Ochako can't come on her back. She's brought this up multiple times to Katsuki, but he still insists on starting off most of their love making with missionary. She doesn't understand why, since he always complains about how much his back hurts after. Sometimes she feels like he does it just to spite her.
She stares up at him, expression caught somewhere between annoyed and curious. Katsuki stares back down at her, eyes half-lidded but still focused as he slides himself in and out.
They'd only started a couple minutes ago, but he already looks so close. She pouts inwardly. If this was going to turn into a quickie, she might as well get her nut.
Usually, his hands are fisted in her hair or clutching her hips, but that's only when she's on all fours. Right now, his hands are busy keeping her legs spread wide. Her clit sits between them, pert and pink as a rosebud, eager for contact.
He slips himself deeper until she's sure he'd just tapped against her cervix. She clenches around him reflexively.
His brow creases as a rare little moan slips out from his parted lips. She echoes the noise but louder, higher pitched until it sounds more like a mewl. Katsuki gives her thighs a firm little press before pushing himself in deeper, drawing out another involuntary moan from both of them.
She covers her mouth with a hand and locks eyes with him as she suckles on her fingertips. Judging by the way he's reacting to her cheeks hollowing, he's definitely close. She slips her wet hand down her body. She needs to catch up.
His narrow eyes slit further when he sees her hand on her pussy. He grasps her by the wrist and pins it over her head. "The fuck you think you're doing?" he snaps.
"Wha—?"
His fingers squeeze her a little tighter. "What were you touching yourself for?"
She furrows her eyebrows at him. "I wanna come?"
He releases her with a little sneer and brings his hands back to her inner thighs, stretching them further apart now. Her tendons burn but she knows he'll press harder if she resists.
Ochako uses her other hand to rub the mark he'd left on her wrist.
"No hands." he tells her between pants, "I can break you off with just my dick."
"No, you can't," she blurts, and already he's taken it personally and scowling at her. Great, now he thinks it's a challenge and starts getting rougher.
She wasn't calling him out on being incompetent or anything like that, she just can't come without having her clit stimulated. He doesn't have to be so insecure about it.
"I meant that I can't come." she clarifies before he bruises her, "Like, it's a me-thing, not a you-thing.
But he's not listening, so she rolls her eyes and reaches back down to touch herself.
He grabs both her hands and slams her palms over her breasts. A whimper makes its way out of her mouth.
"Play with these," he grunts, surly, authoritative. "Keep your hands off my pussy."
She blinks, equal parts in disbelief and amusement. "I'm sorry, your what?"
"You heard me." he answers and gives another sharp stroke to punctuate his point. "No touching."
She thinks he's overlooking a very important part of her anatomy if he thinks her pleasure comes from how hard and how deep he can fuck her.
"I'll make you scream," he declares, "Without using my hands."
Ochako shakes her head. As usual, he's being ridiculous. And possessive. And stupid.
She isn't going to play along just because he's insulted that she can't get off with only penetration. Her hand snakes back down to rub her poor little clit. She gets a few sweet rolls in before he swats her hand away with a tiny fizzle of his quirk.
"What did I just say?" he growls, teeth barred like an actual animal.
She hastily withdraws her singed hand. "You didn't have to do that!" she cries.
"You don't listen," he mutters, as if she's the one being absurd for wanting a little autonomy during sex. She mewls again as he parts her labia and skirts around the edge of her neglected clit.
He watches her squirm and palm herself desperately. She starts kneading the tacky skin of her belly, smearing her hands all over her body. Whenever she inches too close to her pussy, Katsuki upturns his palm and ignites it preemptively.
She winces at the teensy sparks and groans. "Katsukiiii," she wraps her legs around his hips and digs her heels into the base of his spine, pulling him closer. She isn't really trying to push him any deeper, she just needs some contact. Ochako lifts her hips and arches up, trying to grind herself on his pale, wiry hair.
Katsuki pulls back to reposition himself. Without the fleeting relief of his happy trail, she's back to aching for touch.
He locks his elbows over the sides of her head as she readjusts. She tries to focus on the pattern of his muscles roping around his arms. When he leans down a bit further, his sweat drips onto her. A warm bead lands on her tear troughs and slides down her cheek. Makes it look like she's crying.
She wants to cry. She wants to come.
Even with him buried to the hilt, she feels so… untouched.
He's staring down at her, panting hard, resolutely trying to hold out until she comes. Why does he torture them both like this?
In an attempt to distract him, she sucks his thumb into her mouth, makes sure to get it nice and wet like he likes it. While he's busy with trying not to blow his load, she tries to discreetly worm her finger between them. She doesn't care if he burns her again, she needs to come.
He actually indulges her for a few seconds before gently pulling her hand away. She whines at the loss, but his palm isn't threatening to scorch hers, so she allows him to waffle their fingers.
When his scarlet eyes stare down at her now, they look sulky. "Do you wanna masturbate, or do you wanna have sex?"
"Huh?"
"You're making me feel like a dildo." he grunts, averting his gaze.
"Well, you're making me feel like a sex doll!" she snaps, "Gosh. Why are you even fucking me like this?"
He tilts his head and responds, in his most charming voice, "I wanna see your cute face."
Her pout turns into a snarl. His bad qualities are rubbing off on her. She throws an arm behind her to reach for a pillow and then hurls it at his simpering smile.
Katsuki wipes the sweat off his brow with the edge of her pillowcase before tossing it to the floor.
"You can play with yourself all day tomorrow," he offers, "Let me fuck you while I'm still here."
She wishes his rationale weren't so imposing. A drop of her own sweat slides down her neck. Their arousal makes the air hazy and muggy between them. Everything is so uncomfortable. Agitation simmers under her skin until she can barely take it anymore.
Her arms spread out onto her sheets, grasping for anything. Her frantic fingers find the condom wrapper and crinkle it in her grip. It doesn't do anything to alleviate the itch between her legs. An itch she can't scratch— she's not allowed to.
Because apparently, it's not hers, it's his.
Fuck that.
Ultimately, she snaps. She slams her hands down on his shoulders, intending on launching him up to the ceiling and taking care of her own damn self.
Katsuki, ever-sharp, catches on to her plan quickly and latches onto her legs before she can throw him. Now he's dangerously close to the blades of her ceiling fan and she's dangling upside down but she doesn't care because his head's between her legs and Ochako finally, finally gets her release.
When she comes down, she brings them both with her, unwinding on Katsuki's sticky face as she catches her own breath.
"See?" he gloats, smearing his grin against the sensitive flesh of her folds. "Told you I could do it. No hands."