You woke slowly—pulled out of a warm, drifting dream by something real, solid, and undeniably persistent. Your face was half-buried in the pillow, hair a messy halo, breaths uneven as consciousness crept in.

Then you felt it. Not warmth—heat. Pressed firm and needy against the swell of your backside.

Katsuki’s arm was locked around your waist, palm splayed over your stomach under your shirt like he owned every inch of you. His breath hit your neck in hot, uneven bursts, nose tucked against your skin.

He was rutting. Slow. Lazy. Mindless.

But awake enough.

You exhaled a groggy whine into your pillow. “…Kats… what are you doing…” The words dissolved halfway out of your mouth, soft and breathy.

Behind you, he grunted—a low, gravelly sound vibrating through your spine. His lips brushed your shoulder, then your neck, open-mouthed and hungry. His hips rolled again, harder this time, like your voice had only made things worse.

“Katsuki…” you tried again, weakly, “What time is it… Ngh, let me wake up a bit—”

Your complaint turned into a sharp inhale as he pushed himself over you, caging you beneath the weight of his body, morning heat grinding insistently against your soft pajamas. His hand slid up your arm, fingers threading through yours before pinning your joined hands to the mattress.

His voice was a growl in your ear—sleep-rough, breathless, and feral with want.

“Early,” his groggy morning voice rasped, hips grinding again, slow and punishing. “Just shut up and wake up to me.”