Work Text:
Bakugou didn't really do social media.
The idea of wasting bunch of time, effort, and energy on impressing people who didn't even know you in person, was mind boggling. Seemed stupid to dedicate any of his 24 hours methodically scheduled time to posting to "The Grid."
And handing over his personal data to some evil tech conglomerate just to fuel his ego and rot his brain seemed even more ridiculous.
Others did not appear to share this objectively correct opinion.
Every other dork on U.A.’s campus was always glued to their fucking phones. Absorbed in a virtual, curated world of their own. Oblivious to the actual world going on around them. It was a god damn hazard, dodging these zombies while trying to navigate the halls to his next class.
But, no. Apparently, he was the weird one for not sharing whatever the fuck he ate for breakfast with the world.
In college, telling someone you didn't have a handle for them to "at" or "tag" made people think you were a fucking serial killer. Admitting such a social faux-pas almost jettisoned his IRL hook-up prospects. Not all. He still managed just fine at whatever fuckass party his brigade of idiots dragged him to to typically not leave alone unless he wanted to. So he didn't really see the need for these stupid apps.
Anything Bakugou learned about his peers was undoubtedly against his will. Tortuously funneled to him by his so-called friends who found it fun to waterboard him with useless information. Always something he didn't care to know anything about. About people he didn't know and didn't care to meet.
That was, until Kirishima was going on and on about his new gym buddy.
Some girl who apparently kept pace with his brick shit house of a best friend. A best friend that was supposed to be his workout buddy.
Fucking traitor.
"You know I've been doing two-a-days, bro!"
Bakugou rolled his eyes, wondering when and where the fuck Kirishima found the time. The meat head clocked in way more hours in the gym than the library.
"You should skip your A.M. sesh and come lift with us tomorrow night. Uravity's a beast!"
"Uravity? I thought her name was Uraraka?"
"Oh yeah, I forgot you weren't on socials. It's her handle."
Kirishima's thumbs worked overtime, tapping away at the his phone's screen. Once he found what he was looking for, a big, dumb smile overtook his face.
"Peep her profile, dude. She mostly posts workout progress pics."
When Kirishima turned the screen towards him, Bakugou almost choked. And who could blame him? Starring back at him was his literal wet dream.
He snatched the phone from his best friend, who was smiling at him way too big to not be up to something. But Bakugou couldn't be bothered to acknowledge or even care about that right now. Not when he was in the virtual presence of a goddess.
The first picture was a post-pump pic of a girl, no taller than 5'2", in front of a squat rack loaded up with close to 200 pounds in plates.
She had an ass that Bakugou could, and would, write sonnets about. Skin tight shorts had the honor of clinging tightly to every curve from upper thigh to stomach. Thighs so powerful they bulged out from spandex too weak to contain all their glory when she flexed. A face, soft and round, peeked over a chiseled shoulder and sent the camera a smile that made his stomach do fucking somersaults.
Uravity was a certified Muscle Mommy.
His thumb scrolled on autopilot while his mind plummeted further into the gutter with each passing photo.
"Super manly, right, Bakugou?"
"Yeah.” He couldn't find it in himself to argue. Who could deny perfection? Not him. He was only a few photos deep and he was ready to lick whatever communal gym bench clean with his own tongue after she finished a set.
He peered over at Kirishima, suddenly suspicious of his intentions.
"Why do you know her? You're not in Physics 202."
"She's friends with Mina." Kirishima shrugged.
"Who isn't? That doesn't explain why you know her well enough to workout with her."
"Well, since my A.M. gym buddy won't join me on my night lifts, she was nice enough to ask me if I needed a spot. We've been lifting together ever since."
Bakugou eyes flicked from his hulking friend to Uravity's profile. They had a photo together — that may or may not have made Bakugou feel some type of way — and she barely came up up to Kirishima's peck. He knew Kirishima put up absolutely stupid numbers at the gym, so how in the law-of-physics-defying-fuck could she really spot him?
"Do you think she could really spot you?" he croaked, throat suddenly dry.
"Dude, I'd trust those guns with my life. You gotta see her in person, it's actually insane. It's like she can make the weights weightless or something."
Bakugou barely stifled back the groan that tickled the back of his throat.
Sweet fuck did he wish she'd throw him over her shoulder and squat his body weight. Let him spot her one rep squat max, mirroring her movements from behind without actually touching her because quads like those don't fail. Give him the god damn privilege of planting a peck on her flexed bicep.
He didn't have to look at all of her posts to know that Uraraka was an absolute goddess. And if she was a merciful one, she'd let him worship her as she deserved.
"So, you wanna join us tomorrow? It's leg day. Uraraka's favorite."
"What a coincidence," Bakugou replied, returning Kirishima's phone with a toss. "Mine too."
If Kirishima remembered that chest and biceps were actually Bakugou's favorite to train, he was manly enough to not call him out on it.
⋆˙⟡♡⟡˙⋆
The second Bakugou entered Physics 202, his head was on a constant swivel in search of Uravity in the sea of faces his brain never previously cared to acknowledge. No matter the class, Bakugou attended for the sole purpose of learning and getting the best grade possible. That's it. He could have been in a room full of aliens and robots and he wouldn't have even noticed.
But now he was shooting scrutinizing stares at every being that entered the room. Scowl deepening at each person that wasn't Uraraka.
He needed to confirm that Kirishima wasn't playing some elaborate trick on him. That her profile wasn't some sophisticated, smoking hot AI meant to make Bakugou look like a fool who was too offline to tell real from computer generated. Kirishima should know better than to play around with Bakugou like that, but he couldn't be to sure.
That was until she waltzed through the door. If he hadn't studied her profile like he was supposed to be studying for his chemistry test next week, he may have missed her. She hid her incredible physique hidden under an oversized, baby pink, sweat suit.
But Uravity was unmistakable. His eyes zeroed in and locked on.
Before he could stop himself from smirking at her preparedness, her beautiful brown eyes found his. A smile of her own stretched across those incredibly round and bite-able cheeks. She waved at him as if she just spotted a long lost friend. His right hand waved back without permission, by passing his brain entirely to create the motion.
Her messy ponytail bobbed as bounded up the stairs to the row he was sitting in. That he always sat in. She plopped down an unoccupied chair beside him, before turning in the seat to face him with a smile so bright, he squinted slightly to shield his eyes from her undeniable radiance.
"Hey, you're Bakugou, right?" Her voice echoed like wind chimes in his empty skull.
His brain fizzled, failing him when he needed it most. Completely devoid of thought other than she was here, real, and sitting so close to him that their their knees were touching.
"Katsuki,” he corrected.
His last name felt too . . . formal. Too distant. Bakugou needed to hear her, his fantasy come to life, call him something much more intimate. In fact, he never wanted to hear her say his last name again. Not unless they were exchanging wedding vows or when she was using it as her own.
"Call me Katsuki."
"Okay, Katsuki,” she repeated, as if testing out how the words felt rolling around on her tongue.
A laugh bubbled out of her and left him feeling fizzy like a shaken soda. Foaming, pressure building, threatening to burst. Instead of dismissing him for being too forward too quickly, she had met him head on.
"Then you can call me Ochako,” she replied with a smile that was as sweet as it was coy. The response barrelled straight through him, egging him on to go further.
Katsuki gripped his desk, trying to contain himself.
"Okay, Ochako,” he mimicked, forcing his face to contort into something that looked like cool indifference while his heart violently slammed itself into his ribcage.
The lights above dimmed for the lecture presentation. Embolden by the darkness that shrouded them before the projector wheezed to life, Katsuki leaned over to whisper in her ear, "Looking forward to seeing you in action tonight."
Ochako turned towards him, face now awash in the blue-tinted glow of the PowerPoint. Her eyes twinkled, shining with amusement and determination. She shot him a wink that hit like a blast of buckshot from sawed off shotgun square to the chest.
Positively lethal.
"I hope you can keep up."
⋆˙⟡♡⟡˙⋆
Thankfully, nothing killed the mood quite like a Physics 202 lecture. With his mind focused on thermodynamics instead of mentally swiping through Ochako's social media, his heart rate settled to a more reasonable level. His palms stopped sweating. And his compression shorts were no longer straining to hide the semi-chub that arose when Ochako entered the room.
By the time they were heading over to the gym, Katsuki's frenetic energy had settled into a steady hum of excitement. Similar to pre-game jitters. Adrenaline tingling throughout his body, preparing him for war.
Or leg day. Same thing.
Ordinarily not one to engage in idle chatter, Katsuki found that Ochako's presence charmed the words straight out of his typically snarled mouth.
"How'd you know it was me in class?"
He asked, gym bag flung over his shoulder as he tried to maintain at least the appearance of coolness. The death grip on his duffel betrayed that illusion.
"Well, Kirishima is always talking about his 'morning workout buddy and best bro,' but I couldn't find you on socials. So I asked him to show me a picture of you when he mentioned you'd be joining today's workout."
Something about that whole timeline tickled the far corners of Katsuki's brain. It didn't add up. He saw Kirishima after he worked out with Ochako yesterday.
But his heart—or maybe his other brain—didn't give a fuck about the discrepancy. Whatever organ was in control was too busy preening at the fact that she was asking about him to care.
The high carried him through a series of dynamic stretches. Movements he could falsely credit for getting his blood pumping instead of the sight of Ochako shedding her pink warm up layer to reveal a matching orange high-waisted short and cropped long sleeve spandex set that hugged every curve that it wasn't revealing.
Jelly legs wobbled him over to the water fountain to quench his uncomfortable thirst. Saliva thick in his throat as he watched her bend over to perform toe touches. An absolute shelf of an ass resting beautifully atop legs that made him vow to never skip leg day again. She wiggled from side to side, loosing her hips while his pants tightened with every swivel.
Cold water overflowed from his water bottle, spilling all over his hand and the pool at his feet. Still hazy from his trance-like state, he jerked his bottle away from the fountain's spray, dowsing himself with 16 oz in the process. The impromptu cold-plunge washed the impure visions of his hands gripping Ochako's perfect ass that were previously dancing around his brain.
With gritted teeth, he re-filled the receptacle and stomped his way over to the squat rack. Ochako hardly noticed Katsuki's return, too engrossed in setting the stage.
"What's with the tripod?" Katsuki asked, squinting with scrutiny at the recording equipment.
Ochako bounded to her feet like a rabbit caught lying down by a fox. She stepped before tripod, trying to hide the offending device.
"Ah, uh would you care if I recorded our workout?"
Katsuki's squint narrowed further, red irises now hardly visible.
"For what? FaceSpace?"
"Okay, oldest man alive." Eyes rolled at his social media illiteracy, but his gaze didn't let up.
The question still hung in the air, the ridiculousness of the whole thing beginning to weigh on Ochako.
"No. Well, yes. Ugh. Please don't judge but I'm kind of a fitness influencer or whatever."
"No shit?"
"Yeah shit. I've got a pretty good scholarship but it pays for everything else. Like traveling home to see my parents during break and stuff."
Katsuki may have been a social media novice, but he knew enough to be impressed. Suddenly, her large following made more sense. It wasn't a personal page to share pictures of sandwiches and sunsets, but a business. A side hustle. How could he knock that?
"Look," she started, cheeks coloring in embarrassment at explaining her online persona to someone she knew didn't partake in that world. "You totally don't have to be in it! I can just take some shots before I start lifting heavy. Once I need a spot, I can put it away. Promise!"
"Why? Can't I just spot you?" Katsuki asked, hiking his sopping wet sweatshirt over his head to reveal a black tank that clung to his slightly damp chest.
Brown eyes lingered for a moment, her own brain stalling at the sight of the best pecs and traps she'd ever seen. They traveled down to biceps that bulged as he threw his sweatshirt to the side. Her brain rebooted by the time the item of clothing landed on top of his duffel bag.
"No! But I thought you didn't have social media."
"I don't." Katsuki kicked off his sweat pants and unveiling tree-trunk quads. Bright orange compression shorts peaked out from under black mesh ones, revealing a mouth watering amount of mid-thigh.
He knew he looked incredible, body built more like that of a professional athlete instead of a chemical engineering student.
"But Kirishima said you wanted to go for a new PR on squats today. It'd be pretty lame to not show off how fucking strong you are just because I'm here."
Ochako swallowed hard.
"So you'd be okay with me posting content with you in it?"
"Sure.” Katsuki shrugged, fully prepared to throw his morals to the wind if it meant getting to see Ochako in action.
"Are you sure you're sure? I've kind of got a lot of followers."
Followers?
"Okay? Is bragging supposed to make me change my mind?"
A pink flush blasted her plump cheeks. Katsuki couldn't help but note how much the color suited her. He wondered if she turned the same shade if riled up in other ways.
"It's not a brag! I just care about your privacy!"
His privacy be damned. Katsuki didn't give a shit about whatever extra had to say about him online. As if some loser-ass, pencil-armed internet troll would make him throw away the prime opportunity to spot Ochako. To line up his body with hers, close enough to touch, to whisper words of encouragement into her ear, and drive her to success.
He'd let the entire plate rack crush him to death before he squandered such a chance.
"It doesn't bother me that you happen to document your workouts for your job. Get your bag or whatever. Kirishima wouldn't shut the fuck up about how strong you are. I'm here to see it for myself and get a good lift in while I'm at it, alright?"
A small smile graced her plump lips, blush still lingering on her cheeks.
"Alright."
Appointing himself as Ochako's "creative director," Katsuki fiddled with the camera set-up, barking at her to go finish warming up. The squat rack that Ochako had claimed was under sub-optimal lighting conditions, so he glared menacingly at some freshman who was floundering around a far better lit squat rack. A few seconds of molten hot laser beams piercing into the dork's back was it took for him to take a hint and finish his workout on the machines.
She completed ten perfect reps on the empty bar in their new shooting location, Katuski secured the perfect shooting angle. One where her muscles popped under the high contrast of the harsh overhead lighting.
Once she was done and the stage was officially set, he prepped the bar with half the weight of the weight Ochako was shooting for for her warm-up. Just beyond the camera's focus lied a three stacks of plates, 10 pounds, 5 pounds, and 2 pounds, to load the bar with as she worked her way up to her PR goal and beyond.
"Aw man!" He jerked his head to the sound of Ochako's distressed cry.
Her lip jutted out in a pout, staring at the her on set up meticulously on the tripod.
"Kiri said he can't make it! What a bummer!"
Fuck.
Kirishima was undeniably an amazing gym partner. He wasn't just a hype man, he was the best hype man. He possessed an supernatural ability to conjure up so much positivity that fueled the lifter with immeasurable amounts of self-confidence that even the noodliest-arm motherfucker could put up the best numbers of their life. Katsuki could, but would never openly do so, credit Kirishima with his own PRs. His most impressive lifts cheered on and fueled by the best gym partner of all time.
Fuck.
How could that Kirishima miss this?!
FUCK!
Katuski looked over at Ochako, who was now beginning to chew her lip. Nerves evidently setting up, building up, threatening to mentally block out her chances of blowing bast her new PR. It burned something within the pits of his stomach, prickled his fingers with sweat. If he could, he'd blast the doubt right out of her. But since he was only a man, so there was only thing left to do:
Clock the fuck in as Coach Katsuki.
"Oi!" Her startled gaze met his firey one. "Don't worry about it. You're strong as fuck!"
"I know," she whined, head tilting back to look at the dingy gym ceiling in despair. "But Kiri's my hype man!"
"You don't need Shitty Hair,” he barked with enough vigor that he was almost convinced himself that his form of encouragement could be an adequate substitute for Kirishima's unrivaled glazing abilities.
Katuski pulled in enough air through his nose to fill his chiseled chest.
"Your warm-up weight is 100 pounds! Do you know how fucking crazy that is!"
The words meant to pump her up instead pierced through her already deflating confidence.
"Ugh, you're right." Head now resting in her hands. "205 is too heavy to shoot for right now."
"What?! Fuck no!" Suddenly he was before her, hands gripping her slumped shoulders to roll them back into a place conviction.
Even if he had to do so manually.
He lowered himself to her height, face directly in front of hers. Refusing to talk down to a goddess who was clearly experiencing a rare moment of human-like self-doubt.
"You're going to make fucking easy work of that PR goal because your warm up weight is 100 pounds, airhead. 100 pounds isn't shit for you! And neither is 205 lbs!"
Their noses practically touched. Katuski was pretty sure his eyes were crossed as he maintained eye contact with Ochako while shouting in her perfect face.
"You're going to crush your last PR. Go beyond it. Plus. Fucking. Ultra. Right, Uravity?"
She sucked in a breath and stiffened under his grip. When her eyes met his, roaring fire shone back.
"Right!"
"Fuck yeah!"
She approached the bar with the confidence of a professional power lifter. An aura radiated off of her, one so bad ass that he almost forgot he needed to film this shit. He scrambled over to the camera, and Ochako lined herself up under he bar.
When her feet were firmly planted shoulder width apart, toes angled slightly outward, hands gripping the bar, her determined gaze met his again.
With a slight nod signaling to him she was ready, he pressed 'start' and watched the show.
Removing the bar from its resting position, 100lbs rested on her traps. With a sharp inhale, she descended, lowering body slowly into a deep squat. Chest pulled back, back straight, ass parallel to her knees that were aligned perfectly with her toes.
The perfect squat form.
She repeated the motion with precision 4 more times. Each time she dropped into her squat, she was met with praise.
"Perfect!"
"That's right, Cheeks!"
"Another! Fucking get after it!"
"What did I say? This shit is easy work!"
The second she re-racked the bar, Katsuki wasted no time. He moved with the speed, precision, and focus of a race car driver's pit crew, preparing her for another lap on the track. En route to the bar, he tossed Ochako her water bottle. The silent instruction to rehydrate followed once the bottle was in her hands. By the time she was wiping the dribbling water from her chin, Katsuki was back behind the camera.
"155 on the bar ready whenever you are, Uravity. This shit is child's play, you hear me?" She nodded vigorously, fueled by Katsuki's confidence in her.
She banged out three more reps like it was nothing. Leg muscles activating with each press, sinfully rippling under the lights.
She looked incredible.
Powerful.
The sight spurred more vigorous cheers from Coach Katsuki, enthusiasm for Ochako's strength on full display as she moved with the bar as if it weighed nothing at all.
He rocketed from behind the camera to set her up for her fourth set, where she would attempt 90% of her personal record goal. Even though he had full faith that she'd leave this lift in the dust without a problem, gym protocol dictated pulling in a spotter.
It was time for Katuski to enter the frame.
Katsuki assumed the position, stationing himself behind Ochako. He mirrored her stance, nestling into her space so that his arms could snake their way under her armpits to assist if needed.
Heat radiated off of her back, enveloping him, tempting him to close the space between and press himself fully into her. Goosebumps prickled his skin as he found the willpower from deep within himself to resist. He leaned forward, invading just beyond the friendly-spotter bubble to ask, directly in her ear:
"You ready, Uravity?"
The hairs on her arms stood on end. Adrenaline pumping through her veins.
"Hell yeah."
She accepted the weight onto her shoulders without faltering. She looked good. Strong. Capable. Siphoning the confidence that was radiating behind her, their close proximity charging her up.
Ochako blew through two reps of 185lbs. Then one rep of 195lbs. With her final priming done, Ochako was ready to ascend to the final level: the PR attempt.
She shook out her arms while Katsuki added the plates. Nerves threatening to set in as she took in the sight of the weights she had been chasing for the last two months. 205 lbs stared back at her.
Before he could launch into a motivating diatribe, Katsuki watched in awe as Ochako took her hands and slapped them to her own cheeks, smacking the nerves right out of herself. With a near-violent head shake, she emerged with the most intense game face he'd ever seen.
She pointed at the bar, declaring war upon it.
"I'm going to make that bar my bitch!"
He cackled wildly at her words, knowing that the poor metal bastard of a bar was about to meet its maker.
Uravity was coming for blood.
They hadn't even touched and Katsuki was sure he'd never been so turned on before. Just as sure as he had never been more thankful for compression shorts.
"Fuck yeah you are! Go in for the kill!" He screamed, psyching himself up as much as her.
"Yeah, I'm going to kill it!"
"This weight ain't shit for you!"
"Yeah!"
She pumped her fist into the sky before lining herself up. Katsuki readied himself behind her, moving with her in unison as she began her fight against 205 lbs. He watched her like a hawk, noting her form as they lowered. Even as her muscles strained under the weight, her form never faltered.
But when she hit the deep squat, she paused. Longer than she had for any of her previous lifts. Her breath coming out in little bursts, as if she was just now really feeling how heavy the weight was. She bit her lip, stifling back a grunt.
Not on Coach Katsuki's watch.
"Let it out. Don't be afraid to be loud."
Katsuki commanded, breath tickling her slick skin. Ochako let out a small grunt, still trying to keep her sounds contained and considerate.
No, fuck that.
He wouldn't let this brick house crumble under weight she was more than capable of lifting.
"Come on Uravity!" His hands no longer hovered, they latched onto the front of her shoulders to show support.
"Quit making yourself small! Let everyone in this fucking gym how bad ass you are!"
As she activated her glutes and drove through her quads with all her strength, she emitted a sound unlike one she'd ever made in her entire life.
Loud.
Guttural.
Intense.
Beautiful.
It was the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard.
Still she pushed, Katsuki's hands serving as a reminder to go big, because if she failed, he'd catch her.
As she rose, so did he. Katsuki's aggressive cheers practically drowned out her own intense vocalizations. But by the time she made it to the top, Ochako was fully screaming in triumph. As soon as the weight left her shoulders and was safely placed back on the squat rack, she turned around and launched herself into Katuski's arms.
"Fuck yeah!" He swung her around like a rag doll, as excited as she was at her own success.
"I did it!"
She wrapped her legs around him, latching on to him like a koala. Compression shorts could do a lot to hide the appearance of a raging hard on. But the sinful moans that fell from their lips in sick harmony as Ochako unknowingly ground her core down onto his erection made it apparent that compression shorts did little to hide the feeling of one.
Before he could drop the woman of his dreams like a hot as fuck potato and make a mad dash of shame out of here and into the nearest cold shower, Ochako repeated the motion. Swiveling her hips into his and releasing a throaty moan into his ear.
His hand grimly grasped her fantastic ass and he pressed his now aching hardness into her heat. The whimper that danced across his earlobe almost made him burst. His brain caught up to his dick, registering that they were in a public place, and well in frame of her video recording. Reluctantly, Katsuki pulled back.
She whined at his distance, a sound so tempting it almost drew him back in. But the space allowed clarity to flood in, reminding Ochako of their surroundings.
She lowered herself down from his grasp, face sporting a tomato red flush. Unable to meet his still lustful gaze, she scuttled over to the tripod to save the video for later.
"Want me to promote anything?" Ochako asked with her voice an octave too high, face buried in her phone. "Any business to share? An affiliate code? Anything?"
"I'm good." Katsuki replied, voice full of gravel.
"But! I feel bad! You're not getting anything out of this!"
Katsuki almost laughed in her face. He got a lot out of this. The problem was that he was a greedy little bastard who wanted more. He wanted to treat those powerful thighs to a massage before diving between him. Yank the spandex off of her body and feel the sharp contrast between the firmness of her muscles and the softness of her breasts. He wanted to know if he could make her sing like that in the bedroom.
"Let me take you to dinner or something!"
He grimaced. "The only one open this late is the shitty one in central campus."
A dumbfounded expression flashed across her perfect, face still flushed from their workout.
"Uh, yeah. They've got pizza."
Katsuki's disgust wrinkling his pristine forehead, etching harsh lines into his skin as grimace evolved into a full blown frown.
"Cold, old pizza is a shit way to celebrate a PR. And its not going to help you recover."
"Sure but neither is air. And those are the only options if we don't go to the dining hall!"
Air? Not on Katsuki's watch. Ochako's body was a temple. A body that needed to be nourished properly so that it could be as strong and healthy as possible.
Coach Katsuki had to take matters of recovery meal into his own hands. Pizza or air were not viable options.
"For fuck's sake. Fine, just come back to my place and I'll cook. You like salmon?"
She blinked at Katsuki as if he just grew another head instead of offering to make her a decent meal.
Her phone clattered to the gym floor, slipping right out of her stunned hand. The sound loud enough to startle her brain back into thinking.
"But how will this help me repay you?"
Katsuki could think of many ways she could repay him. None of them involved food. All of them involved getting Ochako back to his apartment and spread out on his bed like a buffet.
"You'll save me from wasting food. I always cook too much for one person and hate leftovers. So if Kirishima is MIA, I'm out a human garbage disposal."
"Well, it's your lucky day. I happen to love salmon and am morally opposed to wasting food."
⋆˙⟡♡⟡˙⋆
Thankfully, Ochako spared Katsuki's obtuse ass from having to determine whether his horny mind imagined the entire dry humping ordeal in the gym by mashing her mouth against his as soon as they entered Katuski's apartment.
Her lips urgently collided with his, letting him know loud and clear that she wanted more from him than just dinner.
Katsuki hoisted her back into his arms, not wanting this queen to waste her precious energy on something as stupid as walking now that they were behind closed doors. Hands needing to feel every muscle he leered at when they were display back at the gym. Muscles he needed to see again imminently.
They crashed into his room, bread-crumbing the way with their gym gear, school bags, and clothes. Shedding every layer that kept them apart. He lowered her onto his bed before pulling back to tug her top over head. Looking down in time to see her perky, full, tits free themselves from the confines of the shirt's built-in bra.
"Fuck, Ochako."
The words fell from his mouth like prayer. A thank you to a higher power. One kind enough to grant him with a photographic memory, so he could play this moment back whenever he damn well pleased.
"Look at you."
Fervently, his lips attacked her neck. Trailing kisses down her while she squeezed him closer with thighs so powerful, they could crush a watermelon. After today, he'd believe it. The woman in his arms was a forced to be reckoned with.
"So fucking beautiful."
Katsuki muttered into her skin that was slightly sticky from perspiration.
"Wait, but I'm so sweaty. We shouldn't—"
He dragged his tongue from her ear down to her exposed collar bone, relishing the salty taste. The sensation pulled a moan from her lips. The damp chill left behind left her burning for more.
"Doesn't matter. I'm going to make a mess of you anyway."
Katsuki palmed one breast while taking the other into his mouth. His tongue continuing to explore, teasing one nipple before switching over to the other. His field of vision narrowed, watching as her eyes rolled, loosing the ability to focus as she was overcome with pleasure.
Each moan drew out of her spurred him forth on his journey to find how to please her. Find what made her come undone. To scream. Ochako deserved to be loud. He wanted to hear it. He just needed to give her a reason to be.
Giving into her divinity, Katsuki worshiped her. With his tongue, his mouth, his hands. Fingers massaged into her muscles, releasing tension while knots of pleasure built inside of her. Pleasure that mounted as he treated her like she was something holy. With a reverence reserved for a deity.
Katuski was in awe of her strength and over enchanted by her flexibility. He curled her legs over his shoulders and dove between her thighs to eat her pussy like it was his last supper. Devouring her like a starved man, a man who would never be satisfied by another meal now that he tasted her forbidden fruit.
His goddess cried, “Katsuki!”
Her trembling legs squeezing him into position. Her hips bucking, begging him to keep circling her clit until she was practically speaking in tongues while her pussy pulsed around nothing. Katsuki didn't stop. Even as the pleasure wave dissipated and death grip around his head loosened, he continued to lap at Ochako's sensitive clit.
Before she could protest and seek reprieve from the coil re-winding itself within her, two fingers slipped inside. The intrusion took her breath away, forcing out a whine that felt foreign to her own ears. He scissored into her, until she was squirting mess, dowsing him in her holy water.
He arose, baptized, beaming with exaltation.
"I've never— that's never—"
Before Ochako could shyly hide her face, he captured her wrists in his hands, pinning her arms above her head.
"Don't hide. That was the hottest thing that's ever fucking happened to me."
Ochako blushed all over, panting from arousal and exhaustion. She melted like putty in his hands. His clay to mold.
Katsuki kept her legs on his shoulders while he pressed down to capture her lips in a searing kiss. With her body pinned beneath his, all she could do was grind herself against his hard cock.
"Can I fuck you?" he asked, though, it sounded a lot like begging. And fuck, Katsuki wasn't above begging the divine.
Her eyes hooded over, pupils eclipsing her irises with desire.
"Please."
At her order, he pushed into her. Sliding himself into something akin to salvation. Their moans harmonized, creating a holy choir that filled the room. He fucked her slowly, devotedly, kissing her with a tenderness he never knew he possessed. And maybe he didn't before he was saved. But, fuck, pussy this good could change a man.
Their tongues swirled around each other until Ochako was stuttering into his mouth. Gasping from the all consuming pleasure, trying to meet each thrust.
"Fuck, Katsuki,” Ochako whined, no longer caring about her volume. "Don't stop."
"I won't. Not until you cum again."
Tears pooled in the corners of her eyes as she followed the pleasure. He rocked into her, the angle exquisite. His pelvis creating sinful friction against her clit as he swiveled his hips. Constellations danced behind her eyelids when he found her G-spot and pounded into it repeatedly.
"Fuck!"
Her legs quaked and her arms fought his restraint, suddenly aware of her oversensitivity now that a third orgasm was on the horizon. Katsuki's grip remained firm, his pace unrelenting.
"Katsuki! Kiss me. I'm gonna—"
His lips crashed into hers on command.
Every moan she made into his mouth was a gift that he humbly accepted. Thankful to be the one chosen to make his goddess feel so good. To be deemed worthy enough to worship her.
When Ochako's walls spasmed around him, Katsuki almost lost himself.
Almost.
If he was a weaker man, perhaps he would have succumbed to the temptation to chase his own release. But his will was as strong as the woman writhing beneath him. He wouldn't finish until she commanded.
"Ah fuck, look at you."
He praised her, mesmerized by the sight of her coming on his cock. Cheeks flushed, mouth gaping, eyes rolled back—she was a sight to behold.
"So fucking beautiful. So good."
Brown eyes fluttered open as she returned from her high. He kissed her. She slipped her tongue into his mouth, and he readily received her like a sacrament.
She broke free of his hold to cup his face and shower him in appreciation for his efforts. It was his turn to whine into her mouth, the tenderness of each kiss conjuring sounds from the depths of his soul.
His hips stuttered, pleasure painting his face. His forehead rested on hers, staring into her eyes. Begging for salvation.
"Ochako, fuck. Can I come?"
His release was at her whim. If she denied him, he would keep fucking her until she was satisfied. Only then would he finish. But thankfully, Ochako was a mericiful goddess.
"Yes."
"Where? Fuck, Ochako, tell me where."
"My chest." She locked eyes with him and pressed her breasts together.
"Come."
Like an angel from above, she granted him release, before revealing her more devilish side. She lewdly opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue, her eyes never leaving his.
The unholy, positively sinful display sent him plummeting over the edge. With the last of his strength, he pulled himself out of heaven and painted the most perfect tits he'd ever seen with his cum.
Whether Katsuki ended up in heaven, hell, or some purgatory in between, was lost to him as his vision went technicolor. Wherever he was, he never felt better.
A small giggle in his ear pulled him back to reality.
"Wow, you sure weren't kidding about making a mess out of me."
Ochako gestured towards the evidence of their romp. The sight of her covered in his essence was enough to resurrect him and tempt him into another round, but the yawn she failed to stifle reminded him that there was more than one way to please a woman.
A man on a mission, Katsuki bolted to the en suite bathroom.
"Wha—where are you going?"
He barely heard Ochako's call over the sound of the running faucet. He returned to her with a damp wash cloth, wiping her clean of his mess before scooping her up in his arms.
"Katsuki!"
The bathroom steamed from the heat of the filling tub. He set her on the ledge and turned to her with two bags of Epsom salt.
"Scent preference? I've got lavender or cedar wood."
She blinked at him.
"Oh, you don't have to do all this. I don't want to take up even more of your night!"
"You're staying for dinner, aren't you?"
He plunged a few fingers in the water to test its temperature. Satisfied, he turned off the faucet.
"Dinner? I mean, yeah, I'd love to if it's not too much trouble."
"Good. Just soak while I get everything together. It's good for recovery."
He shook the bags in her face again, asking her to choose.
"Ooh, I love lavender, but it'll make me too sleepy."
"'Ts fine. We can just watch a movie or something in bed after dinner. I'll bring you back to yours in the morning."
"Are you sure? I don't want to intrude."
Red eyes latched onto hers, never faltering, as poured the lavender scented bath salts into the steaming bath water.
"I don't say shit I don't mean. So if you want to stay the night, get that perfect ass in the tub and relax while I make you dinner."
Ochako didn't need to be told twice. She lowered herself into the water, letting out a content sigh. By the time she's submerged, Katsuki had conjured up both a water bottle and her phone.
"Just shout if you need anything. I'll get you when dinner's ready."
He pressed a chaste kiss to her lips before retreating to the kitchen.
If Ochako wasn't so blissed out, the whole ordeal would have left her dumbfounded. But her new gym buddy just helped her hit a new PR for her squats, fucked within an inch of her life, and was continuing to pamper her with a warm bath, dinner, and the promise of cuddles while she simply existed in the post-sex after glow. So she really couldn't care less that this wasn't how she expected to be spending her evening.
Her phone vibrated against the cool tile floor.
A notification: One new follower.
She clicked on the profile and she couldn't help but smile when she was met with a photo of the man who spent the better part of the evening making her see stars.
Dynamight420. Zero posts, following one.