Chapter Text
“Oi, what’s this?”
Saitama was used to getting a few letters here and there. Either from bystanders who wanted to chastise him for all the damage he’d cause saving their lives or other hero’s who wanted to thank him. Sometimes he find them weeks after they arrived, usually sitting pretty at the bottom of letters addressed to Genos. But none of the envelopes ever had his name and address written in pink glittery gel pen. The slight angle his head titled was the only indication of his confusion as his face kept its resident blank look.
Strong fingers delicately opened the envelope, making sure not to tear the paper inside. A paper that, when he unfolded it, had the same swirling letters in glitter pink ink. Saitama’s eyes gave no reaction as he scanned the message. Went back up to read it again in a much slower pace. Began again a third time, scrutinizing every word from the opening ‘Dear hero’ down to the ‘from a fan’ sign off, just to make absolutely sure it wasn’t a joke. Eyelids blinked rapidly as the hero’s lips perked up in a small smile, a pink hue taking over his face. A positive reaction from the public was rather appreciated but this was, uh, a bit more than that.
“Master, what’s wrong?” Across the low table Genos had watched with great interest as Saitama opened his letter, examining every single minuscule movement of the hero’s face. A pile of letters addressed to the cyborg sat in a neatly folded stack, opened only for the sake of the off chance that someone had sent in criticism that he could take into consideration during his next fight. The majority proved to be mindless drivel and admiration.
The cyborg had never received a letter that had made him smile. Took them in as more of a social conscious of the citizens he saved and their opinion of him which, much like the comments on his hero’s page, mainly stemmed from his physical appearance more than anything else. So of course it peaked his curiosity to see a his master actually reacting to a letter instead of bored indifference that he usually had. Genos began to lean over the table, mechanical eyes attempting to see through the paper to analyze the words that had made his master so happy so suddenly.
“I think,” Saitama paused, slightly waving the piece of paper in his hand enough to emphasize but not so that the cyborg could read it. Although he no longer gave a rat’s ass about what people thought of him, this kind of recognition and admiration and… something that was akin to lust sparkling off the page made his pride swell. It was no use trying to stop the blood from rushing to his cheeks or his smile that had turned into a rather big, goofy one, “I have a fangirl.”
--
No matter which monster was attacking or what city was destroyed that day, there was always one thing you could count on people needing: a hard drink. It was the same everywhere you lived since you turned 21 and got your bartending license, from hole in the wall bars to ritzy clubs only the richest could get into. The human proclivity to drink to excess in order to forget about the fucked up world around them would keep you employed until the day you died. A long five years had already proven that to be true and you’d be damned to give up that kind of money.
Of course that meant that your life would be one of a night owls. Being employed at one of the safest bar in all of Z-City, one that had never gotten demolished by monster or hero (knock on wood), was all you could ask for. Having regulars who knew your name, bought you shots, tipped you big were all perked you reveled in. Although getting home before the crack of dawn was damn near impossible unless it was an incredibly slow night.
The sun had already come up from hiding below the horizon by the time the last patrons had stumbled out and you had finished cleaning up your station. What little birds where brave enough to stay in the area chirped happily from their nest, a sound that you welcomed in the ebbing silence of the morning as normal working humans began their day. The heels of your boots scuffed along the concrete stairs as you made your way up the apartment stairwell, too tired from your ten hour shift to have any pep in your step but awake enough to keep on moving so you could reach your comfy bed.
One hand flew up to cover your mouth as you let out a loud yawn, tears welling up in your eyes at the involuntary action. Surely you could make it up the last few steps of your apartment building to your door without falling asleep. Your eyes shifted down to grab your keys as you reached the last step.
“Oi, where have you been?”
The sudden voice made you flinch, a pathetic high pitched squeak emitting from your vocal chords from being startled. With eyes wide as saucers you stared at the guy who’s monotone voice scared you so much. Your fingers relaxed from their deathgrip they had on your keys, instinctively poised between your finger and ready to stab if needed. The glaring yellow jump suit, ketchup red gloves and boots combo, that billowing white cape. How could you forget a guy who wore that kind of get up.
“Just got outta work…” You answered slowly, hesitantly, as your mind raced trying to figure out why the fuck was a C-Class hero nonchalantly standing outside your door and why he cared where you were and how long had he even been there. Although you were never one to keep your questions to yourself. Tentatively you walked towards your door not breaking contact with the bald hero’s indifferent eyes. “Why… are you here?”
One red glove hand raised, holding a torn open envelope with pink writing on the front.
In a flash your entire body went cold, you heart skipping a beat, as you recognized that letter. That letter that you wrote. That letter that you wrote and sent. That letter that you wrote and sent after being saved by the hero. That letter that you wrote and sent after being saved by the hero when you got home and had downed five shots of whiskey to calm your nerves.
How fucking embarrassing. The inside of your head felt like it was filled with helium. Did you forget how to breathe?
“You shouldn’t send dirty letters to guys you don’t know,” his monotone voice broke you out of your frozen state. The toe of his boot tapped at the concrete ground as his eyes quickly darted away from yours, traveling down your body then all the way back up to your face. It could have been the bright rays of the sun but it looked like his cheeks had turned a faint shade of pink. “Didn’t expect you to be so pretty.”
Getting out of work so late, being confronted with your drunken letter, having the very attractive hero himself compliment you. Too much, it was all too much. The metal scraping of your hands trying to put key in keyhole almost didn’t register in your mind as you simply blurted out, “Do you wanna come in?”
--
To both of your surprise, Saitama had followed you inside your apartment. He accepted your offer of tea and watched with faint amusement as you went through the preparations almost in a daze. By the time the loose-leaf vanilla tea had steeped in the kettle for long enough you seemed to come back from la-la-land.
Two cups of tea later, when you found yourself sprawled out on top of the cushy mattress in your bedroom, clothes hap-hazardously tugged away, with the bald hero’s face shoved deep into your crotch, you questioned how the fuck did this happen. Or, you had questioned, briefly, before Saitama tongue started to lick at your clit.
Your thighs held the sides of his face hard and snug. The jeans you had worn to work only pulled down to your knees made an impressive barrier to keep the hero’s head from coming up too far for air and your legs from spreading and ripping the material.
“Saitama, Saitama-aa-aah!” you moaned out, dragging one of your hands down the slick surface of the hero’s bald head while your other hand tangling in your own hair. Sturdy fingers sank into the fat of your hips to stop your pelvis from bucking up too hard, the amount of pressure and pain a clear indication that ten small bruises would be marring your skin in the morning.
To be honest, Saitama had no idea what had gotten into him. The whole thing was completely unscheduled. Just woke up that morning, put on his uniform, and thought, hey, according to the return address that girl who sent him the… scandalous letter lived around the north of Z-City so why not go and meet her? Just to quench his curiosity, nothing more. But once he saw you, heard your voice, one thing lead to another and here he was, inhaling the musk of your pussy and sloppily licking at the tangy fluids dripping out from you.
“Uunf!” The sound came out muffled against your wet folds. Unable to bring your pussy up to him you took to pressing his face down, grinding hard circles on his mouth as your release inched closer and closer. For a brief second Saitama thought of picking his head up to scold you for being so demanding, he was a stranger after all and you should be much more polite, but the fact that his jaw had begun to get sore made him keep going. How long had it been since any of his body parts strained to do anything? His cock twitched between the materiel of his suit against the hard wooden boards of your floor as the muscles in his tongue and jaw powered through the cramping.
Between the thrusting motions of his tongue inside your entrance and the rubbing of the tip of his nose against your clit it didn’t take long for your orgasm to wash over your entire body. Your back arched off the mattress as the very familiar and most welcomed pleasure burst from your clit, rushed throughout your entire nervous system. One hand that was previously bruising your hip had left to snake around your back, grabbing a handful of your upper ass as you humped forward before your entire body went limp.
“Oi.” Saitama had to say it a few times to get your attention, your ears still ringing from cumming. It was hard to focus on his face due to your post-orgasm eyes but you tried your best. The bottom of his chin dug into the lower paunch on your stomach, head still held captive by your thighs and jeans, a shine from the sun gleaming off of his bald head. The hand that had slithered behind you back retracted to curl up and around to wipe off the glistening vaginal fluids that smeared across his face. “Sorry to eat and run, but the market opened at seven and they have a sale going on that I can’t miss.”
“Oh, right, right. Sunday sale day…” Your hand weakly came up to give him a thumbs-up gesture, full well understanding the importance of market sales and back logging that money conscious trait for future reference. “Leave some for me, I won’t be able to go until the afternoon.”
Gently he lifted your limp legs off his shoulders, placing them softly on the mattress, before he leaned up to plant a chaste kiss on your cheek. The white cape on his shoulders whirled as he stood up, as if hit by some unfelt breeze. For a moment the shadows of your room caught him just right, casting shadows on his sudden;y detailed face, and you felt your breath hitch in your throat at how powerful the hero looked.
“Hey.” Saitama looked down when you spoke, not so subtly drinking in your half naked disheveled form up to the playful smirk on your lips. He watched with mild interest as you kicked off the rest of your jeans before tugging your blanket with a toe, pulling it up until you could reach it. “Feel free to come back again.”
With that he flashed you a small smile before taking his leave. The faint click-click of your front door opening and closing made you sigh in relief. His sudden departure was well welcomed. You never liked it when a guy stayed too long after you got your rocks off. The fleece of your blanket felt warm and comforting around your body as you cocooned yourself in it, eyelids slowly closing, thoughts of the caped baldy racing through your brain until you fell asleep.
--
Honestly, you didn’t believe that the random sexcapade with the hero had even happened. When you woke up in the morning, shirt on, pants off, front door locked, you chalked it up as just another regular ol’ night home from work. Two dirty tea cups but, hey, you had been an asshole to yourself before and created more dishes than necessary.
But when the hero showed up at your door after work a few days later he proved that the night before was definitely not just a sex dream.
The light switch dug into your fatty flesh as your back pressed harder against the wall of your entrance den. One gloved hand firmly held your leg up in an almost uncomfortable angle while the other had its pointer and middle finger knuckle deep inside you, finger fucking you at an alarming speed as his tongue attacked your clit. The tights you were wearing didn’t fair as well as your jeans previously had. In a flick of the wrist the hero ripped them in the middle to easily gain access. Which you totally didn’t even care about as your orgasm hit you.
“Saitama, holy shi-holy shi-i-it!” The muscles in your jaw clenched at the same time your walls spasmed around his fingers, fingers that kept up their rapid pumping making sure to feel every twitch of you as you came. A thick line of fluids and spit followed the hero’s chin as he leaned his face backwards from your crotch. If you could open your eyes you would see the almost blank look on his face.
“Huh. Doesn’t take much to make you cum.” His voice was almost monotone as he pointed out the very obvious, fingers slipping out of your pussy with a soft squelch. The red of his gloves turned a damp burgundy from being inside you but he didn’t seem to care. It had been years since they had gotten even remotely dirty thanks to the force of his punches obliterating monsters in one blow.
You cocked an eyebrow at Saitama, watching as he examined his wet glove before popping the two fingers in his mouth. The sucking was soft and muffled by the fabric but the sight of him licking himself clean of your fluids made your post-orgasm clit ache just the same. “Thanks, it’s one of my best qualities.”
Saitama nodded to himself, hmm’ing around the digits in his mouth, before he slowly stood up. There was a hushed sound of a zipper being pulled down and before you knew it his potion had changed. It was hard to tell how tall he was when he was on his knees eating your pussy but, as he straightened up to fit his body so perfectly against yours, it became very apparent that you would be able to tap your forehead against his chin with ease. Not like you could concentrate on the height difference for very long.
The tip of his cock was pressing around your wet and swollen entrance. The hand on your thigh reached down to grab your ass, wiggling your bodies together until your raised leg sat nicely against his hip.
“Oi,” this seemed to be a favorite word of his, he was always saying it to get your attention. The features of his face became more defined, his gaze turning rather serious, a total contrast to the borderline bored look his facial muscles rested at. It was suddenly hard to swallow the spit down your throat. “Let me know if I get too rough. I don’t want to break your pelvis.”
There was hardly any time to process the cryptic remark as Saitama easily pushed his cock between your dripping wet fold, filling you up inch by delicious inch until his skin pressed firmly against yours. Although the hero’s cock was rather thick you were so turned on, the walls of your pussy so relaxed and wanting, that the stretching wasn’t the least bit painful. Your arms flew forward to grasp the hero’s defined shoulders, wrapping around them the best that you could to pull him closer in order to muffle your loud moans against his uniform.
“Ah, you’re so-“ Saitama let out a low grunt as he slowly drew back, feeling every bit of your walls clenching around his cock, before sliding back in to his base. Every single muscle in his body tensed at the feeling, of how tight you were, of the breathy moans of pleasures you were letting out next to his ear. It was a struggle not to slam back into you and fuck you until you screamed his name. “You’re so warm.”
His pace was tantalizingly slow, the length of his cock inching its way out of you before painstakingly gliding back in at a snail’s pace. By the way the hero’s teeth clenched, sweat forming over his bald head, you knew it wasn’t on purpose to tease you. He was just trying to hold back his power so he wouldn’t break you like his punches did to those monsters.
But the few minutes of his slow thrust only made you angry. Too slow, much too slow, stimulating your pussy but not fast enough to make you cum and that pissed you off. You bared your teeth in a snarl as your hands flew down to his hips, nails biting through the fabric of his yellow jumpsuit straight into his flesh as you snapped your hips up almost violently to meet his.
You felt his fingers clenched into the fat of your ass, a surprised groan rumbling out from his chest, before he opened his closed eyes to give you an incredulous look. “He-hey, now!”
“I’m not a damn piece of paper, you idiot.” Your voice was low, almost growling, emphasizing each word with a roll of your hips. Saitama’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly at the sensation, still making a valiant attempt to keep his demure pace. “Fuck me.”
It was a demand that you almost regretted thirty minutes later, after Saitama had cum inside you, pecked you on the cheek then took his leave, when you looked back and noticed the very apparent indent in the wall you had been fucked against.
--
“You sure do like eating pussy, don’t you?”
Two big eyes blinked up at you from between your knees. Your own body rose and fell in time with his chest that you had leaned back to sit on, trying to calm yourself down from the orgasm he had just licked out of you. Faintly you were aware of your own legs starting to go numb from their scrunched position under the Saitama’s shoulders, which had effectively been cutting off your circulation.
The hero seemed to mull the question around for a few seconds, taking the time to shimmy his hands under your butt to cushion it. You had come to learn that his blank face was his default expression for everything. Finally he gave a shrug, “It’s a good workout for my mouth. And,” his fingers flexed up, burying deep into your plump asscheeks, “you make a really cute face when you come.”
Four months had passed since you first sent the letter and Saitama had started coming over unannounced. Sometimes he would walk you back from work in the early morning, fuck you senseless, stay for breakfast. Most of the time, though, he just showed up, licked your pussy until you were a writhing pile of goop, then left.
Much like right now. When he followed you into your apartment after you got back from a slow Wednesday night, immediately had you pop a squat over his face, and mercilessly ate you out for almost an hour.
One gloved hand squirmed out from underneath your resting butt and curled around, extending a pointer finger to delicately poke your clit. Saitama’s ‘hmm’ of consideration overtook your own moan at the contact. “You’re so swollen. I think I defeated you enough for one day.”
“So much for taking it easy on me, eh?” You let out a strained groan as Saitama shifted your legs out, scooting you off of his chest and onto your mattress. The joints in both your knees cracked as you extended them, desperately trying to get the work out the stagnant aches. From besides you the hero moved himself into a sitting position, stretching his arms above his head. Your mouth opened up wide as a deep yawn escaped from between your lips, “Gonna let yourself out?”
The hero gave you one of his small smiles before he bent down to press his thin lips against your cheek. “Can’t spend all day in bed, I have a monster-quota to meet.”
--
A loud knocking on your front door woke you up a few hours later. Your fingers quickly ran through your bedridden hair, attempting to flatten out the snarls to look at least a little bit presentable to the asshole waking you up.
“How can I help…” you paused as soon as you had opened your door wide enough to see who it was, brain trying in vain to process the man. “… You?”
The blonde hair, the creepy black sclera with bright yellow iris in the middle, fucking mechanical arms. Another hero showing up unannounced on your doorstep and not the one that you would be more than happy to invite in. The S-Class cyborg stared at you, unnervingly so. Unconsciously you took a step backwards, the intense look he was giving you making you feel very, very small.
“Miss, I have noticed that my master has been coming here at a rapidly increasing frequency and staying for hours at a time. I must implore you, please, to let me experience this secret training myself…”
The rest of the cyborg’s explanation, something about getting stronger, a certain other cyborg he was destined to fight, fell on deaf ears as you stared blankly ahead at him. Looks like a nice long talk was in order with Saitama about his ‘disciple’ and how you were so not down with screwing his computerized brains out too.