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Izuku ditches Iida’s game night early. He feels more than a little guilty about it, but he needs to get home. He needs to see Katsuki. Even though it’s been years since the Liberation War, the separation anxiety still gets to him. Katsuki is his roommate and hero partner, so he doesn’t usually have to go without him for long, but as the anniversary of his near-death approaches Izuku finds himself becoming especially clingy. Izuku barely resists the temptation to ignite One For All and propel himself home.
Izuku jogs up the stairwell, retrieving his keys from his pocket. He hears Katsuki swear loudly through the door, and oh. It hits Izuku all in a rush. The tightness in his chest loosens, the subtle tension in his shoulders ebbs away, a plume of warmth blooms in his belly. Kacchan . Izuku is already grinning.
He swings open the door and is met with Katsuki in his sweats and signature black tank, slumped over on the couch with a scowl. A controller to Izuku’s Switch is gripped tightly in his hands and the all-too-familiar sound of Mario Kart is coming from the TV. Izuku puts a hand on his hip like he’s just caught Katsuki doing something shameful.
“I thought you said this game was for babies,” Izuku says, toeing his shoes off in the genkan.
“Fuck you,” Katsuki snaps. Izuku’s momentary distraction sends him swerving off the side of Rainbow Road. “Fuck!”
“Told you it’s the hardest one,” Izuku says, knowingly. He hangs up his jacket and skirts around the edge of the room, avoiding walking in front of the TV.
“It’s a fuckin’ eyesore is what it is,” Katsuki says, irritably. He rubs his temple with the heel of his hand as a green turtle shell smacks right into him. “Waste of fuckin’ time, too.”
“Right,” Izuku says, entirely unconvinced. “And how long have you been playing now?”
“I’m not playing, this is practice,” Katsuki corrects. “I ain’t letting you be better than me at anything.”
“Oh, I see,” Izuku says, amused. He plops himself down on the couch right next to him. “Bowser again?”
“He’s objectively the coolest one,” Katsuki answers, and Izuku laughs. He nudges Katsuki’s thigh with his knee.
“Hey, put me in,” Izuku says.
“Yeah, whatever,” Katsuki says, even as he leans over to hand Izuku the second controller. “Don’t cry when I fucking crush you.”
Six rounds later and Katsuki still hasn’t won once. He curses up a storm; Izuku is alive with manic giddiness.
“Ha!” Izuku says, panting and breathless as he just barely takes the seventh round. Katsuki lets out a wordless cry of frustration.
“It’s just because you have more practice with the controls!” Katsuki shouts, tossing the controller onto the couch with a huff. Izuku nods, eyes closed and frowning placatingly.
“That’s a very good excuse, Kacchan,” Izuku says, and then shrieks as Katsuki lunges at him, rolling Izuku off the couch and wrestling him to the floor. Izuku full-belly laughs as they tussle. “Ka-Kacchan!”
“Fuckin’ asshole,” Katsuki sneers. His hands handle Izuku too roughly and too easily, the broad width of them engulfing Izuku’s wrists and pinning them on either side of Izuku’s head. Izuku struggles underneath him, locking his legs around Katsuki’s waist and thrusting upward, breaking his hold and flipping their positions. Katsuki’s face is fully flushed as he lands on his back, the back of his head smacking against the carpeted floor.
“Ha!” Izuku says again, chest heaving. “Got you!”
Katsuki snarls and surges upward. Their fingers interlock as Izuku struggles to keep him down, feeling an embarrassing rush of arousal as Katsuki writhes underneath him. He can’t lose, though. Pressing his full weight onto him, he allows One For All to flood his bloodstream with excess strength to keep Katsuki down.
“Cheater!” Katsuki snaps.
The floor beneath them shakes as their downstairs neighbor, a crotchety old man named Washijou, hits it with a broom. His muffled shouting is distinct even through the floor. Katsuki shoots a dirty look at the sound.
“Like you don’t vacuum at four am,” Katsuki snaps at the floor and Izuku laughs so hard that Katsuki manages to get the upper hand again. This time Izuku lets Katsuki pin him, for Washijou’s sake if not his own.
“We’re bad neighbors,” Izuku says, though he’s grinning.
“We’re goddamn heroes,” Katsuki shoots back, looming over him. “There coulda been a villain in here for all he knows. He should be calling the cops.”
Fuck, Izuku thinks, staring up at him. The hot weight of Katsuki on top of him is making his blood rush south. Quick think something unsexy, unsexy uhhh dead puppies. Oh god, wait no not that one! Now he’s just gonna cry. Izuku tries his very best not to move an inch.
Izuku disguises his panting with a sigh. “When Kacchan is right, he’s right.”
“I’m always right,” Katsuki says. Seeming satisfied with his victory, he releases his hold and crawls off Izuku. Katsuki stands above him, looking like a goddamn Adonis in his tight tank top and the gray sweatpants hung low on his hips. No one should look so sinful in such ordinary sleep clothes. His white-blond hair reflects the cheery-bright colors on the TV, his chest heaving with his labored breath, a smirk on the thin slash of his lips.
When he offers Izuku his hand, Izuku takes it and feels a whoosh of affection as he’s hauled to his feet. He’s so glad he has this to come home to. He’s so glad they decided to move in together.
It’s also been the worst mistake of his life.
Izuku had thought he was already so in love with Katsuki that it couldn’t possibly get any worse. If anything, living with him should expose Izuku to Katsuki’s more irritating qualities and help him get over it. There’s a reason it’s widely recommended that you don’t move in with your friends. Living with anyone comes with disagreements, road bumps, and compromises, and Katsuki is notoriously difficult as it is. Surely living together should kill at least some of Izuku’s relentless affection for him.
What a grievous miscalculation. What an absolutely catastrophic lapse in judgment.
Katsuki, somehow, despite all expectations, is an incredible roommate. Living with him is easy, near effortless. Izuku had expected there to be an adjustment period, annoying habits for Izuku to tolerate, irritating house rules to be held too, but honestly, despite Katsuki’s rigorous cleaning standards, he’s surprisingly ... well. Sweet .
For one, Katsuki insists on cooking for him. Delicious meals, nutritionally balanced meals. Izuku has never had so much home cooked food in his life. Even his mom had allowed him to have cereal for breakfast, but not Katsuki. He makes Izuku miso soup or omelets, or if it's the weekend, pancakes. Strawberries, bananas, and powdered sugar dusted on top and everything. Izuku does the dishes and helps pay for groceries, of course, but still doesn’t feel like he’s doing enough when Katsuki shoves a bento at him for lunch every day. Izuku always thanks him profusely, but Katsuki only shrugs.
“Whatever, not like I wouldn’t be cooking anyway,” Katsuki mutters. Izuku feels absolutely doted on.
Katsuki is also incredibly attentive. Izuku will mention off-handedly that he enjoyed the strawberry pocky Iida had at his place, and the next day strawberry pocky mysteriously appears in their snack cupboard. When Izuku points out the billboard announcing that the aquarium in their district has penguins, suddenly Katsuki has a coupon and whatever it’s not like I’d go if I had to pay full price and no I don’t think they’re cute fuck off. Or when paperwork keeps Izuku up late into the night, Katsuki pads over to him with a mug of tea and sets it next to him wordlessly, a dollop of honey already stirred in just the way Izuku likes. It’s a struggle not to pull Katsuki into his arms right there and kiss him for his goodness.
And then there’s the bed-sharing thing.
It’s the only way either of them can get any sleep. Izuku barely used the bed in his own dormitory after the Liberation War; the nightmares were too distinctly vivid, gory, and brutal. Izuku doesn’t know how many times he’s woken up screaming. The images of Katsuki’s lifeless, bloodied body flashing through his mind with bone-chilling clarity, the grief so sharp and distinct that Izuku still feels the aftershocks long after he wakes. It helps to have Katsuki only an arms length away. Katsuki never complains when Izuku’s nightmares wake him. He only pulls Izuku into an embrace and rubs his back as Izuku weeps.
“Here,” Katsuki often says, pressing Izuku’s ear to his chest. “Feel that?”
Thump, thump, thump. Katsuki’s steady, solid heartbeat is better than any anxiety med Izuku has ever been prescribed. Izuku all but melts into the sound, the relief so deep and potent that Izuku goes boneless with it.
“I’m alright,” Katsuki must whisper a thousand times. He pets Izuku’s hair with devastatingly gentle fingers. “I’m right here.”
“ I thought I lost you ,” Izuku whispers, voice broken and frayed.
“You didn’t, you didn’t lose me,” Katsuki always says. “I’m right here.”
They only managed to keep up the pretense of having two bedrooms for a week after moving in together. Izuku had woken up screaming Katsuki’s name, and in the next moment Katsuki was bursting in, looking like a bleary-eyed, messy-haired angel in Izuku’s doorway. Izuku had reached for him and Katsuki crawled into his arms, murmuring and shushing and rocking him back and forth. Katsuki had carried Izuku into his own bedroom for the night (“There ain't no way anyone could get any sleep with that many All Mights starin’ at you.”) and Izuku had simply never left.
“You really don’t mind?” Izuku had asked, three weeks into this arrangement, as he slipped under the sheets. Katsuki looked at Izuku like he’s the dumbest person alive.
“Course not,” Katsuki had huffed. He shook his head. “I get ‘em too. It’s best for both of us.”
Izuku felt warm, syrupy pleased feelings pooling low in his belly at the admission. Katsuki reclined and Izuku scooched over to lay his head on Katsuki’s chest. Katsuki wrapped an arm around him, sighing deeply into Izuku’s curls.
“Thank you,” Izuku had whispered.
Katsuki grunted. He scratched Izuku’s back, trailing lazy circles up and down with his finger nails.
“Can’t be number one without sleep,” Katsuki said, eventually.
And that was that. It makes Izuku’s heart sink to think that this is just part of hero work for Katsuki, but then would Izuku really love him if he wasn’t so passionately driven? Izuku resolves not to mope about it. Even if snuggling the love of his life to sleep every night is slow, sure poison, Izuku is too greedy to deny himself. He’s always been a little self-destructive, but fuck if there’s ever been a sweeter way for Izuku to go.
The next day, Katsuki had silently moved Izuku’s dresser into his own bedroom, placed Izuku’s nightstand on Izuku’s side of the bed, and emptied half his closet for him. Izuku didn’t bother trying to discuss it. He wasn’t going to give Katsuki any reason to change his mind. It’s the sweetest victory of Izuku’s life to come home and sleep in sheets that always have Katsuki’s smokey caramel scent lingering on them. Their bed is where Izuku feels most safe and secure.
All of this Izuku has learned to live with. All of it he can handle, becomes usual, even. Izuku is accustomed to waking up in Katsuki’s arms, to Katsuki’s grumbling as he sets upon making breakfast, to how he’ll hover over his shoulder as Izuku finishes paperwork at the kotatsu. Izuku loves his dry remarks punctuating nightly television, his bad attitude at every multiplayer game they try out on the Switch, and his insistence on doing laundry together to make sure Izuku is doing it right. Izuku is used to Katsuki crawling into bed with him, movements lethargic as he drapes an arm around Izuku’s waist and pulls him close, spooning him from behind. Izuku will cling Katsuki’s arm to his chest, tangle their fingers, and quietly think that he could spend the rest of his life like this.
And maybe he could have. Would have even.
If it weren’t for the shirt thing.
More precisely, the lack of a shirt thing.
Katsuki seems to be allergic to them. He was never like this in the dorms. Sure, his tight-fitting tank tops aren’t much better, but at least they are something . Now Izuku is constantly in danger of getting an eyeful of Katsuki’s well-defined pecs and dusky nipples. Goddamn it, why do they have to look so grabbable? All of their cuddling must be corrupting Izuku’s brain because he can barely glance at them without his hands itching to touch.
It doesn’t help that Katsuki’s only gotten more built since high school. His physique is actually fucking insane. All rippling back muscles, biceps too big for Izuku to wrap his hands around, the heavy set of his shoulders accentuating the neat nip of his waist. God he’s fucking mouthwatering and he’s right there , right in front of Izuku. Grilling fish for breakfast, collapsing on the couch next to him and bitching about the reality shows Izuku likes, lifting weights in the living room where Izuku can see every clench and flex.
The worst is when it’s a surprise. Izuku will be lost doing paperwork at the kotatsu or mindlessly watching television, and Katsuki will walk by, looking like that and Izuku has to pretend to be normal about it. Like his body doesn’t heat ten degrees at the sight of all that creamy skin and corded muscle. Like one look at Katsuki doesn’t have Izuku wondering what the texture of scar tissue might feel like under his tongue. Izuku doesn’t know how he’s supposed to get anything done when at any moment Katsuki could be wandering around his apartment looking like that .
And to top it all off, this incredible, god-like body also happens to house the man Izuku loves. It’s maddening. It’s absolute torment. Izuku is one bad day away from jumping him.
“I can’t keep going on like this,” Izuku tells Uraraka miserably, slumped over on her couch, a beer in hand as he pouts at the ceiling. “He’s going to kill me.”
“He’s probably doing it on purpose to fuck with you,” Uraraka supplies helpfully. She’s been trying to get Izuku’s Switch hooked up to her TV for at least an hour now, but she must have gotten too tipsy to do the task properly. She keeps fumbling with wires, switching channels, and cursing at random intervals.
Izuku frowns. He sets his beer on the floor beside him.
“Kacchan wouldn’t—”
“Kacchan wouldn’t do that,” Uraraka mocks in a high pitched voice. She snorts. “You got those big ole love goggles on, dude. Bakugou would absolutely do that.”
Izuku tilts his head to squint at her incredulously. “But… why?”
Uraraka abandons the tangle of wires and gives him a flat look, leaning an elbow on the coffee table between them. “You know why.”
Izuku’s heart races. He turns away, covering his reddening face with a hand.
“No, that can’t be right,” Izuku mutters and Uraraka groans so loud that Izuku is sure her neighbors will have noise complaints later.
“Why not? He already does all the other dating things with you,” Uraraka protests.
Izuku waves his hand dismissively. “It’s not like that. We’re just… close.”
“Very close,” Uraraka corrects. She wags a knowing finger at him. “Extremely close.”
Izuku’s phone buzzes on the coffee table where he left it.
“So close I’ll bet you three thousand yen that’s him getting separation anxiety right now,” Uraraka says, grinning cheekily.
Izuku shoots her a withering look. He sets his beer on the ground before grabbing his phone and oh. Warm tingling feelings coarse through him, flooding his body with life. Kacchan . Just two simple sentences: Leftovers in the fridge for you. You better not drink too much. Izuku cradles his phone to his chest with a dreamy sigh.
“Pay up!” Uraraka cries, sitting up so suddenly the coffee table lurches. “Hand over your cash, lover boy!”
“God, I love him,” Izuku says, weepy and too fucking tipsy for this. “Uraraka-san, what am I gonna do?”
“First, you give me three thousand yen,” Uraraka says, hand extended and eyes closed. “Second, you fuck him.”
Izuku gasps, offended. “I can’t just fuck him!”
“Sure you can,” Uraraka says with a dismissive wave of her hand.
“He’s my best friend!” Izuku cries.
“Then fuck your best friend,” Uraraka says, like that wouldn’t risk absolutely ruining everything they’ve built over the years. “That’s how Mina and Kirishima finally got together.”
Izuku considers that. Then shakes his head.
“I can’t, I can’t lose him,” Izuku resolves.
Uraraka takes a deep breath in through her nose and then sighs heavily out her mouth.
“Alright fine,” Uraraka says. She shrugs. “Pine away forever then, see if I care.”
Her words settle heavy on his heart. Forever? He feels somewhat resigned to it. He’s been in love with Katsuki since he was four, what’s the rest of his life really? At least Katsuki is in his life. More than that, they’re as close as two people can be without dating. It would be greedy to ask for anything more, selfish even. Izuku has Katsuki’s time, attention, and, on some level, his love, too. What else could Izuku possibly need?
His cock , Izuku’s horny mind helpfully provides. He thinks of the sharp V of Katsuki’s hipbones and how his ashy blond happy trail glitters in the light. He grabs Uraraka’s throw pillow, holds it over his face, and screams into it.
“That’s it, scream the horny out,” Uraraka says, dryly.
“He has to stop being naked in the house,” Izuku decides right then. “He has to. It’s common decency. I can live with it if he’s covered up.”
“Or you could get naked,” Uraraka counters with a pop of her brow. “Torture him back, see how he likes it.”
Ding! Izuku sits up suddenly.
“That’s it!” he says. “I’ll get naked, he’ll get uncomfortable, and then bam! New house rules: we’re covered up in common areas!”
“That seems… a little contrived,” Uraraka says, squinting.
“It’s the only way,” Izuku insists.
It’s far too late to start asking Katsuki to cover up now. And besides, talking about it would inevitably lead to admitting just how much Katsuki’s nudity affects him, which is entirely unacceptable. No, this plan is much better. It’s far more likely to leave Izuku’s dignity intact anyway and that’s what really matters. He rolls off the couch, knocking his beer over, and spilling it all over himself as he leans over the coffee table, throwing his arms around Uraraka for her brilliance.
Izuku is a bit drunk as he stumbles home. He expects Katsuki to be in bed at this hour; it’s late and Katsuki is a notoriously sleepy person. Izuku smiles at the thought. His sleepy Kacchan. His body will have warmed their sheets by now, and Izuku will have all the time in the world to watch Katsuki be loose and lax as he rests. Maybe his eyelashes will flutter as he dreams. Izuku’s heart races at the thought. Ugh, that’s creepy isn’t it? It’s one thing to share a bed with him, it’s another to get excited at the prospect of watching him sleep. Izuku leans against the door as he fumbles with his keys, scowling at his own absurdity.
The door disappears out from under him. Izuku stumbles forward, his forehead colliding with Katsuki’s collarbone. Mercifully, Katsuki is wearing a tank top; Izuku doesn’t know what he’d do if he had to make eye contact with his nipples right now.
“Fuckin’ told you not to drink too much,” Katsuki mutters.
“Aha, Kacchan,” Izuku says. God, his heart leaps at the sight of him. A warm rush of happy feelings permeates every square inch of his body. Izuku is helpless but to lean on him with both an opportunity and an excuse presented to him so nicely. “You’re awake.”
Katsuki sighs irritably, wrapping an arm around Izuku’s torso and guiding him inside. Izuku’s arms snake around Katsuki’s waist. He can hear a laugh track sounding off on the television and over Katsuki’s shoulder he sees a blanket is bunched up at the foot of the couch. There’s also a heavy dent in one of their throw pillows. He was waiting for me , Izuku thinks, nuzzling into him.
“Clingy,” Katsuki accuses. “Jeezus you reek. She dump half that shit on you or what?”
Izuku tilts his face up to frown at him. “I don’t reek! I’m never stinky!”
Katsuki snorts, but his eyes are soft. He cards a hand through Izuku’s hair, ruffling it before shoving him off.
“Go shower,” he orders. “I’ll reheat dinner.”
Izuku is all too happy to obey. It’s a little tricky showering tipsy, and Katsuki barks at him when he hears him slip on the slick tile, but Izuku only giggles. It’s kind of fun. It’s like doing life on hard mode. Even small things like leaning out of the shower to grab his towel feel like a purposeful, grounding task.
Izuku dries off and picks through his dresser for sleep clothes before remembering Uraraka’s stroke of brilliance. Right! The less clothes the better. It’s a good thing he’s a bit drunk because sober Izuku would be shaking in his boots at the prospect. Izuku opens the top drawer of his dresser and fumbles around.
Ah ha! Izuku had almost forgotten he had these. Tight, black, athletic booty shorts. Perfect. Izuku slides them over the generous swell of his ass and damn. What the hell? Izuku checks himself in the mirror twice. Has he always been this caked up? Izuku pats his ass, testing it like he’s checking to make sure it’s real, and even Izuku has to admit the jiggle is pleasing. Well, that’ll serve Katsuki right for subjecting Izuku to his titties all the time. Izuku smiles wickedly. Normally, Izuku would put on something baggy to sleep in, but tonight he opts for a tank top that’s just slightly too tight. Just like Kacchan , Izuku thinks, feeling extraordinarily pleased with himself. Izuku runs a hand up his chest. He should take selfies like this and finally set up a profile on that hero-friendly dating app he’s always been meaning to try. But then he hears Katsuki call for him and the thought is banished from his mind.
“Please tell me you didn’t fuckin’ hit your head slippin’ in there,” Katsuki says.
Izuku is amused at his worrying. Why is he still awake? It’s almost one in the morning, well past Katsuki’s usual bedtime. Had he really been waiting up for him? The thought strikes a tender chord in Izuku’s chest as he saunters out of their bedroom. Katsuki is in the kitchen, his back turned toward him as he pulls Izuku’s yakisoba out of the microwave.
“Kacchan is such a worrywort,” Izuku says, accusingly. He bends over the couch, reaching for the remote to switch it off.
“Shut the fuck up,” Katsuki says flatly. “Just because I don’t want my hero partner fuckin’ killing himself in the—”
He cuts off abruptly. Katsuki’s face floods with color. The plate of yakisoba drops right out of his hands and smashes against the floor in a burst of noodles and broken glass. Izuku gasps.
“Kacchan!” Izuku cries, jumping up and rushing over to him. “Kacchan, are you alright?”
“Fuck,” Katsuki curses. He grimaces. “Goddamn it.”
“What happened?” Izuku asks, toeing around a jagged shard of plate.
“Don’t come over here, dumbass! You’re drunk,” Katsuki snaps. Izuku freezes where he stands. “Stay there and don’t move.”
Izuku wobbles; Katsuki sighs heavily.
“Alright, hang on,” Katsuki grumbles. He tip-toes through the mess toward him. He hunches over, wraps his arms around Izuku’s thighs, and hoists him off his feet.
“Kacchan!” Izuku falls over his shoulder. “Wh-what are you--”
“Stopping your drunk ass from getting your feet torn to shreds,” Katsuki says sourly.
Izuku is horrifically turned on by how smoothly Katsuki carries him out of there. He isn’t surprised; Katsuki has carried him dozens of times before, but usually Izuku is semi-conscious and on his way to an ambulance. Now Izuku is wide awake and hyper aware of every point of contact. He has to brace himself on the thick meat of Katsuki’s shoulder and feel the wet heat of Katsuki’s breathing on his arm. If Izuku gropes him a bit he can always blame it on the drunkenness.
Katsuki deposits him on the couch with a whumph . Izuku bounces off the cushions with the force of it.
“Now stay there,” Katsuki orders, standing over him like the very picture of heroism. “Don’t move.”
Izuku’s head is spinning too much to do anything else. He can still feel the imprint of Katsuki’s powerful arms around him. Every point of contact is tingling, already yearning for his touch again. Izuku sits up to watch him sweep up the mess in awe. Katsuki scours over the floor with a fierce scowl. Izuku folds his arms over the head of the couch, resting his chin on top of his arms and staring at Katsuki with unadulterated adoration. Katsuki always does everything with such fierce intensity. Izuku loves that about him. God, who is he kidding? He loves everything about him. Katsuki sweeps the kitchen three times before nodding to himself.
“Is it safe to come over now?” Izuku says, teasing. Katsuki shoots him a glare.
“Wear your slippers,” Katsuki says, and Izuku leaps to his feet, sliding on his house slippers before checking the fridge. Ugh. Thanks to Katsuki they’re an ingredient household now and there’s absolutely nothing in here that will satisfy Izuku’s salty, fatty cravings. He audibly pouts.
Katsuki bumps him with his hip. “Outta the way, nerd.”
Izuku frowns as he’s nudged aside. Katsuki grabs bell peppers, carrots, and pork. Izuku cocks his head to the side curiously.
“What are you doing?” Izuku asks.
“Feeding your dumb ass,” Katsuki grumbles. “What did Round Cheeks feed you? Chips?”
Izuku grins, guilty, and Katsuki scoffs like the thought of junk food deeply offends him. Izuku follows Katsuki to their island countertop and leans on it as Katsuki deposits his ingredients and withdraws the cutting board from the kitchen drawer.
“You don’t have to do that, Kacchan,” Izuku says, even though the thought makes his heart flutter violently. He’s spoiling me , Izuku thinks to himself, feeling pleased and warm all over.
“Yeah, no shit,” Katsuki says. He shakes his head and turns back to the fridge, pulling out broccoli, onions, and mushrooms.
“So many vegetables,” Izuku pouts. He leans on his elbow, propping up his chin with his hand.
Katsuki shoots him a glare. “Your body needs it more than ever after all the fuck-ass shit you did to it.”
“Kaaaacchan,” Izuku whines. He makes use of his drunken state and leans in, pressing his forehead to Katsuki’s rock-solid bicep and nuzzling. “But it’s fun!”
“Oh, I’m sure,” Katsuki says scornfully. “I bet your liver is having the time of its life right now.”
Izuku giggles despite himself. He traces a protruding vein along Katsuki’s arm with a finger.
“You should try it sometime,” Izuku says, voice so soft it’s almost a whisper.
Katsuki scoffs. A muscle in his forearm twitches. “Hell no!”
“What? It could be fun!” Izuku implores. Katsuki shoves him off as he starts slicing up a bell pepper. “We can bar hop, or go out to a club and go dancing…”
Katsuki shakes his head. “Why the fuck would I wanna poison myself just to have a bunch of extras grinding up on my dick?”
“Maybe you’d like it,” Izuku suggests with a shrug. “You never know until you try.”
Katsuki seems to consider that. He goes back to chopping the bell pepper with fury.
“What’s in it for me?” Katsuki asks, shortly.
“Huh?” Izuku blinks.
“You’re the one who wants to see me get stupid,” Katsuki reasons. “What do I get out of it? A damaged liver and a nasty hangover?”
Izuku thinks about it for a long moment. “A night you’ll never forget?”
Katsuki snorts.
“A good time with friends!” Izuku adds. Katsuki makes a retching sound. “Oh, come on It’ll be a new experience, Kacchan! And if you hate it you’ll never have to try it again.”
Katsuki rolls his eyes. He’s made quick work of the bell pepper and moves on to slicing up baby carrots. Izuku stands up straight as the idea strikes him. He purses his lips as he tries not to smile.
“You know,” Izuku begins. “I am beating you on critical adult life experience.”
The knife comes down with a whap . Katsuki rounds on him.
“ What? ” he demands.
Izuku shrugs, playing coy. “Getting a little drunk, going dancing, grinding up on strangers. It’s all a part of the twenty-something experience.” He pauses for effect. “You’re falling behind.”
It’s something of a low blow, but Izuku knows he’s got him. Katsuki’s massive shoulders are heaving; his face is screwed up in indignation.
“Alright, fine you little shit,” Katsuki sneers. “I’ll do your bullshit life experience and hate every goddamn minute of it.”
Izuku grins up at him prettily. “I’d expect nothing less, Kacchan!”
Katsuki returns to chopping up vegetables with more force than necessary and Izuku can’t stop beaming. The triumph blazes in his chest brilliant and beautiful as a star. Oh, this was going to be good .
“I’ll take you somewhere nice, somewhere hero-friendly and discreet,” Izuku thinks aloud. “Oh! We should invite the others!”
“No,” Katsuki says, flatly.
Izuku whines. “Kacchan, they’ll be so disappointed if they find out you went clubbing without them.”
“And they can stay disappointed,” Katsuki says firmly.
“Kacchan.” Izuku puts on his best pout. “Going out with friends is also part of the life experience.”
Katsuki’s sigh is half a growl. He points the knife at Izuku with a fierce glower.
“No pictures, no video, no nothing, you got that?” he snaps. “One selfie and I’m beating your ass.”
Yes please , Izuku thinks. He shakes himself out of it. Stop! He can’t afford to be horny at this critical juncture. Izuku swallows and nods seriously.
“You won’t regret this, Kacchan!” Izuku promises, pumping his fist.
“Too late,” Katsuki says, sighing heavily.
Izuku is ecstatic. It’s been a hot minute since Izuku’s gone clubbing and outside of a beer Katsuki drank on a dare back in their UA days, Izuku doesn’t think Katsuki has ever allowed himself to “let loose.” And now here they are, agreeing to drink and dance together. Okay, maybe Katsuki only agreed to the drinking part, but Izuku knows somewhere deep in his soul that as soon as they arrive at the club he’ll be able to wrangle a dance out of him. The thought makes Izuku’s body thrum with anticipation. As soon as he tells Uraraka, she gasps like he just told her he won the lottery.
“No way! No fucking way!” she says, breathless with excitement. “You sure he won’t bail out at the last minute? Isn’t his bed time like, eight-thirty?”
Izuku laughs. “Sometimes!”
“What are you gonna wear?” Uraraka asks immediately. “You need to look fucking hot.”
Izuku sputters even as he heads toward his closet and starts thumbing through his social-fits. “What for?”
“Oh, don’t play dumb with me, lover boy,” Uraraka says. “This is like the night of the century. You might actually have a shot at seducing him.”
“Uraraka-san!” Izuku cries. He checks to make sure the bedroom door is shut before remembering Katsuki is at the gym. “That’s not what this is about!”
“Oh really,” Uraraka says flatly. “You’re just gonna get him drunk, grind up on him, and not try to sleep with him, is that it?”
“I’m not gonna take advantage of him like that!” Izuku insists. He withdraws a sparkly crop top and considers it with a pout. “He’s never gotten drunk before, that would be wrong!”
“Oh, like you won’t be drunk off your ass too,” Uraraka says, dismissively.
“This is an innocent outing with friends! We’re trying to get Kacchan to lighten up a bit, that’s all,” Izuku says, shaking the shirt in his hand for emphasis. “It’ll be good for him! It’s-- it’s stress relief!”
“You know what else relieves stress,” Uraraka begins.
“Stop!” Izuku shrills.
“Fucking. Dirty nasty raw fucking,” Uraraka rattles off.
“We aren’t going to fuck!” Izuku cries, but Uraraka only laughs and laughs.
A surprising number of class 1-A agree to come out when Uraraka sends out the invite. Even people who don’t usually enjoy these kinds of things like Iida and Todoroki. Kamanari, Kirishima, Mina, and Sero are all in, obviously. Izuku’s phone buzzes all night at the many happy dancing gifs they spam the group chat with. Momo suggests they try the club that Jiro DJs for sometimes, and it’s all too easily agreed upon.
“This is ridiculous,” Katsuki says, leaning over Izuku’s shoulder and reading the group chat with a sour expression. “How many fucking extras am I gonna have to deal with?”
“The more people the better,” Izuku says, reasonably. He tries to ignore the looming heat of Katsuki’s body calling to him, tempting him to lean in and soak in his proximity. “Safer too.”
Katsuki snorts. “We’re heroes, I think we can fuckin’ defend ourselves.”
“Still,” Izuku says, shrugging and ignoring the way his shoulder brushes against Katsuki’s collarbone as he does. “Less likely to be harassed in a big group.”
The night finally arrives and Izuku isn’t sure if what he’s feeling is nausea or excitement. Probably a bit of both. Izuku wisely scheduled their outing on a weekend where he and Katsuki would be free to sleep in the next day. (A sleepy Katsuki would be a greater threat to society than any villains they might come across if they had to go on patrol.) Momo has even gone so far as to book a full-service booth for everyone. Izuku usually can’t afford such an expense when it’s just him, Uraraka, Mina, and the others.
Izuku dresses in a sparkly crop-top, little diamond stud earrings, and, what the hell, if he does end up getting lucky tonight (not with Katsuki, Izuku reminds himself miserably), he might as well look good. And so he pulls on a pair of black lacy panties before wiggling into his sinfully tight skinny jeans. He fluffs his hair with just enough product to keep his curls from deflating throughout the night and spritzes on his special-occasions cologne.
He thinks he looks pretty damn good. But then he walks out and sees Katsuki.
Fuck. Oh fuck, oh shit, goddamn it. Izuku’s knees wobble just looking at him. What has Izuku done? Katsuki is wearing a leather jacket with silver studs, but the white top underneath barely qualifies as a shirt. It’s tiny, first of all; it just barely covers the swell of his firm pecs and is entirely sheer. The white shimmery fabric clings to Katsuki like a second skin and fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck.
Izuku freezes in the doorway, brain short circuiting so violently he swears smoke is spewing out his ears. His blood races to his face and his dick, leaving nothing for his stammering heart to pump out. He clutches the door frame for support and Katsuki finally looks up from his phone, cocking his brow.
“What?” Katsuki asks, though the smirk playing on his lips tells Izuku he knows exactly what . Izuku cards a hand through his hair nervously. It’s a good thing he’s had all these months getting used to the sight of those washboard abs, because otherwise Izuku would be on his knees begging Katsuki to let him lick them. Fuck clubbing, fuck everyone and everything that isn’t them and the nearest bed. Izuku takes a steadying breath.
“W-well,” Izuku stammers. He busies himself smoothing down his wrinkle-less jeans. “You look nice.”
Katsuki’s grin is downright devilish. Izuku can’t stop looking at him, but he has to he fucking has to. His pants are too tight to pop a boner right now. He rushes into the kitchen and retrieves the vodka from the freezer.
“Okay, this is gonna taste like ass,” Izuku warns him, setting the bottle on the counter and procuring their shot glasses from the cabinet.
“You speakin’ from experience?” Katsuki counters. Izuku whaps him across the shoulder and pours out two shots.
“Plug your nose and pound it,” Izuku instructs. He demonstrates; Katsuki follows after.
“Ack!” Katsuki says, and Izuku laughs because that’s not a sound he’s ever heard from Katsuki before. The look he shoots at Izuku is incredulous, his eyes watering. “You do this shit for fun?”
Izuku shrugs. He grabs a fizzy drink from the fridge and passes it over to Katsuki, who chugs it and shakes his head with a blegh. Izuku grins.
“One more?” he asks, cocking his brow challengingly.
Katsuki sighs through his nose, but nods. Izuku pours two more shots. Katsuki wrinkles his nose and drowns almost the entirety of the fizzy drink right after, but he does it. Izuku tries not to watch the way Katsuki’s abs contract as he shudders.
“So?” Izuku asks, giving him a moment to settle. “How do you feel?”
“Not that fuckin’ different,” Katsuki scoffs. “God, that’s so not worth it.”
Izuku grins. “We’ll get you something fruity at the club, you big baby.”
Katsuki seizes his head and ruffles his curls roughly. Izuku yelps. He tries to push Katsuki off, but Katsuki is strong, and heavy, and pushes right back. Izuku giggles as they play-fight, their shoes squeaking against the title as they struggle against one another. Katsuki grits his teeth and shoves; Izuku’s hip hits the edge of the countertop with a sharp hiss.
“Ow,” Izuku says.
“Shit,” Katsuki curses. He stops his pursuit at once and touches where Izuku was hit with gentle fingers. “You okay?”
Oh. Izuku breaks into goosebumps. It’s like every nerve in his body has come to cluster under Katsuki’s fingers. Izuku’s head is spinning at their proximity and the sudden mood shift. Katsuki’s eyes are downcast, brows pinched in concern, the barest blush coloring his cheeks. Izuku forces himself to stare at his face as he nods.
“I’m fine,” he says, too breathlessly. Fuck. He specifically said he wasn’t going to try to seduce him, but here he is already considering it. Who said they needed to go clubbing anyway? They could spend the rest of the night right here, like this, and Izuku would be perfectly content.
Katsuki’s fingers hook through Izuku’s belt loops and Izuku’s breath hitches.
“You too, by the way,” Katsuki says, staring at where his knuckles rest against Izuku’s hips.
“Huh?” Izuku says, cleverly. He feels strangely hazy, but that can’t be right. Izuku’s alcohol tolerance is too high to be this fuzzy-headed already.
Katsuki meets his gaze with burning intensity.
“You look nice,” Katsuki says in a low, rumbling voice.
Fuck. Shit. Izuku’s face floods with color. He covers his burning cheeks with a hand.
“It’s been known to happen,” Izuku says, lightly and dismissively. He looks away, but can’t bring himself to move. Shit, Izuku’s resistance is crumbling and they haven’t even left the apartment. Goddamn him for being so weak for Katsuki.
He isn’t flirting, he's just drunk, Izuku reminds himself, and the cold steel truth of it recenters him. He clears his throat and fumbles for his phone.
“They’re, uh, already there,” Izuku informs him. “We should get going.”
Katsuki nods. His hands slide off him and Izuku mourns the loss so terribly that he pours himself a third shot. Katsuki looks offended when Izuku doesn’t refill his own.
“What? You think I can’t keep up with you?” Katsuki demands.
“It’s your first time, you should take it easy,” Izuku says.
“Fuck off,” Katsuki says. He pours the shot himself and dry heaves immediately upon taking it. Izuku bursts into uproarious laughter.
The club they go to is on the nicer side of town and upscale, but of course it is. Momo would never let her girlfriend DJ for a club that wasn’t at least a little bougie. All the better, Izuku reasons; he’s still determined to make Katsuki have fun, whether he admits it or not. On the walk over, Katsuki’s step wobbles.
“Okay, maybe I feel somethin’,” he says, and Izuku giggles.
“Yeah, obviously,” Izuku teases.
Katsuki elbows him. Izuku elbows back harder and Katsuki almost stumbles in his effort to swerve. Izuku catches the sleeve of his jacket just in time.
“Whoa! Easy there!”
“Goddammit,” Katsuki curses.
Izuku is buzzing with booze and so he lets his arms slide around Katsuki’s trim waist, pulling him close.
“Kacchan,” he says, amused. “You did it! You’re drunk.”
“I can still kick your ass,” Katsuki grumbles, but instead of pushing him off like Izuku expects, he drapes an arm around Izuku’s shoulders and keeps him in place. Oh. Shit. He must really be drunk then. Izuku’s heart hammers in his throat. He needs to break out of this embrace and go back to a sense of normalcy, but Katsuki’s arm is so warm, so firm. Not to mention, Izuku is actually getting to touch a bare slip of skin under Katsuki’s jacket. Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no. Is Katsuki wearing cologne? Izuku burns with sudden jealousy. Who the hell is Katsuki wearing cologne for? Some stranger he’ll find at the club? Izuku clings to him tighter.
“Heh,” Katsuki says.
“What?”
“You’re my cane again,” Katsuki says, and they laugh so hard they almost topple over. Katsuki does push him off then, but Izuku only has a moment to mourn before Katsuki tangles their fingers together. Which Izuku supposes is a fair compromise. A platonic gesture. He holds hands with Uraraka when they go clubbing all the time. It’s the best way to not lose each other in the crowd. Izuku is glad Katsuki is picking up this whole clubbing thing so easily.
The club has a line out the door, but Izuku guides Katsuki towards the hero entrance at the back. Izuku doesn’t miss the way the bouncer gives their clasped hands a once-over before letting them inside. It sends a possessive rush down Izuku’s spine.
The club’s music is so loud it feels like the room is pulsating with it. Everything is soaked in low blue lighting, intermittently cut with sharp lasers that dart across the room and glitter off the obnoxiously large disco ball in the center. The club is two-storied: the upper floor is rimmed with booths and the bar top, and the floor in the center is cut out so everyone can look upon the dance floor below. Jirou isn’t DJing tonight; she’ll be with them, but the man in her place seems to have a similar quirk. He has glowing headphones anyway and is jumping to the music with as much vigor as anyone else. Izuku scans the balcony for their friends.
“There you are!” Uraraka shouts over the music, waving them over, and wow the top she’s wearing makes the gesture borderline obscene. Izuku waves back merrily. Sero, Kaminari, Kirishima, and Mina all cheer at the sight of them.
“Bakugou, you really came!” Kaminari shouts, barreling over toward them and swinging an arm around Katsuki’s shoulders. The motion breaks their hands apart and Izuku takes the opportunity to head over to Uraraka who is looking at him like the cat that ate the canary. She gestures for him to lean down and says in his ear:
“What happened to not fucking him?”
Izuku reels back. “What are you, twelve? Holding hands isn’t fucking!”
Uraraka nods sagely. “Right, sure, of course not.”
Momo looks between the two of them, wringing her hands nervously.
“You look very handsome tonight, Midoriya-kun!” she compliments.
Izuku beams. “And you look stunning!”
She really does. Dressed in a crimson-red halter top with little bedazzles around her throat and her hair hanging long and loose, even Izuku can recognize she’s objectively gorgeous. Jirou throws an arm around her shoulders.
“She does, doesn't she?” Jirou says, leaning in to press a swift kiss to Momo’s cheek. Izuku flushes at the easy affection. “How’d you finally get Bakugou to come out to a club?”
Izuku smiles sweetly. “Oh that was easy. I just made it seem like a challenge.”
They all laugh at that, Uraraka a little too loudly, and so Izuku reasons it's for her own good that he steals a long swig of her drink. She curses him.
“Hey you owe me money, remember?” Uraraka says, pulling the drink to her spilling cleavage possessively.
“I never agreed to your bet!” Izuku says, defensively.
“What bet?” Jirou asks, leaning in excitedly.
Uraraka flutters her eyelashes. “Oh, just that a certain someone was missing him.”
Izuku drags a hand over his face. “Oh my god, can we please stop talking about this?”
“We can, when you fuck him!” Uraraka says, slamming a hand down on the table. “God, I swear I’m, like, getting secondhand sexual frustration from you or something!”
Izuku groans miserably, but Jirou and Momo only laugh. Mina walks over then, eyes glittering with interest.
“Who’s fucking? What did I miss?” she asks, eagerly. Her huge dangly earrings swing as she looks between all of them.
“This is homophobic,” Izuku announces. “You’re all bullying me.”
“I think you’re kind of into that,” Uraraka says, sending Bakugou a significant glance.
“Ohh!” Mina says, jumping up and down excitedly. “Really? You did it? You fucked him?”
Even Momo looks intrigued by that; panic shrivels Izuku’s lungs. He shakes his head violently.
“No, I didn’t!” Izuku says, waving his hands around like that will stop them. “Really!”
Jirou looks doubtful; Mina squints at him like she thinks he might be lying. Izuku slumps dramatically with his sigh.
“Seriously!” Izuku says, almost shouting. “I’m not fucking anyone!”
“Why not?”
Ice spears through Izuku’s veins. He swivels around and Katsuki is standing right behind him, pushing a drink into Izuku’s hands. He’s removed his jacket and looks like sex incarnate in his stupid little white top, which of course is fucking sleeveless. Why bother wearing clothes at all if it’s going to cover this little? Izuku drinks in the sight of all that bicep and temporarily forgets Japanese entirely.
“Oh-oh, thank you,” he says, several beats too late. He trembles a little as he takes the drink out of Katsuki’s hands and examines it critically. “How did you know what a mojito was?”
Katsuki cocks his brow.
“Izuku,” he says, dangerously even. “Answer the question.”
Everyone is staring at him. The club is so loud, but Izuku’s heartbeat is loudest, sluggish, and pounding hard in his chest. Fuck! What has he done? He has orchestrated his own undoing, masterminded his way into his own demise. He’s really done it this time, folks! What’s he supposed to say? I’ve been too busy pining over my super hot roommate to be getting dick from anyone? God he must look so stupid. His face is aflame and he stammers for several seconds before managing a proper response.
“I’ve— I’ve been busy,” Izuku says, voice unusually thin. Silence. Just the dreadful heartbeat of the club’s thrumming music and the cacophony of many people in the distance.
“You know, heroes need sex more than regular people,” Mina chimes in helpfully. Izuku considers throwing himself off the balcony. “Too much stress.”
Jirou snaps her fingers at her. “Too many life or death situations. All that tension needs to be relieved somehow.”
Uraraka nods heavily in Izuku’s direction, and if Izuku was just slightly more drunk he’d throw his drink at her. He pounds it instead.
“Sex is overrated,” Izuku announces, hoping he sounds dismissive.
There’s a chorus of boos. Kirishima is the loudest of all.
“You’re just not getting dick from the right people, Midoriya-kun!” Mina insists. She bats her eyelashes at Kirishima dreamily. “When it’s the right guy, it’s great!”
There are several sounds of agreement. Jirou and Momo snuggle into each other happily. Kirishima hooks an arm around Mina’s shoulders and kisses her temple. It’s so heartbreakingly sweet, and earnest, and just so in Izuku’s face that he suddenly feels sick with it. Izuku sets his empty glass down on the table with more force than necessary.
“Maybe it’s been too long,” he says, clipped. “Maybe I’ll get some dick right now.”
This time there’s a chorus of ooohs .
“Get it, Midoriya!” Mina cheers.
Izuku turns on his heel and marches off. He can feel the heat of Katsuki’s gaze on him but doesn’t dare turn to meet it. He doesn’t actually plan on getting laid, but maybe some dry humping in the club could be nice. Izuku is so pent-up it might be enough to get him off anyway. He stumbles a little down the stairs to the dance floor, but marches onward determinedly.
The room seems to warp around him as he moves, and his head is a spinny with booze, but Izuku knows that’s the best way to experience the club. Izuku throws himself into the throng of writhing bodies haphazardly. Fuck it, he can dance by himself for a minute. He’s sure Uraraka and Mina are right on his tail anyway.
The music pounds through him. The bass is so loud it thrums through his flesh like a second heartbeat. Sure enough, Mina, Uraraka, Momo, and Jirou join him and they all jump to the music together. Izuku grins at his friends happily. He watches Jirou snake her arms around Momo’s waist and feels— no, what's the use of feeling that now? Izuku closes his eyes and pushes the heartache out, losing himself in the music.
It really has been too long. He doesn’t think, doesn’t feel. He just moves. He holds his arms above his head, swaying and bouncing. He’s smiling before he knows it. Uraraka and Mina take turns grinding up on him, playfully smacking his ass and giggling. They shout the lyrics to the music, jumping, bumping, and gyrating. Kirishima soon comes along and pulls Mina into his arms, and Sero takes Uraraka by the hands, interlocking their fingers as they bounce to the music. All coupled up. Izuku swallows down his pang of longing.
Whatever. Why should it bother him? Izuku is young, drunk, and sexy. He can find himself a dance partner if he really wants one. Automatically his gaze shoots up toward the balcony, and jolts as his gaze connects with Katsuki’s.
Katsuki is leaning over the guardrail, his massive pecs straining against his obnoxiously small shirt, his thick arms draped over the railing with a drink in his hand. His brow cocks as their gazes lock. Oh. Izuku shivers. He’s being watched. Izuku grins up at him prettily.
Come down, he orders in his mind. Come down and take me .
Dangerous, traitorous thoughts. Izuku had promised he wasn’t going to try to seduce him, he had. But fuck if it isn’t tempting. Even just Katsuki’s gaze has his body throbbing with want. He’s probably gotten a little too tipsy, but when Kirishima offers him a sip of his drink, Izuku sucks it down gratefully.
The song changes. Rave lights slice through the dimly lit club and the entire dance floor starts thrashing. It’s cacophony, it’s chaos. Izuku forces Katsuki out of his mind and loses himself in it. He throws his hands in the air and leaps, whooping in delight. He’s never been an incredible dancer, but thankfully club music doesn’t require that. Just movement. Just feeling. He’s intoxicated enough to let his body do what it wants. He lets his back arch, his hips sway, his arms rock side-to-side in the air.
Hands slide over the bare skin of his waist. Izuku’s heart launches into his throat, surging in wild, wanting hope— only to immediately sink again when he turns. Not Katsuki. A stranger. His heart twists in disappointment. A cute stranger, but not Izuku’s type. He’s shorter than Izuku, with shockingly black curls and pouty lips. His breath absolutely reeks of booze, but what the hell? Izuku is drunk and he hasn’t been touched like this in so long. The fingers on his bare stomach are rough and stubby and nothing like Katsuki’s. Izuku leans back and grinds up on him anyway and ah. There it is. They rock together, the stranger’s breath puffing into Izuku’s throat. Izuku closes his eyes and pretends it’s enough.
The music transitions again into something bass-y, heavy, and sensual. The stranger grips Izuku’s hips, pulls him onto his clothed cock and Izuku tastes something sour at the back of his throat. He doesn’t feel aroused as much as he feels… uncomfortable. Like wearing a shirt three sizes too small, his chest constricts and his throat tightens. What’s going on? Didn’t Izuku want this just a minute ago? Izuku shakes off the discomfort and lets the stranger rut against him.
Tingling. A skittering brush against Izuku’s cheekbones. Izuku’s eyes snap open and his gaze instantly locks with Katsuki’s across the sea of people. He’s come down from the balcony now. He’s so tall and shockingly handsome that he’s impossible to miss in the crowd. Katsuki’s gaze is fixed on him and he looks almost predatory as he stalks around the edge of the dancefloor. Izuku grins so hard it almost hurts. His heart flutters with anticipation and hope.
Come on, Izuku urges. Come get me.
Katsuki’s gaze doesn’t waver from Izuku for a second, but he doesn’t come any closer either. Izuku chews his lip in frustration.
Just gonna watch? Izuku thinks, suddenly seized with fierce determination. Then watch.
Izuku maintains eye contact as he arches his spine, throwing his ass back up on the stranger. He makes a show of tossing his head back, letting his mouth drop open in an erotic sigh. Katsuki strangles the glass in his hands until his fingers are white.
“You’re so fucking hot,” the stranger pants in Izuku’s ear. Izuku fights not to wrinkle his nose. He smiles like what the stranger said pleases him instead and a muscle in Katsuki’s jaw ticks.
Izuku maintains eye contact with Katsuki as he runs a hand up his own body, letting his fingers catch on the fabric of his crop-top and riding it up, up. The stranger takes this as an invitation and follows the trail of Izuku’s hand, groping at his flesh greedily. He palms one of Izuku’s pecs and his nails stab into Izuku’s nipple. Izuku yips in surprise.
“What’s your name, pretty boy?” the stranger slurs, loud enough to be heard over the music. Izuku turns his face toward him.
“Izuku,” he answers. He doesn’t ask for the man’s name back. He reaches up a hand and scratches the stranger’s stubbly jawline. Izuku supposes he’s handsome enough. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if— if— Izuku frowns even trying to form the thought. The stranger leans in suddenly and a sloppy, wet kiss is pressed to Izuku’s cheekbone. Ugh. Izuku squirms in his arms.
“Oh,” Izuku says. Yeah, he can’t do this. The stranger dips for another kiss that Izuku just barely dodges. “Uh. No—no thank—”
An arm shoots out over Izuku’s shoulder and the stranger is shoved off him in an instant. Izuku looks up and his heart launches into his throat. Kacchan. Katsuki’s arm wraps around Izuku’s waist. Izuku is pulled into his built chest and oh god it’s such a relief. Izuku nuzzles into his pecs gratefully, breathing in his sweet caramelly scent as he throws both arms around him. Katsuki is so tall and broad that his frame swallows Izuku up. Izuku is so giddy that he’s practically vibrating with it. Kacchan, his Kacchan.
The stranger reels back with an irritable glare.
“You coulda told me you had a boyfriend!” he shouts over the music. Izuku barely spares him a glance.
“What?” Izuku asks. He must have misheard him over all the noise. Katsuki’s arms tighten around Izuku, thick biceps press against Izuku’s back and a possessive hand clamps on his shoulder.
“Scram, asshole!” Katsuki shouts, and Izuku loves feeling the raspy rumble of it through his chest. God, it feels so good to be held by him. The solid weight of Katsuki’s arms, his familiar scent enveloping him, the thump, thump, thump of his heartbeat against Izuku’s cheek. Izuku all but melts into him. This is it. This is where Izuku has belonged all along.
The stranger stares at them, baffled.
Katsuki snarls. “Go!”
The stranger scrambles back and disappears into the crowd. Izuku giggles helplessly and looks up at Katsuki in delight.
“That wasn’t very nice, Kacchan,” Izuku chides, eyes all teasing.
Katsuki is still scowling at the spot where the stranger disappeared. His jaw is set into a hard line and Izuku feels the wild urge to lick it. Katsuki looks down at him, the soft blues of the club’s lighting bouncing off his cheekbones and glinting through the spikes of his hair. He leans in to speak in Izuku’s ear.
“I’m never nice,” he answers. Izuku rises to meet Katsuki’s breath as it rushes down his throat. Izuku’s hand wanders down Katsuki’s back, following the dips and swells of thick muscle. God how he wants him. He feels stripped bare by it; his desire is a primal, pulsing thing inside him.
Izuku draws back just far enough to meet his gaze and crimson eyes peirce him, mind, body, and soul. The club falls away, the music drowns out, and nothing else exists except for them and this shared gaze. A small eternity passes as they stare at one another, entangled in each other’s arms as bodies writhe and lights flash around them. A darting laser hits Izuku right in the eye and he blinks, suddenly remembering where he is.
“Dance with me,” Izuku blurts out.
Amazingly, incredibly, Katsuki nods. His hands circle Izuku’s waist; his long, lithe fingers are scorching hot on Izuku’s bare skin. Izuku turns, pressing his back to Katsuki’s well-built chest, and Katsuki sinks into him. A perfect fit. Almost like they were made for one another. Katsuki’s hips are flush against Izuku’s ass, his head drops onto Izuku’s shoulder, his face nuzzling into Izuku’s throat. Izuku can feel his chest swell as he breathes in deeply and he has never felt so sharply alive. His body thrums with arousal at every point of contact.
Dancing with Katsuki is nothing like dancing with the stranger. Katsuki is so much broader, taller, safer, and yet somehow all the more electrifying for it. They breathe as one, their bodies rolling together sensually. Izuku’s hand slides up to card through the soft spikes of Katsuki’s hair, closing his eyes and drinking in their proximity greedily. Katsuki’s hands on his bare skin mark him like a brand as he presses Izuku’s body into his own. Izuku can feel the humid heat of his mouth just a breath away from brushing against Izuku’s throat. Izuku arches his spine, throwing his ass back up on him, and he can feel Katsuki’s responding shudder all around him. It’s like they’ve melded into one being. Izuku shivers back, pleased.
Got him , Izuku thinks, dazed with more than the drinks. He’s mine, I’ve got him.
Katsuki’s hands wander over his body. Not taking, not grabbing, just feeling. Long fingers creep down to cup the meat of Izuku’s thighs, his other other hand threading through the ridges of Izuku’s ribs. Katsuki’s hand wanders up further, tracing the curve of Izuku’s pecs and massaging the excess tissue there. Izuku keens into it. Katsuki finds a nipple and rolls his thumb over it; Izuku cries out, throwing his head back. Fuck! He’s so—he’s just so—Izuku barely has the words for what he’s feeling. Katsuki is just so much .
Katsuki grasps onto Izuku desperately as he grinds against the swell of Izuku’s ass. Again, again, again. Izuku gasps for air, feeling dizzy with arousal. Every thrust is a jolt of electricity up Izuku’s spine. Izuku can feel Katsuki’s cock through the layers of clothing and it’s a shock of white heat through Izuku’s veins. Katsuki is hard. Izuku has made him hard and Izuku can feel it, he can fucking feel it. Izuku’s head is spinning; his own cock throbs in his jeans.
Fuck, he can’t take it anymore. All this touching and teasing is going to drive Izuku insane. Izuku needs him. He needs him now. Fuck the club, fuck their friends, fuck everyone who isn’t them. Izuku spins in Katsuki’s arms and stares up at him, breathing hard. Katsuki’s eyes are wide, his pupils blown out; his mouth is parted and panting. He’s so beautiful that Izuku hesitates, just drinking in the sight of him a moment longer. Izuku touches his face reverently. His fingers drag along the line of his cheekbone and Katsuki’s eyes flutter shut.
They lean in as one.
Kissing Bakugou Katsuki is everything. Everything . Sweet and fierce and searing. Katsuki kisses Izuku like he’s starving for it. Izuku opens for him with a groan and Katsuki is quick to turn his head and lick into his mouth. Izuku’s body flashes first hot, then cold, and then his body is buzzing with a deep sense of rightness. Izuku wraps his arms around his neck as he relishes the scorching heat of Katsuki’s mouth and the purposeful swipes of his tongue. Izuku’s body goes liquid as he leans into him, trusting Katsuki to catch him, hold him, take him.
If Izuku’s brains weren’t melting out of his ears he might think: fuck I was specifically not supposed to seduce him, or oh my god I’m kissing Kacchan, or finally fucking finally he’s mine. But every thought is obliterated under the soft suction of Katsuki’s mouth. There is no room for thinking. There’s no room for anything but pure glorious elation, the profound sense of relief as the longing leeches out of him, and beautiful, blinding, brilliant having swells in to take its place. Oh god, he really is kissing Kacchan. His Kacchan. Izuku feels the tears coming, but refuses to let them fall. He has better things to focus on. Izuku sucks on Katsuki’s bottom lip and feels Katsuki’s moan rumble through him.
Izuku wouldn’t be able to tell you how long they spend like that: making out heavily and hands roaming over each other’s bodies. Katsuki grabs a fistful of Izuku’s ass and Izuku whimpers, desperate and needy. Katsuki’s leg slips between Izuku’s thighs and Izuku ruts against it shamelessly.
“Shit,” Izuku hisses into Katsuki’s mouth. The sweet friction is so fucking good and yet not nearly enough. Izuku doesn’t think his arousal has ever been this potent. He breaks away with a wet pop.
“Come on,” Izuku says, snatching his hand and leading him off the dance floor. Katsuki laces their fingers together as they weave through the mass of writhing people; they climb up the stairs two at a time. Bathroom, bathroom, Izuku needs to find a bathroom. There! In the corner. Izuku sees the deadbolt and rejoices.
Izuku drags Katsuki inside. The second the door locks behind them, Katsuki rounds on him, pressing Izuku up against the wall and kissing him like a man possessed. Izuku cards his hands through Katsuki’s hair and moans into it gratefully. The smacking sounds of their kissing echo through the bathroom, along with Katsuki’s guttural groan. Fuck, the noise makes Izuku’s cock twitch.
Katsuki takes Izuku’s thighs in his broad, hot palms and lifts him. Izuku surges up, hooking his legs around Katsuki’s waist and gripping onto his shoulders for purchase. Katsuki carries him to the bathroom counter and places him on it, standing between his legs. Izuku squeezes the meat of Katsuki’s shoulders, feeling and appreciating their strength.
“I said I wasn’t gonna do this,” Izuku says through mindless kissing, laughing a little at himself. “I swore—I swore I wouldn’t—”
“Shut up,” Katsuki says helpfully, words slurred and squashed between kisses.
“Fuck, you’re drunk,” Izuku says, almost a whine. He can’t stop kissing him though. He smothers every square inch of his beloved’s face with messy, open mouthed affection. “I shouldn’t— we shouldn’t—”
“Shut up,” Katsuki says, tersely, and his tone makes Izuku laugh.
“Kacchan,” Izuku admonishes. Katsuki trails kisses down his throat and Izuku gasps, fingers knotting in his hair. “Oh! Ah, Ka—Kacchan. Kacchan, fuck.”
“That’s better,” Katsuki says. His hand slides between Izuku’s legs and drags over Izuku’s clothed cock. Izuku throws his head back, stars bursting behind his eyes at the contact.
“Fuck,” Izuku whispers, squeezing his eyes shut. His hand fists in the back of Katsuki’s hair. “You’re so— fuck me, Kacchan, fuck.”
“The mouth on you,” Katsuki says, low and amused. He rubs slow circles over Izuku’s groin and Izuku’s hips twitch. “You want it?”
“So bad,” Izuku whines. He drags Katsuki in for a kiss. “Need it. Need you.”
Katsuki nods like he understands. He cups Izuku’s face in both hands, kissing him deeply and seriously.
“Not here,” Katsuki says. Izuku gives a pitiful whine and Katsuki bites his cheek gently. “Your fault. Coulda had me anytime you wanted and you chose here and now.”
Izuku’s head is spinning so hard he thinks he must have not heard him right. He reels back, blinking at Katsuki stupidly.
“What?”
Katsuki pulls him in for another kiss instead of answering. Izuku squeezes Katsuki’s hips with his thighs, arms locking around his neck, and kissing him back like he means to suck the oxygen out of Katsuki’s lungs. He’s almost too dazed to remember what they were talking about when Katsuki speaks again.
“The fuck do you mean what?” Katsuki grumbles, kisses wandering lower, peppering Izuku’s jawline and trailing down the column of his throat. “Wanted you for years.”
Tires screech to a halt in Izuku’s mind. Glass is shattering somewhere distantly. Izuku’s chest caves in; his belly writhes with anxious butterflies. Did he hear that right? He can’t have. He can’t. Izuku reels back to gape at him.
“ What? ” Izuku says again. His voice is soft and disbelieving when he whispers, “Years?”
“You fuckin’ heard me,” Katsuki says in a low voice. He pets Izuku’s hair, thumbing a curl between his fingers. He has no right looking so adorable pouting up at Izuku like that, but well. It’s Katsuki. Izuku is prone to thinking he’s adorable.
“Say it again,” Izuku orders. He has to know he heard it right; he has to be sure. His heart is jackrabbiting in his chest, his pulse feels like daggers in his wrists and throat. He drags the backs of his knuckles over Katsuki’s cheekbone and Katsuki bites at his fingers, just hard enough to hurt.
“I’ve been sayin’ it,” Kasuki says, petulantly.
“ When? ” Izuku presses, frowning.
Katsuki huffs against Izuku’s knuckles before kissing them.
“All the time,” Katsuki admits softly. He nips at the pads of Izuku’s fingers. “Everyday.”
Izuku shivers. He searches Katsuki’s face, scarcely daring to believe it. Katsuki growls in irritation.
“You think I’m sharing my bed with just anyone?” Katsuki demands, scowling up at him. He squeezes Izuku’s thighs hard. “You think I’m cooking everyday for just anyone?”
Katsuki’s gaze is so fiery and intense that it spears Izuku right through his chest. It’s a struggle to breathe with Katsuki looking at him like that. Izuku searches his expression over and over again, checking for any hint of insincerity. Katsuki grips his thighs so hard that his fingers pinch Izuku’s flesh. He looms into Izuku’s space.
“You think I’m wearing this stupid outfit in this noisy ass club for just anyone?” Katsuki asks, disbelieving.
Izuku thumbs the neckline of Katsuki’s little white top. He can’t help his giddy grin. “You wore this for me?”
“‘Course I did,” Katsuki scoffs. He’s so close Izuku can see the sparkle of his ashy blond stubble coming in and the secret mole at the base of his throat, half-covered by his top. His brows are pinched and his gaze is serious. “Fuckin’ everything I do is for you.”
Izuku’s belly flutters. He feels so light, so free. His mind is buzzing and he can’t stop grinning.
“Oh my god,” Izuku says, breathlessly. He strokes Katsuki’s cheekbones with his thumbs, all full of wonder. “I love you.”
Izuku watches Katsuki soften. The tension drains out of those broad shoulders and something sparks to life in his eyes. Katsuki’s grin is so sweet and sincere it’s almost painful to look at.
“Yeah, I know,” he says. He leans in and kisses him then, tender and sensual and slow. “I know, baby.”
“Shoulda said,” Izuku says, smushed between kisses. He hooks his arms around Katsuki’s shoulders and keeps him close.
Katsuki shakes his head. “Izuku.”
“What?” Izuku demands. Katsuki’s arms wind around him as he buries his face into Izuku’s neck, breathing in deeply.
“Needed you to say it,” Katsuki says, voice strangely hoarse. “Had to be— had to make sure it’s what you wanted.”
Izuku blinks rapidly. He pets Katsuki’s hair, dragging the backs of his knuckles up and down Katsuki’s back. “Kacchan…”
“‘M not gonna force shit on you,” Katsuki says. “I was the one who pushed you away, I don’t have the right to— to—”
“Kacchan, we’re past that,” Izuku says, softly. Katsuki shakes his head again.
“Look, I—” Katsuki struggles for a moment. “I love our life together. Nothing had to change. I thought you were happy the way we were. I mean fuck, Izuku, we sleep together every night, and you never made a move. What was I supposed to think?”
“You never made a move either!” Izuku protests. Katsuki squeezes him.
“I invited you into my bed,” Katsuki counters roughly. “That’s a move.”
“But!”
“I even made you breakfast in the morning.” Katsuki nips at Izuku’s neck. “That’s a move.”
“Not a very direct one,” Izuku mutters. Katsuki snickers.
“Thought you might not be into sex at all,” Katsuki admits. He sucks at the juncture of Izuku’s throat and shoulder. “But then you just kept starin’ at me.”
Izuku gasps. “You asshole , that was on purpose?”
“Course it was,” Katsuki gruffs. He shakes his head. “Always starin’, never doin’ shit,” Katsuki continues, a little slurred. He bites Izuku hard and Izuku keens into it, gasping. “Fuckin’ offered myself up on a silver platter for you and you wouldn’t bite.”
Izuku whimpers. “Couldn’t lose you, Kacchan. Couldn’t risk it.”
Katsuki leans back and levels him with a glare.
“You’re so fucking dumb,” Katsuki says in a whisper. He takes Izuku’s face in his hands and shakes him a little. “I fucking love you, alright? I’m not going anywhere.”
Izuku’s vision blurs as tears well up in his eyes. He shakes with a sob before he can stop himself. The tears are hot and embarrassing and spill over rapidly. Katsuki brushes them away with the smooth pads of his thumbs.
“Crybaby,” Katsuki says, sounding unbearably fond. Izuku seizes his face and kisses him urgently.
“Love you,” Izuku says, through smacking kisses. “I love you.”
Katsuki kisses him back and it’s like something has finally clicked into place. A long-empty hole in Izuku’s heart is filled, a deep aching inside him relieved. Izuku is glad he’s sitting down because he knows he’s trembling too hard to support himself. Izuku clings to Katsuki and kisses him with all the affection he’s foolishly withheld for so long. Katsuki sighs through his nose, and somehow, Izuku knows he feels it, too.
“I love you, too,” Katsuki says. He kisses him tenderly and then adds, “ Obviously .”
Izuku gives a watery laugh. He wipes his eyes and sniffs.
“Let’s get out of here,” Izuku says. “Now.”
Katsuki’s grin is wild and wicked. Izuku slides off the counter, his legs wobbly as Katsuki winds an arm around his waist and guides him out of the bathroom. Katsuki kisses his temple.
“Grab my jacket, I need to cash out at the bar,” Katsuki says. Izuku nods frantically. He pulls him down for a lingering kiss before making a beeline to their booth. He’s too keyed up to even care that Uraraka is there waiting for him, eyes full of knowing. Mina is there too, hopping from foot to foot excitedly.
“You did it in the bathroom?” Mina cries. She throws her arms around him like he’s just won some award. “I’m so happy for you!”
Uraraka eyes him, pausing on Izuku’s fresh hickies. “How’s the whole not seducing him thing going?”
“Where’s his jacket?” Izuku demands, ignoring both of them and scanning their booth quickly. “We’re leaving.”
Mina gasps. Uraraka doesn’t look surprised.
“So soon? Iida-kun and Todoroki-kun haven’t even arrived yet!” Mina protests, glancing at Uraraka worriedly.
“I warned them this would happen,” Uraraka says, blithely. She checks her phone. “You guys didn’t make it an hour before jumping each other.”
Izuku laughs despite himself. The joy bubbles up inside him, too buoyant and incandescent to be denied. He spots Katsuki’s jacket draped across the head of the booth and snatches it up, pressing it to his chest and breathing in the scent of it without any shame.
“I don’t care, I love him,” Izuku announces. He slips the jacket over his shoulders. “I love him, I love him, I’m not waiting another second.”
“Awww!” Mina says, squishing her own cheeks and shoulders bunched to her ears. “I knew it!”
“Anyone with eyes knew it,” Uraraka counters. She tips her glass to Izuku. “Congrats on the sex, though.”
Izuku’s stomach churns. Fuck, it’s happening, isn’t it? You coulda had me anytime you wanted. Wanted you for years. I fucking love you, alright? Izuku wonders if it’s possible to die from such violent happiness. He spots Katsuki’s blond head at the bar top.
“I have to go,” Izuku says. He seizes Uraraka in a swift embrace, then Mina, leaving brief kisses on their cheeks as he does. “I’ll text you.”
“Tell me everything!” Mina demands.
Izuku doesn’t know about that, but they can worry about it later. He has the love of his life waiting for him at the bar top. Izuku all but runs to him, bobbing and weaving through strangers that shoot him strange looks and mutter about his impertinence. He wastes no time throwing his arms around Katsuki’s lithe waist when he reaches him. Katsuki is busy conversing with the bartender, but he does maneuver them so that his arm drapes over Izuku’s shoulders and Izuku nuzzles into his firm pec. The bartender leaves to retrieve his card, and only then does Katsuki look down at him. Izuku feels Katsuki’s chest shake as his breath stutters.
“Hi,” Izuku says, beaming up at him widely.
“Fuck,” Katsuki answers. His gaze is intense and serious. He swoops in and gives Izuku sweet, smacking kisses. “Fuck, look at you. Look at you.”
Katsuki buries his face in Izuku’s curls and breathes in deeply. Izuku’s belly swooshes. He follows the ridges of Katsuki’s back muscles with his fingers.
“You look real fuckin’ good in that, ‘Zuku,” Katsuki rasps in his ear.
Izuku keens, pressing his body flat against Katsuki’s. The bartender has to shout over the music to get their attention and Izuku is close enough to feel Katsuki’s growl of irritation. Izuku giggles. He slides his hand into Katsuki’s back pocket, giving his ass a nice squeeze.
“Come on,” Izuku urges. “Take me home.”
Katsuki nips at his cheek. “Don’t tell me what to do.”
He leads him out of the club dutifully anyway, hand in hand. The night air is so much cooler and quieter than the oppressive atmosphere of the club and Izuku drinks it in gratefully. He doesn’t miss the way Katsuki sneaks glances at him every few seconds. Izuku makes a note to steal his clothes more often if it will make Katsuki look at him this hungrily. God, Izuku needs him. He wonders if Katsuki still has an erection or if he’s lost it.
“Come on,” Izuku says again, tugging out of his grip suddenly. He breaks into a run. “Race you!”
“The fuck?” Katsuki shouts. “Cheater!”
Izuku cackles wildly. He almost trips, but keeps pushing on anyway, hearing Katsuki’s heavy footsteps following after him with a surge of childlike glee.
They race through the streets of Tokyo, ignoring the many nasty looks sent their way as Katsuki barks after him. Izuku ducks around couples holding hands, barely swerves past a teetering elderly man, and fuck it, he’s trying to win. He summons Blackwhip and grapples onto a streetlamp, swinging himself up into the air and soaring over the heads of a gawking gang of teens.
“Whoa!”
“Is that—?”
“Deku?”
He hears Katsuki roar in frustration.
“Two can play at that game, asshole!” he says. Crack, crack, boom! Izuku’s laughter is half a shriek. He latches onto a windowsill, swerving into the air to take a shortcut through a dingy alleyway. He doesn’t have to look back to know Katsuki is right on his tail. He smells the ashy smoke of his explosions and feels the heat of his presence at his back. It makes Izuku’s spine tingle.
Izuku reaches their apartment building first, but can’t justify using quirks in an enclosed space. He isn’t that awful of a neighbor. Still he pushes himself into a sprint, leaping up the stairs four at a time. He actually screams when he feels Katsuki’s hand on the back of his shirt.
“Kacchan!” he cries out, almost losing his balance. He wrenches out of his grip and scrambles forward.
“ Kacchan ,” Katsuki mocks with a snarl. His footsteps are heavy as he chases after him. “You’re dead, asshole.”
Sheer adrenaline pushes Izuku up the stairs at a near-frantic pace. As soon as they arrive on their floor, Izuku bolts for the door, shooting his hand out, reaching— Katsuki drags him back, spinning Izuku around roughly and kissing him hard as he shoves him up against the door of their apartment.
“Only won cuz I’m wearing leather pants for ya,” Katsuki says, breathing heavily between fervent kisses.
“Oh, is that it?” Izuku asks, teasing. “Not cuz you’re slow?”
Katsuki snarls into his mouth, teeth digging into Izuku’s bottom lip before their mouths come apart with a slick pop.
“I’ll fuckin’ get you next time,” he swears.
They stumble their way into the apartment, struggling to stay apart long enough to strip each other. Katsuki’s precious leather jacket is discarded in the genkan, their shirts are thrown haphazardly somewhere in the living room. Izuku rakes his hands over Katsuki’s body, relishing that finally, finally he’s allowed to touch. He takes both pecs in his hands and squeezes. They’re so fucking firm, he’s so fucking fit. Izuku’s fingers skitter down the ridges of Katsuki’s abs as he sighs into Katsuki’s mouth, pleased.
“You fuckin’ like that don’t you,” Katsuki whispers through kisses. He crowds him toward their bedroom, lithe hands scorching hot on Izuku’s bare chest.
“You look good,” Izuku answers.
“How good?” Katsuki asks. His fingers tweak a nipple and Izuku keens into it.
“So fucking good,” Izuku says, breathlessly. Izuku fumbles to undo Katsuki’s belt buckle. “You drove me nuts walking around looking like that.”
Katsuki smirks under his lips. “Yeah, I know. S’why I did it.”
“Fucker,” Izuku curses. He yanks off Katsuki’s belt with more force than necessary. “You asshole.”
Katsuki snickers. He helps Izuku peel him out of those leather pants before cupping Izuku’s face in his hands and humming into their next kiss.
“You shoulda done somethin’ about it sooner,” Katsuki says.
Izuku nods vigorously. “Yeah, definitely.”
Katsuki undoes the button on Izuku’s jeans and chokes. Izuku looks down and oh right, he forgot he was wearing panties. Izuku grins maniacally as he shimmies out of his jeans. Katsuki’s jaw is moving up and down, but no sound comes out. He’s a furious shade of red.
“You like them?” Izuku prods, when Katsuki doesn’t manage to speak for several seconds.
“Fuck, Izuku.” Katsuki touches the lacy edge of Izuku’s silky panties almost reverently and Izuku giggles. “Fuck, I didn’t even know you had these.”
Izuku shrugs. “Thought I might get lucky tonight.”
There’s something near-murderous in Katsuki’s gaze as it shoots up to meet Izuku’s.
“Oh yeah?” Katsuki says, low and gravelly. “You were gonna just let any extra grind up on you and take you home?”
“Was thinkin’ about it,” Izuku challenges, cocking his head to the side and popping a brow. “It’s been a while for me, you know.”
Katsuki’s kiss is more teeth and tongue than tenderness. He growls low in his throat as he kisses Izuku within an inch of his life.
“Too bad,” Katsuki snarls into his mouth. “You’re fuckin’ mine now, you got that? I ain’t letting anyone else have you.”
Izuku is positively gleeful as he’s kissed over and over again. Katsuki’s tongue slides over his own and Izuku moans shamelessly.
“Was always yours,” Izuku answers, breathless. “Yours from the beginning. Yours since forever.”
“Never letting you go,” Katsuki says it like a threat, instead of everything Izuku has ever wanted. Izuku grins and nods furiously.
Stripped down to their underwear, Katsuki hauls Izuku into the bedroom, shoving him onto the bed and promptly crawling on top of him. Izuku thrills. There’s so much bare skin to soak in; the weight of him is delicious and heavenly and so deeply satisfying that Izuku has to fight the tears back. He feels like he’s drowning in Katsuki. Katsuki’s breath puffs into Izuku’s mouth and Izuku drinks it in gratefully. God, Izuku just wants to be consumed by him.
“Fuck me,” Izuku orders. “I need it. I need you.”
Katsuki growls low in his throat. “Fuck, you do, don’t you? You want it that bad? Want my cock inside you?”
“ Yes ,” Izuku pleads, voice cracking. “Please, Kacchan!”
“I’ll give it to you,” Katsuki says, hushed into his mouth. He rocks their clothed cocks together, slowly, teasingly. “Gonna give you everything you want.”
Izuku whines. “I just want you.”
Katsuki grins, savage and triumphant. “Yeah?”
Izuku nods vigorously. “Yeah.”
“Good,” Katsuki says, kissing him twice before pushing off and fumbling through the drawer in his nightstand. Izuku hears the lube open with a crack and shivers in delight. Izuku lifts his hips as he yanks down his panties.
“Yes, yes, please, Kacchan,” he chants. “Wanted you so long, need you so bad.”
“Shhh,” Katsuki says. He kisses Izuku’s collarbones and hikes his leg up. “I’m gonna take care of you alright?”
Izuku nods frantically. Katsuki drizzles lube onto his clever fingers before reaching between Izuku’s legs. The first brush against Izuku’s entrance leaves Izuku gasping.
“Sensitive,” Katsuki accuses. He trails along the rim in tight circles, eyes fixed on Izuku’s expression. Izuku trembles.
“Been a while,” Izuku says again. He groans when Katsuki’s index finger prods him experimentally. “ Hng, fuck Kacchan.”
“Gonna ruin you,” Katsuki says, peppering Izuku’s throat with kisses. “You’re not gonna be able to think about being with anyone else after having me.”
“Just you,” Izuku promises, petting his hair and then yanking on it when Katsuki’s finger curls inside him. “Ah! Kacchan!”
“I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” Katsuki soothes. He leans up for a kiss and pumps his finger inside him. “Relax for me, baby.”
It’s easier when Izuku is told what to do. He takes a steadying breath in then out, imagining the tension draining away with it.
“Good boy,” Katsuki whispers. His free hand wanders up and down Izuku’s torso. “Breathe, just like that.”
They’ve barely started and Izuku is already feeling floaty, already somewhat lost in the sensations and whispers. Katsuki continues pumping inside him until Izuku's body goes entirely liquid and only then does he slip in a second. Izuku whimpers.
“You’re doing so good, ‘Zuku,” Katsuki tells him, hushed. “You feel fuckin’ incredible.”
Izuku’s hips buck against his will and the movement sends Katsuki’s fingers right into his prostate. Izuku cries out.
“Fuck! Kacchan! There!” Izuku says, face screwing up as pleasure pulses through him.
“Mmm,” Katsuki says, voice rumbling through them both. He adjusts his angle and hits the spot again. Izuku’s cock jumps. “You like that?”
“Yes, yes, Kacchan, just like that!” Izuku gasps and writhes underneath him. Katsuki pins him down with a broad, flat hand.
“Stay still,” he orders. Izuku whines. “Don’t be like that, I don’t wanna hurt you.”
Izuku huffs. “Kacchan, please.”
Katsuki growls, but dutifully begins scissoring his fingers. It really has been a while since Izuku has done this and the stretch burns. Izuku peeks down toward Katsuki’s still-clothed erection. Fuck, he knows he’s huge. Izuku’s mouth waters just thinking about it. Izuku adjusts so his leg slips between Katsuki’s, rubbing his knee against Katsuki’s erection experimentally.
“Shit, ‘Zu stop,” Katsuki grits through his teeth. His fingers curl inside Izuku as his expression twists. “Don’t wanna cum yet.”
“Kacchan, already?” Izuku says, helpless but to tease him.
“Shut the fuck up, you’ve been giving me blue balls every day for fuckin’ years! Of course I’m pent up,” Katsuki snaps. He sends Izuku a harsh glare and Izuku giggles.
“It’s cute,” Izuku says, kissing his forehead. “You really want me.”
Katsuki scoffs gently. “Yeah, no shit.”
He slips a third finger inside and ah! Izuku clutches onto him, hips rolling against his will. God he needs it, he needs to be fucked, preferably years ago. He curses himself for yearning like a fucking idiot when Katsuki was his all along. Izuku whimpers now, but it has nothing to do with Katsuki’s fingers inside him.
“I need you,” Izuku whispers. “We shoulda done this years ago. I shoulda— I wish I—If I knew you—”
“Shhhh don’t overthink it,” Katsuki says, smacking sweet kisses on his cheeks. “We’re here now. I have you now. S’all that matters.”
Izuku captures his mouth with his own, kissing him hungrily, kissing him for all the time they could have had.
“I love you,” Izuku whispers. He frames the nape of Katsuki’s neck with his hands, keeping him close. “Please fuck me.”
“Fuck, it’s like you’re tryina kill me,” Katsuki says. He slips a fourth finger in and Izuku whines, bucking his hips into it.
“Fuck, please, please,” Izuku chants. “ Please, Kacchan. No more waiting.”
“Shit, okay, alright,” Katsuki says, pushing himself off Izuku, fingers sliding out with a wet sucking sound. The rush of cold air makes Izuku shiver. Katsuki’s hands are slippery with lube and the condom slips out of his hands before he can tear it open. He curses.
“It’s a sign,” Izuku decides right then. “Fuck me raw.”
Katsuki blanches. “Izuku.”
“Kacchan,” Izuku echoes. “Wanna feel all of you.”
“Goddamn it,” Katsuki whispers, but he’s nodding. “Yeah, okay, baby, okay.”
Izuku is ecstatic and alive with triumph. His body buzzes with anticipation. Oh god, it’s really gonna happen, he’s going to have him. Years of yearning, hopelessly pining, a lifetime of love all narrowed down to this one moment.
“Hey,” Katsuki says, turning Izuku’s cheek with lube-wet fingers. “You with me? You alright?”
Izuku’s beam is all brilliance and unbridled joy.
“I’m great,” Izuku answers honestly. “I’m so happy.”
Katsuki smiles so sweetly Izuku might not have believed it if he didn’t see it for himself. Izuku wiggles his hips to get him back on task. Katsuki strips off his boxers and Jesus Christ he’s huge. Izuku’s mouth goes dry as Katsuki’s cock bobs under its own weight, the head pink and dribbling. Katsuki grips Izuku’s thighs and pries them apart, looming over him and aligning himself with Izuku’s entrance. Izuku can barely decide what he wants to see more: Katsuki’s face when he enters him or his cock as it disappears inside him.
Izuku looks up to meet his gaze, and oh. The eye contact pierces his very soul. Katsuki leans down and gives him a sweet, chaste kiss.
“Remember to breathe for me, baby,” Katsuki orders. Izuku nods fervently and ah! There he is, prodding at his entrance. Izuku locks his legs around Katsuki’s waist and shit! Oh, oh, oh fuck. Katsuki sinks into him slowly and the stretch aches. He’s so much bigger than anything Izuku’s ever taken before. Already tears prick at the corner of his eyes. Fuck. Izuku’s nails dig into the meat of Katsuki’s shoulders.
“Fucking breathe,” Katsuki wheezes, one hand braced on Izuku’s waist, the other pressing his knee to the mattress. Izuku gulps in air and nods. Katsuki pets his torso up and down, thumb teasing past a nipple. “That’s it baby.”
Izuku clenches at the pet name and Katsuki curses.
“You’re so fucking tight,” Katsuki hisses. He sinks into him further and white flashes behind Izuku’s eyes. There! Oh fuck, the head of Katsuki’s cock brushes past Izuku’s prostate and Izuku throws his head back, crying out.
“ Hah, fuck, oh fuck, Kacchan,” Izuku wheezes. His nails rake across his back, trying to pull him in further. His legs tremble around Katsuki. “You’re so fucking big.”
Katsuki chokes. He nuzzles into Izuku’s throat, his teeth grazing past the skin before sinking into a punishing bite. Izuku shudders. Katsuki sucks the bite in apology, hips rolling and sinking in even further, and oh fuck, he’s still going? Spots crowd in the corners of Izuku’s eyes as his body adjusts. Katsuki shushes and pets his hair. Finally, finally Katsuki’s hips touch the back of Izuku’s thighs. God, he’s buried so deep inside Izuku swears he can feel him in every particle of his being. His ankles dig into the small of Katsuki’s back.
“Hhh my god,” Izuku whispers. He cards a hand through Katsuki’s hair, pulling his head back to look at his face properly. Katsuki’s pupils are so blown out they look entirely black. He’s panting hard, his swollen mouth pink and parted. Izuku can feel him trembling with the effort of staying still. Izuku pets his hair and coos. “It’s okay, love. You can move.”
Katsuki’s face screws up. He releases a small, pained sound that sounds startlingly close to a sob. He shifts, propping himself up on his elbows on either side of Izuku’s head. He rolls his hips experimentally and god fucking damn he’s so deep inside him. Izuku feels so full, so complete. His smile is somewhat dazed.
“Wow,” he whispers. Katsuki's next thrust punches the words out of him. “Oh fuck, oh god, Kacchan.”
Katsuki fucks him with a steady, even rhythm and it’s so fucking good. Of course it’s good. Katsuki is good at everything he does, why should sex be any different? Izuku is so overwhelmed with pleasure and love and Katsuki that he’s sobbing within seconds.
“So fucking good, so fucking good to me,” Izuku is babbling and has no intention of stopping. Katsuki sucks the tears off his cheeks as he fucks him. “Mmph, fuck, yes, yes.”
“Mmm,” Katsuki hums, cock pumping in and out of him all the while. He grips Izuku’s thighs and rolls him back, plunging in even further and Izuku shouts.
“Fuck!” Izuku cries. “Kacchan!”
“I’m here, baby,” Katsuki says. He fucks him faster now, pounding into him relentlessly, the head of his cock hitting Izuku’s prostate just perfectly. Colors burst behind Izuku’s eyes at every thrust. “I’ve got you.”
Izuku feels his orgasm building. Tears trail down his cheeks, his moans are torn from him on every exhale. His nipples tighten and his cock tenses. Too quickly, it’s going to be over too quickly. Izuku blinks rapidly and locks eyes with Katsuki. Katsuki’s hand slides between Izuku’s legs and grabs Izuku’s neglected cock. Izuku sobs.
“Kacchan, I’m—”
It hits him like a tidal wave, plunging him off the deep end and swallowing him up in the most intense orgasm Izuku has ever known. Powerful, pulsing pleasure drowns everything else out. It wracks through Izuku, wave after cresting wave. Izuku floats far above his body, mind blissfully blank and buzzing. He barely registers Katsuki’s broken groan and the hot cum spilling inside him. Katsuki collapses on top of him, breathing hard and coated in sweat. Izuku drifts back into himself, slowly, slowly coming down from his high. He embraces Katsuki, burying his face in his shoulder and breathing in deeply.
Izuku couldn’t tell you how long they spent laying together like that: engulfed in one another, Katsuki still sheathed inside, the sweat and cum cooling between them. It should feel gross, might feel gross later. Izuku is still tingling with the rush of endorphins.
“Christ,” Katsuki mutters, after what must be nearly a half hour. He turns his head and places a sloppy kiss on Izuku’s cheek. “How’s that for overrated?”
Izuku snorts. Then giggles. Then full-belly laughs as he squeezes Katsuki. He seizes Katsuki’s face and kisses him wildly.
“I’ve seen the light,” Izuku announces, and Katsuki’s mad cackling laughter has never sounded so happy, so free. Izuku smushes kisses all over his giggling face and thinks if he loved Katsuki anymore he might actually burst from it. Katsuki preens under his praise.
“I’m pretty good, huh?” he says, all too smug.
“Kacchan is the best,” Izuku answers, muffled into Katsuki’s cheek. Katsuki meets Izuku’s kisses with his mouth. Once, twice, and then Katsuki’s head is tilting and their tongues are tangling. Arousal is already stirring in Izuku’s gut again. Izuku clutches onto Katsuki’s shoulders and rolls his hips experimentally. Katsuki’s cock twitches inside him; his gasp is so sweet.
“Fuck, ‘Zu,” he whispers. “Fuckin’ sensitive.”
Izuku is too, but soon enough they’re heatedly making out again. He can feel Katsuki’s cock filling inside him and grins.
“I could use some more convincing though,” Izuku whispers.
“Fuck,” Katsuki says. Izuku surges upward, rolling Katsuki onto his back. God Izuku loves having him like this. Thick biceps, defined pecs, and taut lines of abdominals all spread out like a feast ready for Izuku to devour. All Izuku’s. His hands wander over the ridges of Katsuki’s abs, watching the goosebumps rise in his wake. Katsuki’s nipples stiffen as Izuku’s fingers creep toward them. Izuku grins; Katsuki’s mouth is pressed into a strange line.
“You’re beautiful, Kacchan,” Izuku tells him. He cups both pecs in his hands before leaning in and pressing his face between them. Katsuki shivers.
“Perv,” he scoffs. Izuku laughs.
He gives Katsuki’s nipple a cheeky kiss and Katsuki actually whines. Izuku thinks it’s the loveliest sound he’s ever heard. He bites the nub lightly and Katsuki jerks underneath him.
“Oi!” Katsuki says, voice raspy.
“Mmmm,” Izuku says, laving his tongue up the line of Katsuki’s cleavage. “Tastes good, Kacchan.”
“You’re depraved,” Katsuki says. Izuku doesn’t miss the warble in his voice or the way his chest heaves under his mouth. Katsuki’s blunt fingernails drag up and down Izuku’s back, pausing only to trail along the lines of his scars. Izuku shivers under his touch.
“Kacchan asked for it,” Izuku says. He follows the ripples of Katsuki’s abs with his fingers. “Always showing off, never letting me touch.”
Katsuki scoffs. “What was I supposed to do? Grab your hands and put them on me?”
Izuku sucks a nipple into his mouth and Katsuki’s back arches off the bed. “Maybe.”
“Fuckin’ I gotta do everything around here,” Katsuki grumbles. Izuku laughs so hard he comes off his pec with a pop. He must clench on Katsuki’s cock because Katsuki’s hips buck and oh! A bloom of pleasure floods Izuku with warmth. Ah, it really is so fucking nice. Izuku can’t believe he ever said this was overrated.
“Fuck, Izuku,” Katsuki breathes.
Izuku grinds on him. He’s still a bit sore from round one, but pushes on and soon enough the ache melts into a sweet sort of satisfaction. Izuku forces himself up, up onto his knees until only the head of Katsuki’s cock is inside him, lube and cum drooling out his hole and over Katsuki’s dick as he does. And then he sits back down on it with a harsh snap. Katsuki grips his hips with bruising force, swearing profusely.
“Holy shit, fucking really?” Katsuki says.
“Kacchan’s fault,” Izuku whispers. “Fucked me too good. Need it again, need it now.”
“‘Zuku,” Katsuki breathes, but Izuku can feel his cock hardening inside him. A dark surge of greed pools low in his belly. Thank god for Izuku’s powerful legs. Izuku bounces on his cock: slick, wet sloppy sounds fill the room as their flesh slaps together. It’s so messy. Cum leaks out of Izuku’s ass as he rams it down on Katsuki’s cock over and over again. Katsuki’s hips jump off the bed and ah!
“Yes, there!” Izuku says. Katsuki takes two fistfuls of Izuku’s ass, pulling him onto his cock, changing the angle until Izuku is seeing stars at every thrust. “Yes, fuck me, fuck me.”
“Touch yourself,” Katsuki grits out. Izuku fists a hand over his dick as Katsuki pounds into him. Izuku’s thighs burn, but he keeps going. He’s determined to give Katsuki what he’s given him. He wants to blow his mind with how good he can be for Katsuki. He must say at least some of this aloud because Katsuki scoffs.
“You’re so fucking dumb,” Katsuki says. “You already blew my mind. Seein’ you move in that club blew my mind. Fuckin’ rubbing up against that thick ass of yours blew my mind.”
Izuku grins. Katsuki’s praise goes straight to his cock, stiffening in his fist.
“What else?” Izuku demands.
“Greedy,” Katsuki accuses. His fingers dig into the plush flesh of Izuku’s ass. “This. Bein’ inside you blows my mind.”
Inside you. God, it strikes Izuku how intimately they are joined. Izuku’s done it, somehow, after all these years of chasing, wanting, yearning for him. Izuku has Katsuki right where he wants him. Under him, in him, belonging to him. And Katsuki loves him. Tears fill his eyes as warm and tender feelings billow through his chest. Katsuki snorts.
“What are you crying about now?” Katsuki asks, sounding soft despite himself.
“Just love you,” Izuku says, sniffling. The tears dribble down his cheeks and join the mess of lube and cum between them. “Love having you. Love knowing that you’re mine.”
Katsuki’s face screws up, eyes strangely misty.
“Fuck, that too, yeah,” Katsuki says, hoarsely. He furrows his brow and increases the pace, fucking him urgently. He thrusts up and pulls Izuku onto his cock roughly at once. Izuku gasps so hard it’s half a rasp. “All of it. Everything.”
Izuku rides him as best he can, but Katsuki has taken over now. Izuku lurches forward, one hand propping him up, his sweat-damp curls falling in his face. He works his hand over his cock and pants heavily as tears trail down his cheeks.
“Love this, love you,” Izuku whispers. Katsuki watches his cock disappear into Izuku’s ass with fierce intensity. “Yes, Kacchan, yes .”
Katsuki slams into him so hard that Izuku’s thighs sting at the force of it. The pap, pap, pap of their flesh hitting together is so sharp and satisfying. Izuku’s moans warble out of him in the rhythm of their fucking.
“So fuckin’ cute,” Katsuki hisses. “Look at you. You fuckin’ needed this.”
“Yes, yes Kacchan, needed it so bad,” Izuku babbles. His thighs are on fucking fire, but he doesn’t dare stop. He arches his back, pre-cum dribbles over his hand as he pumps himself. Katsuki snaps his hips and Izuku’s mind goes fuzzy. “Needed you, always needed you.”
“You got me,” Katsuki whispers. “Fuck. I’m gonna—”
“Yes, cum for me, cum inside,” Izuku says, all in a rush. “Cum for me, love.”
Katsuki pounds into him, rough and urgent and Izuku’s mind is reeling. A burst of sticky warmth spurts inside him and Izuku’s toes curl as Katsuki moans through it. Izuku is quick to follow after, pumping his hand furiously over his aching cock. His release is so sweet, so satiating that Izuku’s bones tremble with it. Izuku’s cum splatters over his Katsuki’s chest, a bit of it hitting the bottom of his chin.
“Fuck, I can’t, I can’t—” Katsuki rolls Izuku off him, sliding out of Izuku with a squelch. Izuku whines and Katsuki shushes him. Izuku grabs at him blindly. “Yeah, yeah, c’mere.”
Izuku’s orgasm continues to buzz through him as Katsuki gathers him into his arms. Izuku hums happily, nuzzling into the warmth of Katsuki’s throat. Katsuki kisses the side of his head. Izuku sighs, deeply content.
“Thank you,” Izuku says, a little slurred.
Katsuki snorts. “Don’t fuckin’ thank me for this, weirdo.”
They let the cum cool between them, simply drinking in the afterglow. Snuggling is so much better now that they’re together properly. Izuku hadn’t realized how strung-out and strained his yearning had left him. It’s only now that Izuku is freed from it does he realize how heavily it had weighed on him. He’s free to melt into Katsuki’s embrace. Free to pepper kisses over Katsuki’s cheeks, lick the cum off his chin, nip at his earlobe, and suck a hickey into his throat. Katsuki grunts.
“We ain’t goin’ again,” Katsuki warns him.
Izuku giggles. “Aww, Kacchan.”
“Don’t ‘aww Kacchan’ me,” Katsuki says. He kisses Izuku’s forehead. “Give me an hour, Jesus.”
Izuku brightens. “Really?”
Katsuki snorts. He cards a hand through Izuku’s hair, his gaze soft and amused.
“You really have been starved for it,” he mutters. Izuku shakes his head.
“It’s just because it’s you,” Izuku declares.
Katsuki kisses him soundly. Izuku threads his fingers through his hair, tilting him to kiss him deeper, and Katsuki groans.
“You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me,” Katsuki whispers, and Izuku laughs and laughs.
Hours later, Izuku is perched on the island counter top in their kitchen, feet kicking in the air as Katsuki beats pancake batter to a pulp. Izuku is grinning at the barrage of texts that their friends have sent him.
“They’re mad we ditched,” Izuku announces. “Todoroki has been pouting all night. He wants us to come back.”
“Fuck ‘em,” Katsuki says, definitively. “Absolutely not.”
Izuku giggles. “No?”
“You wanna waddle on out of here?” Katsuki says, shooting him a knowing smirk. Izuku kicks him in the thigh and Katsuki elbows him back sharply.
“Someone threw up on Momo’s new shoes,” Izuku says.
“Tragic,” Katsuki deadpans.
Izuku gasps. “Holy shit! Iida wore the same crop top as you!”
Katsuki’s face screws up in disgust. “Fuck you, no he didn’t.”
Izuku presents the photo to him and Katsuki gags.
“I wore it better,” Katsuki says.
“Well, duh,” Izuku says, and Katsuki’s hand fists in the front of his shirt, yanking him down for a kiss. Izuku’s toes curl in the air.
“Don’t sass me when I’m cooking for you,” Katsuki mutters with no heat.
Izuku rolls his eyes fondly.
“My handsome Kacchan,” Izuku coos. He cups his precious Kacchan’s face in his hands, just because he can. “He cooks, he cleans, he looks good. I hit the jackpot.”
Katsuki breaks into a grin. “Yeah, you did.”
Izuku drapes his arms around Katsuki’s shoulders, leaning down for another kiss. He hooks his legs around him to keep him in place. They only part when Izuku’s stomach rumbles. Katsuki scowls at Izuku’s belly like it deeply offends him.
“Did you eat anything before goin’ out?” Katsuki demands.
“Nah,” Izuku says, cheerily. “Wanted to get drunk faster.”
Katsuki shakes his head with a tch . Izuku thumbs the crease between Katsuki’s brows.
“Would you go out again?” Izuku asks. “To make it up to them?”
Katsuki wrinkles his nose, mouth cinching into a frown. Izuku pouts and bats his eyelashes; Katsuki sighs heavily.
“Yeah, whatever,” Katsuki says, dismissively. “Glasses needs to buy a new outfit.”
Izuku laughs. He kisses Katsuki’s forehead three times in a row.
“Kacchan is the best,” he declares. Katsuki hums in acknowledgement.
“You ain’t dancin’ with anyone but me though,” Katsuki warns him.
“Oh yeah? Gonna keep me all to yourself?” Izuku says, in a low voice. Kasuki grips his hips, fingernails digging into his flesh.
“You’re mine,” Katsuki grouses. “And I ain’t fuckin’ sharing.”
Izuku hums, pleased.
“No sharing,” he agrees.
Katsuki kisses him with heat and greed. Izuku cards his hands through Katsuki’s hair, moaning softly into it.
“You’re distracting me,” Katsuki comments.
“Mmm, good,” Izuku says. His phone buzzes on the counter over and over. Incoming call. Katsuki breaks away.
“You better get that,” Katsuki says. He ducks down and retrieves the frying pan from the bottom drawer. Izuku pouts at his phone. It’s Uraraka.
“Oohhhooooo he’s awakeeee,” Uraraka sings into the phone, very clearly drunk. Izuku can hear Mina shrieking in the background, along with Jirou’s bright laughter.
“Are you guys coming back?” Mina pleads in a whine.
“No, we’re not coming back,” Izuku says patiently.
“Boo, you whore,” Uraraka says.
“Watch it, Round Cheeks, I can fuckin’ hear you,” Katsuki snaps, pointing the frying pan at the phone threateningly. Izuku bites his lip. He wishes he’d get over here. The three-foot span between the island countertop and the stove is simply too much distance between them. He puts Uraraka on speaker, setting the phone on the counter beside him.
“Jesus, relax it's Mean Girls!” Uraraka cries. “Deku-kun, are you ever gonna educate that man of yours?”
“Mmmm,” Izuku says, too busy eyeing up Katsuki to really absorb what she’s saying. He watches his biceps flex as he pours pancake batter into the frying pan. It’s nice that he can openly stare now, even nicer that the bare expanse of Katsuki’s back is decorated with scratches and deep bite marks.
That man of mine , he thinks. Mine, mine, mine . Katsuki shoots him a look over his shoulder.
“You’re mumbling, nerd,” he warns.
“Whoops,” Izuku says, blushing. “Sorry.”
“The dick broke his brain,” Uraraka announces, clearly not speaking to Izuku. There’s a chorus of cheers in the background. Izuku hears the sounds of a scuffle. “Hey, Todo— hey!”
“Midoriya, I insist you come back out,” Todoroki’s voice comes after a moment of struggle.
“Oh, hi Todoroki-kun,” Izuku says, not missing the way Katsuki sneers and flips over a pancake aggressively. “No, we’re not coming back.”
“You didn’t even wait for me,” Todoroki says, audibly sulking.
“Sorry,” Izuku says, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “We uh, had things to do.”
“They fucked in the bathroom!” Mina announces in a sing-song.
Izuku stammers and flushes red-hot. Katsuki sighs through his nose irritably.
“Like I’d let our first time be in a shithole,” Katsuki mutters. If Izuku’s ass wasn’t so sore he’d leap off the counter and embrace him.
“Kacchan is so romantic,” Izuku coos. “We’re going to plan another night to go out, okay Todoroki-kun?”
Todoroki huffs into the receiver. He is such an adorably pouty drunk.
“Wanted to see Bakugou dance,” he mutters.
Izuku hums knowingly. “And you will. Next time.”
“Midoriya-kun!” Iida’s voice cuts through easily, and Izuku can see in his mind's eye the way he karate-chops when he lectures. “It is extremely poor etiquette to invite friends out and not hang out with them!”
Todoroki makes a noise of agreement. Katsuki snorts.
“Sorry, it was an emergency,” Izuku says and Katsuki barks out a laugh, shooting him a grin over his shoulder. Izuku cocks his brow at him mischievously. “It was extremely urgent.”
“Having sex with Bakugou isn’t an emergency!” Uraraka cuts in.
Izuku hears their friends cackle in the background.
“It won’t happen again,” Izuku vows. Katsuki sends him a sharp look. “It might happen again. But we’ll make sure we spend time with all of you before we go!”
“Was it worth ditchin’ all your friends for?” Mina’s voice comes next, high-pitched and teasing.
Izuku gives Katsuki a once-over, a wave of pleasure rolling over him as the memories echo back to him.
“Absolutely,” he answers.
Mina titters excitedly. “Ohhh my god tell us everything!”
“Aha, I dunno about that,” Izuku says, scratching his cheek nervously.
“You ditched! You owe us deets!” Mina insists.
“Can it, Pinky! He doesn’t owe you shit!” Katsuki shouts. He flips another pancake over with a sizzle and Izuku smiles at him happily.
“He’s making me pancakes,” Izuku tells her. “How’s that for deets?”
“Awww!” Mina squeals. “That’s so cute!”
Todoroki sighs. “We could’ve gotten pancakes together.”
“Whiny ass motherfucker,” Katsuki mutters. Izuku giggles.
“I’ll make it up to you,” Izuku promises. “I needed some alone time with Kacchan tonight.”
“Public indecency is a crime, Midoriya-kun! Please learn to have some discretion!” Iida shouts.
“Holy shit, we didn’t fuck in the bathroom!” Katsuki snaps. “We fucked in a bed like goddamn adults!”
“And a shower,” Izuku adds. “Like adults.”
Katsuki’s ears flush a bright red. Todoroki hums in acknowledgment.
“Take care of him, Bakugou,” Todoroki says, like a warning. Katsuki lurches.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!” Katsuki roars. “I take care of his ass all the time!”
Izuku hears the phone being handed over and Uraraka sighs heavily into the receiver.
“Okay, geez sorry,” Uraraka says. “But seriously, you’re all good?”
“Never better,” Izuku answers honestly. Mina giggles shrilly in the background. “You guys were right, by the way.”
“That you were definitely lying about not trying to seduce him?” Uraraka says, sounding unbearably smug.
Izuku jolts.
“What?” he snaps. “No! I didn’t! Uraraka-san!”
Katsuki’s shoulders shake with his snicker. “‘S okay. I don’t mind.”
“I didn’t seduce him,” Izuku insists. He doesn’t like the way that sounds. Like he’s corrupted Katsuki somehow, taken something that doesn’t belong to him when nothing could be further from the truth. Katsuki turns to give him an incredulous look and Izuku is filled with sudden resolve. “I didn’t have to. He was mine all along.”
Katsuki tenses. Uraraka makes a retching sound. He hears the others cheering in the background. Katsuki lunges over and hangs up the phone.
“Kacchan—”
Katsuki’s arms wrap around his waist, dragging him off the countertop and sweeping him into an embrace. Izuku clings to him, laughing as Katsuki spins him around and around the kitchen. Izuku’s ankle hits the knob of a drawer, and Katsuki’s feet almost slip out from under them, but it’s perfect. It’s just perfect. Izuku is kissed breathless before he’s set on his feet. Katsuki beams at him, eyes aglow with triumph.
“About time you figured that out,” Katsuki says, fondly.
Izuku’s lips spread into a slow, sweet grin. Happy tears fill his eyes and roll down his cheeks. Katsuki kisses his face.
(The pancake burns on the stovetop, forgotten.)