Work Text:
“I love you.”
-o-
Izuku was having another rough day. Katsuki was having—if one could believe it—an even rougher one.
The telltale creep of anxiety washes over him not so much like an old friend but like a nagging, persistent auntie. “Beer fear” is what they called it; “a pain in the ass brought on by none other than designated sole best friend Izuku Midoriya” is what Katsuki prefers.
He gradually nurses the black coffee on his desk in front of him and attempts to school his features into his signature “don’t bother me” face rather than the “I’m hungover” mood he was currently giving off. Chancing a quick glance over at the only other desk in their shared, cluttered office space, he spies the current bane of his existence—and yes, reluctantly, sole best friend—pro hero Deku.
While Katsuki might objectively feel worse, Izuku is certainly looking worse, but for the life of him, even Great Murder God Dynamight couldn’t pry the reason out of the little shit. All he knows is one day, two weeks ago, Katsuki had caught Izuku staring at him for what must have been ten uninterrupted minutes, then the next thing he knows, Izuku is literally dragging him along to the closest bar and drinking like a fish, pulling his hero partner along for every step of the ill-conceived and decidedly out-of-character ride.
For two long, half-conscious weeks, Katsuki has been subject to Izuku’s madness. Or perhaps “subject” wasn’t quite the right word, though neither was he an entirely willing participant; no one would be, if they saw how much liquor a man hopped up on One For All could hold. But there must have been something that compelled him to go along with Izuku, to force some water and Gatorade on the guy, to leave an Advil on the nightstand, to tuck him in at night and make sure—
Stop .
What a gross tangent. He has done none of the above willingly , of course. Although if he digs deep enough (and with another few years of therapy) perhaps Katsuki could be convinced that he did indeed participate .
From his own chaotic mess of a desk, Izuku yawns loudly, stretching his limbs and trying to cover up the soft sound of sleepiness with somehow more cute noises. Katsuki finds the corners of his mouth ticking up ever so slightly and mentally beats those muscles into submission.
Decidedly not cute .
Still kicking himself and mentally ready to further berate future-Katsuki, he stands up on creaking knees and takes the hot mug of coffee over to his partner of three years. A gesture of kindness, yes, and certainly selfless in ways most people will never see the explosive hero. But Katsuki also knew that Izuku preferred his coffee a light caramel brown with the sheer deluge of cream and additives in it, so there. Fuck you Deku, enjoy your black coffee.
He places the mug down a bit too hard and startles the smaller man out of his sleepy stupor, the latter gazing up at him with bleary but brilliant emerald eyes. “Thought you could use this,” Katsuki grumbles.
Izuku only smiles up at him like he was the sun, moon, and stars. “You know me so well!” He giggles and takes a swig before his features screw up in distaste. “...You know me, right Kacchan?” he ventures with a nervous laugh.
Katsuki rolls his eyes and huffs. “I know you well enough to know you’ll rot your teeth if you keep drinking that sugary Starbucks crap.”
“Ah, that’s my Kacchan, always looking out for…something.” Izuku takes another hesitant sip. “Although I’m not sure what it is, sometimes…”
Katsuki folds his arms and blatantly ignores the soft, peachy blush that creeps to his face upon hearing the words “my” and “Kacchan” together. “It’s for your health, nerd.” He avoids Izuku’s bright gaze. “You can’t keep this shit up, you know.”
Izuku looks a little mournful and stares into the caffeinated abyss. “I know.”
“You wanna finally tell me the reason behind all this then?” Katsuki’s voice is still gruff but low and calm. They’d been here before.
Izuku shakes his head, sending green curls in every direction. “You know I can’t tell you, Kacchan.”
So…who can you tell? If not “my Kacchan”, then who?
Questions settle unanswered in the pit of his stomach.
“I wish you'd talk to me, nerd. I can't take another round of all booze and no sleep before patrol," Katsuki murmurs, more annoyed at Izuku’s lack of self-preservation than anything; the guy looked positively wrecked each time they went out.
Katsuki was generally proud of his elephant-esque memory—although not so proud of his own past actions that he could remember with such striking clarity it was as if they occurred yesterday—but remembering anything after four shots of vodka then tequila, brandy, and even a glass of Bell’s whisky (so Izuku wouldn’t drink the whole thing himself) was nigh impossible for even the toughest of pros. He knew everything about his hero partner, so given his metabolism, Izuku should have roughly mirrored Katsuki’s reaction the morning after—chin unshaved, eyes weary, and body sore but ready to go kick ass—yet each morning Katsuki was greeted by a now-familiar look of shame and defeat and bones-deep exhaustion.
So again, just like he did every morning for the last two weeks, he asks himself: what the hell happened last night?
Katsuki can recall soft touches, Izuku drunkenly slobbering into his shirt, and the murmured memory of something said right into his ear. Something important.
He looks down at Izuku (still attempting to stomach the vile black liquid) through blond lashes and wracks his brain for the missing piece of the puzzle just like he did every time.
What did Izuku say last night? And why can’t he tell him?
Fondness bubbles into irritation as he leaves Izuku to go do his own work. If that dumb Deku wouldn’t speak up, he had ways to make him.
Last night’s antics would truly be the last.
-o-
Like clockwork it happened again; Izuku couldn’t help it.
There were a few outlets for heroes in need of therapeutic services, sure, but those dealt with the trauma of bloodshed and loss and true suffering, and Izuku…
Well, he was certainly suffering, but it was his own damn fault.
How was a hardened hero therapist supposed to respond to “yeah so ever since I found out I’m in love with my best friend of 22 years, I’ve just been drinking every night so he can blame my actions on the alcohol instead my very genuine and very delicate feelings for him”?
For one, they might tell him to slow down. But if he did, then how would he bridge the large gap between the platonic feelings Katsuki wields and his own less-than-innocent affections? The only time he has any semblance of reprieve, of pain-free romantic intrusion is when he’s half-way drowning and numb from one too many shots.
Is it healthy? No. Is it productive and constructive to his cause? Also no, but doesn’t he deserve a win every now and then? First he’s quirkless, then he’s gay, and now he’s in love with his best friend. Surely, at this point, it's almost expected that he takes up drinking like it’s a new hobby.
And, well, if this new hobby allows him to trail his fingers across Kacchan’s broad shoulders and dance down those strong, impressive biceps as he reaches down to glance their hands off each other then it can’t really be too bad, can it? When Kacchan drinks he really lets go, giving in to every little touch that Izuku decides to instigate like he’s just as hungry as Izuku as is, just as desperate to wrap their limbs together in passion and love and—
“Earth to nerd! Anybody home?” Kacchan’s raspy voice is entirely too close to his ear for Izuku’s comfort, causing goosebumps to erupt along his arms with a vengeance.
It irritated Izuku to no end that every little thing about Katsuki affected him without the blond even trying. Why did Izuku have to get the two of them stupidly drunk to even get Kacchan to huff out a laugh at a joke? Why couldn’t he be as cool and suave as his best friend? It was unfair that he was seemingly always left floundering while Kacchan remained as cool as a cucumber.
“Yeah, I’m here,” Izuku rubs his tingling ear with a fierce hand, batting Katsuki away with the other as he focuses on his secret love interest in annoyance. “Jeez, will you do me a favor and be more aware of your obnoxiously large body? Us lesser mortals may require less space but that doesn’t mean you can infiltrate our personal bubbles.”
Izuku is rewarded with a scowl. “Jesus, what the fuck crawled up your ass and died?” Katsuki snaps back. “Didn’t realise I was such a fucking bother.”
As Katsuki storms back towards the door having apparently no more patience for Izuku’s shenanigans, Izuku feels the familiar bubble of shame and guilt settle into his stomach. It churns last night’s Bailey’s and rosé mixture that he’d miraculously managed to keep down after they’d left the bar.
“Kacchan…” Izuku calls softly, sounding far too much like a wounded animal. He wanted to be someone stronger, someone fierce and dependable that Katsuki could rely on in times of need, not the pathetic mess of feelings and anxiety that he normally was.
“What?” Katsuki doesn’t bother to turn around, but his hand stills on the handle to their office door. “You gonna talk shit to me some more?”
“No,” Izuku mumbles. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I—ugh—I’m just really struggling at the moment.” He grapples with the lump in his throat, mentally repeating a mantra of don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry in hopes that maybe this time he wouldn’t feel the sting of tears. “I really appreciate all of your support and I need you here to help me, but sometimes I feel weak when you do…”
He knows that if he were looking up right now, that if his gaze wasn’t resolutely trained on the floor, he’d witness Katsuki turning around to face him, his gaze softening into something warm and sweet, something distinctly brotherly and familial that makes him want to bury his true feelings once and for all. It’s all Izuku can do not to puke at the thought. He feels like he’s taking advantage of Kacchan’s kindness, his willingness to go above and beyond for Izuku’s sake. He feels no better than the villains they both fight daily.
The other hero sighs, like he’s giving into something he wanted no part of. “Nerd, let’s go get some drinks.”
Izuku’s head snaps up quicker than a returning boomerang.
“What?” he yelps. “Yesterday, you said you didn’t want to go out tonight!”
“I don’t remember that,” Katsuki rumbles. “But you sound like you need it.”
-o-
Izuku is two shots of sambuca down, on his third glass of French rosé, and thinking about ordering his first vodka tonic when the first urge of giddy romanticism hits him. Katsuki has his arm slung around Izuku’s trim waist (it’s been there since Izuku’s first wavering threat to tumble backwards towards the floor), his body heat and sandalwood cologne wrapped around Izuku, making him snuggle further into that muscular embrace, blissfully unaware of anything except this exact moment.
It’s really no surprise that he couldn’t hold himself back, is it? Not when Katsuki fits himself around Izuku so readily, not when his fingers explore the dip of his waist, not when his fingers grip his hip in an almost bruising fashion when he giggles lightly into Kacchan’s ear. Who could expect him to exercise restraint, especially when he’s as far gone as he is in his alcoholic stupor?
One of Izuku’s last truly coherent thoughts is, who could resist his Kacchan?
His drunken mind can’t name a single damn thing.
Izuku is practically floating when he leans in, far closer than he and Katsuki had been all night, and makes the spontaneous decision to share his findings. He grabs his hero’s face, thumbs tracing the buildup of stubble that was just starting to emerge and looks Kacchan in the eye.
He could say it now. There is nothing holding him back, the alcohol all but cutting the ropes binding his tongue loose and he is so ready to confess his deepest, darkest secret to his closest friend.
“Katsuki,” Izuku breathes, the name rolling off his tongue like a silk blanket across his shoulders. “I love you.”
It was then, two minutes after the stroke of midnight on some random Thursday night, that Katsuki Bakugou’s brain finally got a break and simply. Stopped. Working.
-o-
"I love you."
That could mean anything. Couldn't it? I love you like a friend, like a brother, like a random acquaintance that tells particularly good jokes. It doesn't have to mean romantically, does it?
Looking into Izuku's eyes and seeing all of those painfully active feelings tells a different story. There's no mistaking it: Izuku is in love with him, and Katsuki honestly doesn't know how to feel about that. The beer he's been nursing all night is warm in his hand and not nearly enough to cope with the sudden bombshell his best friend just dropped on him.
"Whiskey, neat," Katsuki demands as soon as he makes eye contact with the bartender.
"Mmmmm, Kacchan, you smell nice," Izuku rumbles, pressing his face into Katsuki’s chest. It's clear he's two sheets to the wind and not coming back any time soon.
At least that gives Katsuki plenty of time to sort his fucking head out.
Suddenly, Izuku's need for getting shit faced every night makes sense. Now that he really thinks about it, he recalls looks of pain aimed in his direction, stares that whisper and gleam of secrets kept in too long, too often.
How had he missed this?
The barkeep arrives with his drink and Katsuki doesn't even look in the man's direction as he murmurs a quick " thanks " and knocks the powerful whiskey back like it's cheap rum.
"Fuck," Katsuki mutters, his skin crawling with a million different feelings, a million conflicting emotions. " Fuck! "
To make matters worse, Izuku continues to move about, squirming in his seat, throwing a leg over Katsuki's thigh and practically planting himself in his lap. The sweet scent of vanilla and something woodsy lingers on Izuku’s skin, and it makes for an all too tempting, tangible taste that Katsuki wants on his tongue. He doesn't know what's making him freak out more: Izuku’s confession or how fucking elated he is about it.
Katsuki has known for a long time that he wanted Izuku. His best friend is a very attractive man who just happens to tick all of Katsuki's boxes, and Katsuki isn't above admitting that. Feelings however…well, they were a different beast entirely.
Does he…does he like Izuku back?
"'Nother please," he grunts as the whiskey glass is toted away. It reappears, full to the brim and reeking of temptation…not unlike Izuku.
Katsuki throws the liquid back, savoring the burn in his throat and relishing the sudden woozy feeling that envelops him. See, devastating emotional reveals should only happen when you're too shitfaced to deal with them properly; Izuku definitely had the right idea.
He thinks back to their time at school, when all he could think about was beating Deku, one-upping Deku, outsmarting Deku. He had a one track mind back then, and now…now he thinks about defeating villains with Izuku, saving people with Izuku, protecting Izuku.
Even through the light haze of alcohol Katsuki can easily see the pattern that emerges. All this time there's only been one thing, one person, on his mind: Izuku; Deku. His partner, best friend, and personal hero.
Shit. He's in love with Izuku, isn't he?
The green-haired gremlin snuggles further into Katsuki’s embrace, lazily brushing his lips against Katsuki’s stubbled chin, making goosebumps erupt and arousal trickle through his gut quicker than his favorite porno (yes, it does contain a cute, freckled twink…why do you ask?).
It wouldn't take much for Katsuki to brush their lips together, just a slight tilt to his head. He's even thought about it before. How Izuku would feel in his arms, just like this, how soft his lips would feel… Before he can stop himself, Katsuki lowers his head, their lips touch, and Katsuki feels like he just received ten thousand volts courtesy of Kaminari. He’d imagined it before and, like always, he was right; he knew it would feel just like this .
Katsuki groans into Izuku's open mouth, the sweet taste of rosé overpowers the natural flavor of the whiskey, but there's still a hint of that rare delicacy just beneath. He wants more. He wants as much as Izuku will allow him to have. He'll eat his fill and still go back for seconds.
His tongue chases into Izuku's mouth, fighting back against the hot wet appendage that's tangled with his own. God, he could do this for hours, days even. Izuku gets sweeter with every second they kiss.
More. I need more .
Katsuki doesn't care that they're in public; he blindly grabs Izuku's leg where it's resting over his thigh and hauls Izuku fully into his lap, resting his hand against the smaller man's back until their hips are flush together.
A full bodied moan escapes Izuku’s kiss-bruised lips, he practically vibrates in Katsuki's lap, grinding his hips against Katsuki in short aborted motions, just like—
"Holy shit," Katsuki breathes out in awe. "Did you just fucking come?!"
"Ngh, K-Kacchan," Izuku shakes and shivers in place, like a lost little lamb who's afraid of the big, bad wolf. "I'm sorry!"
"Don't be," he groans. "That's so fucking hot."
"Ahem!"
Katsuki is pulled out of his lust-addled stupor by the same bartender who served them before. Only this time, instead of curtly avoiding eye contact with the two pro heroes, he is glaring fiercely at them.
"Whaddaya want?" Katsuki grumbles, trying to discreetly rock up into Izuku, making the smaller man whine into his ear.
"I think you need to leave." The man behind the bar doesn't leave room for arguments.
Like he gives a shit, he was ready to leave anyway. Especially now he's hard as fucking anything with a very willing, very eager partner.
"Whatever." He fishes out his wallet, throws more than enough money onto the wooden bar top and drags a wobbly Izuku out the door, looking over his shoulder only once to shout, "I hope someone pisses in your fucking shoe!"
Once they're outside and the cold air hits him he suddenly feels sober. It's one thing being fueled by alcohol (and the sudden realization that you have a real and reciprocated love for your best friend) and another to be half-way sober with a tent in your pants on a public sidewalk.
Katsuki readjusts himself as best he can. It's about as easy to hide as a soda can in your jeans pocket, but he tries his best. A hero can't afford to be arrested for public indecency, after all.
He should probably get Izuku home so they can talk about this properly; maybe if he's sobered up enough they can kiss some more, maybe grind a little. His cock twitches in between the bands of his underwear and jeans at the thought.
"C'mon nerd, let's get you—"
"Kacchan, I don't feel so good…"
And that's how Izuku effectively kills Katsuki’s boner and his shoes.
-o-
When Izuku wakes up, it’s to a killer headache, a dry mouth, and that familiar ‘hangxiety’ that’s been keeping him company the last couple weeks. There’s a vague recognition that something happened last night, but he couldn’t tell you what it was…or how bad it was.
He vaguely recognizes his own nudity but it quickly becomes an afterthought for later as he’s started by a fierce vibration. His cell phone jumps on his bedside table, the rumbling rattle it makes only stopping when he picks it up and answers it with a weak “ hello?”
If he’d had any inkling that the person on the other end of the phone was going to screech like a banshee then he wouldn’t have bothered picking it up at all.
“Dekuuuuu! Ahhhhhhhhhhh!” Ochako’s piercing scream distorts the speakers in his phone, the electric crackling makes him wince in pain and he pulls the phone a good distance away from his poor, ringing ears.
“What is it ‘Chako?” he croaks with annoyance. He loved his friends, but they didn’t always understand personal boundaries or, God forbid, peace and quiet. The day he gets to live out his hangover in peace is the day Hell freezes over, he’s sure of it.
“Oh my God, Deku! Have you not seen it?” she shouts incredulously down the phone at him. “There’s no way you haven’t seen it yet, unless…you haven’t just now woken up, have you?”
“What are you talking —”
Without warning, the phone is snatched from his hand by a very shirtless, very pissed-off Katsuki. “What’s up, nerd?”
Ochako’s voice leaks out from the tiny speakers, barely audible from where Katsuki’s hand is muffling it, “Deku! Hey, are you there? Ahhhhh is Bakugo there with you? Don’t tell me you guys fuc— ”
Katsuki hangs up the call before Ochako can finish that particular little gem. “Finally awake eh, Deku?”
Izuku isn’t exactly sure of what's going on. The look in Katsuki’s eyes is simultaneously soft and dangerous, his hangover is only making his confusion worse, and the creeping web of anxiety seems like it’s settling in for the long haul. Something happened last night that resulted in him completely nude waking up next to a bare-chested pro hero Dynamight, something he doesn’t remember. And from the sound of Ochako’s excitement, it is something that may potentially be immortalized on the internet.
Oh God, he feels sick. Again .
“W-what did I do ?” Izuku can’t help the tremble in his voice or the quiver of his lower lip, the way his hands come up to grip his hair in tight fistfuls or the urge to cover his face entirely. Just once, he wishes he could suck it up and not cry like a stupid, pathetic—
Strong hands come up to cup around his own, gently prying his fingers away from sea green curls and holding on to his scarred digits like they’re something precious, something fragile that deserves care and preservative touches.
“That’s enough,” Katsuki rumbles, lowering himself onto the bed, still holding onto Izuku’s hands. “You're not pathetic, or stupid. And last night was…a whole thing.”
A whole thing? What thing?! A thing could be a crime or some act of self sabotage or—God forbid—a confession! It’s all just too much: Katsuki’s soft gaze, the delicate hold he has on Izuku’s scarred hands, the unbelievably hot torso exposed to his unworthy eyes, the hangover and blank memory. There’s only so much that Izuku can take and he’s at his limit.
“What is going on?!” he cries, incredulity and budding tears rising with each passing second.
“Deku, calm down-–”
“I will not calm down!” His chest is heaving, fat tears finally making their way down his face after they valiantly held themselves back for so long. “Just tell me what happened! Why did Ochako call me? What am I not remembering?!”
“You…you don’t remember what happened last night?”
For the first time in his life, Izuku thinks Kacchan might actually sound unsure about something. “No, so please—” Izuku swallows the lump in his throat, “ Please , tell me what happened.”
“Heh, you wanna know what happened?” Katsuki murmurs, sardonic laughter coating his words. His head hangs down, his spiky bangs hiding his face from Izuku’s. “I’ll tell you what happened.”
When Kacchan looks up he no longer has that sweet, caring look in his eye. His eyes bleed scarlet, the heat of them setting Izuku alight. “I’ll fucking show you.”
Katsuki crawls onto all fours and there’s something animalistic about it, something that makes Izuku scramble back into the middle of the bed to avoid him. He looks so much bigger like this, so much more dangerous.
Butterflies erupt in Izuku’s stomach, their tickling wings gliding lower and lower until heat begins to pool in his loins and the tell-tale signs of arousal stir in his veins.
“Kacchan,” Izuku gasps as his hero partner grabs hold of his ankle with a tight fist. “What are you doing?”
“Something I shoulda done a long fucking time ago,” Katsuki growls as he drags Izuku across the bed with ease, caging him between his thick arms and leaning down to brush their lips together.
Izuku inhales sharply at the contact, his mind going blessedly blank for a few seconds before Katsuki’s plundering tongue snaps him back into reality and on the fast track for a very intense, very awesome orgasm.
“Hah—” Izuku squirms back into his bedsheets, trying to put a little distance between them. “Stop! Just wait a second.”
Katsuki leans back, kneeling on the bed with Izuku nestled between his knees. “What? I find it hard to believe you’re not enjoying yourself,” he sneers.
Izuku flushes at Katsuki’s self-assured smirk. His best friend isn’t wrong; he is enjoying himself, a little too much. “I-it’s not that. I just…why are you doing this?”
"Why the fuck do I do anything Deku? Because I want too, because I, fuck—" Katsuki can barely look at his face, his eyes dart around the room until he has no choice but make eye contact. Izuku can't help but find the way they glow with hidden meaning beautiful. "Because I want you De– Izuku , I want you. I stayed up all night, just thinking about that confession, what those words really meant to me, meant for me, and there was really only one conclusion."
"Is this real?" Izuku can barely breathe. Never in a million years did he think this could ever happen, but if this is a dream or a fantasy-fulfilled quirk or even the afterlife, he doesn’t want to wake up from it.
Katsuki grabs Izuku by the thighs, pulling him hard against him. "I’ve never been more real about anything in my entire life," he replies.
" I love you."
-o-
Katsuki can see the exact moment that Izuku’s orgasm overtakes him. His shaking limbs and open mouth are a work of art, a pretty picture that Katsuki could look at forever and never get bored.
There's something about Izuku’s sensitivity, his ability to come from those three little words alone— I love you —that makes him feel feral, like a beast on the hunt for pure virgin flesh.
" Fuck," he rumbles, watching the trail of pearly liquid drip from Izuku’s delicate tip down to his hole. “Look at you, so wet, so perfect for me."
"Ngh, Kacchan," Izuku whines, his face flushed, his beautiful freckles covered by a dusky, peachy pink that Katsuki just wants to bite into. "I-I don't understand…"
Katsuki rocks his hard length into the smaller body beneath him, Izuku’s cheeks already parting for him, giving way and making the perfect channel for his pulsing cock to rut into. He groans at the feeling, at the decadent response only his Deku could manage.
"That's because there's nothing to understand, nerd," he continues to roll his hips, humping against that sticky heat in solid waves. "I spent all night, all fucking night, trying to work it out and there was only one conclusion: it's you. It was always you, there will only ever be you . No one else will never be enough because they aren't Izuku- fucking -Midoriya."
Rivulets of tears flow down Izuku’s face and Katsuki can't tell whether it's because of his words or if he's overstimulated from his previous orgasm. He kind of hopes it's both.
" Katsuki ," his hero partner whispers in awe. "You mean it?"
Katsuki groans as his name spills from those sweet lips. Katsuki . He wants to hear it again.
"Yeah," he snarls, "of course. Enough words for now though, nerd. I wanna hear you scream ."
Katsuki doesn't give Izuku enough time to respond, eagerly reaching into Izuku's bedside table to grab a well-used bottle of lube.
"Heh, been having fun without me?" His twitching cock hopes it's from Izuku's journeys into self-exploration, though his brain knows just the thought of his Deku fucking himself on his fingers is too much to bear. He needs to see it for himself. Katsukis leans in close to Izuku’s ear to growl out, "show me. Show me how you touch yourself when you think about me."
Katsuki is mildly worried that he's being a bit big-headed, just assuming that he's who Izuku thinks about when he's knuckles deep inside himself, but Izuku throws that concern out the window when he snatches the lube from his hand and pours it over his own fingers.
His lust turns molten in his veins as he watches Izuku’s fingers delicately prod at his rim, slipping one digit inside with a shaky moan. His other hand teases at Izuku’s plump, firm thighs, his fingertips dancing along scarred skin, avoiding the growing tent in his own boxers.
It's hypnotic, the way that finger pumps in and out, and Katsuki can't believe he's jealous of a fucking finger. But he's still happy to watch, breath catching in his throat when Izuku adds a second digit, stretching them apart to show off soft, pink insides.
"That's it," Katsuki growls, "There's a good boy, you gonna add another finger? Two won't be enough and you know it."
Izuku nods with stuttered, aborted motions of his head that make him seem more like a puppet in Katsuki’s control than a person with his own autonomy. And God, is that a dangerous thought he’ll have to explore later.
"Y-yes, Kacchan," he adds another finger, dutifully writhing on his own hand and Katsuki has never been more turned on in his life. "Is this enough?" He presents a peachy ‘o’ gripping his fingers like a vice and methodically works the digits until the insides are soft and supple.
Katsuki grits his teeth at the sight of Izuku’s hole being stretched, held open for him by Izuku like he's inviting him inside. He's so eager to please that it makes Katsuki’s head spin. “Keep it up, nerd,” he growls as he digs blunt nails into the sides of soft, pale thighs, feeling the subtle musculature underneath freckled skin and making room for his own hips, all too at-home in between Izuku’s legs.
Izuku’s fingers tremble but continue reaching deeper, attempting to curl their way into the position that hits just right and he’s sobbing, fat, glistening tears dripping onto the constellation on his cheeks. Katsuki’s self-control buckles and he leans in closer to get a taste, licking up the saline on the smaller man’s face then trailing a wandering tongue and biting teeth down the length of Izuku’s body until he reaches those fingers. Jackpot.
Katsuki groans at the taste of Izuku and cherry flavored lube on his tongue, the sweet flavors mixing to create what can only be described as the most decadent, most exquisite taste. He wriggles his tongue inside, eyes rolling back as Izuku’s silky walls clench down on his tongue. He palms at his crotch, pressing down on his pulsing erection, pulling at his pants to reveal his starved, reddened cock.
The groan Izuku lets out at the sight goes straight to his head. "I told you two fingers wouldn't be enough," he mutters into Izuku's fluttering rim, each syllable an exhale of breath that tickles and teases.
"Please Kacchan," Izuku pleads, sobbing with heartfelt urgency. "I need you now !"
"I know baby, I know," Katsuki soothes, fisting his cock as he removes his tongue and Izuku’s fingers from his delicate hole. "I need you too."
He bullies his hips between Izuku’s trembling thighs, guiding the tip of his member to the waiting hole that trembles at first contact, eagerly opening up and letting him slip inside without any obstacle.
" Fuck ," Katsuki hisses out at the same time Izuku moans in pleasure.
Katsuki reins himself in, his orgasm a hair's breadth away due to the silken heat that envelops his cock. He and Izuku, as they are in all walks of life, are a perfect match. No one would ever be able to replicate their relationship, nor would they be able to beat the sight of Izuku splayed out on his bed, an array of curls splayed about his head, looking like the reason men paint angels and sing songs of love.
There's something about Izuku that makes him want to be soft . His carnal nature lingers underneath the surface, but ultimately he wants to take care of his partner in every single way he's allowed.
"Kacchan," Izuku whines. "Move, please?"
"I will, baby," Katsuki murmurs, branding every inch of the man in front of him into his memory. "Just let me enjoy you like this, just for a little bit longer."
The way Izuku squeezes around his cock as he moans at Katsuki’s words is delightful. Clearly, Katsuki isn't the only one who's weak to gentle affection.
A drag of his hips leaves them both suspended and breathless in pleasure. Izuku is pliant, malleable, an ooey-gooey mess of moans that get louder as Katsuki’s thrusts increase from soft shifts of the hips to tumultuous pounding.
His sweet partner trembles around his cock, his own legs shaking, emotions running high as another crystalline tear makes its way down his cheek, magnifying each freckle it passes over. It feels so right , Izuku quaking, moaning, screaming out in primal pleasure; the name ‘Katsuki’ has never before sounded so much like a prayer, a worship to a benevolent and all-powerful God. Katsuki could lose everything—his hero status, his money, his quirk—but as long as he still has Izuku he couldn't care less.
Izuku’s own cock weeps against his stomach, tense and cherry red with desperation, as he cries out, "Kacchan! Close, I'm so close!"
" Fuck! Me too," Katsuki doubles his efforts, his pelvis striking against Izuku's prostate with an insatiable need. "Just hold on for me baby, just a little more!"
Katsuki drags Izuku from the bed and into his arms, his supple body melting into Katsuki’s and letting the blond man use him like a doll to chase his own peak.
He bounces Izuku on his lap, savoring the whisper of breath that grapples at his ear and the delicious, dulcet tones of Izuku’s fucked-out coos and sighs.
He knows the exact moment Izuku comes. His partner's body tenses, bowing like a taut string about to snap under pressure. It's enough to break the dam holding him back, his hips bucking uselessly as his orgasm takes hold and rips through him like he's paper.
His world shakes and tumbles with this newfound, hazy pleasure, slipping off its axis and righting all the wrongs that have ever taken place. Katsuki is forever stained with the knowledge that, without Izuku in his arms, in his heart, he'll never be whole again.
But that's okay. Because Izuku will be there, as he always has been, to patch up his broken parts and put him back together piece by piece.
"Kacchan," Izuku slurs, carefully carding his fingers through Katsuki’s locks. "I love you."
"I know," Katsuki replies, and he does. Deep down a part of him has always been aware of that beautiful truth, as well as the one that escapes his parted lips in a breathless rush. "I love you too."
-o-
The next day isn’t as awkward as Katsuki feared it might be; after so many years, he knows how his nerd can get stuck in his own head.
Heh. His nerd . It has a nice ring to it (it always did).
He looks over the pile of papers clogging up his desk to his hero partner typing furiously away at his own reports and feels his lips twitch in what others might call “vague dissatisfaction or maybe indigestion”. He knows Izuku, the only one who can truly read him, would call it “love”.
He rises from his seat and plucks a Starbucks to-go cup from where it had been cooling on his desk; it’s now a drinkable temperature and sweet enough to make your teeth ache.
Katsuki saunters over to pro hero Deku and nearly slams the cup on the smaller man’s desk, not caring about the hundreds of papers he probably just disturbed. But although startled, those green eyes follow from the coffee to the strong, dependable arm that carried it to the handsome crease that forms between delicate blond eyebrows and finally to striking, ruby eyes and they form crescents of happiness and contentment.
Izuku is happy and content and he reads Katsuki like a book.
“Ah, Kacchan!” I will never get tired of that look. “Kacchan knows me so well!” I will never stop wanting to know you. Izuku smiles at the coffee and takes a deep sip. He reaches a scarred hand towards Katsuki’s face and the blond instinctively leans closer to close the gap between them. A rough palm warms his cheek but the dazzling grin Izuku gives him warms his heart.
“Thanks for the coffee,” his voice is demure and lilting and contains multitudes of love and affection and belonging and understanding.
Katsuki responds in kind.
“Love you too, Izuku.”
-END-