You hear the front door slam, heavy boots dragging across the hardwood. The dog doesn't even bark, just thumps his tail once before settling back down in the orthopedic bed.

Katsuki showers quickly, scrubbing away the grime of the villain attack. He doesn’t talk when he comes out, just trudges into the bedroom like he’s carrying the entire city on his shoulders.

His bare chest is on display, his sweatpants riding low on his hips. His hair’s damp, badly towel-dried and messy. He smells like clean soap, scorched air, and exhaustion. His permanent scowl is a little softer.

You’re sitting up in bed when he reaches you. Katsuki falls forward onto the mattress with a long, guttural groan and buries his face in your stomach. His arms slide under your thighs like they belong there. His body molds to yours, all heat and bruised muscle and quiet, stubborn need.

Another groan. Lower this time. Almost a whimper.

“…Fuckin’ villains,” he mumbles, voice muffled against your skin. “So fuckin’ annoying…”

You card your fingers through his damp hair and he melts. Shoulders sag. His grip tightens around your legs. You can see the muscles rippling in his back as he tugs you impossibly closer.

He doesn't ask for anything. Doesn’t tell you what happened. Doesn’t look up from his spot. He just clings.

“Missed you,” he grumbles, like it’s your fault he feels this way. Like admitting it out loud stings. You hum softly, gently scratching at his scalp in soothing circles.

His lips press into your hip, then your stomach. Then again. Over and over. Desperate. Worshipful. A low, broken sound escapes him.

“Let me ruin you. I need you tonight,” he rasps. “Wanna taste every sound you make. ” He groans again, voice hoarse and wrecked, and burrows closer like he wants to crawl inside your skin.

Every inch of him is screaming with need, body craving you like the most explicit drug. He nuzzles into you like he can't help it. Breathes you in like you're the only thing keeping him alive.

And maybe you are.