Work Text:
Izuku opens his phone for the ninth time to click onto last night’s post;
MightyBoy: …these statistics and the screencaps I’ve attached below lend some solid proof that over his past 5 rescue-based missions, Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight’s performance has seen a significant decrease in precision and success, and it could be a good idea for him to go over his motives with his analytical team and find a common ground that will best help the public while still showing off how cool he is!
If he was scrolling through the Dynamight fansite he posted it on, he’d have to thumb past about a hundred replies complimenting his thoroughness or offering more insights he hadn’t considered–Did you see his pits during the Minato bank heist? Call me a dog the way I want to lick those up, arf– but thankfully he’d had the insight to screenshot the address one of his fellow Dynamight fans had commented:
AllMghtBstFan254: Noon. Meet me & we’ll talk all about your evidence. Click Here
Of course there’s more to the exchange in the screenshot, but that’s really not important, just basic confirmation that they live in the same general area, talking about their mutual love for Dynamight, etc etc…
Izuku just wants to make sure he’s in the right place.
He glances around. He’s the only one in the coffee shop, but it’s only 11:37. The lunch rush might just not have hit yet, and the barista at the counter doesn’t seem too bothered by the lack of customers; he can hear pop songs coming from whatever’s playing on their phone.
He shrugs down to take another sip of his matcha latte; it’s very good, with a lavender honey syrup the barista claims is made in-house, not so sweet that he can’t taste the matcha underneath. It tastes like springtime. He should really leave a nice review of this place after he meets AllMghtBstFan254.
He holds the straw between his teeth as he sucks, keeping one hand on his other’s wrist to keep his knuckles from knocking like they do whenever he gets nervous. He’s not nervous. The face of his phone says it’s only– 11:40. He had the day off so of course he’s early… AllMghtBstFan254 might only get out of whatever they’re doing at twelve exactly.
He glances at the barista. Could they be AllMghtBstFan254? But they have a Shoto pin on their apron, and for some reason those two groups of fans don’t seem to mix well. Doubtful.
An old man with antenna walks his dog outside; but he’s not looking at his phone, so. Probably not. Maybe the dog? Maybe it has an intelligence quirk like the principal at UA! Ugh, he so wishes he actually applied to UA when he was younger. That would’ve been so cool, even if he only got into the General Education Course.
Maybe AllMghtBstFan254 went to UA. But that wouldn’t make sense, since they seem to be pretty dead on all the other Dynamight forums besides replying to his one breakdown post. If a Dynamight fan went to the same school as the real deal, they’d probably be posting up a storm of all the sneaky pictures and insider secrets they could get of him when he attended.
He takes another long sip, the plastic squealing against his teeth. What will AllMghtBstFan254 order when they get here? The only other forums they seemed to be active on weren’t Dynamight related, just some of the exercise and healthy eating ones he follows, too.
His phone buzzes. His knuckles scrape against the table as he picks it up, ready to see a message from AllMghtBstFan254, but. Oh. Someone else replying to his post.
If i could get close enough to Dyna that i could smell him, i bet he’d smell like old leather and expensive cologne.
He frowns and starts typing out a response. Dynamight’s already mentioned in several interviews that he likes using scentless products because his quirk has a distinct enough smell to be considered his signature scent. Besides, to assume that in a high-stakes mission that they’d be able to smell anything besides his sweat and the body odor of the other people he’s rescuing–!
It’s 11:55 when he finally closes his phone, a little frustrated at the argument he’d accidentally–totally accidentally!– caused in the comment section of his otherwise stellar analysis. He has to put it face down on the table so he doesn’t try to type out responses faster than the commenter’s logic, because there’s been a few times he’s done that– mostly on All Might fansites– and it devolves pretty quickly into the commenter calling him whatever slurs they’ve heard their parents use. Ugh. It’s too bad that all the 18+ fansites are… very adult, because he gets really tired of reading a twelve year-old’s sexual awakening about… old leather??? Apparently??
Movement outside the cafe windows catches his eye. He picked a booth seat, the side facing the entrance, and it gives him a clear view of someone waiting in front of the cafe. Their back is to the door, and they seem to be in all black; black sweatshirt, black joggers, black baseball cap, and from the straps he can see around their ears– probably a black medical face mask, too. They seem to be distracted by whatever’s in their right hand. Could that be AllMghtBstFan254?!
But– It doesn’t seem like they’re in a hurry to come in, so probably not.
12:05. AllMghtBstFan254 must have meant that they get off of whatever they were doing at noon, and he misconstrued that somehow. Oh well. He leaves his matcha and phone at his table to keep his spot and walks over to ask the barista if it’s okay if he stays a little longer.
They’re pretty engrossed in their phone, so he stands in front of the counter to wait until they’re free.
The bell sounds as someone walks in; the barista glances up at the peal then gives him a strange look when they notice him standing there.
“Um-” He suddenly feels very out of place and very weird, so it’s hard to find the right words.
“Oi.” A gruff voice to his right, the heat of another person near him, but they’re talking to the barista so he tries to mind his business and act like he’s not listening, “Have you seen anybody waiting in front? Probably doesn't shower?”
When the barista looks up, the face they have on says that whoever this person is is definitely attractive. He gets the Pandoran urge to look, but— No, Izuku, none of your business!
“We’ve been pretty dead this morning. The only people to come by are you and him–” When their eyes land on him, disappointed, bored, he finally remembers how to make words and blurts out:
“My friend is running a little late, is it okay if I wait here longer?”
“Sure.” Impartial eyes dart back to the stranger, crinkle up into a genuine smile with a voice laced with sugar, “Anything I can get for you?” It’s a dismissal, so he starts to walk back to his table, wishing he’d brought his phone with him to see if AllMghtBstFan254 had messaged him anything.
“MightyBoy?”
He freezes like a deer caught. It’s the stranger.
He turns around slowly, and Oh My Gosh.
His mouth flaps a few times, almost saying something before his brain kicks in and says Etiquette, Izuku! Etiquette!
He bows to his waist, his bangs flapping against his forehead and his hands clasped in front of him, “Ohmygosh— Thank you so much for your service, sir, it’s an honor to get coffee at the same shop as you!”
It’s kind of a blur. And also in high-definition, 4K slow-motion. Dynamight stares at him with the coolest, most awesome expression on his face– at least from what he can see from his eyes since the rest is covered by a face mask– it almost looks like surprise, if Dynamight could actually be surprised by someone like him.
And Izuku kind of just stands there, his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish because there’s so many things he wants to say like, Dynamight! Dynamight! Dynamight!, but he also doesn’t want to out his second favorite hero in public when his second favorite hero is clearly in civilian mode.
And then– oh my gosh, Dynamight!– Dynamight juts his head, like he’s pointing to somewhere, but he doesn’t really know what he means– this is so exciting– and Dynamight gives the coolest sigh, his pretty red eyes closing when he does it, which is honestly just so different from the explosive angry personality he has on television, and ugh, Dynamight!
Dynamight touches him! He kind of roughly grabs his wrist, but it’s not rough because, duh, nitroglycerin makes Dynamight’s hands super soft, and he leads him back to his booth– Dynamight knew where he was sitting??? And waits for Izuku to slide back into his seat before taking the opposite and!!!! Dynamight!!!
“So.” Dynamight (The Dynamight!) clears his throat.
“Dynamight!” He says it by accident, but it doesn’t really count since it’s more of a squeak than fully saying something.
“Yeah.” Dynamight gives the cafe one full sweep with his eyes before carefully, almost nervously–if Dynamight can get nervous– unhooking his mask from both ears and setting it on the table between them. And he’s just so… pretty! And cute! And handsome! And cool! And his lips are moving, wait–
“Huh?” He responds very intelligently.
Dynamight grimaces, “Do you realize you’ve been muttering this whole time?”
“Oh!” He slams his lips together; he needs to let his brain restart and remember how to be a normal human before he says anything else. Rebooting, one, two, three… “Okay. Okay. Sorry about that. I just wasn’t expecting…” He waves his hand in front of him.
“Yeah. I think we’re both feeling that.” He tries not to wilt at that; he knows he’s not… anything special. Or cool. Or even average. But he did comb his hair this morning! And even if it’s his day off, he triple-checked that the t-shirt he’s wearing didn’t have any stains before he put it on. That’s a big win when he’s in Normal Izuku mode and not Professional Izuku mode.
“Sorry if I compromised your identity, I really didn’t mean to.”
“‘S fine. If I didn’t know it was you before, I definitely do now. Most people don’t recognize me when I’m not in uniform.” Dynamight purses his lips, which are very full even if they’re not the biggest, and have a sheen to them like he might have put on lip gloss this morning.
Dynamight wears lip gloss?! He needs to add this to his records. Later.
But. What did he just say?
“Me?” He cocks his head, “What do you mean?”
Dynamight cocks an eyebrow at him, “Yer MightyBoy, right?”
“Um, yeah.” He blinks. “Did I win that raffle? They told me I didn’t, but they still took money out of my account so I thought maybe I did–”
“I don’t know what yer talking about. Except. If it’s one of those fan meets they post about online, they’re all scams. Don’t do those. I only meet with fans at conventions.”
“Oh, okay,” Note to self: Stop giving bank information to Dynamight Exclusive Fan Meets and start spending everything on con tickets. He can do that. “Wait. So why are you here, Dyna–sir?”
“Eugh, just call me Bakugou. Sir sounds weird as fuck. Ew.” Dynamight–Bakugou?– scrubs his face with one hand. “You seemed smarter than this. Yer Mighty Boy.”
“Yeah.” Duh.
“Okay. And why would I just happen to be here?”
He blinks. Dyna–Bakugou has really long eyelashes. How has that never shown up in photos? He doesn’t like looking at paparazzi photos of heroes outside of costume, so maybe he missed it since Dynamight usually wears so much eyeliner. But, they’re really long, and light, and a nice shade of blonde. They kind of remind him of butterflies, when D-Bakugou blinks and they flutter together.
“Why the fuck are you muttering about butterflies?”
“Sorry! That’s– eyelashes–um. It’s a habit. It’s something I’ve done since I was a kid. Sorry. I have a hard time controlling it sometimes.” He usually has a hard time controlling it never. The only people who have heard him mutter since he was a teenager are his mother and the coworker he shares a cubicle wall with. He’s had it under control. Until now. But this is a very special circumstance. “Can you repeat the question? Sorry.”
“Who do you think I am?”
“Dynami- Bakugou.”
“Why am I here?”
His brain pauses. He’s here. He’s here, too. At a very secluded, out-of-the-way coffee shop. And it’s not for a fan meet-and-greet that was definitely a scam the more he thinks about it. And he showed up right around noon, which was when–
“You’re AllMghtBstFan254.” He says it from his face pressed into his hands.
“That took a while.”
“Normally it wouldn’t– this is just. It’s different. Very different.”
“I get it.”
“You do?” He looks up; D-Bakugou does that grimace again that’s almost becoming a signature new look.
“Nah. Not really. But whatever.”
“Okay.” It’s not uncommon for heroes to have their PR team monitor all their numerous fansites, just to make sure no confidential information or misleading details are released. But for Dynamight to be active on one of his own? But…the rest of AllMghtBstFan254’s posts on other sites do match up with some of the interests he’s shared in interviews or social media posts.
“Why is yer name MightyBoy? Yer like twenty.”
“Twenty-five.” They’re the same age, months apart, but still! He’s always been proud of sharing ages with Dynamight.
“Are you trying to make people online think yer a kid?” Something like disgust passes over Dyna-Bakugou’s face and he wants to die a little on the inside.
“No!” He says it too loudly; the barista glances up from their phone. He shrinks deeper into himself, “I was ten when I made that.” He pauses, rethinking Bakugou’s question, “Why would you be meeting up with a kid?”
“So he’d stop posting about what such a shit hero I am online, duh.” Bakugou says this like it’s obvious.
“Oh.” That makes sense. “You were late, though.”
“The fuck? I’m never late!” Bakugou snarls it and folds his arms across his chest, leaning into the booth’s cushioning, “I got here at 11:50, was just standing outside.” He looks Izuku up and down, judging. He knows Bakugou won’t find something worth anything, so he just sits there and waits. “Why were you inside? Did you think this was a coffee date or some shit?”
“Why would I be waiting outside?” He wraps his fingers around the matcha; the condensation on the outside is a familiar, safe feeling right now.
Bakugou’s eyes widen in surprise.
“What did you think this was?”
“Meeting up with a fellow fan and discussing our mutual interests?” Why else would AllMghtBst–Dyna– Bakugou send him an address?
“Holy shit.” Bakugou mouthes it, but he can tell pretty clearly what the words are. Then, real words: “I came here to fuck you up.”
“Oh. Um.” He cocks his head, “That’s pretty inappropriate."
“To beat the shit out of you, what the fuck?! How did you miss that when I was messaging you?!”
He opens his phone back to the screenshot, angry red eyes watching him over the top of the screen.
AllMghtBstFan254: This is the shittest post that’s ever been posted on this shit website
–MightyBoy: Thank you for reading! Could you let me know what I need to work on?
––AllMghtBstFan254: Try never writing again
–––MightyBoy: Haha I don’t know if I could manage that, anything else?
––––AllMghtBstFan254: You in Tokyo?
–––––MightyBoy: Yep!
––––––AllMghtBstFan254: Noon. Meet me & we’ll talk all about your evidence Click Here
–––––––MightyBoy: Okay *(^o^)*
“This seems pretty clear to me,” He chewed the inside of his cheek, “I mean, you literally said to meet you here so we could talk about my post?”
“When I wrote that it clearly meant that I was going to fuck you up for shit talking me!”
“Maybe it wasn’t as clear as you thought!”
“It seemed pretty damn clear to me!”
He stares down at his phone on the table; the screenshot that might have meant something different than he originally thought watches him. It judges him.
Focus, Izuku. Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight is literally right there.
“Okay, so.” He makes sure to use his hands; all the articles he’s read on mediation say that keeping a calm demeanor and friendly body language are key to effective communication, “There is a chance I misconstrued this meeting. However, I feel like I made some pretty good points in what I wrote, and I do feel like going over them might help your performance as a hero.” Oh my gosh!!!! He was giving the Dynamight advice on his heroics!!! This was every dream and wet dream he’d ever had rolled into one beautiful moment!
“Why are you muttering about wet dreams? You a pervert?” Bakugou eyes narrow at him, but the relaxed roll of his shoulders and the way Bakugou’s head leans against his side of the booth indicate comfortability. Good. He’s got this mediation shit in the bag. “An’ I don’t want to go over that bitchass article you posted. My analytics team already made all the same points as you after last week’s train robbery.”
“Okay,” Bakugou’s hair had a strange thing about it, in that it looked so spiky and harsh in the photos, but up close it was actually quite soft. Light shined through the tips and gave him this ethereal look. Maybe that’s what inspired the God part of his hero name? But.
Mediation.
He cleared his throat, trying not to get sidetracked again, “What do you want?” Hopefully not beating the shit out of him anymore. He kind of liked the shit staying in him. Except when he was in the bathroom, but. That’s obvious.
“I want to beat the crap out of you.” Bakugou gave him a cocky smile, one end higher than the other, and leaned further back into the booth, crossing his arms; forearms flexed with the movement, thick, and pressing into his pecs that were so plush his arms made an indent against them. “Arrogant little shit, thinking you can get away with posting something like that.” His eyes slid from Izuku’s face, trailing down his neck and focusing somewhere around his middle, that same smug look on his face. Which, admittedly, makes him want to curl up and hide because there is no way Bakugou is going to see anything good, but. Mediation. Open Body Language. “Though I might not win.”
“You would.” It’s out of him immediately like a burp, just a simple truth entering the air.
“Why’s that?” The way Bakugou’s lips move when he talks is very. It’s very interesting. Curving and flexing with each word, careful yet confident.
“Well, obviously,” He flaps a hand between the two of them. In all of his interviews and posted statistics, Dynamight showed high intelligence. How is he missing this? “And I don’t have a quirk, so. One explosion and I’m down for the count.” He gives a hollow laugh, because that was funny, right?
Bakugou doesn’t laugh. His lips press against each other, flattening the fullness into a harsh line; his eyebrows are drawn towards each other; he’s frowning.
“Yer quirkless.”
His shoulders draw towards each other automatically; he’s a snail without a shell.
He grips his matcha; the plastic creaks against him,
“Yep.” Am I wrong? Is that a problem? He knows the answer, but he doesn’t want to hear his second favorite hero speak it.
“Thought you had a strength quirk or something. Yer built like a brick wall.” Bakugou yanks a napkin from the dispenser to wipe at the condensation some of his matcha has leaked onto the table, “Guess that just makes it more impressive, since you had to work for all that.”
“All that?” He echoes, confused. Because. He’s average sized. On the shorter side. Sure, he works out every day except for Saturday because Saturday’s rest day, but that’s only because he needs to stay in good shape for his job.
“Don’t make me say it twice.” Bakugou props his chin up with one hand; the angle tilts the collar of his sweatshirt open towards Izuku. He’s not wearing a shirt underneath, bare skin and a strong collarbone peeking out.
He forces his eyes back to Bakugou’s face, who's smirking for some reason. “Um.”
“You don’t want to fight?”
“I’d prefer not to.”
“You want to tell me all about your little nerd post?” There’s something in his voice, but he can’t place what it is. Teasing? Maybe Bakugou’s making fun of him?
“Yes! I’d really like that.”
“Pass.” Bakugou waves down the barista, who comes practically tripping over their feet to take his order. Red eyes keep glancing back at him during the exchange; he stares down at his hands because What the actual fuck is going on??? “Oi. You listening?”
“What?” His hair flops against his head when he looks back up, “Sorry, I missed that.”
“I said that I want to hear about what you do.”
“For a living?”
No shit, is the face Bakugou gives him, but it doesn’t seem mean. If a face can seem mean? Still teasing. Which is really weird to imagine Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight capable of teasing.
“I’m a journalist. Wait, why are you pulling out your phone?”
“To look you up,” Bakugou glances up at him through his eyebrows, “Name?”
“Uh-um. Midoriya Izuku.”
“Like this?” Bakugou shows him what he’s typed into his search bar; he nods, trying not to glance at the search history underneath it. “That’s funny. It kind of looks like Deku.”
“It’s Iz-Izuku.”
“Yeah, no shit. Why are you so pressed? You a shit reporter?”
“N-no!”
“Probably are. Deku journalist.” Bakugou’s thumb taps at his screen. A moment later, his eyes widened, red darting across the screen. “Oh. Okay.”
“It’s…” He makes a noncommittal sound in the back of his throat.
“So not a Deku Journalist. Whoa,” Bakugou scrolls for a minute. Izuku keeps his hands balled in his lap, his shoulders to his ears. “You went undercover at one of All For One’s quirk plants? Says here you were a teenager.”
“Mmm.”
“Explains all the scars on yer arm… Shit, you’ve been at every disaster I’ve been at. How come I’ve never seen you before?”
“I’m pretty plain,” He laughs nervously but stops when Bakugou gives him a look over his phone. He doesn’t know exactly what it means, but probably something like Stating the obvious isn’t as funny as you think it is. Except more swearing. Since. Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight.
Dynamight!
“Call me that again and I’m blastin’ yer face off.” It’s a jab thrown from behind the phone, Bakugou still engrossed in the meager details of his professional career. Well, not meager. He’s tried really hard to help spread truth and fight for justice in his writing, so there’s definitely a lot of accolades and articles in his name, but. He’s no All Might.
“S-sorry it slipped out. If this makes it any better, I wasn’t talking to you?”
“Just makes it weirder.” Another scroll.
“Yeah, I guess so…” He watches the thumb take another scroll. This is really humiliating, watching the flagship of his generation judge his life. Honestly, if he was into humiliation, this would be great. But. It’s not great. It just sucks.
Another scroll.
“Um,”
“You trying to catch flies with yer mouth open like that?”
“This is just really… awkward.”
“Tch.” One more scroll, then the phone is set onto the table, screen up. His professional headshot beams up at him, the one where half of his face looks blurry after they tried to fade his scar in the clean-up. Ugh. “How come you’ve never written about me?”
“What?” His hand falls from his face, his fingers leaving the junction of his scarred and unscarred skin.
“You write no shit about heroes, and when you do it’s about fuckers like Glasses or Shitty Hair.”
“Shitty Hair… Is that Hero Shoto?”
“Hah! I’m telling him you said that!” When Bakugou smiles, one side of his lip pulls up to expose the gums above his canine, like a dog initiating play. “Red Riot.”
“Oh, well he’s a great hero-”
“And I’m not?”
“No! Dynamight is the hero of our generation! The potential of Explosion is insane, and you’ve taken that and pushed it past what any person with a similar quirk could even imagine. Your analysis time mid-battle is .5 seconds faster than any of the heroes you graduated from UA with and you use that to predict the perfect moments to give your all or rely on your fellow heroes. And,” He stops, blinking. Dy- Bakugou specifically said he didn’t want an analysis. “Um.”
Bakugou’s face is… he can’t read it. His eyes are wide, pupils big, his lips pursed but not in a way that would indicate discomfort or irritation. It’s just. Really unclear.
“Uh.” He forces himself to take a long drag from his matcha, trying to give Bakugou space to say anything.
His straw chokes on air. He sets the matcha back down.
Bakugou keeps staring.
“Is the option for you to beat me up still on the table?”
“Fuck no.” Bakugou blinks slowly, like a cat, before his eyes slide back down to his phone. At Professional Izuku. They slide back up, to his face. He feels like a ship stalked by a kraken. “You got a bad photographer.”
What did that have to do with anything?
“This,” Bakugou taps the side of his own face, the tip of his finger brushing the crescent scar under his eye, “Looks metal as fuck. They shouldn’t have tried to edit it out.”
“Uhm.” None of Dynamight’s photos tried to blur his scar. What was he talking about?
“I’m talking about you, don’t look so confused. Idiot.”
“I just… I don’t really understand what’s going on right now. Can we talk about the post or something?”
“You posted a shitty essay about me, I read it, a thousand other people read it. Okay, we talked about it.”
“Do… Do you want me to take it down?” His hand is on his phone in his pocket in an instant. His second favorite hero might be talking nonsense right now, but he still would do anything he asked him to. Especially if it meant less nonsense.
“Nah. You made good points.” A glare forced both of his hands back on the table, palms flat against the wood, Is this an interrogation? “Don’t act all dumb and make me repeat that. Yer only getting it once.”
“Okay…”
“Why don’t you write real articles about me?”
“That would be unprofessional.”
“What?”
“It’d be unprofessional.”
“I heard you the first time, dumbass. Why’d it be unprofessional?”
“Because I really like you. As a hero, since, um, you know. You’re a person, too, and I only know about the hero stuff. But it wouldn’t be impartial reporting, since I could plant my own opinion into it and make other people think the same way as me.” He blinked, “Not that everybody liking you would be a bad thing! I’m sure they already do– But I don’t want to mess that up somehow, I guess.”
“That sucks,” Bakugou blew out a puff of air, some of it reaching him on the other side of the table and ruffling his curls. It smells like he had something spicy for breakfast. “I could really use good PR right now.”
“I mean, if Dynamight needs it–!”
“That quick to quit yer ‘honest reporting’ bit?” A smirk that still showed canine. Teasing.
“Um, no. But I could say it’s an opinion piece? Or maybe just make the positives really subliminal so no one picks up on it.”
“Why can’t you just write something like yer shit post?”
“If it’s shit, why would I want to publish it?”
“It’s not shit, it’s written really good, duh. I just have to call it shit because you call me shit in it. That’s how this works.”
“I didn’t call you shit in it! I called you ‘cool’ 56 times! I just said there’s some things you need to work on in your heroics!”
“So write it down again and publish it!”
“Ugh!” He scrubbed his eyes with one hand. His Mental Dynamight was a lot less confusing than the real one. More Your EraserMic Fanfiction is really good and not Cringe Nation, Izuku and less Paint me like one of yer French girls but make it a brutally honest French girl that I’m-mad-at-you-about-but-want-you-to-write-again-for-some-reason-French-Girl.
“Why do you want this so bad?”
“I told you, I need good PR. And I don’t like that fucking Froppy gets written about by a fucking Nobel Peace Prize Nominee before me!”
“Can you not mention the nomination? That was a really embarrassing time in my life for me.” He said it to the table, his head in his hands.
“I’ll mention anything I damn well want to.” At some point in the conversation, a hot drink was set down between them; the barista guards the counter, still scrolling through their phone but also probably definitely listening in on them. Bakugou takes a sip of the drink and frowns. “Give me your ice.”
He hands it over without thinking; watching numbly as his second favorite hero pours ice cubes from his empty matcha cup into the coffee. “I definitely backwashed into that.”
“Extra flavor.” Red eyes keep him trapped as Bakugou takes a sip of the drink.
“Seriously?”
“No, that’s disgusting, the fuck? This was just too damn hot.” Another sip, “If you give me mono I’ll kill you.”
This is. Weird. This whole thing. For one, he wasn’t expecting to see and talk to the real live Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight… ever. And he never imagined doing something like kissing–wait no, second hand kissing since it’s a drink–Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight.
Really weird. Peculiar, even. To be sharing an indirect kiss with his hero–
“I think it counts as kissing if you keep mutterin’ about it being kissing.”
“Ah!” He grips the empty matcha cup, his anchor–it squeals in his hands, “No, it doesn’t count if it’s just saliva. Um. Spit. Spit swapping.” His spit. In his mouth. Weird. Weird. Kinda hot–no. Professionalism. Just weird.
“You shower.”
“Yeah?” He can feel his neck flushing; Bakugou has kept his eyes locked on him for the past minute and it’s starting to get to him. His knee twitches under the table.
“And you have a job.”
“Mhm.” His heel beats against the floor, an almost silent rhythm.
“And yer a real person.”
“Mm–yeah.” He feels on fire, trapped, a fox trying to chew its foot off before the hunter comes back. Bakugou’s eyes are the iron jaws holding him in place. He’s seen them so much in interviews, practically felt the heat of them through the battle recordings. It’s different to have them focused on him.
His knucks rap against the wood seat of the booth.
“And yer hot.”
“Yeah–” He feels his cheek, the burning of it against his knuckles, “It’s, um. It’s hot in here, right?”
Finally, coolness douses his shoulders as the red slides off of him, disappearing as Bakugou closes his eyes to take another sip of his coffee. Muffled through the styrofoam: “And stupid.”
“That’s. That’s unwarranted.” He’s not stupid. Socially inept, yes. Especially when he doesn’t have the armor of his press badge and the persona he has as Midoriya Izuku, Ace Journalist. Because that’s a character, one he’s very, very good at. Now, in front of one of his favorite heroes alive, he’s not playing anyone. He’s just him. “I’m just Izuku.”
“Izuku’s not who I expected.” A muscle in Bakugou’s forearm twitches when he sets his coffee down; scars stretch across his right arm, downy blond hairs practically floating off the few untouched patches of skin. He’s everything Izuku expected and more. Perfect. A hero. Dynamight.
His shoulders brush his ears, his right set of knuckles keeping a steady knock against the booth, soft enough not to give off a sound, “Sorry about that.”
“Yer mad.”
He doesn’t say anything. Is he mad? He’s anxious, he can feel it like sharp-winged butterflies trying to escape through his windpipe. He’s hot, sweat dripping tar-slow down the nape of his neck and gluing his curls to his forehead.
“Yer all self-conscious and weird up until now and suddenly yer mad that yer not what I expected?” He can see through his bangs that Bakugou is smiling, sharp-toothed and smug as hell and something’s off.
“I don’t get you.” He makes sure to look up and make eye contact, even if it makes the butterflies scrape against his trachea. He flaps a hand between them–I’ve done that so much today–“I don’t get what’s going on, and I don’t get what you expected even though you’re acting like I should, and I don’t get you!” He grits his teeth, his molars grinding with each other, “I’m supposed to get you! I’ve known your exact yearly measurements since your debut, I know the PT routine you have to do twice a day for your arm, I know that when you press your lips together in interviews it’s ‘cause your agent is yelling at you through the earpiece to not start swearing on national television, I know everything I should know! And I don’t get this at all!!”
“Hm.” Bakugou watches him as he reaches forward, taking the empty matcha cup out of his hands to uncap the lid, pour the ice into his mouth, and chew. Slowly, methodically, only the crunching of the cubes sounding between them for a minute. Two. Bakugou’s jaw flexes as he swallows. “Have you considered I’m not Dynamight?”
“What…” There’s no question. His mannerisms, his face, his voice, even the way he sits… this is Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight!
“I’m not in uniform. If I was, I probably would have gotten the cops called on me for violating heroics code and beating up a civilian. I didn’t come here to be Dynamight.”
“But… you are.”
“He’s me. You got it mixed up. One’s a job and one’s who I actually am. They’re just real similar to each other sometimes. Maybe yer having this little mental screw up because yer nerd brain has been trying to compute this whole time how a pro hero is flirting with you.”
“That’s… not…” His mouth flaps open. Closed. Open. “Dynamight… Flirting?”
“C’mon, Mightyboy,” He cringes at the title and–okay Bakugou might have a point about the separation between personas– “I’ve been sitting here talking to a superfan for a half hour on my first day off in damn near three weeks. Why would I do that?”
“You… wanted me to write an article about you?”
“I was keeping the conversation going!! Why are you being so stupid?”
“Well, originally you wanted to fuck me up, right?”
“Yeah, and I coulda gotten that done in the first two minutes of being here! Shit!” Bakugou leans across the table, grabbing the collar of his t-shirt and yanking him so close the tips of their noses almost touch. He can feel himself inhaling some of Bakugou’s exhale. “If I didn’t think this stupid sexy nerd thing you have going on didn’t work, I wouldn’t have sat my ass down for this little coffee date.”
Bakugou’s eyes are all red, he can see them clearly up close like this. There’s no flecks of anything, just solid, unyielding, furious, beautiful red. There’s nothing in them besides this passion, the eyelashes lining them fanning them, “Um.”
“Yer gonna make me say it.”
In what world was he considered sexy? Nerd, yes, all the time. Stupid, pretty much never. Sexy, no. Midoriya looked up in a dictionary would probably mention passionate research, journalism, yada yada. Maybe in the list of antonyms, which most standard dictionaries don’t have, would there ever be a word like sexy.
“Sorry, this is just a really new experience I would never have expected to experience myself and I’m not sure how to respond.” Is what his brain helpfully supplies as a viable response. His mouth can’t form all that. Out comes another, “Um.”
“Fine.” It hits his face hot, the fingers in his shirt tightening, pulling him closer, squishing their noses against each other and wow, Bakugou has such cute freckles! So light they’re almost invisible, barely-there fairy kisses. Then, more hot air: “I want you to fuck me.”
“Up?” He squeaks out, the word a shallow wave against the tsunamis’ Bakugou has been snarling.
“Fuck. Me. Or I fuck you. But judging from this whole self-conscious oh-I’m-not-hot-as-fuck shit you’ve been putting out, you’ve probably never had a good ass or pussy, an’ I’m feeling nice today so I might let your sad little dick experience the best ass.” Bakugou’s fingers, burning through his shirt, loosen as he leans back to give Izuku an appraising look, “Did I get that right?”
“Yuh-yeah.” Sirens are going off in his head, celebratory and alarming, it makes it hard to think. “I’ve never, um. That.”
“Well yer shit’s about to get rocked.” Bakugou finally lets go and Izuku stays there, leaning over the table, and he didn’t even realize he was leaning towards Bakugou while he was being pulled towards him. He makes himself sit back.
His face feels like it’s in flames. “So,” It ends like a question, because honestly what happens from here?
“You live near here?”
He doesn’t take Bakugou to his apartment. It’s more like, he gives Bakugou his address and then he’s chasing after blonde hair that’s speedwalking almost inhumanly fast. They’re a block away when Bakugou finally starts talking, with that same almost flat, unreadable look he had on earlier,
“You have any pets? Roommates?”
“No roommates, and I fix and feed the cats who live on the street outside. But, they’re not mine, per say.”
Bakugou gives a sharp nod, eyes fixed on the sidewalk in front of them, “Condoms?”
“Uh-um.” His brain hiccups. Because he’s 99% sure this isn’t really happening and it’s some hyper specific porno his brain cooked up.
“‘S fine. I got one.” Bakugou pulls his wallet out and digs around for a minute before tossing something at him. A shiny foil packet with a very obvious ring imprint; the outside is purple, that shade every adult brand seems to use, and reads: Lubed and Ultra Thin for MAXIMUM pleasure.
“Um.” He turns it around in his hand.
“What, not the brand you like?” Bakugou sneers it from the side of his mouth, his face saying something like Condom Snob.
“How… How do you know the sizes of these things?” He’s trying to find the information, but it’s hard when every other word is something like Slick or Erotic in bold letters.
“It’s an average sized one. It’s worked for every guy I’ve been with.” Bakugou is watching him out of the corner of his eye, clearly getting a kick out of this.
“Oh-Okay.” It should work. This should be fine. But looking at the little square in his hands, the ring pressing out of it just doesn’t look like it would be… comfortable.
“Yer such a virgin.” They’re in front of the building entrance. Bakugou eyes him and beckons with his hand, gimme.
“Well this virgin has the key card.” He shoulders past Bakugou, not handing it over, and passes it over the reader, which gives him a happy beep. An arm, sweatered in black, reaches from behind him to open the door. “Well aren’t you the gentleman for opening the door.”
“Maybe I just want to get yer sad dick wet and get this over with.” Bakugou mutters it, just loud enough for him to hear, but keeps the door open, letting him into the tiny lobby first.
“Um.” Is all he can think to say until they’re in the elevator. Besides them, there’s only a little old lady who might live on the floor under his; still, Bakugou stands close to him. Very close, the front of Bakugou’s arm pressing against his back. The proximity is almost awkward, but also feels nice. Reassuring. “Thank you. For doing this.”
“What?” He can hear Bakugou shift, closer to his mouth.
He glances up. He hadn’t realized until now the height difference between them; it didn’t seem that big when they were in the street or sitting at the coffee shop. But up close, he can see how Bakugou has to actually crane his neck down to get closer to his eye level. And the thing is, Bakugou doesn’t seem bothered by it, red eyes calm and neutral, like of course it makes sense for Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight to lean down to hear this loser instead of Izuku leaning up to talk.
It’s submissive. And something about the obvious innocence and willingness Bakugou has about doing it… is really cute.
Dynamight is cute? Passes through Izuku’s head before he remembers to respond, “Uh… I mean, you said this was your day off. And I’m sure you had a lot of other really important things you had to do. So I appreciate you. Doing this.” Doing me seems a little inappropriate, giving his neighbor less than a meter away from them. And. Bakugou said that Izuku could do him. Which. Um. Sounds good. Really good.
Bakugou snorts, tilting his head back up to watch the floor levels tick by, “Sure, make yerself into my little pity case.”
“That’s not what I meant…” He huffs air out, his head bumping back into Bakugou’s shoulder with the motion. Level 5 dings, the doors slide open, and his neighbor waddles out, away. “Mine’s the next one up.”
Silence, as the doors close. Then Bakugou’s voice, gruff as he says it to the ceiling, “Yer hot as shit.”
“Um.” Debatable. Very debatable. Wrong, even. But.
“And you like me, or at least have this weird kink about Dynamight.”
“It’s not a kink if it’s not sexual! It’s more of a special interest. But I do find you very physically… appealing.”
“Great, describe me like a bug.” This elevator is taking way too long to get to his floor. He should report that to maintenance. After. Um. Getting his shit rocked. Bakugou clears his throat, “So we’re… mutually attracted to each other. It doesn’t matter, whatever fucking else you think is going on.”
“But…this probably won’t be a great experience for you.” His right hand beats against his thigh, “So. I appreciate you doing it, anyway. It’s, um, very heroic?”
The elevator doors slide open and he’s shoved against the wall of the cabin, some of the air leaving in a whoosh. Bakugou has one hand braced against his throat, the other holding his right shoulder, gripping it tight. Their faces are very close.
Is he going to kiss me?
“Get one thing through that thick-as-shit head of yers, nerd.” The words hit his brow, Bakugou tilting down to hiss them at him; he squirms, probably able to break out of this hold but also too confused to try. “Bakugou Katsuki doesn’t do anything out of the kindness of his heart. This shit we’re about to do ain’t pity and you keep saying it is means this shit won’t happen. And it ain’t heroic, either, what the fuck? It’s just sex.” His breath washes over Izuku’s face, a furnace, burning searing, heat that he wants to keep breathing, keep gulping down until it destroys him from the inside. He wants to taste it.
Bakugou’s right eyebrow quirks up, a sneer starting to look down at him. Then, the hand on his shoulder slides down it, glancing over his chest before barely brushing against the bottom of his groin. His hips squirm away from it, his cheek smushed flat against the elevator wall as he tries to avoid eye contact as much as possible.
“Are you seriously getting hard from me getting all up close to you like this?” The flames brush against the cheek bared to Bakugou; his face burns.
The hand comes back, to press the slightest pressure into the base of his dick through his shorts and it zings through him and makes him gasp before his body moves on its own and pushes.
Bakugou stumbles back, surprise washing his face.
He holds his wrist with one hand, the knuckles rocking soothing knocks into his leg. He doesn't look at Bakugou; he knows his face is probably stupidly red right now.
“Was that…” Uncertainty sounds weird coming from the most confident man he’s seen. He doesn’t like it, unfounded like this.
“No, that was, um.” He forces himself to look up, at Bakugou in the entrance of the elevator where the doors keep trying to close, “Good. Just. Um.” Why can’t he be normal? In all of his fantasies about doing something like this, elevator sex seemed like a great idea.
But. He lives here. He rides this elevator at least twice a day, answers work emails in it, chats with his neighbors in it; his mom took this elevator with him to help him move in.
“This is… my first time.”
“Uh-huh.” There’s no emotion in Bakugou’s face, like he’s trying to stay passive and let Izuku find his words. That’s good. He has no idea where they are.
“And I really want to do this. But not. Here.” He gives a weak gesture to the elevator cabin.
“Oh.” Something sparks through red; Bakugou gives a short laugh, “Yeah, me neither.”
“Really?” Hope flutters like a butterfly with a broken wing through his chest. Maybe he hasn’t fucked this up.
“I didn’t want you humping me in an elevator, the fuck?” The sharp-toothed smile flashes across a pretty face. Izuku feels his shoulders leave the bottom of his ears; he lets out a nervous laugh. “Was trying to do foreplay. Touching an’ shit. But shouldn’t have started it without checking in. That’s on me.” The elevator doors let out another angry squeal as they fail to shut around the body in the doorway.
“It’s okay.” He bumps Bakugou out of the entrance, starting into the hallway, “I wanna do that, but it needs to be special, so we’ll do it all at home, okay?” When he glances back, halfway through the hall, Bakugou is giving him a weird look, still in front of the elevator. Izuku briefly wonders if he’s about to make a run for it.
But, then Bakugou walks up with purpose, deciding that for some reason he needs to be glued to Izuku’s side as he unlocks his door. Which, honestly, makes the whole process harder, feeling a warm body directly against his side and knowing that his hair is definitely getting in Bakugou’s face.
The other doesn’t say anything.
There’s a moment when he shuts the door and he doesn’t know what to do. Because he has a man in his apartment, a man he’s going to fuck that’s also the coolest person ever.
“Can I… kiss you?” It stutters out of his mouth before his brain really knows he said it.
Bakugou shoves into him, crowding him against the door and kissing feels more like getting eaten alive.
Because one moment he’s just him, and then the next his back is eating into the wood of the door and his face is full of the best chest he’s ever seen before a hand is grabbing his throat and shoving his chin up. Bakugou’s mouth is open when he kisses Izuku for the first time; he knows because the lips are on him and then a tongue is getting shoved into his mouth. Shoved makes it sound unappealing.
When the wet heat of Bakugou jams through his lips, it’s honestly. Very appealing. Bakugou’s tongue is warm and alive and it’s running along his teeth before he’s sucking it, taking it in and trying this kissing thing and tasting. Shit. Fuck. Obviously, Bakugou just tastes like spit and maybe a bit of coffee, but knowing it’s Bakugou he’s tasting… makes it a very nice flavor.
“Fuck.” Bakugou grunts it when he forces their mouths apart with a comical Pop!, his hands gripping the front of Izuku’s shirt.
“Is it goo-” He’s cut off when Bakugou is on him again, devouring him. He likes being devoured, likes letting that tongue claim every corner of his mouth; he slacks his jaw a bit, trying to give it more access.
“Yer bad at this.” Bakugou pops off again and forces their foreheads together, his eyes boring into Izuku’s.
“S-sorr-”
“You kiss like a feral dog.”
“U-um.” His hands flap at his sides; Bakugou is touching him, so it must be allowed… Izuku’s right hand slides up to the short, fuzzy blonde hairs at the nape of his neck, gives them a gentle pet. Bakugou’s eyes flutter closed and he lets out a sigh, the weight of his face pressing deeper against him.
“Nobody else I been with has a mouth like yers.” Bakugou tilts his head, giving him a chaste peck. He subconsciously chases after those lips, and Bakugou laughs, the air hitting his mouth, “It’s really fucking hot.”
Okay. So. Feral dog kissing is good, apparently? Weird, but he can work with that.
He jams their mouths back together, letting the tip of his tongue dip and press at the seam of Bakugou’s lips. A soft sigh lets him back in; his grip on Bakugou’s nape tightens. He swirls his tongue around, testing this foreign mouth and taking in the shudder of it when he pets along the roof. He doesn’t even realize how much he’s doing until drool slips past where they’re locked, sliding down Bakugou’s chin. He chases after it, laving it up, not wasting a drop.
When he slides off to breathe, Bakugou is staring down at him, his eyes hungry, searching.
“Do you think you can pick me up?”
“W-what?”
“Yer built like this,” A hand squeezes at his bicep, “And I was wondering if you could put that to good use.”
“Um.” He definitely can. He’d been able to lift Bakugou’s weight in the gym since he was seventeen, he just… doesn’t see the vision yet. With what little space is between them, Izuku uses it to look down and consider, a line of Bakugou’s spit sliding down his chin. “Yeah,”
He grabs Bakugou’s ass, taking in the startled squawk that comes with it, and uses each cheek as a grip, which goes surprisingly well. Long legs, longer than his, instinctively kick up, wrapping around his waist in a gentle, not-quite-trapped hold. He pivots on his heel, slamming Bakugou into the door that shudders with the new weight. Then he stares up, trying to blink through his curls, “Like this?”
“Yeah. Perfect.” Another peck, slightly lingering, against him. “This way I don’t have to crane my neck.” A kiss to the tip of his nose, light and fleeting, “And it’s hot as shit.”
His answer is to tighten his grip, wrapping his arms around Bakugou’s thighs which are honestly gripping him now, and dive in, chasing Bakugou’s tongue to suck on it with all he has when he gets to it. “Thank-hah-thank you.”
Then Bakugou does something. Subtle, but clear, a rocking of his hips against Izuku’s lower stomach. And he looks away when he does it, breaking the kiss, almost to pretend it’s not happening, Cute.
“Are you getting hard right now?” He teased, licking along Bakugou’s bottom lip, “It’s okay, that’s normal.” He fucks his hips forward, once, giving Bakugou that friction and sliding him further up the door, that black sweatshirt rucking up in the back, exposing a perfect, pale back.
“Shit–Shut up.” And Bakugou seems to think the only way to do that is to bite at him, chewing at his lip which he always imagined would hurt but feels kind of awesome. It sends happy little zings of pain all the way to his brain; he smiles into it.
A minute later, a hand slaps against his chest, pushing him back, even if they stay joined at the hip.
“Okay.” Bakugou gasps out, his lips oddly red and puffy like they just got the shit chewed out of them, “That’s enough foreplay.”
“Okay,” He blinks unsure of what’s supposed to happen now. He tucks a spike of hair that was in Bakugou’s eyes back behind his ear.
“We’re gonna fuck.”
“Oh!” He jumps a little, making Bakugou jump against the door.
“Shit!” Blunt fingernails claw at his shoulders, trying to find a grip, “But listen, not yet. Don’t look so sad about it. I didn’t go into this thinking I was gonna get dicked down.”
“Okay.” He noses at Bakugou’s temple; it smells really nice, like fresh caramel.
“I need to prep my ass. Do you have a shower?”
“Mhm.” He nuzzles into Bakugou’s hair, soft, smells good. Clean. “We’re showering together?”
“What? Fuck no. It’s gonna take me like half an hour. An’ I’m not gonna be showering for most of it. Just sit on yer couch and look pretty or something.”
“Oh. Okay.” That makes sense. He doesn’t know much about bottoming, but he figures the process has to be… a lot. “Why did we, um, foreplay before you prepped, though?”
“Nobody uses it like a verb, nerd. Ugh.” Bakugou won’t look at him, eyes locked on a blank spot of the wall. He’s pouting, Izuku realizes. “Got too horny and got ahead of myself. Whatever.”
“Oh.” He blinks, feeling his eyelashes catch against Bakugou’s cheek. “Oh!” He wants him. Actually! His heart stutters, happy and loud. “That’s so cute!”
“Cute?!” Bakugou slides off of him, purposefully kicking his butt while he stands back up, which kinda sucks, ‘cause he really liked having a Bakugou koala. “I ain’t cute, fucker. Get that out of yer nerd brain.”
“Okay!” He says it, but he knows that now the seed has been planted, he can’t dig it up. Cute Bakugou! Cute Dynamight! Cute! Cute Cute Cute!!!
“Stop thinking and show me yer shower.” Bakugou shoves past him, hands fisted in his pockets. Which is cute, too, in its own way, especially when he tries to kick his shoes off with his hands still like that and almost loses his balance.
“Bakugou is so cool!” He cheers, following after him, then taking the lead when it’s clear Bakugou has gotten confused by the maze of doors in his living room. “This one’s the bathroom.” He opens the door, gesturing inside. “There’s clean towels in the closet, the fluffiest ones are on the top shelf. Oh! And the water heats up pretty fast, so make sure it’s the temperature you want before you get-”
“I got it.” Bakugou snarls, shoving past him to stand in the little bathroom and take it all in. “I ain’t stupid.” He ruffles the back of his head, once, making blond spikes stand up tall and fluffy before he looked back at Izuku, his eyes squinted, “And Izuku?”
He stalls at his given name, his heart pounding in his chest, his knuckles beating fast and loud against his thigh. It sounds really, really good. “Y-yeah?”
“If we’re fucking, call me Katsuki, not Bakugou. Everybody calls me Bakugou an’ I don’t want to be hearing that with my ass out.”
“Oh-okay.” He nods, automatic, robotic, his hair flopping with the movement, “Okay, Katsuki.”
“Good.” B-Katsuki shuts the door. The lock doesn’t turn.
It’s been half an hour. Though he figures that if Katsuki wasn’t on a bottom diet (That’s a thing, right?), he might have a lot to clean up. And maybe he hasn’t used his cute butt in a while and needs to take his time stretching it.
The thought of Katsuki, wet and flushed in his shower, his ass conveniently facing Izuku in this mental image, whimpering as he tries so hard to just add another finger into his tight hole. Well.
He idly palms at his dick through his shorts. Not yet, he thinks to it, so technically thinks to himself. He probably sounds so cute right now, it-he thinks back up to himself.
Ugh. He really wishes he was in the bathroom with Katsuki right now. Getting to hear all the little noises, see his muscles tense, hear the relaxed sigh as another finally makes it in.
Ugh. He needs to focus on something else. Distract himself.
The condom pokes high out of the thin fabric of his shorts pocket.
He takes it out, running a finger along the serrated edge. Hm. It really. Just doesn’t look right. Maybe he can try it on? To see if it fits? And then take it off until Katsuki is ready. He can probably do that and nothing will explode.
It’s really slimy in his hands; and underneath that, he really hates the texture of the latex. It’s gross.. An uncomfortable shiver runs through him at the idea of having to feel that on his most sensitive part. His teeth grind at the thought. But. Safety. And maybe Katsuki has other condoms! Probably. It’s hard not to imagine the Explosion God not being a sex god as well.
Okay.
He doesn’t really have to stroke himself to get it on. He was already hard, and taking his dick out, finally freeing it from the choking of his shorts gets him at full mast. Thankfully he hadn’t leaked too much until now, so he doesn’t have to worry about any stains in his boxers.
He considers the condom, the mouth of the ring. Maybe he can just… he presses it against the tip of his cock head, wincing at the cold, wet lube. But. Deep breath. He pulls at the ring, getting more of it to unfurl, start to slip down more of him.
Okay. It’s over his tip. And it’s kind of vacuum-sealed around his glans, which he’s never seen before, but maybe it’s just a special kind of condom. Ultra tight to keep the STDs away.
When he tugs again, it hurts. It feels like it’s choking him, trying to kill his dick. But. Katsuki.
He tugs again, holding his breath in and tugging, trying to pull more of it down. His eyes are closed, trying to ignore the bordering-on-pain that he’s feeling.
When it can’t move anymore, he opens his eyes.
It’s managed to go about an inch and a half past his head. And there’s a clear difference between what’s in the condom and what’s not, a red ring in his skin where the base of the latex digs in. His dick, while slightly discolored by the condom, looks purple inside it. And not in a hot-edging-for-hours kind of way. In a no circulation kind of way.
He runs to the bathroom door, his dick slapping against his thigh and the condom holding on for dear life.
“Katsuki! Katsuki, can I come in?” He knocks, too, loud and scared.
He gets a grunt of affirmation from inside and runs through, the door swinging behind him in his haste.
The shower curtain is drawn, meaning Katsuki’s probably in there still cleaning himself. A black puddle of clothes sits on the floor beside the toilet.
“Good, I need to see yer dick. I was thinking maybe two fingers–” A fluffy, slightly wet blond head juts out from the curtain, one hand holding the plastic against himself like Katsuki is trying to stay modest. It would be really cute if Izuku wasn’t terrified of his dick falling off right now. “What the fuck.”
“I thought I should try it on–before.” He’s crying, because his penis hurts and he’s also scared that he messed up this super awesome hook-up, “But it feels really weird and I think I messed it up.”
“What the shit. Take that off.” Katsuki snaps his fingers and he does, wincing as he has to stretch out the ring at the base of the condom to actually get it off. His dick bobs gratefully when its freed. “Why didn’t you tell me you were packing a monster?”
“I’m–I’m not!” He sobs out, rubbing at the tip to try to get some circulation back in it. Normally what would feel stimulating feels like a necessity. “You said it was for average-size dicks and that’s what I have! It should’ve been okay!”
“How could you not tell it was too small?!”
“I just thought it was supposed to feel tight!”
“Izuku, you broke the condom. That ain’t tight.” Katsuki watches him rub his own dick, trying to soothe whatever the hell he just put himself through. “Fuck, I’m not gonna be able to walk after this. Probably gonna have to call out tomorrow.”
“Nuh-no, don’t do that.” He hiccups, snot sliding down his nose. “Yuh-you can’t call out. People need saving.”
“I’m on desk duty anyway. It’s no biggie. Just sit yer ass on the toilet, okay?”
The cold porcelain feels good through his shorts; he keeps one hand cradling his dick, the warmth of his palm soothing. He tries to snort the snot back into his nose without it being embarrassingly loud.
It’s still pretty loud.
“Okay, how thick are you?” Katsuki says it from behind the curtain, voice slightly strained.
“Um. Like with a ruler?”
“Just use your fingers. How many?”
“Um.” He holds his hand up to the base of his cock; presses his fingers flat against it. “About two. But yours are a lot thinner than mine, so probably three, for you.”
“Okay.” He hears a hiss from behind the curtain.
“Are you okay?”
“Yep, just started, hah,” This sound isn’t a bad one, more like a surprised gasp, “stretching. ‘S not a big deal.”
“Okay.” He blinks, the realization hitting him; his dick twitches in his hand, “Does this mean we’re still having sex?”
“Shit.” Katsuki hisses like he added a second finger, “Yea-yeah. You never been with anyone?”
“No.” He watches the curtain, wishing he could see behind it.
“And I’m clean. Got tested after the last guy. So we can just, hah, do it without one.”
“Okay.” He can hear a sound, slick and rhythmic. Katsuki’s fucking himself on his fingers. It makes his heart beat faster. “Can I watch you? Prep yourself?”
“No.” It’s a gasp, like Katsuki just found a really good spot. “‘S embarrassing. Hah. In a weird position. Hnn.”
“Okay.” But to himself he adds, I’ll get to see, next time. “Is it okay if I stay here?”
“Fuuuck.” It sounds like heaven. It’s not a whimper, like he expected. It’s angry and desperate and wanting. “Yeah. That’s fine. Just don’t blow yer load.” The sound speeds up.
“I won’t.” He keeps both hands squarely off his dick, palms face down on his thighs, “But even if I did, I recover pretty fast. So. It’d be fine. But I won’t cum.” Shlick Shlick Shlick. Katsuki isn’t responding now, just letting out pretty, harsh gasps. Maybe talking helps? “But I’m pretty hard. And you sound really nice, right now. Really-” He adopts some of Katsuki’s language, “-Hot. Like you can’t get enough.”
“Fuck.” It’s spat out, like an admission Katsuki didn’t want to let out. The Shlicking slows, then stops.
“Did you just cum?”
“Nah. Was about to. ‘M gonna add the third finger.”
“That’s good.” He hears an intake of breath, sharp. “Have you done it yet?”
“Don’t rush me!” He can hear Katsuki gritting his teeth.
“If you’re nervous, that’s okay. I probably got it wrong, anyway. ‘M probably only like two of your fingers.”
“I fucking saw that thing swinging between yer legs, it ain’t two fingers.”
“Okay. Um.” He can hear that Katsuki hasn’t started moving yet. Probably hasn’t even tried adding another. He’s scared, He realizes, blinking at the swaying shower curtain. “There’s plenty of other stuff we could do besides this, it’s not the only option.”
Silence. Then: “Like what?”
“Oh! Okay!” He claps his hands together, flipping through the Sex Rolodex in his head that he peruses when he’s bored or horny or both. “We could rub our dicks together! I’ve only, um, done that with my hand, so I bet it would feel even better with another person. Or I could give you a blow job! I don’t know how good I’d be, though, but I think I’d really like that. Um. Getting to feel you in my mouth like that. Or we could scissor-”
“We can’t scissor, idiot.”
“Okay, yeah, so we can’t scissor…” Sad. “Or I could bottom! I don’t know how great that would be, the last time I tried anything like that I don’t think I used enough lube and it just felt really weird…” Katsuki isn’t responding, so he decides to keep going, if this really does give them different options, “I could eat you out! Okay, I think that one might be my favorite. I could jack off while I did it too, but I don’t think I’d need to with how hot it’d be, getting to taste you like that, haha.” He lets his mind linger on that a minute, getting to feel Katsuki squirm against his tongue, getting to be surrounded by gorgeous thighs. He can feel himself smiling
A long sigh comes from the other side of the curtain, “Yer not eating me out.”
“Oh.” He stares at his hands; he feels his smile slide off his face.
“I’d be game for it if I did any kind of prep besides this shitty shower; I’m not gonna give you Pink Eye.”
“Um. But you’d be giving it to me, right? So it’s a gift! It’s Katsuki Pink Eye wrapped up in a cute butt!”
“Fuck, yer so weird.” Katsuki doesn’t say it mean, though, more like an admittance to being an accomplice. “And… I like getting sucked off, and frotting. Did I miss anything else in all the sex shit you know how to do?”
“That’s not all I know, it’s just what came to mind first.” His eyes roll at the ceiling, “Which one do you wanna do?”
“I already told you, yer gonna give me that jumbo cock.”
“But I thought-”
“I figured it out while you were rambling all that horny shit. Fuck, don’t worry about it.” The shower curtain screams open, “Get yer hands off yer face, yer gonna see all this, anyway.”
He can see bits and pieces of Katsuki through his fingers, like a perfect, unfinished puzzle. A furrowed brow that looks sculpted from stone, the wings of a collarbone, a scar, spreading across and accentuating a chest that jiggles with each breath, and nipples! Perfect little circles, light pink and already starting to pebble up, so cute!
“Did you seriously just jizz?”
His hands go fully from his face to glance at his dick, which was starting to calm down until a god of a man decided to flash him. “Um. No. That’s um. Pre.” He glances back up and kind of regrets it because he’s lost the buffer of his hands and Katsuki is just so damn pretty.
“I think yer gonna die with this ‘pretty me’ ship you’ve got going on.” A canine flashes at him, light dancing in Katsuki’s eyes.
“You are!” His eyes slide along Katsuki’s adonis belt, the meat there flushed from the shower and perfect. He wants to feel the grip of it in his hands. “You’re so pretty! The prettiest person alive!” His eyes almost duck lower before he catches himself and forces them back up to the prettiest face, which stares back at him with doubtful, pursed lips. “And handsome! You’re so handsome, everything about you. So cool.”
“Yeah yeah.” Katsuki stepped forward, fitting into the spread of his legs; he had to crane his head back to be able to meet his eyes. He’d never noticed before how cattish Katsuki’s face looked from below, elegant and mischievous at once.
Izuku could feel the heat of the shower water coming off of him, so close. His fingers twitched.
“Did you hear me?”
“What? Sorry.” He bent down and reached for the pile of clothes, needing a distraction. The sweatshirt first, spread across his lap, fold the arms, fold it in half, fold it again…
“Why are you folding my clothes?” He can hear a smile in Katsuki’s voice.
“I just-um.” He pauses, halfway done with the joggers. They have zip up pockets with little cartoony explosions as the zipper tags. Cute. “I’m. I. Uh. I don’t really know what to do, right now.”
“Okay, that’s what I said.” Katsuki tossed his head a little when he rolled his eyes, some of the water from his hair splashing Izuku’s face. “We should go over some stuff, since this is yer first time and shit.”
“Stuff?” He echoed, balling the socks with one hand.
“What I’m comfortable with, what yer comfortable with,” Katsuki grimaced and waved a hand; a tendon popped out on the inside of his forearm with the motion.
“Oh.” He blinked. “Like boundaries!”
“Yeah.” Crossed arms, pecs flexing, a droplet of water dripped over and down a perfect chest. “Yer okay doing it raw? I said we were but I didn’t ask you first.” Something like guilt flashes across Katsuki’s face before it’s replaced by the same slightly peeved look he always has.
“Oh! Yeah! Completely okay! It sounds, um, really okay to me. To do that.”
“Okay good. Anywhere I can’t touch?”
“Nope!” He blinked, “Maybe not between my toes. I’m ticklish, and just… don’t like that stuff in general.”
“Wasn’t planning to, but I’ll remember that.” Another eye roll paired with a cool smile, “I don’t care where you touch, just don’t leave any marks. I find a bruise or a hickey or anything and I’ll kill you.”
“Mhm!” He gave a salute, then felt silly and put his hand down. He could never imagine leaving a tarnish like that on someone like Katsuki. “And I should pull out, right?”
“What?”
“You know, when I’m close, I’ll pull out.”
“You don’t have to.”
“It’s really no issue, I can do-”
“You don’t have to.” Katsuki repeated it again, jutting his head away from him. And oh. He was blushing. He was embarrassed. So cute!!
“Oh! Yeah, okay!”
“Don’t make it weird.”
“It’s not weird, everybody has their own likes in the bedroom-”
“Yer making it weird.” Katsuki hisses it, almost the entirety of his face bright red.
He makes a sound of agreement in the back of his throat, taking the moment to admire all that was Katsuki in front of him. Tilting his head back to get an even better look of the flushed face. His cheeks ached from smiling. “Can I kiss you again?”
“You don’t have to ask, damn nerd.” Katsuki started to lean down, then realized the actual height disparity with him standing and Izuku sitting.
“Should I stand up-” Warm chest crowded his face as Katsuki settled into his lap, a perfect amount of weight spread across the tops of his thighs, one muscled, naked, arm slung casually around the back of Izuku’s neck as Katsuki looked behind himself to readjust.
A minute later, Katsuki stilled, keeping one arm still around him, turning forward to face him with an unreadable look on his face.
His eyes darted, traitorously down. Katsuki’s titties!
“They’re not tits, you dork.” Katsuki groaned but even the sound was beautiful; he imagined hearing it out of pleasure instead of embarrassment. “Well?”
“Well what?” He looks back up from being focused on his hands hovering over Katsuki’s tiny waist that he wants to grab so bad.
“Are you gonna kiss me or—-mmf!”
Izuku feels the rest of the words peter out into his mouth, licking into Katsuki’s, trying to see if he can get Katsuki to keep talking, see what that would feel like inside him like this. Katsuki meets him, silently, his tongue twisting and teasing and occasionally trying to pin his down. He doesn’t let him.
“Fuck.” Katsuki gasps when they go up for air, but the sound isn’t a gasp. It’s a moan, he realizes, belatedly, pride heating his chest. And then Katsuki is curling a fist into the curls at his nape and yanking and sucking his soul out of his mouth.
While they’re making out– is it making out or getting devoured?– he can feel something start to rub against his lower stomach, insistent, begging. He has a feeling he knows what it is, and only gets confirmation when he shoves a hand between them to grip the silky warmth of it and Katsuki lets out another gasp-moan before rutting up hurriedly, impatiently into his palm, head dropping down to rest on Izuku’s shoulder, panting. Katsuki’s spikes tickle his chin with each needy thrust.
“You fit perfectly in my hand.” He murmurs to Katsuki’s scalp, then shivers when a hungry mouth starts to suction itself against the base of his neck. “Ngh- So cute!”
Katsuki pops off of gnawing his neck long enough to spit out, “A dick can’t be cute, idiot.” Before latching back on, his hips fucking faster into his hand. My wrist’s gonna be sore after this, Izuku thinks to himself fondly.
“Sure it can, if it’s yours– gah!” He’s not used to getting his neck… well it feels weird. But Katsuki’s also nibbling at a spot underneath his ear and it also feels really good. He shivers when another furnace-hot pant hits the side of his neck. Fuck. “Anything you do is cute. Like a- fuck- sexy mascot.”
“Shit, you suck at dirty talk.” Katsuki sits back, wiggling a little like he’s trying to dislodge his dick. Izuku doesn’t let go.
“You like that I suck.” He gives one little drag, more of a pet along Katsuki’s shaft, relishing the gasp that comes out with it. “It’s okay, it’s something I can get better at, right?”
Something flashes behind Katsuki’s eyes, then his lips, shiny with spit, purse before he nods, hair bobbing with the movement. There’s a frustrated divot between his eyebrows. “Yeah. It’s something like that.”
“Mhm.” He glides his fingers over the nape of Katsuki’s neck, trailing them through the hair there before gripping, lightly–Izuku doesn’t want to hurt him– and guiding him back down for a kiss. Katsuki’s hips give one last stutter before he freezes, shoving free his hand against the cotton of his shirt. He pops off of Katsuki’s mouth immediately, loosening his hold on his dick, too, “Mm– what’s wrong? Did I–”
“Gonna cum like this.” Katsuki doesn’t look at him when he says it, only one side of his face in view. He’s blushing again.
“That’s okay.” He nuzzles into Katsuki’s neck, tugging him into a loose hug; He smells like my body wash. He shivers. “We’ll do this and then we can do… the other thing.” My penis. In your butt. His heart does a happy skip.
“The fuck?” Katsuki’s head whips around, a frown– but not an angry one– crossing his face, “What kind of refractory period do you think I have?!”
“Oh.” He blinks, confused, leaning his chin against Katsuki’s collarbone. “I dunno. I usually stay hard until I’ve, um, finished the second time. Sometimes I can last till three if I haven’t… um… masterbated in a while.” He cocks his head, the hair at his crown brushing the bottom of Katsuki’s face; he feels a hand come to tangle into the back of his head. Feels nice. “You can’t?”
“Fuck no! I don’t know anybody who can!” Katsuki says this like it should be mean, but the hand in Izuku’s hair is gentle, petting between his curls. He watches Katsuki’s Adam's apple bob as he throws his head back to look at the ceiling, “First it’s a colossal cock and now it’s made of steel, apparently. Fuck.”
“It’s. Um. Blood and veins.”
“I’m being sarcastic.” The hand tugs, a slight yank in his curls that he kind of really likes. “Whatever. Are you gonna be fine if we only do it once?”
“Yeah!” He nods, accidentally hitting Katsuki with the top of his head, “I don’t care what we do, I’m just glad it’s happening! Even if I eat you out, which still sounds great, by the way.”
“Yer not eating me out, idiot. Forget about it.” Another tug, teasing. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
He blinks, his head starting to clear, just for a minute.
The thought hits him like lightning a tree.
“Um, Katsuki? Can I do another boundary?
“What?” The hand pauses its tangling.
“Could we maybe not have sex on my toilet?”
“Oh my fuck.” Katsuki’s head falls into the crook of his shoulder, the groan vibrating against his skin, “Obviously, yes. Show me where you sleep, nerd.”
He’d never expected to see another person on his bed. When he used to imagine something like this, it was never his apartment or anywhere he’d be familiar with, usually just a nondescript room with a bed because, well, it didn’t make sense for his fantasies to be realistic when the odds of him getting laid were so low.
So.
Katsuki lounges across the top of his comforter, propped up on his elbows with his ankles crossed. His hair is almost completely dry and stands up in a halo around his head, spiky and soft. His pose bares his chest, still a little red from the shower and his nipples flushed and pink, the swoop of his collarbone drawing Izuku’s eyes lower. Katsuki’s dick lies against his thigh, not fully hard anymore but still thickened and ready and begging him to get a good grip on it.
He wipes his hands against his shorts, right shoulder bumping against the doorway. He has to swallow down some of the saliva pooling in his mouth. This is. Really cool.
“Are you gonna stand there staring or actually come and fuck me?” Katsuki tosses his head back when he says it, baring a thick throat and showing a hint of canine with his laugh. He’s dangerous and beautiful. He’s an angel in his bed. He’s the coolest person in the world and he’s talking to Izuku.
“Um.” He says intelligently, taking a short step forward, past the doorway. Past his safety. “Are you sure about this?”
Katsuki blinks, his grin wavering, “Are you?”
“I just…” He’s at the edge of the bed– his bed– his knee is propped up onto it, its so close to Katsuki’s ankle, they’re so close to each other. “This doesn’t really seem real to me?”
“Okay.”
“Where this is really cool and you’re so cool and it all seems like it’s too cool, if that makes sense.”
“It makes sense.” Katsuki nudges the heel of his foot against his knee; he doesn’t draw back, it’s grounding. Nice.
“I just think that this doesn’t make sense to be happening to me. Is the thing.”
“Okay.” Katsuki scooches further back on his bed, to lean against the pillows propped up at the headboard. “It is happening, though.”
“Is it?”
“I don’t know, pinch yerself or something if you don’t believe me. Shit, I wasn’t expecting you to do that! Fuck, yer weird.” Katsuki rubs at his face in somewhere between annoyance and exhaustion. “Yer a nerd.”
“Mhm.” That’s his whole point! He’s a nerd and there’s a god in his bed. Obviously this is fake. He probably has a gas leak in his apartment or something.
“And yer super hot. Handsome, whatever. I want you to fuck me. Shit, that’s so sappy, why did you make me say that?”
“I didn’t!” He laughs a little at the face Katsuki is making at him, like a wet cat. “You came up with that on your own!”
“And that’s why yer the writer and not me. Fuck.” Katsuki scrubs at his face again, “Maybe yer overthinking this. Maybe you should just do what feels right. Think about that?”
“Okay, but…” His eyes slide down to Katsuki’s thigh, toned and pale from being hidden under his suit all the time. His eyes are probably some of the few that know the skin there is pale.
He shivers, forces his mouth open, “But what if that’s too much?”
“Nothing’s too much–Besides what we talked about, obviously. So no marks and no eating me out, you freak. Anything else is fine, and if it’s not, then I’ll say something or you’ll say something and we’ll stop.” Katsuki slides his feet up the bed, parting his legs and putting his cute dick and balls on full display. “Are you drooling?”
“No!” He swallows, starting to climb on his hands and knees after Katsuki, his heart hammering in his chest. When he’s close and has to actually touch the body beneath him, he’s careful, propping himself up on his elbows and keeping his knees spread far apart so he’s barely touching Katsuki. He doesn’t want to put too much weight on him and hurt him. “Is this okay?”
“Hm.” Katsuki grabs the front of his shirt, pulling him down for a kiss, fast and closed, “Clothes?”
“Oh! Right!” He sits up, semi straddling Katsuki’s thighs to pull his shirt off; when it pops off around his head, he can see red eyes trying to burn their way through his chest. He tries to make a joke, to make this easier, “Like what you see?”
“Yes.” Katsuki’s eyes slide back up to his face, “Are you going to let me see the thing I’m about to have to take?”
“It’s not—I’m not–!!” He sputters, losing the words when warm hands slide against the waistband of his shorts, thumbs that aren’t his hooking into it and giving a tug, clear. Katsuki looks up at him flatly.
He swallows again, nods.
Katsuki’s hands are fast, shoving his shorts and boxers down to just past his ass in a second, and he jerks, his dick almost slapping Katsuki’s face.
“Fuck, how are you already so hard?”
“Sorry, I don’t-”
Fingers, thick and rough with callouses grasp just beneath his glans, the sensitivity of it making him shiver. They slide up and away and he chases after them, trying to feel them again.
“Desperate too, yer dick’s already trying to fuck my hand.” A thumb comes back, dipping pressure against his slit and making him whine and try to jerk into it. “I’ve barely touched you, you always leak this much? Anymore and we don’t need lube.”
“I don’t-hah..” The thrust happens on instinct, his hips fucking forward, into Katsuki’s hand that welcomes him, perfect, tight, doesn’t move away, ready for him. “Fuck, Katsuki… do we need it? I don’t think we need it. Fuck.”
He can imagine it, getting Katsuki wet and perfect for him all on his own; he could barely go in, just the tip, and try to let out as much as he could, maybe even stimulate himself enough to cum and fill Katsuki with it and get him all ready and wet and slip right in. “We don’t need it, right?” He thrusts again, and it’s perfect, warm and sliding against him just right.
“The fuck? Of course we need lube.” Katsuki’s hand lets go of him, a string of pre dangling from Izuku’s slit when he does. “Where is it?”
“Huh?” When he bends over just a little, his cockhead slides against Katsuki’s chest, warm and slick with sweat; he gives a slight jerk and shivers at the feeling. He’s fucking Katsuki’s titties.
“Oh my fuck, when’d you get so stupid.” Katsuki leans to the side, bringing his chest further against his dick and it’s perfect, “If you don’t tell me, I’m gonna open the top drawer of yer nightstand. Tell me if I can’t.”
“That’s– uhmmmmm-” Izuku is trying so hard to stay still right now, to be normal and a good hookup and Katsuki’s tits are so warm against his dick, “Hah– ‘s fine, that’s fine, it’s okay.”
Katsuki glances up at him before glancing back to the nightstand, opening the drawer and grabbing Izuku’s half-empty litre bottle of lube, “Are you seriously trying not to cum right now?”
“No,” He says in a voice that turns out more like a whine than he’d care to admit, “Um. Your chest is very soft.”
Something like Shitty virgin is snorted under Katsuki’s breath before a warm, slightly clammy hand is pushing against his chest, forcing him back onto his knees as he watches Katsuki ooze some lube into his palm.
Light flashes through the clear liquid, then two fingers dip into it, Katsuki using a hand to hold his cute little dick and balls out of the way before the fingers sink in easy, sucked into the puffy ring that Izuku needed his tongue in like yesterday.
“Did you just use Explosion?!”
“Hm?” Katsuki glances up casually, “Yeah, it’s the fastest way to heat it up.”
“Isn’t it… too hot?”
“Maybe if I didn’t know shit about quirk control.”
Watching Katsuki lube himself up has officially turned from ultra sexy to also the most fascinating display of precision ever.
“Yer drooling.”
“You're the coolest person I’ve ever met.”
Katsuki’s cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink before he promptly grabs Izuku’s dick.
He yelps, expecting the cold slick of lube and instead getting the warmest hug around his dick, a hug that unfortunately slimes up his length once before Katsuki withdraws, lounging back against Izuku’s pillows.
“Okay. I’m prepped, yer dick is less of a safety hazard, let’s fuck.”
Katsuki’s cute anus winks at Izuku as he scoots forward on shaky knees, holding the base of his cock with the web of his thumb and index, and, he leans forward
His cockhead bumps against the puffy furl, then slides off.
“Try again.” Katsuki sounds slightly amused, propped up on his elbows as he watches the mess that is Midoriya Izuku, Sex Disaster™.
He bites his lip and lines up, pressing his tip square in the center; he can feel Katsuki pulsing against him. Oh wow. Oh wow.
“This is usually the part where you put it in.”
“Yuh-huh.” He leans forward, letting his weight do most of the work. Shit. He’s gonna miss again, he sucks at this, Katsuki’s gonna think he’s the worst–
Katsuki stretches around him, Izuku’s weight pressing into his hole makes this inevitable, his head popping in, the skin stretching around him.
Katsuki is so so warm, and wet, better than his hand or any toy he’s gotten his hands on. Oh wow wow wow wow wow.
“Did you just cum?” The most attractive voice ever, coming up from somewhere above the heaven his dick is currently in.
“Jus’ pre.” He sounds drunk to his own ears, completely gone, “Can I keep going? Katsuki?”
“Go slow.” A hand knots in the crown of his hair, beautiful legs caging around his hips. The most beautiful person ever spread open beneath him.
Oh wow.
Izuku pushes forward and Katsuki lets all of him in, walls squeezing tight against his length then relaxing, squeezing, relaxing, squeezing, relaxing.
When his pelvis grinds against Katsuki’s balls, the hand in his hair yanks, pulling his eyes up from where they were locked on watching himself disappear.
“Stay still like that.”
With Katsuki wrapped perfectly around him, words get lost from his abilities, so Izuku only nods, hoping Katsuki gets it.
Katsuki must, because his blond head falls back against the pillows and Izuku gets a front-row seat to the fast up-and-down of his chest as he breathes, his nipples pink and hard.
Hm. Oh. Some sense trickles back into Izuku’s brain as he watches Katsuki breathe.
Are assholes supposed to be this tight? In theory, probably yes, when not in use. And he knows he’s not that big, but Katsuki made it seem like he was, so maybe he actually is?
Interesting.
He chews at his lip as he forces his hips not to move, not to grind forward like his body is screaming at him to. He can be good at sex. He can do this. He can make Katsuki feel good, too.
To distract from the begging for motion his lower half is doing, he nuzzles against where he can reach Katsuki, just below the bottom seam of his pecs. It’s sweaty there, and smells artificially sweet.
Izuku’s tongue darts out, lapping at it. Fascinating. Slightly sharp, like the taste of the lavender hand soap his mom used to stock the bathroom with. Distinctly chemical.
A groan from above, and fingers tighten in his hair, “Don’t put that shit in yer mouth, freak. Yer gonna blow a hole in yer dumb stomach.”
“Can your quirk seriously do that?!” He perks up, ready for a beguiling new Dynamight fact.
“I don’t know. Never had somebody weird enough to try to slurp it up.” Katsuki’s eyes hold his hostage, “If I let you move, will you stop being a freak?”
At move his hips give an involuntary lurch, making them groan in unison. He pulls back, Katsuki sucking at him, trying to keep him in, as he gets about half his length out.
Thrust. The friction is something else. Paired with the sweet slide of the lube and the rhythmic contractions of Katsuki’s asshole and the heat, it’s nothing like he ever thought anything could be.
“Haaaah.” His forehead stays pressed to Katsuki’s sternum, his hands scrabbling for purchase. They choke around a muscled waist as he slams forward, Katsuki’s butt clapping against the tops of Izuku’s thighs, “Feels good?”
Katsuki gives a noncommittal sound from above him, one hand in his hair and the other gripping at the back of his neck.
He jerks forward again, “D’you feel good? How can I m’ke y’ feel good?”
His dick ploughs through the wet, burning channel of Katsuki’s ass, and he feels everything around him tense up, suddenly.
“Is th’t it? D’es that feel good?” He tries to repeat the motion, which is more than a little hard to do when every motion his body does right now feels perfect, but he must do something right because when he thrusts again, Katsuki lets go of his neck and scrabbles for his shoulders.
“Just– calm down. Hah.” Nails bite in Izuku’s shoulders and the pain they bring only adds to the sweetness coiling in his stomach, “Just keep moving like that. Okay? Don’t worry about anything else.”
He does, focusing on making each thrust near identical, trying to put more power behind each one as he drags against Katsuki’s walls.
“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck–”
“Are you okay?” Worry slows his hips–
“Don’t you fucking stop, keep moving. Fuck!”
Izuku listens. He listens to Katsuki pant in his ear and curse and claw into his back, and when his balls lift, he feels a searing pain in his shoulder.
Katsuki bit him.
He has barely a second to process that before the tunnel around his dick becomes impossibly tight, spasming and choking him and he’s thrown into his orgasm.
He becomes dumb. He can feel his mouth flapping open and his tongue wagging as he fucks forward like that’s the only thing he can do, his pelvis grinding against Katsuki as he tries to fuck as deep as he possibly can. Liquid fire shoots through him, making his shoulders hunch and his head bow against Katsuki as he fucks and fucks and fucks.
Nothingness fills his head for a while before nails release the skin of his back and his sense starts to reemerge from the fog.
His hips are still grinding.
He forces them still, “Oh my gosh, Katsuki! Are you okay, I’m so sorry, I don’t know–”
“Shuddup.” A hand pushes flat against his face, and he blinks through the cracks in the fingers.
Oh. Katsuki looks really pretty right now. A healthy flush spreads all the way from his cheeks to his pert, peaked nipples, and he’s looking up at Izuku with half-lidded eyes and a lazy smile.
“We both finished, stop freaking the fuck out, nerd.”
Oh. How did he miss this? Katsuki’s, now soft, penis lies flat against his stomach, where it had gotten squished between him and Izuku, strings of pearly cum spiderwebbing across his stomach.
Fuck. Izuku is so bad at sex. He didn’t even notice when Katsuki came!
“Katsuki, I’m sorry I–”
Fingers pinch his lips together. Katsuki’s eyes have slightly squinted into a relaxed glare, “Stop blabbering. Clean me up and then we’ll talk.”
He nods, something hard to do with his mouth hostage, and considers the scene, leaning back to let his hard cock slip out of Katsuki. He immediately misses the warmth, but he knows his erection will flag in a few minutes.
And he has more pressing matters at hand.
He watches Katsuki’s loosened asshole flex and tighten, and then spit out a droplet of cum.
Okay. That’s definitely not all Izuku had ejaculated. First order of business, clean out Katsuki’s asshole.
It makes sense in his head to press two fingers in and hook them to pull out more of his cum, but the moment he does, Katsuki tenses up.
“Is this–?”
“‘S fine.” Katsuki glares at the ceiling. “Keep doing what yer doing.”
He nods, then pulls out his fingers, another glob of cum following. He repeats the motion, noting the increase in Katsuki’s breathing.
“Does it hurt?” Comparing Katsuki’s prepped but unfucked hole to his fucked one, there was a significant loosening between the two. It would make sense for there to be some lingering pain.
“Doesn’t hurt.” Is all Katsuki helpfully supplies, his hands fisting in Izuku’s sheets.
He’s not hurting him, and Katsuki told him to keep going, so that must mean he should, right?
Izuku hooks his fingers again, dragging them along the top of Katsuki’s insides, trying to get any cum that he missed. With this pass, he notices that Katsuki tenses up whenever the pads of his fingers drag against a bump.
Oh.
He smiles and leaves his mission forgotten, massaging at the spot with the tips of his fingers and watching Katsuku’s face get redder and redder.
He applies pressure, and Katsuku’s legs shoot up around him, wrapping lightly around him, caging him in, and
“Don’t stop.” It’s not a whimper. It’s not a sound Izuku would be capable of replicating. A command, firm and impossible to resist, and yet somehow so desperate in its order.
This is his sole focus, listening to the soft moans Katsuki lets out as he presses and kneads and drills into his prostrate until Katsuki chokes around his fingers and he watches Katsuku’s half-hard cock jerk and spit out a small amount of cum. Just enough to pool with the strings drying across Katsuki’s toned abs.
He pulls his fingers out slowly, Katsuki’s hole clenching weakly as he does, and waits.
Katsuki rolls on his side, his heels kicking Izuku as he buries his flushed face into one of Izuku’s pillows. “Get me a wet rag.”
He runs to his bathroom, getting the water to a comfortable lukewarm before running a cloth under it. When he returns, Katsuki is lying on his back, glaring at his phone.
He stands in his own doorway, the rag dripping onto the floor, unsure of what this means.
Katsuki glances over his phone, “Online says you gave me a prostate orgasm.”
“Oh.”
“The first one. Didn’t think much of it, but neither of us touched my dick. ‘T means I had a shorter refractory or some shit. Guess that’s how I was able to go again so soon.”
“Um.” He glances at his toes, at his naked legs, “Is that a bad thing?”
Katsuki drops his phone on his stomach and glares at Izuku, “Nobody else I been with has made me cum with just my ass.”
“Uh.”
“Means you did good, you stupid nerd.” Katsuki’s eyes almost soften, and he places his phone on the nightstand, “Get over here and wipe me down and then we can cuddle.”
Maybe it’s the snuggling after sex. Or maybe it’s watching Katsuki scramble eggs in Izuku’s kitchen in a pair of Izuku’s boxers that look more like shorts with how old and stretched out they are and a shirt of Izuku that hangs baggy from broad shoulders. Or maybe it’s how when the eggs are done, Katsuki spoons out Izuku’s portion before his own.
Maybe it’s that cute blush that kept burning across Katuki’s face throughout the whole hookup.
Maybe it’s how shy he got after he came, when he kicked Izuku out of the room.
Watching Katsuki blow on his eggs, Izuku arrives at the realization that Katsuki is really really cute. Not just sexy and super intelligent and the best active hero in the world, but also maybe the cutest man ever.
“-cchan.” He mumbles it before he notices he’s talking.
“Hah?!” A clump of eggs fall from chopsticks, red eyes widening.
“You’re just! So cute! Kacchan!” Izuku’s heels beat happily against the footbar of his stool.
“The fuck? I ain’t cute!”
“You are! The cutest! And the greatest hero ever, and the coolest person in Japan, and! Kacchan!”
Kacchan leans back, folding his arms and scowling across the table at his new name leaving Izuku’s mouth, “So you got a cutesy bullshit nickname for me now?”
“Ah.” It hits him how weird it is to assign something like that to a hookup and, “Ah.”
“Listen,” Kacchan’s eyes slide from Izuku’s face down his neck and to the right, at the junction of his neck and trapezius. Right around where he bit Izuku earlier, “If you think you can give me a cutesy ass dumbass nickname and the best sex of my life and have any chance of getting rid of me, you’ve got yer wires crossed.”
“Ah.”
“Is that all you can say? Just have yer mouth flapping open like that like an idiot catching flies. Might as well stick my dick in it and shut you up.”
“Oh! I’d really like that.” He nods affirmatively, his hair flapping against his forehead, “And– get rid of you?”
“Not a chance. Yer stuck with me, Izuku.”
“Oh! Oh!”
“Are you seriously crying?”
“It’s just– this is kind of the best day ever? If I get to date, or, um you were talking about us dating, right? Okay yeah, I’m glad I read that right–If I get to date Kacchan and suck Kacchan’s cute dick and hold Kacchan’s hand, this is kind of every dream I’ve ever had.”
“Well pinch yerself ‘cuz this is real, you shitty nerd. Wash the dishes and maybe I’ll let you suck my cock.”
Izuku’s stool squeals against the floor as he lunges for their plates.