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Kacchan has a domesticity kink.
Izuku finds this out in the most roundabout, non-linear Kacchan kind of way. They weren’t even together (yet, and not for lack of trying), but here Izuku was, avoiding his own home because Shouto had his odd poly-group with him and Izuku didn’t feel like listening to three hours of marathon sex intermittent with push up competitions and weed smoking.
He absolutely didn’t want to know what ‘five weenies’ meant, either.
So, he shot Kacchan a text and got a quick answer.
‘Fine.’
Izuku pouts at his screen. At least pretend to be happy to hang out with him, Kacchan!
‘need me to bring anything?’ He sends back. ‘I’m passing by the store.’
Kacchan doesn’t answer for a long time, long enough that Izuku is nearly actually walking by said convenience store when the message buzzes.
‘Milk and flour.’
‘Kay!’
Milk and flour it is. A small thanks for Kacchan to host his vagrant butt, Izuku carries the flour bag on his hip and the milk in his hand, tapping the elevator number with his elbow. Kacchan’s place was shockingly normal – for all that Izuku always assumed Kacchan would be a high-end sort of person, with expensive granite and floor length windows, Kacchan surprised him with the comfortable pad not too far from downtown, with a sensible single bedroom and a shower that didn’t have a fan, so they had to crack the door open when it got steamy.
Not that Izuku ever showered together with Kacchan, that would be too much for his heart.
The door was unlocked, so he nudges it open and closes it shut with his shoulder.
“Hi, Kacchan!” He calls, kicking off his shoes. Katsuki is there in an instant, face in its normal glower, snatching the milk from him like he’d tried to steal it. He’s disappeared to the kitchen mid-greeting, so Izuku just pouts in his general direction. “Nice to see you too!” He calls.
A snort. “Sup, nerd. Avoiding the candycane?”
Izuku sighs with a bit of shame, absently opening the fridge just to look into it. It was an unspoken rule, whenever you come home you open the fridge.
(Not that Izuku considered Katsuki’s place home – no, no—of course not, that’d be embarrassing)
“Yeah. Inasa and Camie came over, and I like them, I do--”
Unbeknownst to Izuku, Katsuki was fiddling with the flour and the flour bin in order to hide his face. The pink of his cheeks, the way his bottom lip was chewed. Fuck. Fuck. This was getting out of control. He’s such a fucking freak. Milk?! Flour?! He doesn’t even need any! Izuku prattles along in the background, standing there in Katsuki’s kitchen with his hand under his shirt to scratch at his stomach, complaining about and praising Candycane with every breath.
But gods, Izuku had texted it so naturally, ‘need me to get anything?’ on his way here, like he was a partner, a husband coming home and needed to check that they had all their groceries, or if Katsuki wanted anything in particular.
Then he’d popped in, greeted him, and opened the fridge like a moron, as though he lived here, as though Izuku was far more comfortable here in Katsuki’s home, his place, his comforts than at his own apartment.
“You should move out.” Katsuki says gruffly, screwing the flour canister lid back on. Gruff, mean. Dismissive. Don’t make any sudden movements, not even a stutter, Izuku would zero in on that with shark-like intensity. Any abnormal behavior from his Kacchan is cause for laser focus attention. “You barely spend time there.”
“Well, it’s affordable, and I’d still like to have a roommate. Shouto’s not bad at being a roommate he just…”
“Has so many damn partners that you’re never actually alone in your own house?” Katsuki raises his eyebrow and smacks Izuku’s fingers away from the open bag of grapes in the fridge. Those need to be washed. As he sets about doing so, Izuku leans back against his counter and watches him. Content to wait for Katsuki to surrender said grapes.
Fuck. Katsuki hopes he’s not blushing again.
“I am so happy for him, though, so I can’t really argue.”
“You’re here four nights a week.” Katsuki says, and enjoys the sudden flurry of embarrassment, the red that crawls over Izuku’s freckles to heat them from underneath. There, that’s better. If Izuku was blushing, Katsuki wasn’t.
“Yeah, I guess.” Izuku suddenly frowns, and Katsuki freezes in the motion of dumping the grapes in a bowl. “Should I be paying you rent?” Genuine worry crinkles his eyebrows, and goddamn, why was Katsuki in love with an idiot.
“For crashing on my shitty couch and fucking up your back instead of listening to candycane getting his rocks off with his three doms?”
Izuku blushes again, and Katsuki breathes through it. Grapes are pressed into Izuku’s gut, nearly dropped, and Katsuki is fleeing the tight space of the galley kitchen to his couch. Ambling behind him, Izuku is snacking on his way, quiet on his socked feet and fitting so perfectly in Katsuki’s little space that he hates how his heart jumps.
“How do you know that they’re all doms?” Izuku frowns at Katsuki, watching the man indolently throw his legs sideways down the couch to take up as much room as possible. He still moves his feet as Izuku sits down.
“How do you NOT know?” Katsuki raises his eyebrow at him, and feasts on the sight of Izuku stretching his legs out on his rug, bowl of grapes on his stomach, ass sinking into his fluffy white couch. Izuku’s side-eyeing him, but Katsuki is quickly losing his reasons to care.
Katsuki’s been watching him weirdly since he got in. Was he interrupting something? Was he inviting himself where he wasn’t wanted?
Maybe Kacchan had plans today and Izuku coming over has messed that all up.
“So, what are you up to today?” He asks awkwardly, around a grape he’s stuck into his cheek. It bulges out the side, where Katsuki’s eyes nearly burn him. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to eat on the couch?
“Nothing. Well…” Katsuki grimaces and props his head on his hand. “Nothing and this stupid friend of a friend donation gala Pinky needed a date for. That shit she does through the women’s commission. None of the other fucks are available, so she bribed me with taking on a week’s worth of civ-care.”
“You do hate answering the phone, Kacchan,” Izuku replies thoughtfully, “And it’s better for the civilians not to get you on the other side.” The complaints were one thing, the resulting complaints of being told off rather rudely for complaining in the first place by Dynamight himself was another.
“The fuck does that mean?!”
“Nothing.” He beams a quick smile around three grapes, probably looking a bit stupid, but it just makes Katsuki roll his eyes. “I thought Kiri was her emergency friend-date?”
“Mission the town over.”
“Denki?”
“Zapped out for the weekend. Bed rest.”
“Sero?” Izuku’s frown became more pronounced, but he tried to hide it.
“At Candycane’s orgy, obviously.” And now Kacchan was looking at him funny. “It won’t be long, just an hour or two tonight. You can stay here.” It’s said stiffly, awkwardly, and now Izuku really feels like a burden.
“No, it’s okay, I’m sorry to drop in on you.” He’s such a miserable man, sometimes, needy. Maybe he’ll go to his mum’s. But, he remembers, she’s off on her nurses association trip. “I can go…hang out with Iida and Uraraka, babysit…or maybe Hitosh—”
“You’re staying here.” Now this tone of voice brooked no argument.
It’s not like he particularly wants to hang out with Iida and Uraraka – their baby was brand new and screamed all the time like a small wrinkly red ball of rage – but now Kacchan was glaring at him like he’s said something wrong. He just can’t get it right with Kacchan today, huh?
“It’s okay, I don’t want to be trouble—”
“You’re staying, dumbass, don’t make me tell you again.” Kacchan kicks at his thigh like a savage and then throws the aggressive foot onto his lap, glowering, and snatching the remote from the coffee table like it insulted his father.
Dumfounded, Izuku takes in pink ears (the only place where Katsuki’s embarrassment really shows itself, he had impeccable control over his cheeks), the stubborn way red eyes stuck to the tv screen, and the foot digging into his leg.
“Okay.” He squeaks, and Katsuki twitches before relaxing.
The atmosphere between them was strangely charged for the rest of the afternoon, even as they chat about the movies they watch, or stand up to wander and snack. Katsuki’s behavior remained strange, but Izuku knows his own was just as odd, awkward and stuttering and blushing like a fool. They talk about work, and friends, and plans for the future and also nothing at all. It was comfortable, and normal, and yet every move they made had the other’s eyes pinned to them, every brush by shoulders or hands in the kitchen, in the hallway, took on some kind of intense expectation.
“I’ll be back in a few hours. If I don’t kill Pinky, that is.” Katsuki says, shrugging into his leather jacket in a move that was so sexy it was unfair. Izuku feels stupid, but he’s standing with Katsuki at the entry, watching him get ready, put on his shoes, gather his keys.
“Alright. Thanks for letting me stay. Say hi to Mina-chan for me.”
“I’ve told you not to be stupid.” Katsuki grunts, unlocking the door. Before he opens it though, he turns and steps close to Izuku, very close, intimately close. He’s three inches taller than Izuku (it’s not a huge distance, but he crows often that it is), and it’s only now that Izuku really feels that difference. Katsuki’s lips brush at his forehead, a hand slips up his back to cradle him, gently, naturally, like it was his intention all along.
“Bye,” Izuku gasps as the door closes on Katsuki’s unreadable face, red eyes so sharp, so intense. He reaches forward and stands where Katsuki stood when he had just kissed him goodbye.
Outside, Katsuki doesn’t let anything stop him as he marches down the hallway, into the elevator. When the doors slide closed, he allows himself a moment of weakness, covering his face with his palms and internally shrieking.
What the fuck was that.
What the fuck was that?!
His stomach was turning in knots, his heart pounding at his chest to tell him hello?! Hello, did you just do that?! Did you just kiss Izuku goodbye on the forehead like a husband leaving his wife, closing the door to keep the man safely sequestered in your home while you’re going out for a few hours?! Did you really?!
When the elevator doors open again, Katsuki has mastered himself save for the burning in his ears and the clench of his gut.
The worst thing is that beyond the embarrassment and nerve of doing it, he cannot fucking regret the wide eyed dewy look Izuku had given him, the sweet, soft “bye” on the way out. He couldn’t regret it.
He does regret the valiant erection trying to singlehanded pop his zipper (but that was his kink and his kink alone, nobody had to know). He could deal with that later, when he was alone, and when Izuku wasn’t waiting for him at home.
Pinky owed him for this.
.
.
.
Left behind, Izuku’s heart is pounding as he stands at the door, palm flat to it, turning the lock with a snick. He turns back to the now empty apartment, empty save for him, and feels something very special slide into place.
Kacchan had…
He was….
That…
Izuku couldn’t even think it, let alone say it aloud. Instead, his eyes spied a half full sink of dishes and thought – well, he’s here. Might as well chip in.
It’s a nice distraction, though his brain of course is running at eighty eight miles an hour. The dishes mean the counters, then he has a wet washcloth and the cupboard doors probably need a wipe down, right? Oh, and the floor needs sweeping. That means the rug in the living room needs vacuuming.
And Izuku’s off, nervous energy thrilling through his veins. Kacchan. Kacchan. Kacchan will be home in a few hours. Izuku wants…wants it all to be good and ready. As a thank you.
He probably does a little too much.
Soon enough he’s tired and sitting on Kacchan’s militaristically made bed and thinking – just for a few minutes, just to rest. He slides down, puts his cheek to the covers and pulls his fingertips down the fabric. It was a nice duvet, classy, linen.
Kacchan sleeps here, in this bed, he thinks, eyes drifting shut.
Whether it was the scent of Katsuki on the sheets, the softness of the warm lamp, or the darkening light outside, Izuku finds himself soothed into something comfortable that wasn’t quite sleep.
It wasn’t sleep, until he thought he was dreaming about rough warm hands.
.
.
.
Katsuki enters his home and knows immediately the differences. Of course he does, he’s fucking anal about his living space, so he knows exactly what dishes had been in the sink, where the blankets and throw pillows were, the direction his stupid little figurines were facing, and exactly how gross the floors were from not sweeping yesterday when he got off shift out of exhaustion. So, it’s easy for him to see Izuku’s hands everywhere, the marks his cleaning had left behind. (the idiot folds blankets the wrong way, so his maroon couch throw is awkwardly left in a trapezoid shape on the side arm instead of laid out nicely along the back cushions).
Seized with this sudden knowledge, that Izuku had been here the whole time, that while Katsuki had been out defending Pinky from creeps and shitty gossiping non-friends, Izuku had been here in his home taking care of it.
Katsuki’s almost thrown off his fucking feet by the rush of fucking emotions that overcome him, and only some of that was the lusty arousal because of his weird thing.
The rest was his honest to god feelings, and he thinks he can handle it. He thinks.
Until he finds Izuku in his bed, dozing deep enough he hasn’t stirred upon Katsuki entering.
His jacket slips off, falling to the floor. He’ll hang it before he sleeps, he has to protect the leather, but he’s quiet as he empties his pockets on the nightstand. That might be his undoing, because it’s homey and domestic, and sweet, and Izuku makes this little sigh noise, head turning as though he was looking for him, half aware of his presence even in rest and fuck---
Katsuki falls into bed, utterly powerless to stop himself. He crawls to Izuku, hovering, breathlessly finding room for himself above strong legs, cupping a rough palm over freckled cheek as the man blinks at him sleepily.
And then they’re kissing, and Izuku is moving like he’s in a dream, or underwater. Katsuki doesn’t care, because Izuku was responding, because Izuku had cleaned up the apartment, had obviously sat or lied down on Katsuki’s bed for a nap, and had been sleeping when he returned home. Sleeping in Katsuki’s bed, in Katsuki’s house, after taking care of Katsuki’s things.
Fuck.
Izuku kisses back, reaching up for him, and it’s simple and easy to slip one leg between Izuku’s, then another, cuddling down to rest over him on his elbows, thumb dragging along his cheek.
There’s no sudden jerk of realization, no being thrown to the ground and stammered at like some of Katsuki is expecting, instead, Izuku blinks into true awareness, hands tightening for a split second where they are cupped around Katsuki’s shoulder and neck, and then eyes fall shut again as they kiss, slowly, like the world can stop spinning in the meantime.
When they part, Katsuki knows Izuku knows now. The idiot is oblivious no longer.
They’re quiet, careful. Breathing in this new reality and not rushing to speak and break it. This was delicate, fledgling, a sprout finding sunshine and stretching in the light.
The first breath of fresh air.
“What did you do, while I was out?” Katsuki asks, and it’s tame, quiet for him, not careful but soft. This is a Kacchan Izuku had never seen before, and yet it was so perfect and natural he’s not surprised.
“I uhm…did the dishes.” Izuku offers in the quiet, new space they’ve made between their lips. Lips that had just touched, kissed, like they had done it thousands of times or perhaps with the shades of the future where they would. “Wiped the counters down too like you like, and I thought about showering but didn’t find a towel.”
“Need to buy more.” Katsuki replies equally quiet but intense. “At least six. Enough for…for two people.” He swallows, throat bobbing, and Izuku can sense that there’s something there, something more he can’t see. It’s hard to deal with, because he’s struggling to deal with the obvious -- that Katsuki just kissed him and liked him that way, and that they were lying here together in bed bathed in the warm light of Katsuki’s functional second-hand lamp.
Hearts were leaping, enough that Izuku almost thought Katsuki could feel his own slamming against his ribs, trying to reach him, trying to leap out of his skin and dive right into Katsuki’s where it belonged.
“I didn’t do much else, watched a few episodes of Heroics on my phone. Took notes. One of the features was something I think you’d like… and I got tired.”
“Laid down?”
“Yeah, just for a moment. Sorry for uhm…messing up your things, if I did?” Izuku tries, searching for the equilibrium, trying to find where the old Katsuki met this new Katsuki and where exactly Izuku fell in between.
“No, that’s…” Katsuki rasps, and there’s something different here. Izuku watches him, piecing things together very slowly, like he had only a few clues left before he could solve the riddle.
“I fucking like it.” Katsuki says, and oh wow, it’s desperate, that’s a desperate voice, the look on his face is needy and open and hungry for something that Izuku wants to provide but doesn’t know what it is.
“Kacchan…” He breathes, staring stupidly.
“Ignore that.” Katsuki’s face shuts like iron gates immediately, and Izuku needs that openness back right now.
Katsuki has plans on backing away, making space, giving himself freedom to take control of himself back, fuck (shame, curdling, hot, bubbling in his stomach, his throat, sour like bile but actually, no, it’s mostly fear), but Izuku is already reaching for him. Always reaching for him.
“No, no,” Izuku rushes to say, thighs tightening to keep him there, hands grasping at his shoulders then his cheeks. Katsuki wheezes (fuck, these thighs), and is immediately swallowed by Izuku’s earnest eyes. “No, Kacchan, I want to know. Please tell me. This is important to you, this is what you want and I want to know, I want to give it to you,” His voice softens, begging, pleading, “I want to give it to you. Anything. Every…. More than…more than everything.”
More than everything.
More than…
Katsuki never understood the concept of emotional safety (fuck you therapists, explain your terms better), not until this fucking moment when he realizes that he could literally say anything and Izuku would listen with his whole being. Would believe him. Would still lo…love him. No matter what. That was almost too much for him to handle, too much flavour of being perceived, being known. But it was Izuku.
If anyone could perceive him, properly, then it was this man who cradled him with killer thighs and scarred hands.
He swallows and concentrates his thoughts in what his fingertips were feeling on Izuku’s back, shoved under him to hold him tight and lay there on his elbows, chest to stomach, holding his head just a bit off a chest that bore the stupidest t-shirt imaginable, even worse than his usual. His eyes traced the word printed on it, ‘socks’ and found the curving lines of it meditative.
“You were here, waiting for me. In my house. It’s…” He can’t find the words for emotions, so he sticks to facts. Izuku could piece it together, he always did. “You cleaned my things, took care of them, lived here while I was out and waited for me to be home. I was…” His eyes lift and are captured by Izuku’s, open, listening, paying attention but not pressing.
Izuku doesn’t speak, which is the only reason Katsuki can force the next words out.
“I came back to you.”
And green eyes widen, his lips part to stutter in a breath and he’s beautiful and stupid looking and warm where they touch.
“I’m here.” Izuku replies, dumbly, but it’s exactly the confirmation Katsuki needs.
He collapses, burying his face in Izuku’s stupid shirt covered chest and shudders his way through their most recent emotional calamity. Maybe this one will be the last. (doubtful).
“Kacchan,” Izuku starts, petting through blonde hair. His voice is glad, and open, and free. “It turns you on, a little, doesn’t it?”
No matter how many times Katsuki thinks of him as stupid, Izuku did actually have an analytical mind. Suddenly things were coming together, making sense. Katsuki stiffens against him, with the bare beginnings of embarrassment, but Izuku immediately tightens his legs and yanks, pulling Katsuki closer even than they already were, breathing faster at this thought, at this new knowledge about Kacchan who he thought he knew almost everything about.
Also, Izuku used his strong legs unfairly and Katsuki will probably complain. Later.
“Does it?” Izuku asks, and it’s free from judgement. How could he possibly judge? He’s turned on merely from his presence, from Katsuki looking his way sometimes, how can he judge what it is Katsuki likes? (how can he know more, exactly what to do so he can do it all the time, every day, forever?).
“Yeah. It turns me the fuck on.” Katsuki grunts, face still buried in his shirt. Izuku puts his fingers deeper in his hair and scratches at his scalp. When he feels Katsuki’s shiver through the places they were pressed up against each other (his inner thighs, his vulnerable belly, and between where his interested cock was pressed tightly to Kacchan’s gorgeously strong torso)
“Tell me?” He requests a little breathlessly, and knows he’ll get an answer because Katsuki’s in one of his very, very rare open moods. Thank the fucking gods, because that means Izuku can lay here and feel Katsuki pressed against him and remember the touch of his lips on his own. Kisses, they kiss now.
Katsuki takes some several long moments to adjust himself, kneeling a bit upwards so he can press his face to Izuku’s neck and their cocks drag (interested, very, very interested) against one another and stay warm. He’s in Izuku’s arms, laying there contently, lips and eyelashes brushing the skin of his neck.
Gods, Izuku could buzz into the stratosphere he was so happy.
“It’s stupid.” Katsuki says, and it’s as close to nervous as he comes. “It’s…things like what we just…talked about. Chores. Of all fucking things.” He wriggles deeper in Izuku’s hold, like if he gets close enough Izuku could just absorb the information from his skin instead of being made to speak it. Izuku puts his palms to Katsuki’s back and then immediately gives into his desires, massaging around, feeling, touching every bit of Kacchan he can.
Kacchan, Kacchan, Kacchan.
Curling his knee, Izuku cradles Katsuki better between his legs. He shivers when Katsuki breathes out and nips his neck.
“It’s not wife things, misogyny fucking sucks, but it’s -- related? You…you acting like you lived here.” Katsuki explains, colored with confusion at his own desires. “I came home and you were here, and you had cleaned, and you had done it without being asked and wanted to do it to help me, or say thank you, or what the fuck ever I don’t fucking know—”
He’s turning stiff again, so Izuku bullies the man’s head out from the curve of his neck and kisses him fiercely. He’s a little preoccupied because Katsuki had said wife and Izuku had immediately started leaking in his goddamn shorts.
“Is it just cleaning? Or what if I had, gotten groceries? Made myself tea? Had that shower and used your towel? Held…oh! Held your hand while we watched movies.” Izuku gasps between kisses, mind whirling. He thinks he gets it. Katsuki jerks against him, growling into his mouth.
“You being a fucking person, here in my house, with my things, waiting, getting your smell all on them, moving them so I come home to a new house with you in it-- fuck—” Katsuki kisses him deeply, then, one hand digging up under Izuku’s head to grasp his skull and turn him into it. Shivering, Izuku realizes the talk had gotten them both harder, and he can’t help thrusting up at Katsuki. He’s pressed suddenly into the bed by the entire force of Katsuki’s one ninety-five pounds of muscle.
“Sounds like a domesticity kink, may-maybe domestication?” Izuku is saying, but Katsuki can barely hear him because fuck he gets it, Izuku gets it, his fucking Izuku, gets it, understands. And he even continues, “It’s kind of about possessiveness? Pride? That I’m, I’m yours and I do these things for you because we’re together and you’re mine too?”
Katsuki looks at him, panting, red cheeked, eyes feverishly bright and loves him so acutely it kind of tears into his heart a little.
“Yeah,” he rasps, “That’s it.”
Izuku’s answering smile is electric. He’s all pressed up against Katsuki, legs spread around him, their cocks side by side in their pants and fuck, yeah, he wants him too.
“Do you like that?” Katsuki suddenly, bursts out with it, devouring every change and tremble in Izuku’s face, the way one of his hands fall absently from Katsuki’s shoulder to hold onto the covers beneath his head, like if he doesn’t he might just float away. “Is that…this okay?”
Katsuki thought it was weird because who the hell else would ever get turned on by someone doing the dishes, but here Izuku was, biting his lip and looking shy of all things. Shy now, after picking apart Katsuki’s every defense to get to his secrets.
“Yeah, I do.” Izuku whispered, and his next gaze is bashful and also embarrassed. “And I…I’ve never felt the need to get fucked so much than when you said wife.”
A ringing in Katsuki’s ears, a bit of disbelief but also of excitement, because holy fuck what did he just say?
“Or the other way around, I’d be so down for that too, Kacchan. Anything with Kacchan.” Izuku says, smiling, like he wasn’t promising everything Katsuki’s ever wanted for himself in the deep dark pits of his soul for the last fucking five years.
“Everything.” Katsuki responds, dazed. He remembers Izuku’s pleading words. “More than…more than everything.”
Izuku nods, and urges him down for a kiss, a sweet one that turns dirty and messy in a second because there were suddenly tongues, and Izuku was moaning, and Katsuki’s going to come in his fucking pants.
“I’ve never…” He confesses, needing to, “Not once.”
“Never, what?” Izuku blinks. “Had sex?” Then green eyes widen, because yes, Katsuki’s ears were burning red with his personal brand of embarrassment and red eyes were flickering down and away and no, he’s not letting that happen!
“Kacchan!” He half-laughs, wrapping his arms around him to kiss him again. “I don’t care, I don’t care at all. I am blessed to be Kacchan’s first.” His eyes fill with tears at the thought of it, but then worry does tremble his lip a bit. “I’m sorry that I—” Izuku hadn’t considered himself a slut but in comparison…
“Don’t fucking apologize. That’s your business.” Katsuki rolls his eyes and kisses him firmly. “Not like we were a thing, and I don’t mind someone having the experience. I’m not virginal, fuckhead.” But then Izuku is licking inside his mouth with a curious twist to his hips and wow, maybe he is. Pure as fucking freshly fallen snow. “I get turned on by fucking errands and you’re a harlot, we’re fine.”
“With me, though right?” Izuku asks, brows furrowing.
“What?”
“Errands with me, right? Or for me. Or errands I do for you, honestly Kacchan this is very important, stop laughing at me—”
Muffling him with a hand over his mouth, Katsuki snorts as he shuffles up onto his knees and strips himself of his shirt, enjoying greatly the sudden dry-mouth smacking Izuku was doing. He pops his pant button then raises an eyebrow at him just fucking laying there.
“Gonna join me, or what?” Katsuki barks, leaping off the bed to strip himself entirely, unashamed to stand there as Izuku half breaks his own neck trying to fly out of his clothes. It’s funny, and normal, and comfortable, and then incredibly it all turns to hot molten lust when Izuku swings his feet to the floor and holds out his arms, calling Katsuki to him, sitting there on the edge of the bed with his cock hard and pointing up to his stomach.
Katsuki steps forward, watching with wide eyes as Izuku first headbutts his abdomen, then curls his face under the bottom of his cock to kiss and nudge his balls. It’s intimate, and close, and nobody has ever had their fucking face down there at his dick and now that it’s Izuku licking up the bottom side of it Katsuki’s amazed he’s still standing.
Half of that might be Izuku’s grip on his hips, though. Hot grip, the man had big hands and Katsuki a thin waist.
“Kacchan, can I suck you off?” Izuku asks point-blank and Katsuki flusters, stuttering before slapping a hand to Izuku’s face and forcing him down on his cock in answer.
Too fast, too soon, Katsuki cannot get enough of the hot seal of Izuku’s mouth on him, more so even because he can feel the smile stretching his lips and yes, the wet slithery feel of his tongue.
Katsuki’s eyes lid and he just lets his hand lay there on Izuku’s hair as the man moves his head up and down, scooping with this little motion that made him all wet root to tip with saliva, cool where Izuku draws off, and hot where he swallows. His mouth is open dumbly, his mind buzzing with a lot of nothing and the rest made up of Izuku. Katsuki stands there and sways with Izuku’s pumps.
“Fuck, Deku,” He half moans, trying to tamp it down, trying to be suave, trying not to come too fast that it’d be embarrassing – there’s been far too much embarrassment tonight as it is-- “that’s fucking good, baby.”
Izuku whimpers something around his cock, spellbound and dick-hungry. Kacchan’s dick. Kacchan’s dick.
And the pet name, baby, he…oh, praise all the gods in the heaven, Izuku’s going to die.
“I’m gonna blow if you don’t—” Katsuki says between gritted teeth and Izuku immediately becomes starving to taste his come, his climax, to watch from below how a mean mouth drops open and his head falls back and the tendons of his neck flex and—
Katsuki comes with a groan and a shudder that nearly unseats Izuku from his cock. Slurping, Izuku draws away to breathe heavily for a moment, catching the last final drops of Katsuki’s spend on his tongue and relishing the bitterness of it. His throat actually flexes at the lack of the proud size, the intrusion. Like Izuku’s just removed a part of his own body, left to ache with phantom pains at its loss.
Kacchan, he’s made his Kacchan come.
“So good, Kacchan,” He coos, carefully pulling his new boyfriend-lover-partner into bed with him, shaky as he was with the aftershocks. Izuku lay next to him, content to ignore his own hard on because watching Katsuki breathe and cool himself was far, far better than any orgasm he could give himself. Something delicate and brand-new trembles in his chest. Kacchan, Kacchan, Kacchan.
Kacchan, who is reaching for him.
The kiss starts hard, fierce, and wet but gentles midway and turns into a soft exchange, lips brushing, and Katsuki walks his kiss up Izuku’s cheek to his eyelids. He feels each individual eyelash paint over the sensitive skin of his lips, tiny paint brushes that leave tingles in their wake.
“Show me how you like getting fucked.” Katsuki growls into a freckled, chubby cheek. Izuku jerks bodily against him, gasping, and of course the nerd is so demonstrative, so open with his wants.
“Yeah,” Izuku breathes back, green eyes a bare inch away from red. Katsuki feels great, post orgasm and all, but now that his mind wasn’t screaming at him to come, his cock lay half hard and getting there, and he can focus on Izuku and how much he wants to fucking break him.
“You’ve been fucked before,” Katsuki starts, drawling, hands flat and warm over Izuku’s middle, around his hip. He moves, pressing Izuku into the bed hard with his weight and loving the whimper, grabbing the lube and boldly sliding the cool bottle right there between Izuku’s upper thighs, making him flinch and moan. “You’ve had dick in you before, but not mine. Not me. Show me how to stretch you, baby, I want you loose and wet and crying because you want it so fucking much.” Katsuki grunts, wrapping a hand around Izuku’s dick and loving how the other just throws his head back, rolling it.
“Oh my god, Kacchan,” Izuku half wails into the ceiling, his legs fighting to open. They run into Katsuki’s legs where he’s straddling him, so he just ends up squirming there beneath and Katsuki is having a few revelations about how often he pushed Izuku to the ground when they were kids.
Fucked up? A little. But now that he had his nerd right there, his, his own, Katsuki is going to latch himself on with single minded purpose.
“I…l uhm,” Izuku gulps, trying to work spit into his dry mouth, eyelashes fluttering. Katsuki rushes down, because he’s so pretty, and his mouth is licked red, and kisses him. It interrupts Izuku’s words, but the way he kisses back says he likes it. He wants more. “Kacchan. Two fingers, I like…I’m used to the stretch and I like that over-overwhelmed feeling.” Something occurs to him. “I’m clean! I’ve…I’ve not been with anyone since, since before the last mission. Got my checkup. Fuck me, b-bare?”
“Fuck you?” Katsuki whispers against his mouth, nipping hard, pulling just far enough away that Izuku strains to meet him, to make his lips come back. “Gonna. Gonna fuck you and come inside baby, like nobody fucking has. Fucking excited for it aren’t you? My beautiful slut. Been needy, huh?”
Izuku mumbles an agreement, greedily touching everything he can reach of Katsuki like he’s trying to memorize him by feel.
Katsuki shuffles their knees, half waddling to get Izuku’s legs open and spread about his thighs, his hips, and yeah fuck yeah that’s it. One hand grasping tight to a thick, scarred thigh, Katsuki’s eyes devour Izuku’s shuddering form, popping the lube lid one handed with a snick.
Laying over his abs, Izuku’s cock flexes at the sound. Pavlovian.
“Gonna fuck you so fucking good, Deku, just me, no rubber.” Katsuki whispers, sitting on his ankles, cock nearly to full mast once more and pointed directly to Izuku, to the hole it wants. He’s never fucked another person nor been fucked, but Katsuki isn’t as nervous as he’d expected. Perhaps it was because it was Izuku. Izuku wanted his Kacchan desperately, of course he did (smug, swelling with it, an arrogance born from a lifetime of Izuku-Deku, his beautiful baby in his corner cheering him on). Even if Katsuki fucks up here, Izuku wouldn’t care. He slathers his fingers, drops the lube nearby, and boldly presses his wet hand between Izuku’s chubby ass cheeks.
He can spy a little freckle, darker than others, right there a few bare inches from his hole. A new secret about Izuku’s body. Now his. He curls his fingertips harder than he means to.
Squealing, Izuku’s heels knock into Katsuki’s lower back.
Panting, Katsuki doesn’t understand how that little touch, that knowledge that Izuku’s lying here in his bed with his legs around him, waiting impatiently for Katsuki to stretch him open on a Thursday evening is just as arousing to him as the sight of the red, drooling cock laying over strong abs. Slept here, waited for him to come home and fuck him. Accepted his kisses. They’ll probably cuddle and clean up together later, brush their teeth, and Katsuki was going to kiss every freckle he can find on that cute fucking face.
They’ll wake up and Katsuki will make pancakes tomorrow morning. Izuku will sit, ruffled and blushing at his small dining table, drinking his disgusting black coffee.
Domesticity kink.
There’s a name for it of course and of course, Izuku knows it. Little freak.
But god, his fingertips can feel the furl of Izuku’s little asshole and Katsuki’s entire body yearns to be inside and stretching him and fucking.
“Kacchan, please, one, one right in, ju-us-t,” Izuku pleads, and his voice breaks when Katsuki does as bid, middle finger to the knuckle, pressing, curling. Katsuki’s done this to himself, he knows what its like, but Izuku seems either extra sensitive or just really fucking into it. Scarred hands clap over his blushing face and he moans, shaking, already needing more.
Katsuki gives him a second, working it in, without needing to be asked. He’s breathing as heavy as Izuku is, red eyes wide. Hips buck up against his hand, and Katsuki can sense the desperate, needy urge, the drive to get more, to push himself past limits that are probably there for self-preservation but which Izuku just never fucking developed.
“Kacchan,” Izuku groans, one hand going to his hair and tugging it, the other dragging down his own body to frame his cock and let Katsuki look at it. His eyes are dark, heavy, he licks his lips red and wet and full.
Briefly, Katsuki pities anyone Izuku’s been with before him. They probably couldn’t handle this full time. Katsuki’s ready to handle this for the rest of his fucking life.
“Deku.” He growls back, and presses one leg up and back, all of Izuku opening up for him. He curls and fucks his fingers, thinking he could do this until his wrist breaks off.
“A…no…nother,” Izuku asks, but Katsuki preempts him, curling three together and fucking him with it a little too fast, just to see green eyes pop open and fix on his own. It’s electric, the both of them realizing in that moment that this was actually happening.
Izuku’s eyes of course, fill with tears, his legs spread and he holds his arms out. He needs it. Now. Katsuki collapses to kiss him, breathing heavy through his nose and Izuku can only scramble to touch him, all of him.
“Fuck, Izuku,” Katsuki growls, and Izuku can’t help but whine when the fingers leave his hole.
He really did use too much lube, Katsuki just pumps his cock in his hand, right there, brushing the tip against Izuku’s perineum, his ass, the place where his thigh meets his groin, until the lubed head has found where he’s red hot and waiting.
Izuku’s stomach clenches hard. Lust painfully twists a knife in his gut when Katsuki forcefully puts his forehead to Izuku’s, angles his lower body, and holds his dick steady with one hand as he fucks himself into Izuku. The other hand presses into the bedding behind Izuku’s shoulder, and uses it as leverage to hold him still.
“Kacchan, Kacchan,” Izuku says, in place of breathing, his eyes so wide they may be drying out but he was not going to miss out on any part of this.
Katsuki’s got pleasure written in his brows, they furrow, his eyes go half distant and his mouth moves in a snarl. Then his hips snap, and Izuku is filled with cock rather quickly, and wow, oh wow, oh Kacchan’s perfect.
He doesn’t realize he’s babbling all this because his ears are ringing with noise, at least until Katsuki drops further, pulsing his hips inside, and his mouth steals Izuku’s and muffles him.
“Deku, you little fucking slut,” Katsuki groans, teeth gritting against how fucking good this feels, “T-tight.”
It’s an uncharacteristic stutter. Even with all his nerves overwhelmed with cock in him (Katsuki’s cock nevertheless), he can’t help but fixate on Katsuki’s pleasure, on how good he must feel to put that look on his face. Kacchan, who’s never fucked anyone ever. And now he’s fucking Izuku with tiny little pushes, head drifting to put his teeth into the skin of Izuku’s knee, where it pressed up over Katsuki’s shoulder.
“I feel good, Kacchan?” Izuku pants, voice a whine, and Katsuki’s jerking with it, red eyes flashing at him from where he’s working on a very important hickey, “Do I feel good? All for you now, Kacchan, just yours. You’re so good, it’s so much better when it’s Kacchan.”
“Of fucking course it is.” Katsuki pants, letting his skin snap from his white teeth and planting both hands in the bed so he’s stretched out and godly over Izuku’s form.
This position means Izuku’s curled up real tight. And it means Katsuki feels massive when he drags all the way out and shoves right back in. Izuku throws his head around, hands scrambling to touch everything, to drag blunt nails down Katsuki’s impressive arms, reach between them for his waist, his hips, and up to his shoulders. Izuku has half a mind to mark him, to scratch him up so that everyone who sees him can see he’s got someone, he’s got Izuku to fuck.
Everyone wants Katsuki, he’s Dynamight, he’s beautiful and strong and fuck yeah, Kacchan, like that, like --!
“Just like that!” He cries, as there’s a perfectly good angle that catches his prostate here and there, not every time, but enough that his pleasure rockets up. Katsuki finds his knees, locks his elbows, and fucks just like that.
“I’m gonna fucking come,” Katsuki groans, sounding almost shocked. He’s sweating, dots of it on his brow, ears red hot. Looking up at him like the vengeful, powerful man that he was, Izuku already has a hand around his own cock, desperate and put off for so long already.
“Yeah, Kacchan, please, please, you’re going to come inside me, please?” His hand flies, his eyes start to roll, and he flings the other above his head to press against Katsuki’s elegant headboard. Legs splayed just right for Katsuki to fuck him with long, beautiful thrusts that slap of their skin together.
“Holy fucking, shit, Deku,” Katsuki says, but his voice comes out as a whine, he’s fucking out of rhythm now, just trying to come, trying to—
Izuku breaks into orgasm with that beautiful voice in his ears, a Kacchan he’s never heard before and wishes to hear again-now.
He can’t immediately feel it, but Izuku is panting and wild eyed in the last of his orgasm when Katsuki comes his face a rictus, mouth open, eyes clenched shut against the pure fucking pleasure. He fucks in so hard, Izuku groans with it, loving it, loving the tiny little pressure of pain, of Katsuki leaving his mark inside him.
With shaking hands, Izuku slides them up and down Katsuki’s arms, holding him up by stubbornness alone. He coos, panting, chewing at his lip with the aftershocks and loving the feeling of Katsuki’s every twitch and grunt, knowing that the wetness in his ass and spreading down his cheeks includes Katsuki too.
“Deku,” Katsuki gasps, letting himself down to his elbows, allowing Izuku’s cramped leg to sink down, curling around his lips so they’re pressed tight together. Katsuki’s shivering.
Covering as much of Izuku as he can, Katsuki flexes through the remnants of his climax, aware of the smear of Izuku’s come between their bellies, and the slip and slide of his own. But what’s more important is the way Izuku is kissing delicately over his brow, his nose, reverent and soft and loving and hey, why are his eyes burning. That’s not fucking cool, crying over sex, but then Izuku clasps the back of his neck in his big hand and Katsuki feels so fucking safe, he lets himself drop fully into Izuku’s hold, face to shoulder, humming when Izuku’s lips still don’t stop and continue kissing his ear, his neck.
“My Kacchan, so good. You did so good.” Izuku sighs into his ear, fingers working through sweaty blonde hair, trailing up and down the dip of his spine, even over his ass cheek, gripping. He’s softening, and it allows his cock to leave Izuku. Both of them shudder, and Katsuki rolls his head around until he can reach Izuku’s mouth for a wet, tired kiss.
When he opens his eyes, Katsuki finds Izuku watching him with a soft, sated look. It’s beautiful.
“Deku...” he starts, but he doesn’t have words. There’re feelings inside him, all sorts of them, but with the orgasm washing his structures and walls away, Katsuki’s left to just look into green eyes and repeat it. That one word. The only one he needs. “Deku. Izuku.”
“I love you.” Izuku says, gentle. Like he knows how important Katsuki thinks this is, how utterly vital he was to him, as a person, as a man.
Katsuki’s struck silent, but not still. He cups Izuku’s cheek, more carefully than he’s touched anything in his life, and drags his thumb lightly there at the corner of Izuku’s mouth. He doesn’t know what expression he’s wearing, it feels entirely abnormal and weird to him, but Izuku knows. He sees. He smiles, touched, and his eyes are wet with happy tears.
Katsuki kisses him, slow.
Inhaling through his nose, Izuku pulls all his limbs tight around Katsuki, hugging him close, groaning into his mouth with the sated stretching. It brings Katsuki’s attention to the mess between them, and slowly forming underneath. His noise wrinkles adorably, his brows drop.
“This is…disgusting.”
Izuku laughs gaily, letting Katsuki struggle himself free with a, truly it is, disgusting noise as their skin parts.
“Don’t laugh, fuckhead, you’re squeezing more out!” Katsuki barks, hands flying for the tissues on the nightstand and drenching Izuku with them, fingers proprietary and stuffing it down where yeah, Izuku can feel some leakage.
He breaks into harder laughter, eyes squeezing shut.
“Kacchan, you’re ridiculous!”
“We have to wash the sheets now, dumbass, get your ass up.”
“Oh?~ Lets go do laundry together, Kacchan, you can teach me how to use your washing machine. Would you like that?”
“I don’t get turned on by appliances, Deku!”
.
.
.
“But uh, yeah, lets go do that.”