When you first woke up, it was still dark outside. You could not have been asleep for very long, you thought.
Katsuki was lying on his stomach next to you, an arm thrown lazily over you; he was not holding you close or actually embracing you, but you appreciated it nonetheless. So much, in fact, that you decided to remain here just a little while longer. You watched him for some time. The side of his face was pressed into the pillow, mouth open, breath audible, though quietly. Even this position was not able to make him look any less dashing than he did any other time. God, he was gorgeous.
On your second time waking, sunrays had begun to invade the room. Katsuki now had his back turned to you, which was just as well, you supposed. This way, you would not have to untangle yourself in order to leave.
You slowed your breathing to a halt. (You did not require oxygen to function. A quirk that sounded cool in theory, but proved largely useless in practice.) If there was one thing you were good at, it was being sneaky if you wanted to be. Tiptoeing toward the desk underneath which your discarded clothes lay in a heap, you grabbed a random, wrinkled piece of paper and a pen.
text me if you like
wouldn’t want to lose sight of you again xx
You left the note on the table, assuming he would find it as soon as he went to pick up his own clothes from last night. Then you got dressed very quietly (foregoing your ripped tights – the pattern they had been ripped apart in was a little too telling for your taste) and threw another look at him over your shoulder. That was when you noticed the dark red lines you had left on his upper back. You liked the idea of him still being reminded of you for a few days this way. You pressed down the door handle and left.
You had only just opened the front door when you heard slight noises from what you had deemed the kitchen last night. Turning towards the sound, you found yourself face to face with the redhead who had interrupted Katsuki and you that fateful first night. His hair was down rather than gelled up this time around.
“Your hair looks nice like that,” you both realized and told him at once. He was grinning at you (those were some pointy teeth!), apparently torn between embarrassment at knowing what you had been doing last night and excitement at having yet something else to tease his roommate with.
“Thanks,” he accepted your compliment good-naturedly. “I was wondering whether we’d see you again.” It was not clear to you whether his we included Katsuki, their third roommate or both of them.
You laughed, incapable of feeling embarrassed at his knowledge about what had transpired. “So was I.”
“Can I offer you some coffee or are you trying to flee the scene?”
“If you’re asking whether I’m committing a hit-and-run, no, I’m not. I even left my number and everything!” You considered his offer of a hot beverage for a moment, but knew you had to decline so you would be home in time to take your morning medication. “Think I’ll take a rain check on the coffee, though. I really miss my bed.” He did not need to know about your primordial reason.
“I see. See you around then?” His one-sided grin let you know that he was intentionally quoting what you had said the first time you had met.
“See you around,” you nodded and exited through the door that you had still been holding open this entire time. You hoped that it would prove true.
When Katsuki finally made his way out of his room a good while later, he was surprised to be met by both of his roommates in the kitchen. Eijirou was not as much of a surprise – in order to conform to his ideal of fitness, he often got up very early to train. Denki, on the other hand, was usually a late sleeper. It only reminded Katsuki of how uncharacteristically late he had slept this morning. To be fair, you had worn him out. (Though not as thoroughly as he had worn you out, he thought to himself boastfully.)
Their knowing smiles told him everything, and he did not quite know whether to feel proud or annoyed. Both, maybe.
“Have fun last night?” Eijirou was cutting right to the chase, apparently.
“Shut up,” he growled in response and decided to busy himself with the coffee machine rather than to dignify the others with more of an answer. Unfortunately, this way, Eijirou and Denki were able to get a good look at his back.
“Sure looks like she did,” Denki commented.
It took Katsuki a moment to realize what he was getting at, but once he did, he grumbled. “At least one of us can get laid. Not like you fuckers would know anything about that.”
Eijirou and Denki did not take his bait. Instead, Eijirou kept on talking about you. “You know, I met her this morning while she was leaving. I think she’s older than us.”
“No fucking idea.” Katsuki shrugged. “She’s hot as hell and doesn’t get on my nerves, which is more than can be said about you two assholes.”
He took his coffee back to his room, not in the mood for more of a conversation. Sitting at his desk (where the discarded remainder of your tights still lay on the floor), he read through your note to him once more.
When he had woken up alone, he had felt strange for a moment. Not strongly so – only in the way that it felt strange to be met with unexpected circumstances. If he had been hoping for you to still be there in the morning, he was not willing to admit it to himself. At any rate, it did not matter whether your wordless disappearance would have made him feel anything – since it had turned out not to have been wordless after all.
His roommates’ reminder about the marks you had left on him had given him an idea.
You had been home for about an hour and a half by the time you received his text. Seeing an unknown number on your phone’s display had immediately sown an inkling of hope in you, and you were pleasantly surprised to see it really was Katsuki who had sent you a message.
The image took a moment to load. When it had, you laughed to yourself quietly. It was a photo of his back, covered in angry red stripes, some of them more parallel than others. The awkward angle it was taken from suggested he had taken it himself. How sweet.
Its caption read, ‘Thank you for these.’
So, that’s why he had got in contact with you so unexpectedly early. Obviously, the fresh scratches made for a better picture. Well, you were able to contend with that.
You reached for the waistband of your leggings and pulled it down on one side, holding it in place like that with one hand and pulling your top up a little with the other. Then, you took a photo of your midsection with your phone. Looking at it and deciding it was flattering enough, you began to type a caption for the visible blue bruises on your hips.
‘You certainly returned the favor quite well.’
You hit ‘send’ and then rolled onto your side, giggling like a damn school girl. No matter how sedated the aripiprazole made you feel, today, you were not going to be able to go back to sleep, too activated by the things that had happened last night and this morning.
And what the hell am I supposed to do about that?
Well, you could be fucking me, for instance.
I’m at home. You know where that is.
A couple of weeks later, the spell had not yet worn off. The raw intensity of the attraction you felt to him never wavered, but rather only changed shapes, twisting and turning into something new every time you were with him, every time he was inside you.
Somehow, you had become a regular at the three guys’ place – and though you were very obviously Katsuki’s guest and his guest only, you got on surprisingly well with both Eijirou and Denki. It was not a rarity to see you in the kitchen on a weekend morning, stocking up on caffeine and making small talk while Katsuki was grumbling into his coffee about how annoying all three of you were.
But he never threw you out. A favor you repaid by never overstaying your welcome, instead opting to leave on your own terms and eventually come back after a few days – also on your own terms.
“She really said that?” you questioned in disbelief at a story Eijirou had been telling about a girl he, himself, had met while partying. While waiting for his reply, you took the now-empty pot to the sink and filled it with water, preparing to make another few units of coffee.
“Yeah, can you believe it?!” Eijirou replied enthusiastically, gesturing with his hands. You found him adorable.
You were just about to say something more when you slipped up while refilling the coffee maker and spilled the water all over the counter and floor.
“Shit,” you sighed in frustration, moving immediately to get a rag with which to clean up the mess you had just made.
That was the exact moment in time that Katsuki, who had thus far endured the conversation rather quietly, chose to contribute a few choice words. “Fucking pay attention to what you’re doing, will you, you idiot?”
It did not even bother you anymore when he spoke to you like this. You knew it was simply who he was.
Looking over your shoulder from your position on the floor, where you were wiping up the water you had spilled, you warned, “Careful. Keep talking to me like that, I might actually fall in love with you.”
You waited for a beat to let the joke have proper impact before you laughed out loud, inviting everyone else to join you.
You had always been supremely bad at anticipating the future.
“Oh fuck.” You inhaled through your mouth, teeth pressed together.
Katsuki’s tongue was working wonders between your thighs. You had your legs resting on either of his shoulders, the muscles in your calves contracting and relaxing on their own accord. The surface of the kitchen counter you were sitting on was cold and uncomfortable, but you liked the idea of him ravishing you in a place where other people would be appalled to find you.
“You really enjoy having sex in any place that isn’t your bed, don’t you?” you asked, running your fingers through his stupidly spiky blond hair fondly.
He pulled back for a moment. “And you fucking don’t?”
Your affirmative answer unwittingly became another loud sigh when he pulled your clit into his mouth. The combination of his sucking and the relentless teasing of his tongue against your most sensitive nerve endings was hurling you closer to the edge fast.
You attempted to keep up the conversation to delay your own peak. While nothing compared to the all-encompassing pleasure of the orgasms he provided you, you had always loved that moment just before you came, that most promising of plateaus.
“There’s so many places left for us to try. One of those alleyways between here and the club. Your roommates’ beds.” Your own voice sounded hollow to you now as pleasure threatened to take over your mind. “The hood of a car. I don’t have a car. But any car will do.”
His large hand squeezed your thigh in approval. Then, you came.
Afterwards, he kissed you, open-mouthed and deep, letting you taste all of yourself on his tongue. The force behind his movement almost pushed you against the kitchen cupboard behind you – had there not been his hand at the back of your head, making sure you did not hurt yourself.
When he came inside your mouth, you were not as surprised by the sheer amount of fluid his body expelled as you had been the first time.
Everything about him was an exaggeration. His stamina, his ability to stay hard after one orgasm, the intensity with which he came. In less sexual terms, the thought applied, as well. He was needlessly loud and dirty-mouthed, needlessly intriguing and attractive. Perhaps the worst thing about all of this was that he knew. Or maybe that was not so bad at all – the fact that he never pretended to be anything but exactly what he was made him incredibly authentic. You never had to second-guess anything he said or did, never had to worry about a hidden meaning behind any of it.
You swallowed the liquid, bitter salt.
“You give fucking amazing head, [Name],” he complimented a little while later, while you were lounging around in a post-sex haze. He was lying on his back, sprawled across the bed like the king of the world. You were lying next to him on your side, head on his midsection, breathing in his skin. Your legs were angled just enough so your feet were not hanging off the side of his bed.
“So I’ve been told,” you laughed, nuzzling the bare skin of his stomach. You loved his natural scent, whether he had just been sweating or not. The way his abs were readily apparent under the surface was only one of many facets of his physical perfection.
He laughed along with you. You appreciated that he did not mind your implication of previous sexual partners in the slightest. Then again, you supposed it would have been more than inappropriate for him to take issue with the idea of you having had some (or many) sexual encounters before him, especially given the nature of your current arrangement.
“Seriously, though. How the hell do you hold your breath for that long?” He did not lose a single word along the lines of being worried about your wellbeing, but the implication was there.
“Right, I guess I’ve never told you. Well, it never came up. That’s my quirk. I don’t actually need to breathe.”
Next thing you knew, there was his hand directly below your nose, registering the streams of carbon dioxide you were exhaling. “…the fuck?”
“I mean, I do breathe. But it doesn’t really do anything for me. It didn’t manifest until I was about three years old or so, so my body developed normally until then. My brain stem does its thing, and I inhale and exhale without actively controlling it. But if I concentrate and stop breathing, I can go for hours. That’s actually how my parents figured it out. They were scared I’d drowned in the bathtub, but I just really enjoyed being underwater.”
“I’ve never met anyone with a quirk like that,” he replied, voice even enough to imply disinterest in anyone that was not him. You did not linger on the thought of how well you knew how to read him already.
“I don’t think it’s really common, but even if it were, it’s not like you’d hear a lot about it. It’s kinda cool in theory and all, but it’s not like you can do a lot of cool things with it or anything. As a kid, I wanted to be a hero when I grew up. But then I realized that my quirk is pretty useless in the people-saving and crime-fighting regard. So, I gave up on that pipe dream rather quickly.”
He did not answer verbally. Instead, he just gave a noise that was parts agreement and parts something more. The something more interested you.
“Don’t tell me you wanted to be a hero when you were a kid, too?” you asked, intrigued.
“I am a fucking hero,” he emphasized, the pride noticeably swelling in his body underneath you. “I’m in the top ten, for fuck’s sake. You didn’t know that?”
Apparently, he was famous. You could not help but giggle at the absurdity of it all, a little embarrassed. The one time you fucked someone famous – and you had not even realized.
“Don’t be offended,” you requested softly, pressing a kiss to his stomach. “I don’t really keep up with hero news. Or news at all, for that matter.”
You hoped it did not make you sound as stupid as you feared it would. The truth was that most days, you simply did not have the expendable mental energy to face what was going on in the world. You found it hard to concentrate even on the things you did enjoy – it was downright impossible when it came to things you found arduous, like reading about and accepting the current state of the world.
“I’m not. It’s kinda fucked up, but somehow, I prefer knowing that you didn’t just wanna fuck me because you’ve seen me on tv.” He was smirking, obviously enjoying the power that this newfound knowledge afforded him.
“I don’t even own a tv. I just wanted to fuck you cause I thought you were hot.” You shot him a wide smile, not an ounce of embarrassment left in you now. “And I still do, by the way.”
“When I saw you on that dancefloor, I thought you were the most fuckable woman I’ve ever seen.”
You laughed gleefully at his compliment, glad that the conversation had taken this turn after all.
Feeling that you had already shared too much of yourself, you welcomed the chance to focus the conversation on him instead. He knew about your quirk now, and that was fine. He still did not know your last name. Your age. Where you lived. He did not know about your darkness.
You preferred it this way.
“So,” you started, moving so you were lying next to him, using his bicep as a pillow and facing him. “Tell me about your quirk.”