Despite Everything

by etelvina

Summary:

When Izuku "Deku" Midoriya gets paired with basketball team captain Katsuki Bakugou for a class project, it should be a disaster. Instead, late nights turn quiet, lingering looks turn dangerous, and years of unspoken feelings finally surface. Pining is easy — dealing with what comes after might break them.

Chapter 1: Trigger

Notes:

I'm sorry to the people who subscribed because I only write one-shots. This was supposed to be one too, but I got carried away and it now has nine chapters...

Heh... enjoy anyway. (I started writing this after watching High School Musical)

PS. Been gone for a while. Got a bkdk tattoo tho hope that makes it better

 

☽☽☽

 

Katsuki Bakugou, the captain of the basketball team, and somehow that fact feels less like a title and more like a law of nature. Like gravity.

He walks down the hallway, and the space just opens for him without anyone meaning to move, voices lowering, eyes following. Teachers pretend not to notice when he skips homework, and everyone whispers and giggles like he's something out of a movie.

Everyone wants to be with him or be him.

He barely scrapes by academically; everyone knows it, but nobody really cares. He's good at what matters to them. He wins games. He looks good doing it. That's enough.

To everyone else, Katsuki is this larger-than-life thing.

To Izuku, he's just the boy next door.

The one whose bedroom window faces his, close enough that on quiet nights Izuku can see the glow of his lamp through the leaves of the old tree between their houses.

The same tree they used to climb as kids, scraping their knees and laughing like idiots, treating the branches like a secret bridge, only they were brave enough to cross. It's weird how someone can be a childhood memory and a problem at the same time.

Because Katsuki is also his bully. Has been for years.

Middle school is where it really started. Where Izuku went from quiet and awkward to useless Deku. The kid everyone stepped over without thinking.

The nickname spread fast, sticky, and gross, and no matter how much he pretended it didn't bother him, it followed him everywhere. By the time high school started, it was already carved into him.

People don't even hesitate anymore.

The basketball team especially loves it. They say Deku like it's his actual name, like they're in on some inside joke he never agreed to. Every time it lands, it feels less sharp than before, more dull and familiar, like pressing on an old bruise just to check if it still hurts.

The first time someone else called him Deku in front of Katsuki, Izuku noticed the smallest thing, that quick tightening of Katsuki's mouth, like he's annoyed. Not angry, not protective. Just... bothered.

He didn't say anything. Didn't stop them. Just looked away.

Izuku tells himself it didn't mean anything. Still, it lingers in his head longer than it should.

Not everyone on the team is awful, though. He clings to that thought like it's proof the world isn't completely rotten. Eijirou, Denki, Hanata. They're loud and kind of dumb in a harmless way, always orbiting the team but never fully joining in when things get mean.

When Izuku gets cornered, they step in with clumsy jokes or sudden topic changes, like they're pretending not to rescue him while very obviously rescuing him.

Eijirou sticks especially close to Katsuki. Best friend close. The kind of close where they don't even have to talk much. And Katsuki actually listens to him, which feels unreal every time Izuku sees it, like spotting a glitch in reality.

Izuku never thought Katsuki would have someone he trusts like that. Someone who likes him without being scared. It makes something in his chest twist in a way he doesn't really want to examine.

After a while, the bullying just... blended into the background.

His locker gets dumped out, and he crouches down to pick everything up, calm and mechanical, like he's cleaning up after himself.

His desk gets covered in marker, and he scrubs it off before class starts.

Shoulders slam into him in the hallway, and he barely reacts, just sways with the impact and keeps walking.

If he doesn't react, they get bored faster. 

Katsuki isn't even the worst anymore. He doesn't lead it like he used to. He just exists nearby, watching sometimes, saying nothing.

No more grabbing his collar or shoving him into lockers like back then, no loud scenes that make half the hallway stop and stare. It's different now.

He sticks to muttered insults, the kind that slide under Izuku's skin and stay there all day, or those long, heavy stares that feel like being pinned in place.

Sometimes he just watches while someone else messes with Izuku, arms crossed, expression unreadable, like he's observing something mildly annoying instead of... whatever this is supposed to be.

Now it's mostly Monoma with his smug smile and constant commentary, Shindo laughing like everything's hilarious, and Camie and Toga trailing behind them in their cheer uniforms, treating the whole thing like entertainment. Like Izuku's just some background character they can poke for fun between practice and games.

There's no real reason for it. No big dramatic hatred.

And Izuku gets used to it, which might be the worst part. He moves through the days quietly, shoulders hunched, hands tucked into his sleeves, pretending it doesn't matter. Pretending he doesn't remember when Katsuki used to climb that tree and knock on his window just to hang out.

Izuku doesn't question too much why Katsuki isn't constantly bothering anymore. Less of Katsuki's attention is safer. Easier.

But sometimes his brain wanders anyway, circling the past like it's trying to find a crack where everything broke. Because they weren't always like this. They used to be stupidly close, the kind of close that makes adults smile and say you'll be friends forever.

Always at each other's houses, sharing snacks, whispering about heroes and games and whatever random nerdy thing Izuku got obsessed with that week. Katsuki used to lean in and listen, actually interested, eyes bright and impatient as if they were both racing toward the same dream.

Back then, Izuku never doubted it. It felt permanent, natural. Like breathing. Somehow that turned into this, and he still doesn't know how.

The messed-up part is that he doesn't hate Katsuki. He tries sometimes, thinks it would be easier if he could just be angry and done with it, but the feeling never sticks. It's like his heart refuses to cooperate.

Because underneath everything, buried deep and stubborn, he's always liked Katsuki. Not just a childhood friend liked. Something worse. Softer. A feeling that makes no sense, considering all the ways Katsuki has hurt him over the years.

It's embarrassing, honestly. Sometimes it's faint enough that he can pretend it's gone, like maybe he finally grew out of it.

Then Katsuki laughs at something, or brushes past him in the hallway, stands too close during gym class, and the feeling comes rushing back like it never left. Izuku ends up staring for a second too long before forcing himself to look away.

He keeps trying to shove it down, tuck it into the back of his mind where all the inconvenient stuff goes. It never stays there.

So yeah. He's just like everyone else, in a way. Another person caught up in Katsuki without meaning to be.

Whatever.

Only two more years until graduation. That's what he tells himself when things get heavy. Two years and then he's out of here, off to somewhere new where Katsuki is just a memory and not a daily problem.

Schoolwork has never been hard for him anyway. Studying makes sense. Numbers and notes don't randomly turn on you. If he focuses on that, keeps his head down, and survives, he'll be fine.

Except right now, he's really not feeling fine.

Biology is about to start, and Izuku's already got that tight, restless feeling sitting under his skin. The classroom is loud, chairs scraping, people half-shouting across rows, someone laughing too hard at a joke.

He stares down at his notebook, pretending to read over yesterday's notes, pen rolling between his fingers. They got a new teacher recently. Young and suspiciously cheerful.

In Izuku's experience, there are only two types of new teachers. The ones who actually get teenagers and don't push too much, and the ones who show up armed with color-coded planners and way too much motivation, ready to turn every week into a project.

Unfortunately, his class got the second kind.

"Hello, guys!"

The greeting slices straight through his thoughts. He looks up and watches Mrs. Kurogane sweep into the room with a bright smile, like it's the middle of the day instead of first period.

She digs into her bag, pulls out a thick stack of papers, and slams them onto the teacher's desk with a sharp thud that makes half the class flinch. Way too energetic, way too awake.

"As I already mentioned last lesson, you guys will soon team up with someone and make a presentation based on one of the topics I picked out for you. Your grade for it will count as an exam," she says with a bright smile. "Since last week, I put the groups together and printed out material to help each one of you start."

Team up. Presentation. Exam grade.

Izuku exhales quietly through his nose. Of course, it's group work. It's always group work with teachers like her. He already knows how this goes. He'll do all the research, all the slides, all the talking, while the other person just nods along and still gets the same grade.

Annoying, yeah, but manageable. If he does everything himself, at least he knows it'll be good.

She pulls out a single sheet and begins reading names, pairing people as she marks attendance at the same time. One by one, students shuffle around, dragging chairs, complaining or laughing depending on their luck.

Izuku waits for his name, shoulders tight but resigned. Whoever it is, he'll handle it. He always does.

"Lastly, Izuku Midoriya and Katsuki Bakugou."

His mind blanks.

Not slowly. Not dramatically. Just... gone.

His pen stops mid-roll. His heart skips, then starts hammering way too hard. Around him, the noise dies down like someone turned the volume knob. Conversations cut off. He can feel people looking.

Everyone knows.

The whole school knows about him and Katsuki. Teachers usually avoid pairing them on purpose. Apparently, no one warned her.

Then, from the seat right in front of him comes a single word.

"No." Flat, immediate, said without hesitation.

Mrs. Kurogane raises an eyebrow and looks at the blond, confused.

"No?"

"No, I'm not going to work with that useless Deku." Katsuki's voice gets firmer now.

The word useless is sharp and dismissive, spat out like it leaves a bad taste in his mouth, like Izuku is something beneath consideration.

Izuku's gaze drops to his desk fast. His face burns even though he tells himself it shouldn't. It's nothing new. He's heard worse. Still, it crawls under his skin anyway.

The teacher's face turns into a frown. "Bakugou, that's enough. You shouldn't say things like that." Her tone is reprimanding but controlled, the kind people use when they're trying to stay patient.

Katsuki scoffs and crosses his arms in front of his chest. "What's the big deal? Just pair me up with someone else." He sounds irritated, like this is a minor inconvenience ruining his day, like switching partners should be obvious, and Izuku is just a problem to get rid of.

There's a pause. A small one, but Izuku feels every second of it. She actually considers it.

Then her eyes move to him.

And he knows exactly what she sees. Shoulders hunched in, hands twisting in his sleeves, posture stiff like he's bracing for something. He's trying so hard to look unaffected that it probably makes it worse. He's visibly uncomfortable. 

Mrs. Kurogane watches Katsuki, eyes narrowing just a touch, the friendly teacher's look slipping into something sharper, more assessing.

Then she lowers herself into her chair behind the desk with slow, controlled movements, hands folding neatly on the surface. The whole thing feels deliberate, calm in that quiet, adult way that usually means she's already made up her mind.

"No means no. You can't get everything you want in life; that's not how it works. Work with him, or you'll fail." Her voice stays even and steady, not raised, not angry, just solid and final, each word placed carefully so there's no room for negotiation.

The message lands hard anyway.

Katsuki's posture tightens. His shoulders pull back, jaw setting, tongue clicking against his teeth in clear irritation. The sound is sharp, impatient. Then he turns away and stares out the window, gaze fixed somewhere outside, refusing to acknowledge either of them, shutting the whole thing out on purpose.

Izuku swallows. His throat feels dry, tight. He rubs his damp palms against his pants under the desk, slow and nervous, hoping nobody notices.

Oh god.

He really has to do this.

There's no sudden miracle where the teacher laughs and changes her mind. No escape. Just him and Katsuki, paired together for an exam project. The thought sits heavy in his stomach.

Mrs. Kurogane claps her hands lightly, tells everyone to start working, and the classroom immediately bursts into motion. Chairs scrape back. People stand, shuffle across the room, and call out to their partners. Conversations overlap until everything blends into one messy hum.

Everyone gets up. Everyone except them.

Izuku stays seated. Katsuki stays seated.

The dumb part is that Katsuki wouldn't even have to move far. He'd only need to turn his chair around. That's it. One small motion.

The space between them stretches, heavy and awkward. Izuku stares at the back of Katsuki's chair, at the uneven spikes of blond hair, trying to gather enough courage to say something normal. Something simple. His hand lifts a little, hovering, ready to tap his shoulder.

Before he can, footsteps stop beside them.

"Bakugou, let's go and talk outside for a minute," Her smile is polite and soft, but her eyes stay focused and firm. This isn't optional, even though she phrases it nicely. "Midoriya, here are some notes to get you started on your project," she now addresses him and puts down a few sheets of paper. "Bakugou will be back with you in just a second." Her tone shifts warmer when she talks to him, careful and reassuring, as if she's trying to steady him without making it obvious.

Katsuki shoves his chair back hard. The legs screech against the floor, loud and jarring, and Izuku flinches before he can stop himself, shoulders jumping at the noise.

Katsuki stands in one quick, annoyed motion, movements rough and impatient, then walks out with her without sparing Izuku a glance, steps heavy with frustration.

The door slides shut behind them, and the noise of the class rushes back in around him.

Izuku finally exhales, slow and shaky. He hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath. His shoulders sag a little. He rubs his hands together, then shakes his head once, trying to reset his thoughts, trying to act normal even though his heart is still racing.

It's just a project. That's all.

He looks down at the papers on his desk, fingers brushing the edges. Something solid to focus on. Something safe. Work he understands.

 

CRISPR-Cas9: Gene Editing and Its Applications.

The title sits bold at the top of the first page.

Izuku stares at it, letting the words settle in his head. Gene editing. DNA sequences. Practical applications. Stuff he actually understands. No hidden meanings, no emotional landmines. Just science.

Honestly... it should be easy enough to do alone.

He's already halfway planning it in his head: an introduction slide, the mechanism, ethical concerns, real-world uses, mapping the structure automatically, the way he always does.

If Katsuki refuses to participate, fine. He'll just handle everything himself and turn it in. Wouldn't be the first time.

The classroom door slides open again.

The sound pulls him out of his thoughts. He looks up and sees Mrs. Kurogane walk in first, still wearing a small, composed smile. Katsuki follows behind her with the exact opposite expression, mouth set in a hard line, brows drawn together.

He looks pissed. More than before.

Izuku's stomach twists.

Katsuki heads straight back toward his desk. On the way, his eyes meet Izuku's. Just for a second. His gaze narrows, sharp and unreadable, something heavy sitting behind it. Izuku looks away a bit too late, caught in it.

Then everything happens fast.

Katsuki grabs his empty chair in front of Izuku's desk, drags it across the floor with a loud scrape, spins it around, and drops into it in one rough motion. The legs thud against the tile. Before Izuku can react, Katsuki snatches the papers right out of his hands and starts reading.

No warning. No asking. Just takes them.

He blinks down at his now empty fingers, brain lagging behind the moment. What the hell did she say to him out there?

He swallows and tries to gather himself. Say something normal and start the project.

"S-So, we obviously won't be able to do it all in class," Izuku says, voice stumbling over the first word despite his best efforts. The stutter slips out small and embarrassing, his nerves showing. He hates that it happens. It's just Katsuki. Why is he still this tense around him? "We have to meet up at my house or your—"

"Your house." Katsuki interrupts him without looking up from the paper. His tone is flat and dismissive.

"R-Right... uhm... I don't mind doing most or all of the work, by the way," Izuku says, words tumbling out too fast. He rubs the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact. "Then we don't have to spend too much time together." His voice drops at the end, quieter and uncertain, the offer meant to make things easier, to reduce friction.

Katsuki finally looks up. His frown deepens.

"What the fuck? You think I'm gonna take credit for something I didn't even have any part in?" he snaps at Izuku and slightly raises his voice, gaining a few nosy looks.

The words come out sharp and heated, edged with offense, his volume rising enough that nearby students glance over.

Izuku shrinks a little under the attention.

"Dunno, it just—" he starts weakly, trying to explain, already regretting opening his mouth.

"Do I look like a stupid little bitch to you?!" Katsuki fires back, louder now, temper flaring fast, the question thrown at him harsh and confrontational.

"No! Don't twist my words like that!" Izuku whisper-yells and leans forward with furrowed brows. His voice is hushed but urgent, frustration slipping through as he tries not to cause a scene. "I just thought it would be easier for you."

"Tch." Katsuki clicks his tongue, short and annoyed, clearly unconvinced and irritated.

"O-Okay, let's just go to my place later."

"Whatever, fucking nerd." Katsuki rolls his eyes. The insult comes out tired and dismissive, more reflex than real bite, as he drops his gaze back to the papers.

 

☽☽☽

 

[You]: When do you plan on coming over? I'm already home.

[Kacchan]: after practice

[You]: Which ends when?
Read

 

Izuku groans into his pillow and blindly reaches for his phone again, thumb already swiping before his brain even catches up.

Still nothing.

The screen stares back at him, empty chat, last message still his. No reply.

He presses his face harder into the pillow and lets out a long, miserable sound that gets swallowed by the fabric.

He knows Katsuki isn't big on texting. He's lucky if he gets a response within the same day. Still... this is about a project. A graded one. You'd think that would qualify as important enough to answer.

Apparently not.

After another minute of staring at the ceiling and overthinking every possible scenario, Izuku drags himself out of bed with a sigh and drops into his desk chair. Waiting around is torture. He might as well distract himself.

His PC boots up; the game loads. Headset on. Something familiar.

Still, every couple of minutes, his eyes flick to the clock.

18:12.
18:26.
18:34.

He keeps imagining excuses for Katsuki without meaning to.

Practice ran late. He forgot. Or worse, this is his way of saying "do it yourself" without actually saying it.

Izuku groans and leans back—

"Nerd."

The word lands right behind his ear.

Izuku yelps, full-body flinch, nearly launching out of his chair as his headset suddenly gets lifted off his head. Sound cuts out mid-game, and his heart jumps straight into his throat.

He spins around with wide eyes.

Katsuki's standing there, way too close, looking down at him with this smug, entertained expression, clearly pleased with himself for the scare.

"K-K-Kacchan! Don't scare me like that!" The words spill out fast and shaky, voice cracking from the leftover adrenaline. He grabs the headset back a little too aggressively and drops it on his desk. "Why didn't you knock?!"

Katsuki crosses his arms and raises a brow, unimpressed. "I did, but your stupid ass didn't hear shit because you were playing Palworld. At least Auntie heard me ringing the doorbell," he says flat and blunt, tone dripping with irritation.

"Well, that's—" Izuku cuts himself off mid-thought, blinking. "Wait, you know Palworld?" The question comes out softer, confused, genuinely surprised.

Katsuki freezes for half a second. It's tiny, but Izuku catches it. His eyes widen just a touch, shoulders tightening.

"No, I've just seen it in some ads or whatever."

He answers way too quickly, gaze sliding off to the side, voice defensive and stiff. The kind of tone people use when they absolutely do know something but refuse to admit it.

Izuku can't help the grin creeping onto his face. "Ads, huh?"

Light, teasing. He doesn't even try to hide it.

"Fuck off, I'm not the one whose room is filled with comics, manga, anime posters, and All Might shit. Can't believe you're still into this." Katsuki gestures vaguely around the room while talking, scoffing under his breath. 

Izuku puffs his cheeks out. "Oh, sorry that my room is sooooo horrible. You're the one who wanted to be here, don't complain." He leans into the sarcasm, dramatic and mock-offended, but there's no real heat behind it. It's almost playful.

Katsuki clicks his tongue. "Whatever." He turns and heads for the door.

Izuku blinks after him. "Where are you going?"

"Getting a chair from your mom's office, nerd. Don't exactly want to sit on the floor."

Then he's gone down the hall.

Izuku just sits there for a second, staring at the doorway. Katsuki hasn't been here in forever, and yet he still knows exactly where everything is.

No hesitation, no asking. Straight to the office.

Something about that makes Izuku's chest feel warm and stupidly soft. He smiles to himself before he can stop it.

Only a minute later, Katsuki comes back with the chair and sits down next to Izuku at his desk.

Surprisingly... they work well together. Izuku keeps waiting for something to go wrong.

For the snap. The insult. The inevitable "this is stupid" followed by Katsuki shoving his chair back and calling it quits.

It never comes.

They sit shoulder to shoulder at his desk, papers spread everywhere, looking at the screen, and it's just... normal.

Katsuki reads through the articles faster than Izuku expects, actually focused, actually pointing stuff out. Correcting wording, rearranging slides, arguing over which examples sound cooler in a way that feels more competitive than mean.

He hasn't complained once.

Sure, he still calls him "nerd" every now and then, still bumps his knee under the desk when Izuku rambles too much, but it doesn't sting. There's no edge to it, no intention to hurt.

It's familiar. Comfortable.

Dangerously close to how it used to be when they were kids doing homework together and fighting over who got the last snack.

Izuku doesn't know what to do with that. There are no cold looks burning holes into him. No careful walking on eggshells. He talks without rehearsing every sentence first. His shoulders aren't up by his ears the whole time.

"Let's take a break, my head is fucking burning." Katsuki leans back in the chair as he says it, voice rough and low, dragged out through his teeth.

He rubs a hand down his face, eyes squeezed shut for a second, clearly fried from staring at the screen too long. Not angry, just tired.

"Yeah, sure," Izuku answers quickly, already half out of his seat.

He crouches and pops open the little mini fridge under his desk, the soft hum cutting off for a second. Cold air brushes his fingers while he grabs two cans and hands one over.

Katsuki takes it but pauses mid-motion. His eyes flick from the can to the fridge to Izuku.

"Are you serious?" The words come out dry and disbelieving.

"What?" Izuku blinks at him, genuinely lost.

"Why the fuck do you have a mini fridge in your room?" He pops the tab while asking, metal snapping open with a hiss, staring at Izuku the whole time with this incredulous look.

"Well, if I'm in the middle of a game, I can't exactly walk downstairs to grab something. It's a good investment." Izuku shrugs, completely serious. Practical. In his head, it makes perfect sense.

Katsuki lets out a sigh and looks away, shaking his head once, muttering something under his breath. The kind of reaction that says "you're ridiculous" but not actually mad about it.

Izuku smiles without meaning to. This is... nice.

Weirdly nice. Sitting here drinking Coke together in his room, talking about nothing important. But then something clicks.

Earlier.

Katsuki recognized the game way too fast.

Izuku glances at him sideways. Katsuki's leaning back in the chair, sipping his drink, pretending he's not looking around the room every few seconds.

It's probably nothing. Still—

"Hey, Kacchan," His voice comes out softer than he planned, testing the waters. "Do you wanna try out Palworld since you've seen it in ads before?"

Which he doesn't believe, by the way.

"Haah? Why the fuck would I want to try out that shit?" Katsuki jerks his head toward him, scowling instantly, words shooting out sharp and defensive.

Too fast. Too strong. The reaction feels suspiciously personal for someone who supposedly doesn't care.

Izuku pretends not to notice. He shrugs and sets his can down on the desk.

"Hmm, dunno, but you can watch me play. I have to finish a quest, and my egg should be hatched by now."

He says it lightly, already turning back to his PC, tone casual on purpose. Not pushing, just offering.

He doesn't wait for a reply and immediately starts the game.

"Fucking nerd," he mumbles as he takes another sip but keeps his eyes fixed on the screen.

Izuku boots the game back up and settles into his chair, fingers moving on autopilot over the keyboard. The familiar sounds fill the room, soft background noise mixing with the faint hum of his PC and the occasional fizz of soda from the can beside him.

He tells himself he's just playing to finish the quest. Just killing time. Totally normal, except he keeps glancing sideways every few seconds.

Katsuki's still in the chair he dragged over, legs stretched out, one arm resting on the backrest. He hasn't said anything in a while. No complaints. No bored sighs.

He's just... watching.

And not in that judgmental way either.

He's leaning forward slightly, eyes locked on the screen, following every movement. Focused. Way too focused for someone supposedly uninterested in games.

Izuku has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. It's kind of cute. The thought hits him out of nowhere, and he immediately pretends it didn't.

He moves his character across the map, prepping for the boss area, mentally planning which pals to bring—

"Are you stupid?" The words cut through the room suddenly.

"What?" He turns his head, honestly confused.

"You're about to fight a fucking fire boss, why the fuck are you not taking any water pals with you?"

Katsuki leans forward when he says it, voice sharp and urgent, the words tumbling out fast without hesitation. It doesn't even sound like an insult, more pure frustration, the kind you get when watching someone mess up something obvious.

Izuku freezes mid-click, then slowly turns to look at him.

Katsuki's eyes are wide. Too wide.

There's this split second where it's obvious he didn't mean to say that out loud. His mouth tightens, shoulders stiffening, brain clearly trying to backtrack.

Gotcha.

"I didn't check what element the boss is," Izuku says, grin already creeping onto his face. "But how do you know, Kacch—"

"-Ads."

Katsuki cuts him off immediately, way too fast, the word snapping out defensive and clipped, thrown between them before Izuku can even finish the sentence.

Izuku bursts out laughing. He can't help it.

"You play the game." He points at him, accusation clear, voice bright with amusement.

"Fuck off, I don't!" Katsuki shoots back instantly, teeth clenched, face heating up, denial coming out louder than necessary.

"You do!" Izuku leans back in his chair, grinning openly now.

"Fuck no!" The reply is harsher, stubborn, but there's no real bite. Just embarrassment wrapped in aggression.

Izuku laughs harder, his shoulders shaking, then turns back to the screen.

"Whatever you say." He says it lightly, teasing.

Katsuki goes quiet after that, but Izuku can still feel him there, still watching. The smile won't leave his face, no matter how hard he tries to act normal.

"Tell anyone, and I'll kill you." The threat comes out low and muttered, barely above a grumble, not serious at all. More of a desperate plea disguised as violence.

"I won't." Izuku giggles, glancing at him from the corner of his eye. He means it.

Katsuki sighs next to him, long and annoyed, then shifts his chair closer. The legs scrape softly against the floor as he leans in, shoulder nearly brushing Izuku's, attention fully back on the screen.

Close enough that Izuku can feel the warmth, close enough that his heart starts acting stupid again.

Izuku keeps playing for a bit, trying to focus on the quest marker blinking in the corner of the screen, but his attention keeps drifting sideways.

Every few seconds, his eyes flick toward Katsuki without meaning to. Katsuki hasn't said anything in a while, hasn't complained or made fun of the game, or told him to hurry up. He's just... watching.

He's leaning forward in his chair now, elbows resting on his knees, gaze fixed on the monitor with a level of concentration that doesn't match someone who supposedly "just saw ads."

His eyes follow every movement Izuku makes, every fight, every menu swap, brows faintly furrowed, jaw set. Invested. Quiet. Weirdly into it.

It makes something warm curl in Izuku's chest, and he has to fight the smile threatening to show.

So he does the most casual thing he can think of. He simply rolls his chair a bit to the side, clearing space in front of the keyboard. Nothing dramatic, no big offer, just a subtle shift that says you can sit here if you want.

There's a second of silence, then the faint scrape of wheels.

Katsuki clicks his tongue under his breath, the sound annoyed and reluctant, but he rolls his own chair forward anyway and parks it in front of the desk. He moves as if he's being inconvenienced, shoulders tense, like he's doing Izuku a favor just by doing this.

The act falls apart the second his hands touch the keyboard.

He plays with the kind of confidence you don't fake. His fingers move fast and precisely, never hesitating, never glancing down to check the keys. He dodges cleanly, swaps pals mid-fight, and navigates menus without thinking. Everything flows too smoothly, too naturally.

Izuku watches from the side, blinking.

Yeah. There's absolutely no way this is his first time.

"We should play together sometime!" The suggestion slips out of him before he can stop it, bright and eager, his excitement bubbling up without permission.

Katsuki scoffs immediately. "No way in hell."

The refusal comes rough and automatic, tossed out on instinct, but there's something defensive about how fast he says it, like he needs to shut the idea down before it even settles.

"Come on, we'll create a new server so that we're both on the same level!"

Izuku keeps talking anyway, words picking up speed as the idea forms in his head. A fresh start sounds fun. No progress gap, no catching up, just the two of them figuring things out together.

Katsuki rolls his eyes and finally glances at him. "I don't think I even have it downloaded anymore," he says casually, shrugging a little, but the excuse comes too quickly, and Izuku doesn't buy it for a second.

"Well, then go do it! It'll be so fun! We'll make a new world, we'll create our own guild!"

Now he's rambling, hands moving while he talks, brain racing ahead. "You can choose the name and be the leader, I don't mind! I'm sure we can easily beat all the bosses if we work together. I'll make sure we have a cool, functional base! We definitely have to find a good location, though. I think I know—"

He doesn't even realize how wide he's smiling until Katsuki suddenly reaches out and hooks two fingers under his chin, and the words die mid-sentence.

Katsuki tilts his face up, firm but not rough, pulling him closer. Their chairs bump together, knees touching, and suddenly Katsuki is right there, way too close, red eyes studying him with an intensity that makes Izuku's brain short-circuit.

"Why are you not wearing your glasses anymore?" His voice is lower now, quieter, stripped of the usual bite.

His gaze drifts between Izuku's eyes and mouth as if he's trying to figure something out. Izuku forgets how to function.

"O-Oh, uhm... I'm wearing contacts," The answer stumbles out, nervous and uneven, heat rushing straight to his face. "T-They kind of got annoying, e-especially during gym class or when it's raining," He keeps talking just to fill the silence, words tumbling over each other while Katsuki doesn't move away. "A-And now that it's summer and hot—"

He knows he should lean back, create some space, do something normal.

He doesn't.

Katsuki's hand suddenly slides to the nape of his neck. Firm. Warm. Intentional. The push is quick but not rough, just enough to close the last few centimeters, and then their mouths collide. Everything in Izuku's head screeches to a halt.

He's kissing Kacchan.

What?

This isn't the usual palm-smack-over-the-mouth to shut him up; this is soft at first, almost careful, and then pressing harder like Katsuki's decided he's done waiting for Izuku to catch up. 

Heat floods his face so fast it makes his ears ring. His hands hover uselessly at his sides, fingers twitching, not sure where to land or what to do with themselves.

Katsuki pulls back first, just a fraction, barely enough to breathe. Their foreheads nearly touch. Izuku can feel the damp warmth of Katsuki's exhale ghosting over his own mouth

"You're so fucking annoying," Katsuki murmurs, voice low and scraped raw at the edges, but there's no venom behind it this time.

Only something quieter, almost fond, like the insult is just muscle memory at this point. The words barely finish leaving his mouth before Izuku surges forward on instinct, chasing the heat, crashing their lips together again because if he stops to think about it, he'll probably combust on the spot.

This time, Katsuki meets him instantly, no hesitation, no teasing pull-away. The kiss starts slow, like they're both testing the new shape of it, but then Katsuki's tongue traces the seam of Izuku's bottom lip, patient yet demanding, and Izuku parts for him without a second thought.

The slide of wet heat inside his mouth sends a full-body shiver racing down his spine. Katsuki kisses like he plays on the court: focused, consuming, no half-measures.

It feels like he's trying to map every inch of Izuku's mouth with deliberate, hungry strokes, and Izuku can only cling tighter, fingers finally finding purchase in that wild blond hair. Soft, surprisingly silky between his knuckles.

His pulse hammers so hard he swears Katsuki can feel it in the place where their chests are starting to press together. Everything is dizzy and overheated and unreal, except the tiny sharp sting when Katsuki catches his lower lip between his teeth and bites down just enough to make Izuku gasp into the kiss.

The pain is bright and grounding. Not a dream, then. Definitely not a dream.

Katsuki moves without warning, still kissing him, still licking into his mouth like he can't get enough, and stands, hauling Izuku up with him in one smooth motion.

Big hands curl under Izuku's thighs, lifting him clean off the chair like he weighs nothing.

Izuku makes a small, startled sound against Katsuki's lips, arms automatically looping around his neck, and legs wrapping around his waist. Katsuki carries him the few steps to the bed without ever breaking the kiss, without even stumbling.

There's a carefulness in the way he lowers Izuku down, back hitting the mattress, head cushioned on the pillow, like he's handling something fragile for once in his life.

He doesn't drop him, doesn't shove. He settles Izuku gently, then follows, bracketing him with forearms braced on either side of his head. Their mouths separate for half a second, just long enough for Izuku to drag in a shaky breath.

He stares up at Katsuki through damp lashes. Katsuki's eyes are dark, pupils blown wide, cheeks flushed in a way Izuku has never seen on him before.

He looks wrecked already, and they've barely started. Izuku's heart flips hard behind his ribs. He reaches up, trembling fingers brushing along Katsuki's jaw, feeling the faint stubble there, the heat pouring off his skin.

He looks down at him with that sharp, crooked smirk that always makes Izuku's stomach flip sideways.

"Good sight," Katsuki drawls, voice rough and smug, eyes dragging over Izuku's flushed face like he's cataloging every embarrassing detail.

Heat explodes across Izuku's cheeks so fast it burns. He jerks his head to the side, staring hard at the wall because looking up at Katsuki right now feels impossible.

"Shut up," he mumbles, the words barely making it past his tight throat.

Katsuki's hand shoots out, rough fingers clamping around Izuku's chin, firm enough to sting a little, and yanks his face right back so their eyes lock again.

"Eyes on me, I-zu-ku," Katsuki says, drawing the syllables out slowly and deliberately, grin widening into something dangerous and pleased.

The sound of his first name in that low, gravelly voice hits Izuku like a spark to dry tinder.

It's been years since Katsuki called him anything but Deku, and hearing it now, stretched and teasing, sends a whole swarm of butterflies rioting through his gut.

His eyes go wide, breath catching somewhere between his lungs and his mouth.

Katsuki doesn't give him time to recover. He dips down, mouth finding the side of Izuku's neck, hot and open. The first suck is hard, deliberate, teeth grazing just enough to make Izuku's toes curl against the sheets.

Then another, lower, and another, marking him in quick, possessive bursts. Wet heat, sharp nips, the faint scrape of stubble that drags shivers racing down his spine.

Every pull of Katsuki's lips gets a soft, helpless whimper out of Izuku before he can stop it, throat working around sounds he didn't even know he could make.

Katsuki's hands slide under the hem of Izuku's shirt, palms rough and warm against bare skin, skating upward. Then calloused fingertips brush over his nipples, light at first, then firmer.

Izuku's whole body jerks, a sharp gasp punching out of him.

"W-Wait— AH!" The protest fractures the second Katsuki pinches, rolling the sensitive peaks between thumb and forefinger.

Katsuki lifts his head enough to smirk down at him again, eyes dark and gleaming.

"A-Are you sure? And my m-mom, she's—"

"She left when I got here," Katsuki cuts in. "Said she's heading over to my place to hang with my mom."

Izuku blinks, brain scrambling to catch up. She didn't say anything.

The blond shoves his shirt up and over Izuku's head in one impatient tug, fabric catching briefly on his arms before it's gone. Then his mouth is on Izuku's chest.

Hot, wet suction closing around one nipple, tongue flicking over the peak in lazy, relentless circles. Izuku's back arches hard off the bed, a broken noise spilling out as pleasure spikes sharp and bright through him.

Katsuki pulls off just enough to speak, breath fanning damp over wet skin. "Sensitive, huh?" he mumbles, the words vibrating right against Izuku's sternum, smug and amused.

Izuku's face is on fire, chest heaving, every inch of him buzzing. "S-Shut up," he manages, voice cracking on the embarrassment flooding through him, but there's no real heat in it. 

Just shaky, flustered heat and the way his fingers are already twisting in Katsuki's hair like he's afraid Katsuki might actually listen and stop.

A low chuckle rumbles out of Katsuki's chest, vibrating against Izuku's skin right before his mouth is back on him. Hot, open kisses trailing everywhere. Up his ribs, down his stomach, across the dip of his hip.

Each press of lips turns into a hard suck, leaving wet, blooming marks that sting sweetly. Izuku's breathing turns ragged fast, chest rising and falling too quickly, every exhale shaky.

Katsuki finally reaches the waistband of Izuku's sweatpants. He sits back on his heels, hooks his fingers under the elastic, and drags both pants and boxers down together in one slow, deliberate pull. He gives him plenty of time to say something, to shove him away, to stop this whole thing. 

Izuku doesn't.

His brain screams at him to at least think, to slow down, but every brush of Katsuki's knuckles against his thighs scrambles the signal worse.

By the time the fabric's past his knees, his dick is already hard and flushed, springing free into cooler air. Katsuki's smirk sharpens, eyes flicking down. He leans in without hesitation, tongue dragging flat over the head, lapping up the bead of precum there.

The wet heat hits Izuku like an electric shock. A raw moan rips out of him before he can catch it, loud, embarrassing. His hand flies up, slapping over his own mouth hard enough to sting.

"Fucking desperate," Katsuki says, voice rough and amused as he looks back up at Izuku's burning face. "Lube?"

Izuku's fingers tremble against his lips. He lowers his hand just enough to speak, voice small and cracked. "D-Drawer."

Katsuki doesn't tease this time. He reaches over, yanks the bedside drawer open, rummages for a second, and comes up with the lube. The cap clicks. He squirts some onto his fingers and rubs them together quickly to warm them.

Then he's settling between Izuku's thighs again, nudging them wider with his free hand. Izuku gulps, watching Katsuki's slick fingers hover. His heart's hammering so hard he feels it in his throat.

Katsuki circles his rim first, slow and teasing, spreading the cool lube around the tight muscle. Izuku's breath hitches. Then one finger presses in. Steady, careful, but thick. Way thicker than Izuku's own.

The stretch burns just a little at first. His eyes snap wide, a sharp gasp punching out. Katsuki doesn't rush. He slides in and out slowly, twisting his wrist a bit, curling, searching.

When the pad of his finger finally brushes that spot inside, pleasure spikes so suddenly and brightly that Izuku's hips jerk clean off the mattress.

"Found it," Katsuki mutters, grin satisfied and smug as hell.

He adds a second finger right away. The stretch deepens, fuller now, almost too much. Katsuki plants his other palm flat on Izuku's lower stomach, firm, pinning his hips down so he can't buck away. Then he starts moving faster, scissoring a little.

He's crooking both fingers against that bundle of nerves on every pass. Izuku's head tips back into the pillow, and his hands fist the sheets. Every drag in and out sends sparks racing up his spine, building fast, relentless.

He can't think straight, can barely breathe around the heat pooling low in his gut. All he knows is Katsuki's fingers inside him, the weight of that hand holding him still, and the way his own body keeps trying to chase more even when it's already too much.

Izuku bites down hard on his lower lip, teeth sinking in until it stings, desperate to keep the noises locked behind them.

But it's useless. Every crook of Katsuki's fingers sends another wave crashing through him, and the sounds keep slipping out anyway, small and broken and way too needy. He knows Katsuki's done this before. A lot.

The rumors used to drift through the school hallways like smoke. Girls and guys alike bragging about nights with the Katsuki Bakugou, about how good he was, how rough, how he left marks you couldn't hide.

Every single story twisted something sharp and ugly in Izuku's chest back then. Jealousy so thick it hurt to swallow. He'd pretend not to hear, head down, notebook open, but the words still burned.

And him? He's never even gotten close. Virgin through and through. People have tried, random crushes here and there, flirty notes, someone asking him out in the hallway once or twice. It always ended fast. No explanation, just ghosting or awkward excuses until they drifted off.

He gets it, sort of. He's plain. Nothing special to look at, no status to boost anyone's rep. Dating him would probably just drag them down. So yeah, it makes sense they all bailed.

But Katsuki's here. In his bed. Three thick fingers buried deep, curling relentlessly against his prostate with every slow, deliberate thrust. The stretch burns in the best way, full and overwhelming, and Izuku's brain is melting.

Without warning, Katsuki's other hand leaves his pelvis and slides up. Two fingers push past Izuku's lips, rough and insistent, pressing down on his tongue. Izuku's eyes fly wide. He stares up at Katsuki's face, brows furrowed, mouth set in a tight line that's almost a scowl.

"I'm sick of you holding back," Katsuki growls, low and edged with impatience.

The words hit like a spark to gasoline. Izuku's last thread of control snaps. Katsuki crooks his fingers again, hard, perfect, and pleasure coils so tight in Izuku's gut he can't breathe around it. His body clenches down on the intrusion, greedy and helpless.

"Kawcchan, I—" The attempt at words comes out garbled, muffled around the fingers filling his mouth, spit slicking them as he tries and fails to speak.

His breathing turns ragged, chest heaving. Katsuki doesn't let up; he speeds up instead, thrusting faster, deeper, grinding against that bundle of nerves on every stroke.

Heat surges, unstoppable, building until it's everywhere. Izuku breaks. A loud, wrecked moan tears out of him despite the fingers in his way. His back bows off the mattress, spine curving sharply, hips jerking uselessly against Katsuki's hold.

Release hits him in blinding pulses. Hot stripes paint his stomach, spilling over his skin as his whole body shakes through it. His vision whites out for a second, ears ringing, every muscle locked and trembling.

He collapses back down, gasping, dazed, Katsuki's fingers still inside him, still moving slowly now, drawing out the aftershocks until Izuku's whimpering softly around the digits in his mouth.

Katsuki doesn't let up right away. His fingers keep moving inside, slow and steady now, working Izuku through the aftershocks until the sharp jerks of his hips fade into soft, helpless twitches and his breathing finally starts to level out.

Only then does Katsuki ease his fingers free from both places. First, the two in Izuku's mouth, slick with spit, then the three from his hole, leaving him empty and clenching around nothing. A quick flick of Katsuki's fingertip against the head of Izuku's still-hard cock makes him flinch, oversensitive and leaking.

"Haven't even touched your dick and you came so fast," Katsuki says, scoffing around that trademark smirk, voice dripping with mock disappointment. "Pathetic."

Izuku frowns, cheeks burning hotter. It's not fair; nothing like this has ever happened to him before. He's jerked off plenty, sure, but coming untouched, from fingers alone? Never.

The embarrassment sits heavy in his gut even as his body hums with leftover sparks. Katsuki doesn't give him long to stew. His hands are at his own waistband, shoving his pants down and kicking them off in a careless heap on the floor.

Izuku swallows, throat dry. "Can you..." He trails off, voice barely there. Katsuki pauses, one eyebrow lifting as he looks up. "Can you take off your shirt too?" Izuku mumbles, blush spreading down his neck.

He can't meet Katsuki's eyes for more than a second. He's only ever caught stolen glances in the locker room after gym. Quick, guilty peeks at the way Katsuki's shoulders fill out his uniform, the cut of his arms when he stretches.

Enough to fuel way too many late-night thoughts, but never the full picture. And yeah, he's got a serious thing for muscles. Knows it. Can't even pretend otherwise when Katsuki's standing there looking like that.

The blond tilts his head, a smirk stretching slowly and knowingly. "Oh? You wanna see?" 

Izuku nods, small and hesitant, teeth sinking into his lip again because saying it out loud feels ridiculous. Katsuki leans back on his heels for a second, then grabs the bottom of his school-logo tee and peels it up and over his head in one smooth motion.

The fabric drags over his skin, revealing everything Izuku's been imagining and more. Broad shoulders, carved pecs, the tight ridges of his abs that shift with every breath. It's better, way better than anything his brain cooked up on its own.

His heart stutters hard. He's dripping again already, cock twitching against his stomach. He pushes up on his elbows without thinking, reaches out, fingertips brushing along the warm, firm lines of Katsuki's abs, tracing the deep V that disappears into his waistband.

Who knows if he'll ever get another shot at this? Katsuki watches him the whole time, amused. 

"You're one of those people who only care about people's appearances, huh?" he teases, voice light but edged with that familiar bite.

"N-No, of course not!" Izuku blurts, yanking his hand back like he's been caught stealing.

Katsuki lets out a short, amused scoff, then plants a palm flat on Izuku's chest and shoves him back down against the mattress.

Katsuki shifts forward, settling between Izuku's spread thighs, and that's when Izuku finally lets himself really look. Katsuki's cock hangs heavy and thick between them.

Long, flushed dark at the tip, veins standing out under the skin, and Izuku's stomach drops straight through the mattress. Huge doesn't even cover it. His mouth goes dry in an instant. 

Katsuki grabs the lube again, slicks himself up with quick, practiced strokes. The wet sound of it fills the quiet room. He lines up, blunt head nudging right against Izuku's entrance, and Izuku's hand shoots out on pure reflex.

"H-Hold up! That... t-thing—"

"It'll be fine," Katsuki cuts in, exhaling through his nose in a tired sigh, the kind that says he's heard this exact panic before.

Izuku's eyes dart between Katsuki's face and the intimidating length pressing against him. "But..."

"Izuku," Katsuki says again, low and steady, and there it is.

That stupid, traitorous skip in Izuku's chest just from hearing his name in that rough voice.

"Just fucking relax, nerd." The frown pulling at Katsuki's brows looks more exasperated than angry, like he's talking Izuku down from a ledge he's put himself on.

Izuku swallows hard, throat clicking. He nods once, small and shaky. Katsuki's gaze drops back down. He pushes in slow, agonizingly slow, with a gentleness Izuku never would've pictured from him. Not even a hint of impatience.

The stretch starts immediately, burning hot and deep, forcing the air right out of Izuku's lungs in a long, unsteady exhale. It keeps going, inch after thick inch, until Izuku swears there's no more room left inside him.

His eyes squeeze shut tight against the sting, fingers twisting hard in the sheets. But underneath the ache... god, it feels good too. Full in a way that makes his toes curl, and his brain short-circuit.

Since when does the burn twist into something warm and addictive? What the hell is his body doing right now?

"Izuku." Katsuki's voice pulls him back. Soft. Patient. Izuku cracks his eyes open again, blinking through the haze. "I'm gonna start moving, alright?"

He's all the way in now. Bottomed out. Izuku's never felt anything this deep, this complete, every nerve lit up and buzzing. He manages a tiny nod. Katsuki's hands settle on his hips, thumbs pressing into the soft skin there.

He pulls out almost to the tip, then slides back in with one smooth, controlled thrust. The drag lights Izuku from the inside. A whimper slips out before he can catch it.

Katsuki does it again. And again. Steady rhythm, not rushing, letting Izuku feel every ridge, every inch. Until the angle shifts just right and the head of Katsuki's cock brushes that spot dead-on. Pleasure slams through Izuku so hard his eyes fly open wide, a loud, broken moan tearing free.

Katsuki's smirk appears. Sharp, satisfied, and he adjusts his grip, tilting his hips a fraction. Now every thrust nails it. Relentless. Perfect. Izuku no longer tries to muffle the sounds. Moans spill out raw and desperate with each roll of Katsuki's hips.

But it's still not enough. Katsuki's going so damn slow, almost torturous, and Izuku didn't see that coming at all. He figured Katsuki would just take, fast, rough, and selfish.

Instead, he's drawing it out, making Izuku feel every second, every slide, every time he bottoms out and grinds in deep enough to make Izuku's vision blur at the edges.

His hands scrabble at Katsuki's forearms, nails digging in without meaning to. He's trembling all over, caught somewhere between begging for more and being too overwhelmed to form the words.

Izuku's voice cracks the second the words tumble out. "Kacchan, f-faster," he manages, the plea ending on a pathetic little whimper that makes his own ears burn.

Katsuki's eyebrow lifts, head tilting just enough to look amused and surprised at the same time. But he doesn't argue, he just shifts his hips and picks up the pace, thrusts coming a touch quicker, deeper.

The change drags louder moans out of Izuku's throat right away, raw and unrestrained, bouncing off the bedroom walls. Still, it's not what he's starving for. The ache inside him only sharpens.

"Harder, please," he gasps out, barely coherent, voice thin and trembling.

Katsuki stops dead. Buried to the hilt, perfectly still. Izuku blinks up at him, confused and already whining at the loss of rhythm.

"You know," Katsuki starts, leaning down slowly until their noses almost brush, then farther, pinning Izuku's wrists to the mattress on either side of his head with rough, unyielding hands. "I was thinking 'he's probably a virgin, I should go slower, be gentle or whatever,' yet here you are, begging like a fucking whore." The words land heavy and mean.

Izuku's eyes snap wide. "That's mean, Kacchan," he whispers, voice small and shaky, but even as he says it, his body betrays him, clenching tight around Katsuki's cock.

Katsuki doesn't bother answering. Just scoffs once, short and dismissive, then pulls out in one long drag that leaves Izuku empty and aching. The next thrust slams back in. Brutal, no warning, no mercy.

Izuku's vision whites out for a heartbeat. His eyes roll back, tears prickling hot at the corners as pleasure crashes through him so hard it almost hurts. Katsuki sets a punishing rhythm right away, hips snapping forward with enough force to shove Izuku up the bed a little each time.

"Kacchan, Kacchan, Kacchan," Izuku chants between broken moans and whimpers, the name spilling out over and over like he's forgotten every other word in the world.

Katsuki dips down suddenly, mouth crashing against his in a messy, hungry kiss, tongue shoving in deep, teeth catching on Izuku's lip hard enough to sting. Izuku gasps right into it, body tightening around Katsuki again, and he feels the rough hitch in Katsuki's breathing against his mouth, the way his rhythm stutters for half a second.

He breaks the kiss with a wet sound, straightens up, grabs the backs of Izuku's thighs, and folds him in half, knees shoved up toward his ears, hips tilted so every thrust sinks even deeper. The new angle is devastating.

Katsuki goes faster, rougher, skin slapping loud against skin. Izuku's hands fly to Katsuki's back, nails digging into skin, scrambling for anything solid while his whole body jolts with each punishing drive.

Tears blur his vision now, spilling hot down his temples. He's so close, coiling tight, heat pooling low and unbearable.

"Kacchan, oh god, gonna— AH!"

Katsuki's hand slips between them quickly. Fingers find one of Izuku's nipples and pinch, sharp, deliberate twist. The sting should register as pain, should make him flinch away, but instead it rockets straight to his cock, bright and electric.

His eyes roll back, a strangled cry ripping out. Heat floods his face because he knows how wrecked he must look right now, how obvious it is that he's loving every second of it.

Katsuki's grin flashes down at him, sharp and knowing, eyes dark with satisfaction as he keeps that grip on the sensitive bud, rolling it between his fingers while he fucks into Izuku without slowing down even a fraction.

After only a handful more of those brutal, deep thrusts, everything snaps inside Izuku. His head flies back against the pillow, nails raking down Katsuki's back hard enough to leave angry red lines.

A scream rips out of him, raw, loud, cracking at the edges, as fresh tears spill hot down his temples. A sob chases right after it, chest heaving, body locking up tight while the orgasm crashes through him harder than anything he's ever felt, shaking him apart from the inside out. 

He's never come this violently before, not even close.

"Fucking amazing," Katsuki mutters under his breath, voice rough and wrecked.

His rhythm falters then, hips stuttering, breaths turning into heavy pants. One last, deep grind, and Katsuki's whole body tenses. A low, guttural gasp punches out of him as he comes, pulsing hot and thick inside Izuku, filling him until it feels like too much, like he's overflowing already.

The room falls quiet except for their ragged breathing, air thick with sweat and sex. Katsuki stays buried for a long moment before he finally pulls out slowly. The drag makes Izuku whimper, feeling the warm rush of cum leaking out, trickling down his thighs. Empty and messy and somehow still aching for more.

"K-Kacchan," Izuku rasps, throat scraped raw from all the screaming. His voice comes out shaky, hesitant. "One more time?"

Katsuki huffs a quiet laugh, leans down, and presses the gentlest kiss to Izuku's swollen lips—so soft it doesn't match everything else that's happened.

"You're dead," he whispers right against Izuku's mouth, breath warm and teasing.

Before Izuku can even process the words, Katsuki's hands clamp around his hips. One rough twist and he's flipped onto his stomach, face smushed into the pillow. Katsuki yanks his hips up high, ass in the air, and plunges right back in, no warning, still rock-hard, stretching him open all over again.

Izuku screams into the fabric, eyes rolling back so hard his sight goes dark. Katsuki hits his prostate dead-on with every brutal snap of his hips, relentless, no buildup, just pure overwhelming sensation.

Pleasure spikes so sharp it borders on pain, and Izuku can't stop the sobs bubbling up. He never cried like this when he was alone. Three times was his personal record, and even that felt like pushing it. But now? Nothing feels like enough.

His body keeps chasing more, even when it's shaking, oversensitive, too much, and not nearly enough at the same time. His moans muffle against the pillow, wet and desperate, until he hears Katsuki click his tongue in clear displeasure.

A rough hand fists in Izuku's green curls and yanks, sharp, sudden pain lancing through his scalp. His head jerks back off the pillow.

"K-Kacchan! Hurts!" he sobs out between gasps, voice cracking on every word.

Katsuki doesn't let go. He pulls harder, hauling Izuku upright until his back slams flush against Katsuki's sweaty chest, head lolling back to rest on the blond's broad shoulder. One strong arm snakes around, hand wrapping firmly around Izuku's throat. Not choking, just holding, thumb pressing lightly against his racing pulse.

"So what?" Katsuki says low in his ear, voice dark and smug. "I know you like it, it's so fucking obvious." He speeds up then, hips snapping faster, deeper, driving into that spot over and over until Izuku's sobbing harder, whole body trembling from the overstimulation. "Fucking masochist."

The words sink in hot and filthy, twisting something deep in Izuku's gut. He clenches down hard around Katsuki without meaning to, fresh tears streaming, moans turning into wrecked little cries.

"No, y-you're wro—" The protest dies the instant Katsuki's hand tightens around his throat.

Not enough to bruise, but firm, cutting off his air in one sharp squeeze that makes Izuku's vision tunnel at the edges. At the same time, Katsuki's teeth sink hard into the side of his neck, breaking skin just enough for the coppery sting of blood to bloom.

Warmth trickles, then Katsuki's tongue drags over the bite, slow and deliberate, lapping it up like it's nothing. Izuku's whole body locks up. Pleasure slams through him so fast and vicious he barely registers the choked sob ripping out of his raw throat.

He comes again, hard, sudden, untouched, spilling messy on the sheets while his head spins dizzy and light. Stars burst behind his eyelids, legs shaking, everything narrowing down to the burn in his lungs and the hot throb where Katsuki's still buried deep.

Katsuki eases his grip just enough for Izuku to drag in a ragged, wheezing breath. His voice comes out low, dangerous, right against the fresh mark. "Tell me I'm wrong again and I'll kill you."

Izuku can't even answer. Can't think. Just trembles there, full and wrecked, tears streaking down his face. After that, everything smears together into a hazy, overheated blur.

Thrusts, hands, mouths, the wet slap of skin. Time slips away until Izuku stops trying to keep track of how many times he's tipped over the edge. His body just keeps giving, oversensitive and greedy, chasing the next hit even when he's shaking apart.

But through the fog, one thing stays crystal clear. They aren't the basketball captain and the mumbling nerd tonight. Not Katsuki Bakugou and shitty Deku. Just Kacchan and Izuku.

Raw, messy, no labels. And god, he loves it. More than he ever thought he could.

 

☽☽☽

 

The blaring alarm on his phone yanks Izuku out of sleep like a bucket of cold water. He groans low in his throat, arm flopping blindly until his fingers close around the vibrating brick. One swipe to silence it, then he flicks on the bedside lamp.

Soft yellow light spills across the room, and he pushes himself up on one elbow, only for a sharp, stinging line of fire to race straight up his spine. He hisses through clenched teeth, freezing mid-motion.

Everything from last night slams back into him all at once. Katsuki's hands, his mouth, the way he'd been folded and fucked within an inch of his life until his brain short-circuited. His breathing quickens, shallow little pants he can't quite control.

What now? What the hell did any of that even mean? Was it just—?

The thought cuts through the haze like glass. This isn't new for Katsuki. Everyone knows that. The rumors, the locker-room stories, the casual way people talk about hooking up with Katsuki like it's no big deal.

"I'm just another one-night stand," Izuku mumbles to the empty room, voice cracking on the last word.

Izuku swallows hard against the sudden burn behind his eyes, blinking fast to keep the tears from spilling. He forces a deep breath in, then out.

Slow. Another. Okay. Focus. He can't fall apart right now. He's got school in an hour. That's when he actually looks around.

Fresh clothes on his body, soft boxers, and an oversized tee he doesn't remember putting on. Sheets swapped out, too.

Crisp, clean, no trace of the mess they made.

The last clear memory he has is blacking out after the final, shattering orgasm, body limp and boneless. So Katsuki... cleaned him up? Dressed him? Changed the bedding?

Heat floods Izuku's face so fast that it makes him dizzy. No way his mom would've done that. She'd have freaked, or at least asked a million questions. It had to be Katsuki. Quietly taking care of things while Izuku was out cold.

The thought sits warm and confusing in his chest. He sighs, long and shaky, and swings his legs over the edge of the bed. Every step toward the bathroom sends fresh twinges through his lower back and thighs, deep, aching reminders, but he grits his teeth and keeps moving.

The cool tile under his feet finally feels like mercy when he reaches the sink. He lifts his head to the mirror, and his heart stops.

Hickeys and bite marks bloom across his neck, his shoulders, disappearing under the collar of his shirt, and probably marching all the way down his chest, too. One stands out worst of all: a dark, unmistakable bruise right on the side of his throat, teeth indents still visible in the center. No hiding that. Not even close.

"Oh god, oh god, what am I gonna do?" The whisper comes out high and panicked.

A soft knock rattles the door.

"Izu?" His mom's voice filters through, laced with worry. "Are you okay? What happened?

Izuku jolts. "N-Nothing, mom!" he yells back, pitching his voice way too bright, way too cheerful for how wrecked he feels. "Don't come in!"

Silence stretches for a beat.

Then a quiet sigh from the hallway. "Okay, honey. Breakfast is ready, just come downstairs soon, alright?"

"Will do," he answers, softer now, head dropping forward until his forehead bumps the cool edge of the sink.

He stares at his reflection again, at the mess of purple and red scattered across his skin. It's the middle of summer. No scarves, no turtlenecks, nothing that won't make him look suspicious or worse, pass out from heatstroke halfway through first period. He's screwed. Completely, utterly screwed.

Izuku bolts out of the bathroom, heart hammering, and dives straight for his phone on the nightstand. Fingers shaking a little, he unlocks it, thumbs flying across the screen as he pulls up Google and types the first frantic question that comes to mind.

 

How long do hickeys take to fade?
Hickeys normally take around three to four days to fade, like normal bruises. However, it also depends on the intensity of the hickey. Warm compresses might help speed the process.

 

"Three to four days... not too bad."

 

How long do bite marks take to fade?
Bite marks typically fade within 5 to 14 days. Severe bites can take up to a month to heal.

 

"What?!" The yell bursts out louder than he means it to. He flops backward onto the bed with a groan that turns into a full-body whine, arm flopping over his eyes. "Damn you, Kacchan." The frown pulls tight across his face. "That was definitely on purpose."

The door swings open without warning.

"Izuku, here's your laundry from last—" Inko freezes mid-sentence, basket balanced on her hip. 

Her eyes go wide the second they land on him, on the mess of purple and red blooming across his neck and peeking out from under his collar. Their gazes lock. Izuku's mouth opens, closes, opens again, scrambling for any excuse that doesn't sound completely ridiculous.

Nothing comes. What could possibly explain this without sounding like a lie?

Inko lets out a long, quiet sigh. She sets the basket down by the dresser and walks over slowly, like she's giving him time to bolt if he wants to. Then she sits on the edge of the bed beside him.

"Mom—"

"Was it consensual?" she asks gently, reaching for his hand.

His fingers are trembling. She notices, curls her warm palm around them, and holds on. Izuku nods quickly, throat too tight for words at first.

"Good, good," she murmurs, thumb brushing soothing circles over his knuckles.

"I'm sorry..." The apology slips out small and cracked.

Inko shakes her head, a soft smile tugging at her mouth. "It's okay." She keeps rubbing slow, steady patterns across the back of his hand. "Do you want to stay home?"

Izuku blinks, thrown. He waits for the follow-up: who, when, why, the usual barrage of questions she can't usually resist. But nothing. She just watches him with that quiet, steady look, like she already knows more than she's letting on. Maybe she does.

The pieces aren't exactly hard to put together when Katsuki's the last person he's been with, but still... Katsuki?

It feels too wild to be real, even after everything that happened.

"Can I?" he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

Her smile warms, hand lifting to cup his cheek gently.

"Of course." She leans in to press a soft kiss to his forehead, then stands. "Put your laundry away and go back to sleep. It's still early." Her tone stays gentle as she heads for the door, pausing only to glance back with one last reassuring look.

"Thank you, Mom."

Inko gives him a small, fond smile before slipping out and closing the door behind her with a quiet click. Izuku sinks back into the pillows, staring up at the ceiling. Relief floods through him so strong it almost makes him dizzy.

He's never been more grateful for her, for the way she just... gets it, no judgment, no prying, just quiet understanding when he needs it most.

The marks still throb faintly under his skin, a reminder of last night that's equal parts mortifying and strangely comforting. He pulls the blanket higher, curls onto his side, and lets his eyes drift shut. Sleep sounds like the only thing he can handle right now.

 

☽☽☽

 

Days drag by in a quiet haze at home. Inko never brings it up again, not a single question, not even a knowing glance over breakfast, and Izuku's grateful for the silence. He texts his friends the same lame excuse every time someone checks in: "Still feeling rough, probably contagious, better stay put."

They buy it without pushing.

The hickeys on his chest and shoulders have dulled to faint yellow-green smudges, finally starting to behave, but that one deep bite mark on the side of his neck refuses to budge. Every time he catches it in the mirror, his stomach does a weird flip that's half mortification, half something warmer, and he immediately pushes down.

He spends most of his time at his desk working on their stupid paired project. Katsuki hasn't texted or called. Part of Izuku hopes that means they can both just... pretend it never happened.

Finish the project separately, keep their distance, act like the night was a fever dream that'll fade along with the marks. It's cleaner that way. Safer for his heart, which keeps stuttering every time he remembers Katsuki's hands, his mouth, the way he said Izuku's name as if it belonged to him.

Focus is a joke, though. The second he tries to read a single line of notes, the memories crash back in vivid color. Heat, teeth, that low growl in his ear. It follows him into sleep, too, turning his dreams restless and sticky until he wakes up flushed and hard, hating himself a little.

He's sitting there now, pencil gripped uselessly in his hand, staring at the same blank page for who knows how long, when a sudden scrape of movement behind him makes his whole body jolt.

He gasps, chair creaking as he spins around fast, heart slamming into his ribs, and freezes. Crimson eyes stare back at him from the open window. Katsuki's already halfway inside, one leg slung over the sill, blond spikes catching the late-afternoon light filtering through the curtains.

He looks exactly the same as always. Scowling, sharp, unfairly gorgeous, and Izuku's brain flatlines for a solid second.

"Ka—what?!" Izuku shoots to his feet so fast the chair nearly tips over.

Katsuki swings the rest of the way in with practiced ease, shoes thudding softly against the floorboards. He brushes dirt off his hands onto his pants like he's done this a thousand times.

Which, yeah, he has. Back when they were eight and nine and the big oak tree between their houses was their private highway.

"Why the fuck are you leaving your window open so late?" Katsuki snarls, voice low and irritated as he straightens up and steps closer.

"I-It's only cooling down later in the day," Izuku stammers, hands fluttering uselessly at his sides. "But what are you doing here?!"

Katsuki's eyes flick over him, head to toe, slow and assessing, then narrow. He closes the distance by another step.

"I knew you weren't sick, Deku." His tone drops, quieter now, almost dangerous. He towers just enough to make Izuku feel small without even trying. "You hiding from me or what?"

Izuku's throat clicks when he swallows. He lifts a shaky hand and points at the stubborn bite mark still glaring on his neck.

"I just... can't go to school looking like this. My friends would ask too many questions and they might figure out that we... you know..."

Katsuki crosses his arms over his chest, one brow arching. "Fucked?"

Heat explodes across Izuku's face. "Don't be so vulgar," he mutters, frowning hard even as his ears burn. "But yes. It's embarrassing." The blush deepens when he realizes how small his voice sounds.

Katsuki's eyes flash hot the second the words leave Izuku's mouth.

"Hah?! It's embarrassing for you that you slept with me?!" His voice jumps, loud enough to bounce off the bedroom walls and make Izuku flinch. "If anything, it should be the other way around!"

Izuku scoffs before he can stop himself, arms crossing tight over his chest like that'll protect him from the sting.

"Excuse me?! I would just look like another random who fell for your tricks!"

Katsuki's fists clench hard at his sides, knuckles whitening. He takes one big step forward, closing the gap so fast that Izuku instinctively stumbles back until his calves hit the edge of his desk chair.

"What the fuck?! Tricks?!" Katsuki's voice cracks with disbelief, low and dangerous now. "It takes two people to have sex, by the way!"

"Y-You kissed me first!" Izuku fires back, cheeks burning hotter with every word.

"And you kept going, fuckface!" Katsuki yells, throwing his hands up before pointing one accusatory finger right at Izuku's throat. "And don't complain about all that! You could've stopped me at any time!"

Izuku grits his teeth so hard his jaw aches. He hates that Katsuki's right. He could've said stop. One clear no, and Katsuki would've backed off in a heartbeat, no matter how much of an ass he is.

He groans, dragging a hand down his face, fingers pressing into his eyes like he can rub the whole conversation away.

"Kacchan, why are you here?" he asks, quieter now, exhaustion creeping into every syllable.

Katsuki exhales hard through his nose, shoulders dropping just a fraction. His voice comes back down too, rough but steadier.

"To first of all, confirm that I am, as usual, right and that you're not actually sick." He frowns deeper, arms crossing again like armor. "And the project."

Izuku blinks, thrown off-balance. "Project? I didn't expect you to keep working on it with me."

"Hah?!" Katsuki's brows shoot up, incredulous. "You think just because I had my dick inside you, I'm just gonna drop the project?!"

"Don't say it like that and don't be so loud!" Izuku hisses, face flooding scarlet as he glances toward the closed door, half expecting his mom to burst in any second.

Katsuki rolls his eyes so dramatically that it's almost theatrical.

"I don't get why you're so pissed when you're the one who kept begging for more." He leans in a little, voice dropping to that smug, gravelly tone that makes Izuku's stomach twist. "I just delivered."

Izuku's mouth opens, closes, opens again. Heat crawls up his neck, mixing embarrassment with the stubborn flicker of anger that refuses to die. He wants to argue, wants to yell that it wasn't just that simple, that the begging came from somewhere deeper and scarier than he's ready to unpack.

But the words stick in his throat, and all he can do is stand there staring at Katsuki, furious, gorgeous, infuriating Katsuki.

Izuku drops his gaze fast, cheeks burning so hot he swears they're glowing. He can't hold Katsuki's stare anymore, not when those crimson eyes are boring right through him like they already know everything he's trying to hide.

"It was just a 'in the moment' thing," he mumbles, the words coming out small and wobbly.

Katsuki tilts his head slowly, that sharp smirk curling wider across his face, all amusement and trouble.

"Oh? Just a 'in the moment' thing?" He steps forward again, deliberate, crowding Izuku's space without even touching him yet.

Katsuki comes closer, close enough that Izuku can smell the cologne clinging to him, close enough that the heat rolling off his body makes the air between them feel thick.

"Y-Yes," Izuku stammers, voice pitching higher than he wants it to, flustered and cracking.

Katsuki leans in farther, forearms bracing on the desk on either side of Izuku's hips, caging him in.

"So you're telling me you haven't thought about it at all? Just over and done, completely forgot about it?"

Izuku's eyes flick down to Katsuki's mouth, those lips that were everywhere that night, then snap back up to his gaze. The memories hit like a freight train anyway. The rough slide of tongue, the bite of teeth, the way Katsuki's voice had gone low and wrecked when he said Izuku's name.

His throat works hard around a thick swallow. He nods anyway, slow and shaky, like maybe if he sells it hard enough, Katsuki will buy the lie.

Katsuki huffs a quiet, disbelieving laugh. "You've always been a shitty liar, nerd."

His hand comes up quickly, fingers catching Izuku's chin, tilting his face up so there's no escaping the eye contact. The grip isn't rough, just firm enough to keep him there.

"We both had a good time. What's the big deal? Not like we have to tell anyone we fucked."

Izuku's eyes go wide, heart slamming against his ribs.

"You haven't told anyone?"

Katsuki rolls his eyes hard, like the question's the dumbest thing he's heard all week.

"Why would I tell anyone that I fucked Deku?" The words land sharp, twisting something ugly in Izuku's chest.

He frowns, brows pulling tight. "Right, because it's soooo bad."

"Don't give me that, nerd." Katsuki leans in even closer, breath brushing warm over Izuku's lips. "You're the one who's embarrassed for sleeping with me." His voice drops lower, rough around the edges, teasing. "So right back atcha."

Izuku's resolve crumbles the second Katsuki's mouth is that close. One heartbeat of hesitation, then he surges forward and crashes their lips together, hard, needy, no room left for second-guessing.

Damn it, this is a terrible idea, catastrophic even, but his dick is already half-hard, and his brain is switching off faster than a blown fuse. The past few days have been torture. He's been starving for exactly this, and the realization hits him square in the chest while their tongues slide together.

No hesitation this time. Izuku fists the front of Katsuki's shirt, yanks him closer for one more bruising kiss, then breaks away just long enough to shove him backward. Katsuki lets himself be moved, smirking the whole time, eyes dark and amused, as he drops onto the edge of the bed with a soft bounce of the mattress.

Izuku follows without thinking, stepping between Katsuki's spread thighs and sinking to his knees on the carpet. His hands shake only a little when they go for Katsuki's fly, button, zipper, tugging the waistband down just enough.

The bulge straining against the fabric is obscene already, and when Izuku finally frees him, the thick length springs out heavy and flushed. It looks even bigger up close, veins standing out, the head slick. Izuku's mouth waters even as his brain short-circuits again. He can't believe he took all of that inside him.

Can't believe he wants to again.

He leans in slowly at first, tongue flicking out to lap at the bead of precum pearling at the slit. Then he parts his lips and takes just the tip into his mouth. Warm, velvet-smooth skin sliding over his tongue.

Katsuki's breath hitches above him, a low groan rumbling out as calloused fingers thread into Izuku's curls.

"Fuck," Katsuki mutters under his breath, voice scraped raw.

Izuku's never done this before, never even come close, so he watches every twitch of Katsuki's abs, every flutter of his lashes, cataloging reactions like they're notes for an exam.

He sinks down farther, careful, taking more inch by inch until he's halfway and the stretch at the corners of his mouth starts to burn. Then Katsuki's hips jerk up without warning, and the full-length punches into his throat.

Tears spring to Izuku's eyes instantly. His throat convulses around the intrusion, gag reflex flaring hot and panicked. He forces himself to breathe through his nose, relax the muscles, swallow around it until the urge to choke eases into something manageable.

When he finally blinks the blur away and looks up, Katsuki's staring right back, eyes blown dark, hand tightening in Izuku's hair until it borders on painful.

"Such a good boy for me," Katsuki says, the words coming out low and smug, that trademark smirk pulling at his mouth even as his thumb brushes gently along Izuku's cheekbone.

The praise lands like a spark to dry grass. Izuku's cock jumps hard in his pants, straining against the fabric so suddenly it makes him whimper around the thick length filling his mouth. Heat floods his face.

Embarrassment, arousal, the dawning realization that he's discovering kinks he didn't even know he had, and Katsuki's the one peeling them open one filthy word at a time. Stupid, stupid Kacchan.

He hollows his cheeks anyway, bobs down deeper, determined to chase more of those sounds, more of that grip, more of everything Katsuki's willing to give him right now.

Izuku lifts his head slowly at first, then finds a steady rhythm. Up and down, lips sealed tight, tongue pressing flat along the underside every time he sinks.

He picks up speed gradually, chasing the way Katsuki's thighs tense under his palms, the low, rough sounds that slip out above him. His jaw aches already, but the heat pooling low in his gut makes it easy to ignore.

Then Katsuki's fingers tighten hard in his curls, a sharp tug that forces Izuku's eyes to squeeze shut for a second, a muffled whine vibrating around the thick length in his mouth. Katsuki stops him there, holding him still with one hand while the other slides to cup his cheek.

Rough thumb swipes gently under his eye, catching a tear that's just starting to spill. The contrast hits Izuku like a whiplash. A brutal grip in his hair, a soft touch on his face.

Their eyes lock. Katsuki's stare is dark, predatory in that way that makes Izuku feel small, hunted, and wanted all at once. Prey.

Something flickers across Katsuki's expression then; his mouth opens like he's about to say something heavy, important even, but he snaps it shut again. The softness in his eyes lasts only a heartbeat before it's gone, replaced by that familiar edge.

Izuku blinks, thrown. Katsuki's never been the type to hold back words; he just blurts whatever's burning in his head, consequences be damned. Reading him right now feels impossible, like trying to catch smoke.

Before Izuku can even process the weird tenderness, both of Katsuki's hands fist tight in his hair again. No warning. He shoves Izuku down hard, forcing every inch past his lips until his nose presses flush against Katsuki's pelvis. Izuku's throat spasms around the sudden fullness, tears flooding his eyes instantly.

Katsuki doesn't let up, hips snapping forward in short, ruthless thrusts, grip ironclad, stealing every scrap of control Izuku thought he had. But Izuku adapts. He relaxes his throat as best he can, starts swirling his tongue in tight circles around the shaft even as Katsuki fucks into his mouth. 

A sharp gasp punches out of Katsuki above him, hips twitching hard once, then again. The reaction sends a fresh rush of heat through Izuku's veins. Tears stream freely down his cheeks now, hot and messy, dripping onto Katsuki's thighs.

His throat burns from the abuse, raw and stretched, but god, he loves it. The helplessness, the way he's being used, the sting of tears mixing with the overwhelming fullness. It's filthy and perfect and exactly what his body's been craving since that first night.

His hands drop to his own crotch without thinking, palming himself through his pants, desperate for any friction. The pressure's nowhere near enough, but it still makes his hips jerk forward in tiny, helpless rolls.

Katsuki's panting harder now, voice scraped rough between thrusts. "You look like a fucking dirty slut when you look up at me like that," he growls, words punctuated by the wet sounds of Izuku's mouth working him. "Fucking 'innocent nerdy Deku' likes being destroyed, used, and abused." The scoff that follows is cruel, but his grip tightens like he's afraid Izuku might pull away.

Izuku hates how much the words light him up, how they twist low in his gut and make his cock throb harder against his palm. He moans around the thick length filling his mouth, the sound muffled and wrecked, and rubs himself faster, shameless now.

Katsuki knows exactly what he's doing, knows every button to push until Izuku's unraveling faster than he can keep up. And he lets him, lets the words sink in deep, lets his body chase the edge, because right now nothing feels better than being seen like this, stripped bare and still wanted.

"Fuck, 'm gonna cum," Katsuki says, the words scraping out rough and tight.

His fingers clamp down harder in Izuku's curls, knuckles brushing scalp, and his eyes squeeze shut like he's bracing for impact. He thrusts up sharply, timed perfectly with the push that forces Izuku's head down until his nose is buried against Katsuki's pelvis again.

Then he's coming. Hot, thick pulses flooding straight down Izuku's throat. So deep there's barely any swallowing needed; it just slides right past his tonsils in heavy spurts. Izuku's eyes water fresh, throat working around the intrusion on pure instinct.

At the exact same second, the praise and the roughness and the fullness tip him over too. His cock jerks untouched in his soaked pants, release spilling warm and messy against the fabric while a high, broken whimper vibrates around Katsuki's length.

His eyes roll back hard as pleasure crashes through him in waves that leave him trembling. Katsuki finally eases his grip and pulls Izuku off with a wet pop, letting go of his hair completely.

Izuku's head drops forward, chin to chest, panting hard through his raw throat while strings of spit and cum connect his swollen lips to the softening cock in front of him. Exhaustion hits him like a truck, legs shaky, lungs burning, whole body buzzing.

Before he can even catch his breath, Katsuki's hand fists the collar of his shirt and yanks him upright. Izuku squeaks, startled and high-pitched, knees scraping the carpet as he's hauled up.

"There's no way that was your first time doing it," Katsuki says, voice low and edged with something angry, almost accusing. He locks their eyes, frowning deeply between his brows. "Are you fucking anyone else?"

Izuku blinks through the haze, confusion cutting through the post-orgasm fog.

"N-No," he rasps, voice wrecked and barely there, throat clicking painfully around the word.

Cum still clings to the corner of his mouth, a slow drip he can feel sliding down his chin. Katsuki doesn't say anything right away, just studies his face with narrowed eyes, searching, like he's trying to catch a lie that isn't there.

Then he clicks his tongue, sharp and annoyed, and lets go of the collar. Izuku braces for the shove, expects to be dropped back to the floor, but Katsuki surprises him again. Big hands slide under his armpits, lift him effortlessly, and suddenly he's being deposited on the bed beside Katsuki, legs dangling off the edge, socks brushing the carpet.

Katsuki rolls his eyes as he reaches for Izuku's waistband. "Can't fucking believe you jizzed your pants just from barely touching yourself."

Izuku's face flames hotter than it already is. He props himself up on his elbows, mortified but still buzzing.

"Can't control it that well," he mumbles, staring at a random spot on the blanket because looking Katsuki in the eye right now feels impossible.

Katsuki doesn't answer, just shoves Izuku's pants and boxers down his thighs in one impatient tug, freeing the sticky mess. He grabs a handful of tissues from the nightstand, wipes at the cum smeared across Izuku's chin and softening cock with surprisingly careful strokes.

The tissue drags over sensitive skin, and Izuku whimpers again, hips twitching despite himself.

"Wait, are we not gonna keep going?" The question slips out before he can stop it, disappointed and needy, another soft whine escaping when Katsuki swipes the tissue along the head of his dick.

Katsuki smirks down at him, slow and knowing. "You're one horny fucking nerd." He glances back at the mess he's cleaning. "No, we're gonna work on the project, as I said."

"Right," Izuku pouts, sinking back against the pillows with a huff.

His body still hums, oversensitive and unsatisfied in a weird way.

So, after everything was cleaned up, they sat down at his desk.

Izuku's been staring at the same diagram for the last five minutes straight, pencil hovering uselessly above the page while his brain refuses to cooperate.

Katsuki's thigh presses warm and solid against his under the desk, close enough that every tiny shift of fabric sends a fresh spark racing up Izuku's spine. Thirty minutes in and he's already hopeless.

"Deku, fucking focus," Katsuki mutters beside him, voice low and edged with irritation as he jabs a finger at the half-finished notes.

Izuku jolts, cheeks heating instantly. "S-Sorry."

Katsuki rolls his eyes so hard it's audible. "Can't believe I have more self-control than you." The scoff that follows is pure exasperation, but there's a smug curl at the corner of his mouth.

"H-Huh?! That's not true!" Izuku's face burns hotter, voice pitching up in protest even as he sinks lower in his chair.

"Oh yeah?" Katsuki leans in a fraction, smirk sharpening. "I'm not the one sitting here being fucking horny while doing a biology project."

Izuku wants the floor to open up and swallow him whole. He ducks his head, shoulders hunching as embarrassment coils tight in his chest. This is mortifying, being called out so casually, so accurately, when he can't even deny it.

His pulse is loud in his ears, and the worst part is how right Katsuki is.

 

☽☽☽

 

Things have shifted hard since that night. Every time they're alone now, working on this project, stealing minutes in empty classrooms, even just passing in the hallway, the air crackles. 

Katsuki's fingers brushing his wrist, Izuku's palm pressing flat against Katsuki's back when no one's looking. Izuku's never felt this kind of pull before, constant, consuming, terrifying.

He knows he should pull back, should protect whatever's left of his heart before Katsuki accidentally crushes it without even noticing.

At school, it's different now. Katsuki doesn't sneer at him anymore, doesn't lob insults across the classroom, and doesn't acknowledge him at all, most days. People have started whispering about it, the sudden ceasefire between Bakugou and Deku, but no one's brave enough to ask outright.

Izuku keeps his head down and pretends it doesn't hurt when Katsuki walks right past without a glance. Still, in private, Katsuki's different in ways Izuku never saw coming. The clinginess hits hardest.

The way he'll drape an arm over Izuku's shoulders when they're alone, tug him closer on the bed without a word, bury his face against Izuku's neck like he's trying to memorize the scent. It's quiet, almost needy, and it makes Izuku's chest ache in the best-worst way every single time.

He never expected that from Katsuki of all people, and now he can't stop noticing it, can't stop wanting more even when he knows he's setting himself up to get wrecked.

 

"I'm gonna go take a shower," he says, pushing off the bed and padding toward the bathroom door in his socks.

"I'll come with you," Katsuki replies without missing a beat, already swinging his legs over the edge and following right behind.

Izuku freezes mid-step, turns slowly, one eyebrow climbing high.

"You already showered after practice."

"And?" Katsuki shrugs, hands shoved in his pockets, looking utterly unbothered. "I'll go again."

"Kacchan." Izuku crosses his arms over his chest and fixes him with a look that's half-exasperated, half-amused.

Katsuki rolls his eyes so dramatically that his whole head tilts with it.

"I promise, I won't try anything," he grumbles, voice dripping with annoyance even as the corner of his mouth twitches like he's fighting a smirk.

 

And Katsuki really didn't try anything. They showered side by side in comfortable silence, hot water poured down, steam filled the small space, Katsuki just stood there letting it run over his shoulders while Izuku scrubbed shampoo into his curls.

No wandering hands, no teasing. Just quiet closeness, like Katsuki simply wanted to be there with him.

These days, Katsuki stays over constantly, shows up after practice, and lingers until it's late, always asking what Izuku's up to, what he ate, and if he finished his notes.

Even the texts are different. Short, gruff check-ins that ping Izuku's phone at random hours are completely out of character for the guy who used to barely acknowledge him outside of yelling.

It's clingy in a way Izuku never saw coming, and it makes his chest ache every time Katsuki's arm ends up slung over him without a word.

 

[Kacchan]: what are your plans for today nerd?

[You]: I'll go and hang out with Ochako and Shouto after school!! ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ ) What about you?

[Kacchan]: shitty hair is doing a party or smth for the basketball team and I think some extras are invited
[Kacchan]: wasn't planning on going but if you don't have time bc you hate me then ig I'll go

[You]: Kacchan, I don't hate you! (•́ ᴖ •̀)
[You]: Don't be so dramatic...
[You]: We can hang out tomorrow. (｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )♡

 

Everything feels suspiciously close to a relationship these days. Katsuki crashing at his place, texting him dumb updates about practice, draping an arm over him when no one's watching... and that's exactly why it's dangerous.

Because it's not. It never was.

Just convenient heat that somehow turned into something sticky and warm he can't scrape off his skin.

Right now, his eyes are glued to the far wall of the cafeteria where Katsuki stands, back to the room, talking to some tall guy from the swim team. They're close. Too close.

Shoulders almost brushing, the other guy leaning in with that easy, cocky grin people always wear around Katsuki. Izuku's stomach twists hard, a sharp, ugly sting blooming right under his ribs. He forces a swallow that tastes like acid.

"Izuku!" Ochako's voice snaps him back like a rubber band. He flinches, nearly knocking his water over.

"Midoriya, we called your name four times," Shouto says beside him, calm as ever, chopsticks paused halfway to his mouth.

"S-Sorry..." Izuku mumbles, cheeks heating as he ducks his head.

Ochako narrows her eyes, follows the direction of his stare, then rolls hers so dramatically her whole head tips back.

"Ugh." She turns forward again, stabbing a piece of Karaage with more force than necessary. "That Bakugou really likes collecting guys the way he collects medals."

Izuku's heart stutters. He drags his gaze back to her, confused. "What do you mean?"

"You haven't heard?" Ochako pops the Karaage into her mouth and talks around it, unbothered. "That guy over there keeps bragging to literally everyone how he slept with Katsuki last Friday at the basketball team's party or whatever. He's just some dude, yet everyone's soooo in love with him."

The words land like ice water down Izuku's spine. His heart stops for a painful second before it slams back into double time. Oh god.

The sting in his chest sharpens into something raw, something that makes his eyes burn, and his throat close up. He bites down hard on his lower lip to keep it from trembling.

Is it true? He doesn't know. Doesn't want to know.

But the image is already there. Katsuki's hands on someone else, mouth on someone else, low growls, and rough grips given away like they mean nothing. Like Izuku was just one more name on a long list.

He can't even be angry. They're not together. Never were. Katsuki never promised him anything, never said this was exclusive, never even hinted it could be more than late-night hookups and quiet mornings tangled in sheets.

Katsuki has every right to be with whoever he wants.

But it still hurts. Deep, bone-aching hurt that makes his vision blur at the edges. He blinks fast, stares down at his tray, and pretends the food in front of him is suddenly fascinating while his chest caves in on itself.

Izuku sits frozen while the conversation drifts on around him, the sting in his chest spreading until it feels like everything's squeezing tight. Tenya's voice cuts through the haze first, calm and matter-of-fact as he adjusts his glasses.

"Well, he is the captain of the basketball team. He seems to have a good future ahead of him. Makes sense that he attracts people."

"Still, it's just—" Ochako starts, then stops dead. Her eyes snap wide when they land on Izuku. "Izuku? What's wrong?"

"H-Huh?" He blinks at her, startled, and only then feels the hot trails sliding down his cheeks. Tears. Actual tears spilling over without permission. "Oh... u-uhm..." He swipes at them fast with the back of his hand, forcing a wobbly smile that probably looks more like a grimace. "I... uh... I'm not sure."

"Midoriya." Shouto's hand settles warm and steady on his shoulder, voice quiet but laced with real worry.

"Guys, it's fine, I just..." His voice cracks, thin and unsteady. Damn it. He can feel his lip trembling. "I think I need to go to the toilet. Stomach ache."

The lie lands flat even to his own ears, terrible, obvious, but it's the only thing his scrambled brain can grab onto.

"Izuku—" Ochako starts again, softer this time, reaching out.

He doesn't let her finish. Chair scraping loudly against the floor, he pushes back fast and stands, mumbling apologies under his breath as he weaves through the crowded tables.

He keeps his head down, arms wrapped tight around himself, holding back the sobs clawing up his throat until he's out of the cafeteria doors and into the hallway.

The second the exit doors swing shut behind him, the first real sob breaks free. Ugly, choking, and he bolts for the bus stop outside.

The ride home blurs. He stares out the window, jaw clenched so hard it aches, tears slipping silently down his face while he pretends to scroll on his phone. By the time he stumbles through the front door and kicks it closed, the dam bursts completely.

He drops to his knees right there in the entryway, palms slapping the floor, shoulders shaking with sobs he can't muffle anymore. The house is dead quiet, his mom is still at work, and the silence makes every wet gasp echo louder.

Damn it, he shouldn't feel like this. Katsuki didn't cheat. They're not together. Never were. Katsuki can sleep with whoever he wants, brag about it, and collect hookups the same way he racks up trophies.

Izuku has no claim, no right to this crushing hurt that makes his chest feel caved in and his breathing ragged. But it still feels like betrayal, sharp, personal, like something precious got ripped away when he wasn't looking.

He stays there on the floor until his knees throb and the sobs taper into hiccuping breaths. Eventually, he drags himself upright on shaky legs, wipes his face with his sleeve, and stumbles toward his room.

A shower feels like a good idea, something to drown out the noise in his head.

It doesn't work.

Standing under the spray, he stares at the tiles and sees Katsuki's smirk instead, hears that low voice in his ear, remembers the way those arms held him like they meant it. The tears come back harder.

When he finally steps out, the mirror shows a wreck: swollen eyes, blotchy cheeks, hair dripping and plastered to his forehead. He looks small. Pathetic.

He changes into the softest hoodie and sweats he owns, pops his contacts out so the world goes fuzzy at the edges, shuts the window against the afternoon light, and crawls under the covers. The sobs start up again, quieter now, muffled into his pillow, until exhaustion finally drags him under and he slips into uneasy sleep.

Izuku drifts in that heavy, post-cry haze where everything feels muffled and far away until a soft voice pulls at the edges of his sleep.

"Izuku, come on, wake up." Gentle fingers stroke through his curls, slow and careful. "Man, you're a deep sleeper."

His eyelids flutter open, vision a blurry smear of dim afternoon light and familiar shapes. The outline of round cheeks and short brown hair registers first—Ochako, sitting on the edge of his bed, looking down at him with that quiet, worried fondness she gets when he's falling apart.

"Ochako?" His voice scrapes out rough and thick, throat still raw from earlier sobs.

He fumbles blindly for his glasses on the nightstand, slips them on, and the world sharpens. Her soft smile, the way her eyes crinkle at the corners, the backpack she's already set neatly beside his desk.

"You forgot all your stuff at school when you bolted," she says, nodding toward the bag. "Figured you'd need it."

"Oh... right. Sorry for the trouble," he mumbles, pushing himself up properly against the headboard.

His hoodie bunches around his shoulders, sleeves too long, and he tugs them down like that'll hide how wrecked he still looks. Ochako scoots closer, reaches for his hand without hesitation, and laces their fingers together. Her palm is warm, steady.

"So, you wanna tell me what's wrong now?" Her voice stays gentle, thumb brushing over his knuckles in slow circles, the kind of reassurance that makes it impossible to keep hiding.

He bites down hard on his lower lip, eyes sliding away to the rumpled blanket bunched in his lap.

"I feel stupid."

"Stupid? Why?"

Izuku hesitates, chest tight, but the dam's already cracked today, might as well let the rest spill. He starts slow, voice wobbly at first. 

The way things shifted after that first night, Katsuki showing up unannounced, the clingy texts, the way he'd drape himself over Izuku like it was nothing and everything at once.

He tells her about the cafeteria, the guy bragging, the way his heart cracked open right there at the lunch table. All of it, from when they were kids fighting over All Might cards to the messy, aching thing they've become now.

He doesn't skip the parts that make his face burn or his voice crack, doesn't try to make it sound less pathetic than it feels.

Ochako doesn't interrupt once. She just listens, squeezing his hand when his breath hitches, passing him tissues the second fresh tears start slipping down his cheeks.

By the time he trails off into sniffly silence, the room feels smaller, safer, like the weight on his ribs has shifted just enough to let him breathe.

"Oh, Izuku," she says quietly, voice thick. "I'm so sorry. This is such a mess."

"Yeah," he sniffles, dragging the sleeve of his hoodie across his nose.

She lets out a small, watery giggle that catches him off guard. "Though to be honest, I was already very sure that you're in love with him."

Izuku's head snaps up so fast his glasses slip down his nose.

"H-Huh?!"

"I mean, it's kind of obvious." She shrugs one shoulder, smile soft and knowing. "The way you look at him, the way you blush when your eyes meet across a room. I doubt the guys noticed. Shouto has the emotional intelligence of a teaspoon, and Tenya doesn't really clock that stuff unless it's written in a rulebook."

The unexpected honesty drags a tiny, broken laugh out of him, the first real one in hours. It's shaky, but it's there.

"I guess so."

Before he can sink back into the ache, his phone buzzes sharply on the nightstand. Once, twice, then a whole string of vibrations that make the wood rattle.

He glances over, eyes widening as the screen lights up: eight missed calls, a flood of unread messages stacking one after another. His stomach drops straight through the mattress.

 

[Kacchan]: why the fuck were you crying earlier and left school??
[Kacchan]: did someone do or say something?

missed call

[Kacchan]: can you fucking pick up
[Kacchan]: oi shitty deku

missed call
missed call
missed call

[Kacchan]: are you fucking kidding me right now
[Kacchan]: you're dead

missed call

[Kacchan]: are you fr right now
[Kacchan]: hello??
[Kacchan]: why tf was your ass crying

missed call
missed call

[Kacchan]: are you fucking ignoring me?
[Kacchan]: tf did I even do??

missed call

[Kacchan]: fuck you too then asshole
[Kacchan]: go die

 

Izuku groans low in his throat, burying his face in his hands as the screen lights up with notification after notification.

"I'm so dead..."

Ochako scoots closer on the bed, shoulder bumping his, and they scroll through the messages together.

"I mean... it is kinda cute," Ochako says softly, a small smile tugging at her mouth even though her eyes stay worried. "He's worried, you know?"

"Doesn't matter," Izuku mumbles, voice cracking on the last word. Fresh tears prick at the corners of his eyes again. "I'm just another piece of ass to him."

Ochako doesn't argue. She just sighs, long and quiet, and pulls him in without asking, arms wrapping around his shoulders, hand rubbing slow, steady circles up and down his back.

The hug is warm, solid, the first real comfort he's let himself sink into since the cafeteria. He melts against her, cheek pressed to her shoulder, and lets the tears come again, quieter this time, but still messy.

Keeping everything locked inside for so long has left him raw; saying it out loud to someone who doesn't judge feels like finally exhaling after holding his breath for weeks.

"Okay," she murmurs after a while, squeezing him once before pulling back just enough to look at him. "Let's just distract ourselves from it, yeah?"

She queues up one of those cheesy rom-coms they've rewatched a hundred times, dashes out to the corner store for an armload of snacks, and comes back with flushed cheeks from the heat. 

They pile blankets on the bed, burrow in together, and for a little while, it almost works. The movie noise fills the room, Ochako's commentary makes him snort-laugh once or twice, and the ache in his chest dulls to something bearable.

Then the doorbell rings. Izuku's head snaps toward his door. It's past eight, way past when anyone would just drop by. Ochako keeps her eyes on the screen, munching absently on popcorn, but Izuku's pulse kicks up hard.

Muffled voices drift up from downstairs, his mom's, calm and polite, then someone lower, rougher, insistent. His gut clenches tight.

"O- Ochako," he starts, eyes glued to his closed bedroom door. "I have a bad gut feeling right now."

She finally looks over, brow furrowing, but before she can answer, footsteps thud up the stairs, quick, heavy, familiar. The door flies open with a sharp bang against the wall.

Katsuki stands in the doorway, his eyes lock on Izuku immediately, furious, blazing, the kind of anger that makes the air feel thinner. A chill races straight down Izuku's spine.

"Leaving me on read? Are you fucking kidding me right now?" Katsuki's voice comes out low and dangerous, every word clipped sharp enough to cut.

Izuku freezes. Heart slamming against his ribs, mouth dry, he can only stare, wide-eyed, dumbstruck, as the reality crashes in. He hasn't prepared for this. Hasn't prepared for anything. 

He'd been planning to keep a distance, protect whatever scraps of his heart were still intact. But Katsuki's never been the type to let things slide, and the look on his face says he's not about to start now.

Ochako shifts awkwardly beside him on the bed, the movie still droning softly in the background.

"Well, it's late," she says quietly, voice small and careful. "I think I should go."

Neither of them answers right away. The room goes thick with silence, heavy, suffocating, the kind that presses against Izuku's ears until all he can hear is his own heartbeat thudding too loud.

He swallows hard, throat clicking, and stands up when Ochako does. His legs feel unsteady as he walks her the short distance to his bedroom door, every step dragging like he's moving through water.

"Bye," she murmurs at the threshold, turning to give him one last comforting smile, soft, worried, but warm. "It was nice hanging out." The door clicks shut behind her with a gentle finality that somehow makes the quiet worse.

Izuku's hands start trembling the second she's gone. He turns slowly, palms clammy, and finds Katsuki standing there, arms crossed, face set in that hard, serious line that makes Izuku's stomach flip in all the wrong ways.

Crimson eyes lock on him, unblinking, furious in a way that's quiet and contained and therefore terrifying.

"Uhm—"

"What the fuck happened?" Katsuki's voice comes out low, controlled, but the anger bleeds through every syllable, sharp enough to cut.

Izuku's gaze drops straight to the carpet, unable to hold it.

"I just..." The words stick, thick, and useless in his throat. He tries again, voice barely above a whisper. "I just..."

Katsuki scoffs, short, harsh, and Izuku sees his fists clench, knuckles cracking faintly.

"I was fucking worried about why you left crying, and you don't even reply." He takes one step closer, boots scuffing the floor. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Kacchan, I—" His voice cracks clean in half at the end, raw and embarrassing.

God, he needs to pull it together, but the tears are already burning hot behind his eyes again. He forces the question out before he can chicken out.

"Kacchan, did you really sleep with that guy last Friday?"

Silence stretches so long it hurts.

Izuku risks a glance up. Katsuki's staring at him, brows drawn tight, looking genuinely confused.

"What the fuck?" The words come out dumbfounded. "Is that why you were crying?"

Izuku doesn't answer. He can't. The admission feels ridiculous now, and fresh tears well up anyway, blurring Katsuki's face at the edges. He blinks hard, trying to keep them from falling.

Katsuki crosses his arms tighter, eyes narrowing.

"Let's say yes," he says slowly. "Why would it bother you? We don't have that kind of relationship."

"Doesn't bother me," Izuku whispers, the lie so thin it barely makes it past his lips.

Katsuki's scoff is cruel this time, sharp enough that Izuku actually flinches, shoulders hunching inward.

"Are you really the one to talk?" Katsuki leans in just a fraction, voice dropping colder. "What about you and that half-and-half guy?"

"What?!" Izuku's head snaps up, voice pitching higher in disbelief. "We've been friends for years, nothing more!" The words burst out louder than he means, shaky with hurt.

Izuku's arms stay crossed tight over his chest, shoulders hunched like they can shield the ache blooming there.

"Getting a little too defensive there," Katsuki mutters, voice low and edged with something sharp.

"Kacchan!"

Katsuki groans, dragging a rough hand down his face, fingers pressing hard into his eyes for a second before dropping away.

"I didn't fuck that guy."

Izuku narrows his eyes, frown deepening even as his lip trembles.

"Why should I even believe that? You could just be telling me what I want to hear."

"Hah?! Are you fucking serious?!" Katsuki's voice jumps, incredulous and biting, the disbelief so thick it almost hurts to hear.

"Yes!"

"That guy is just lying! Do you even realize how many people have done that before?!"

"Suuure," Izuku fires back, sarcasm dripping despite the waver in his tone. "Then why haven't you cleared it up with everyone that he's lying?!"

"Because I don't give enough of a fuck!" Katsuki snaps, throwing his hands up before letting them slap back to his sides. "As long as he doesn't say bullshit about me, why would I care?!"

A single tear slips free, hot and slow, down Izuku's cheek. His chest feels crushed under something heavy and immovable, every breath scraping against it.

"I don't know," he exclaims, voice cracking, "maybe because we—" He cuts himself off hard, teeth sinking into his lower lip until it stings.

The words hang unfinished between them, fragile and dangerous. Katsuki's eyes narrow to slits. 

"We what, Deku," he spits the old nickname like it's poison, the way he hasn't in years.

Cruel, deliberate, slicing right through whatever fragile thing was still holding Izuku together.

Izuku's mouth opens, but nothing comes out. He doesn't know how to finish the sentence. Doesn't know what "we" even means anymore, if it ever meant anything at all.

The silence stretches, thick and suffocating, until Katsuki scoffs again, bitter, and shoves past him. Their shoulders collide, hard enough to jolt Izuku sideways. Katsuki doesn't look back.

He yanks the door open with enough force that the knob bangs against the wall, then slams it shut behind him so violently the whole frame rattles, vibrations traveling up through the floorboards and into Izuku's feet.

The room goes still. Too still. Izuku stands there, frozen in the middle of his bedroom, staring at the closed door like it might open again any second. His heart hammers too fast, too loud in the sudden quiet, but underneath it, everything feels hollowed out.

Katsuki just walked out, took whatever pieces of Izuku he'd been holding onto without even realizing it, and left nothing behind except the echo of that slammed door.

What now?

Katsuki's had his heart since they were kids. Izuku's never really gotten it back. Maybe he never will.

The thought settles heavy in his gut, cold and final, and he sinks slowly onto the edge of his bed, arms wrapped around himself like that might keep everything from falling apart completely.

 

☽☽☽

 

 

Notes:

Hey Siri, how do I tell my readers I already finished the entire fic, but I'm gonna upload the chapters one by one to torture them with cliffhangers?

:)