusing you of before hearing an unfamiliar ringtone. You look up to see Dynamight pause in his cooking to reach over for his phone.
“The fuck you want?” He barks. “I’m busy.”
There’s a long pause as you go on Instagram, trying not to eavesdrop. But man, he spoke way too loud.
“I’m making her dinner,” he lowers his voice, but it’s not quiet enough. “Don’t fuckin’ say that. Did you call me just to bother me?”
There’s more back-and-forth before he finally hangs up. It’s not too much longer before he comes out of the kitchen with two plates. There was a neat bed of rice with homemade curry surrounding it like an island poking out of a spicy ocean.
He sets one down in front of you before sitting across from you. You wait until he takes the first bite before digging in. He’s a surprisingly polite eater.
“Wow,” you praise after the first bite. “This is amazing.”
He grumbles in response, but his shoulders bunch up to try and hide his reddening ears.
After a few moments of silent eating, you speak up again.
“So, Dynamight—”
“Katsuki,” he interrupts. “Don’t call me that when I’m out of uniform. Shit’s weird.”
You can’t help but feel a flush overtake your cheeks. First names felt too…personal.
“Katsuki,” you test out the name hesitantly. But when he barely responds between bites, you continue. “When did you learn how to cook?”
“When I was a kid,” was your curt response.
When you purse your lips and take another bite, Katsuki looks up before finally talking.
“Why a bakery?” He asks right when you take a huge bite.
“Oh,” you swallow the mouthful before responding, embarrassed as he stares at you chew to clear your mouth. “I’ve always wanted one since I was little. I started baking probably when I was about five or six.”
“And your cousin works for you?”
“You can say that,” you shrug. “At first it was just me. Then, when business picked up, he reached out to me offering help. I guess he got tired of his office job downtown and wanted something a bit more simple.”
That seemed to satisfy him. He nods as he takes a final bite to finish his plate and waits patiently for you.
When you’re done, you get up to help him with the dishes. You follow him into the kitchen as he puts away leftovers. Here, it’s a lot more crowded than it is in the kitchen at the bakery. You expertly flit around him to grab dishes and begin cleaning.
He surprises you by grabbing your wrist to stop you.
“Oi,” he says slowly. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Helping?” You try to say, but this close proximity has your heart racing. You can feel his chest on your shoulder, his breath on the back of your head.
“I’ll get it later,” he says gently, pulling your arm away from the water and reaching even closer over you to turn the faucet off.
“As much as I like watching you work,” he breathes. “I want you to take it easy when you’re in my home.”
You smile sheepishly and your lips part to speak. Before you could say something along the lines of ‘thanks for dinner, but I should go’, a pair of warm lips covers yours.
You stand there, stunned. Your lower back was pinned against his sink as you watched him: His eyes closed, his brows furrowed as he drank you in. He’s leaned up against you, a hand on each side of your hips to sturdy himself. You can’t get yourself to relax as he tests you, parting his lips, encouraging you to do the same.
The moment you do, his tongue slips through. It’s surprisingly not aggressive but gentle, caressing the inside of your mouth. When you start kissing him back with the same passion, a low sound rumbles in his chest that sends jolts of excitement down your spine. When you inhaled, his deep scent flooded you, making your body soften and ache with yearning.
His hands find the confidence to touch you, grabbing your hips before one slid up your back to hold the back of your head, much like he did the day when he saved you. When your teeth accidentally grazed his lips, you received a heady response as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss, a louder, more confident groan eliciting from his throat.
You pull away suddenly, your lips parting with a wet pop. He looks at you, dazed and stunned; red eyes searching yours for an answer. Once you catch your breath, you speak.
“I don’t want to do this in your kitchen,” you let out a breathy laugh.
He purses his lips for a moment, tasting you before taking the invitation and pulling away. He takes your hand instead of your wrist and leads you out of the room and into the hallway. He moves so quickly you nearly trip on your way up the stairs, past the bathroom and to his bedroom.
You go ahead of him when you enter, looking around as he turns to close the door. His bedroom seemed more like him than the rest of the house—dark red comforter on a perfectly made bed, a few posters from concerts he’s attended, and a closet that’s slightly ajar.
Out of curiosity, you approach the closet to see that it’s full of neat dress clothes. At the end, you find a few extra pairs of his hero costume. What’s even better, you found a bunch of masks hanging from clothespins.
You’re not sure where you got the confidence, but you take one of the masks and place it over your eyes and tie it behind your head.
You hear Katsuki shuffling behind you and you turn around with a flourish, arms out wide with a grin on your face.
The grin slowly fades as you see that he’s standing before you in just his black jeans, the delicious v of his obliques only accentuating the rest of his toned upper body. His chest and happy trail were lightly dusted blonde, though it got darker as it dipped behind his belt. There’s a dangerous glint to his eye and, for a moment, you worry that he’s mad you grabbed his hero stuff.
Instead, he closes the gap between the two of you in two strides and wraps an arm around your waist, bringing you close.
“Do you hate it?” You managed to whisper.
Your answer was a quiet “no” as he reaches behind your head and fixes the mask so it’s on you properly. He tightens it before withdrawing with a small smile to his lips.
You lean in and kiss the corner of his lip that was taut from the smirk and he immediately melts into you. You reach up and gently touch his bare chest, fingers trailing down his body before making its way back up to his neck. You don’t fail to notice the shudder that racked his body and the goosebumps on the back of his neck.
You press your teeth against his lip again to elicit another groan from him, but instead you receive a frustrated growl.
Katsuki grabs you by the hips to lift you up and gently sets you down on his bed before climbing on top of you, leaning on his hands so he wouldn’t crush you with his weight. His lips find yours quickly and his tongue slips past your teeth almost in an instant.
His hands roams your body, picking at the buttons of your collared work shirt as though he were asking permission. You help him pull off your shirt before he reaches behind your back to take your bra off. When the last article of clothing was off, he didn’t skip a beat.
His mouth was immediately roaming down your jaw, your neck, down your collarbones. A shuddering breath rattled you as he strokes your body with the backs of his hands. When his mouth reaches your left breast, he gently kisses it before taking the pert tip into his mouth. Your head tosses back as you feel his tongue flick at it inside of his mouth before pulling away with a satisfying pop. He leans over to give the same treatment to your other breast as his fingers toy with the other, newly wet nipple.
A churning sensation began at the junction of your thighs. You can’t help but squeeze them together for some sort of relief, some sort of pressure. Katsuki catches on and takes a break from kissing your body to slot himself comfortably between your legs. You can’t help but notice his arousal pressing back onto you.
Gathering up the courage, you reach a hand down in an attempt to play with him. However, with your height difference, your fingers barely grazed the button of his jeans. He feels your attempt and you can feel another smirk on his lips as he lifts his head up from abusing your nipples.
Without saying anything else, Katsuki pulls away to stand up before you. You watch with amazement as he slips out of his jeans, all shyness out the window as his cock bobs up from its confines.
He stood at full height, in all of his glory. He watches your eyes rake down his muscular body which seemed to give his ego the boost it needed. When you reached down to his thighs, the size surprised you. So much so that you suddenly felt bashful and looked away.
Katsuki leans over you with a hum, pulling on the mask you forgot was still on your face over your head and pushing your hair back, forcing you to look at him.
“How do you want me?” He almost purrs, his gravelly voice sending another shockwave of excitement so deep it penetrated your bones.
“I—” you swallow. Hard. “I want on top.”
His eyebrows shot up before letting out a husky laugh.
“Damn,” he says, lowering himself so that his mouth hovers over your belly button. “Then I guess I’ll enjoy myself while I can.”
His fingers hook onto your work slacks, his nails catching onto your panties underneath. In one swift motion, he pulls them both down and you feel the cold rush of air betray how wet you already were.
When his fingers slip easily past your folds from your slick, Katsuki feels himself throb almost painfully at your arousal.
“S-shit,” he whispers as he teases your clit.
Your back arches from the bed at the contact your body craved for too long. He takes advantage of your sensitivity by grinding his finger against you, tracing your entrance with that same finger so painfully slowly before grazing your clit again. A whimper leaves your lips when he doesn’t give you what you want.
“I—I can’t,” you beg. “Please.”
“Shit,” he says again before plunging a finger into you. A surprised “ah!” escapes your lips and your back arches into his touch.
His fingers curl into you, feeling that soft spot that sends stars into your vision. You never felt someone touch you this well before and can cause this kind of intensity.
He must’ve been thin on patience, too, because his finger suddenly leaves you, making you clench on nothing, before climbing on top. When you feel the thick, hot knob slipping against your slick entrance, you jolt back.
“Right,” Katsuki smirks, but there’s a fire behind his eyes that makes it seem sinister. “On top.”
He lies down on the bed and helps you on top of him, a deep noise escaping him as you straddle him and your ass bumps his cock. He waits patiently with his hands on your thighs, not forcing you to keep going but also firm enough to keep you there.
You lift your hips to line him up to your entrance. Your excitement had you shivering and shaking so much that you missed, but the way the head of his cock ground against you was just as pleasurable. A noise escaped Katsuki that only an animal could make as his hips buck involuntarily from the tease.
He watches you with dark eyes as you try again, lining him up. You make eye contact with him before sitting down, fully sheathing him in one swift motion. You see his eyes widen, his pupils dilate, and his mouth part from the unexpected sensation. His eyes flutter close as you give a testing squeeze, a low “fuuuuuuuuck~” rumbling from his body. You can feel the vibrations of his swears through his chest and down his body where the two of you were joined.
“So f-fucking warm,” he growls. His hands on your thighs tighten, begging you to move. You comply, lifting yourself with your hands on his chest and slowly slide out. When you slide back down, a shuddering breath escapes him.
When you don’t move for another moment with your head down and breathing hard, he rubs your thigh.
“A-are you all right?” He asks hesitantly. “If I’m hurting you—”
“No,” you shake your head. “I just…have to get used to your size.”
Your confession made his cock twitch. Hard. It sends a jolt inside of you as you flinch from the movement. Before he could usher an apology, you rock your hips on him again.
He waits patiently, fists clenching with finite patience and restraint as you ride him at your own pace. You feel his breathing match yours as you bounce on him at a rather slow and steady pace. He doesn’t seem to have much patience left as his hands leave your thighs and he sits up, his nose suddenly at your nose and his lips ghosting over yours.
“I can’t,” he says. “I fuckin’ can’t keep waiting. Either fuck me harder or I’ll take it into my own hands.”
His vulgar language makes you blush and adds to your excitement. You take both hands and shove him down. You know full well that he can easily overpower you, but he lets you anyway and you watch him bounce a little as his back hits the mattress.
To his surprise, you lean forward onto his chest. His eyes dart down to where your breasts are pressed up against his chest. His hands are now on the bed, only touching you with the backside of his hands. You rest your head in the crook of his neck, your lips grazing his earlobe.
“Don’t hold back, then,” you whisper in his ear.
All restraint is gone. He wipes his hands on his sheets and grabs your hips. He plants his feet on each side and seems to have lost all reason as he moves your hips in pace with his. Every hard thrust up he made, he shoved your hips down to meet him.
Katsuki felt high off your provocative moans and gasps at each deep thrust, spurring him on to keep going. You can’t help but hear the sound of your bodies together over your moans, the rhythmic slap, slap, slap becoming an anthem in your brain.
“Shit,” he growls, his mouth close to your ear in your chosen proximity. “Fuck, you’re so damn tight and warm. So fuckin’ good. Better than my dreams.”
Before you could ask him about those “dreams”, his hips tilted up in a way that hit your spot just right. You let out a yelp in surprise and he smirks, pleased with himself that he found it. He keeps hitting that spot hard, thrusting at a pace you couldn’t have been able to keep up with if it weren’t for his hands guiding you down on him.
He lets go of your right hip to grab onto his headboard for support. You glance over to see his muscles flex hard under his vice grip. You could hear the wood creaking under his strength and you’re suddenly grateful that he chose the headboard rather than your leg to squeeze.
He angles his hips and digs his heels in the mattress. He’s gasping and groaning with you, slamming almost erratically as you reach your peak.
“F-fuck!” You hear yourself gasp. “Katsuki, I-I’m—!”
Before you could finish your sentence, the intense shockwave of an orgasm overtakes you. It’s intensity blinds you for a moment and you close your eyes.
“Shiiit!” Katsuki growls as you tighten into a vice grip around him from your orgasm. “Fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuck!”
He fucks you hard through your orgasm, breathing hard as he doesn’t stop until he lets out an animalistic roar and you hear the familiar pop, pop from that day at the bakery. He’s coming in you in long, violent spurts. His hips buck in time with each spurt, his head tilted back and his grip on the headboard slowly loosening.
You sit up when he seems to have calmed down. You look up to realize that those pops you heard were his quirk, a black handprint left on the wooden headboard and a large crack in the corner from where he gripped it too hard.
“The headboard—” you try to say, but two large, muscular arms wrap around you and bring you down to his body. His softening cock slips out of you as he brings you in.
“Don’t,” was all he could muster.
You stare up at his post-sex face. There’s a red glow to his cheeks, his bangs plastered to his forehead from the sweat. His nose flared to take deep breaths and calm himself down, his brows still furrowed but his eyes closed. You close your eyes with him, just for a moment.
You don’t realize you’d fallen asleep until you woke up to an empty bed. You look out the window to see that the moon was high in the sky and your mouth dry. You sat up and realized that you probably shouldn’t have fallen asleep.
Quickly, you get out of bed and work your way around it to find every article of clothing. You took off the mask and placed it into his dirty clothes hamper in the corner. Once you’ve found everything and got dressed, Katsuki entered the room in just flannel pajama pants and a glass of water.
He seemed surprised at your wakefulness and this showed with a quirk of a blonde brow.
“I uh,” you hesitate. “Sorry I fell asleep here. I didn’t mean to.”
He doesn’t respond but simply looks at your clothed form. You straighten your jacket and make your way to the door and past him.
“Where are you going?” He finally asks when you make it past him and in the hallway.
“I should go,” you finally sigh. “I know how this works. I shouldn’t have fallen asleep here.”
His brows furrowed again and you felt frozen to your spot. He holds out the cup of water. You’re hesitant, but even more so confused as you take the glass.
“Stay,” he finally says. “I only left because…I thought you’d need it.” He eyes the water in your hands and you look down at it, feeling foolish for assuming otherwise.
“You sure?”
Your answer was him tilting his head into the bedroom, motioning you in. You can’t help but see the shadows caused by the swell of his chest down his body.
“I don’t just fuck and dump,” he snarls, but he follows you into the bedroom and hands you a shirt anyway. “Here. This should be more comfortable than a work uniform.”
You can help but bite your lips to suppress a smile of relief as he makes his way back to the bed. You take a drink from the cup he gave before putting it on the nightstand. You quietly change your clothes and he has his back turned to make you feel more comfortable.
When you climb into the bed with him, he hands you your phone from his pocket and places his phone on his side of the bed.
You have a lot of concerned text messages from Nikki, but you decide to wait until morning to respond.
After settling down under the covers, you lay on your side facing Katsuki as he laid on his back, eyes already closed and an arm behind his head.
“What,” you speak up. “What does this make us now?”
Katsuki cracks an eye open and she could see the gleam of red peeking through.
“I told you,” he grumbles, voice husky from sleep and sex. “I don’t do one-night stands.”
His eye closed and that was that. There’s a giddiness in your chest, knowing what he meant.
Nikki’s going to freak out when he finds out you’re dating a Pro Hero.