Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

On Friday, she was the first one to the car. He'd texted her that he was finishing up a job early and would be waiting. When she walked out of the library, the silver sedan was already parked at the curb, engine purring softly. She slid into the passenger seat, a small, hesitant smile on her lips.

"Hey," she said, buckling her seatbelt"You're early."

"Finished the tune up ahead of schedule," he grunted in reply, not looking at her. His eyes were fixed on the street, his posture as rigid as ever.

She opened her mouth to say something else, something light and casual to maintain the fragile peace, but the words caught in her throat.

The smell hit her instantly.

It wasn't the usual comforting scent of motor oil, leather, and Katsuki's sharp, clean cologne. Mixed in with it was something else. Something floral and sweet, a cloying, sophisticated scent of jasmine and vanilla that was utterly, completely foreign.

It was a perfume she had never smelled before in her life. It was a perfume that did not belong to her.

It belonged to another woman.

The air was suddenly sucked out of her lungs. The fragile truce shattered into a million pieces, each one cutting into her. Her mind, a vicious, traitorous thing, immediately supplied a vivid picture... some girl with perfect hair and a silky dress, pressed up against Katsuki in his shop, laughing at one of his gruff jokes, her scent clinging to his shirt like a claim.

Izuku's blood ran cold. Her carefully constructed composure crumbled. She stared straight ahead, her vision blurring as she focused on a crack in the dashboard. She felt a sick, churning feeling in her stomach, a bitter taste rising in her throat.

She had no right.

No right to be jealous.

No right to feel this possessive, gut wrenching pain.

He wasn't hers anymore.

He could do whatever he wanted.

With whoever he wanted.

She clamped her mouth shut, her jaw tight. She wouldn't say a word. She would not break. She would not give him the satisfaction of knowing he could still affect her like this. She would be cold. She would be distant.

She would be the ex girlfriend.

The silence in the car, once merely tense, was now thick with unspoken accusation. Katsuki pulled away from the curb, his movements smooth and controlled. He drove for a full minute before he seemed to notice the shift in the atmosphere.

He glanced over at her. She was staring out the side window, her body rigid, her hands clenched into small fists in her lap. She hadn't touched her bag. She hadn't pulled out her phone. She was just… sitting there, a small, silent statue of misery.

"What's with you?" he asked, his voice gruff, breaking the heavy silence.

"Nothing," she replied, her voice flat, devoid of all emotion. She didn't turn to look at him.

He frowned, his eyes narrowing. He knew her. He knew every one of her moods, every subtle shift in her posture. This wasn't 'nothing.' This was a full blown sulk, the kind she used to get right before a major fight.

"Bullshit," he said, his voice a low growl "You've been weird since you got in the car. What'd I do now?"

"Didn't say you did anything," she retorted, her voice still unnaturally level "I'm just tired."

"Tired," he repeated, scoffing "That's your excuse for everything. Try again."

"There's nothing to try, Katsuki," she said, finally turning to look at him, her eyes flashing with a cold fire "I'm just enjoying the ride. It's so peaceful."

The sarcasm was a weapon, and it hit its mark. His jaw tightened, his grip on the steering wheel tightening "Don't start, Izuku."

"I'm not starting anything!" she shot back, her voice rising, the mask of indifference cracking "You're the one who's interrogating me! Can't I just sit here and be quiet?"

"You can," he shot back, his voice rising to match hers "But you don't. You never do. You fidget. You hum. You chew on your fucking lip. You're sitting there like a damn statue and it's freaking me out!"

"Maybe I'm just trying to be considerate of the new atmosphere!" she blurted out, the words tearing from her throat before she could stop them.

He slammed on the brakes, pulling the car over to the side of the road with a screech of tires. He threw it in park, the engine still roaring.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Izuku's heart was hammering against her ribs. She was cornered. She had nowhere to go "It means nothing!" she lied, her voice trembling with a mixture of rage and heartbreak.

"Like hell it does!" he roared, turning in his seat to face her, his eyes blazing "Spit it out, Deku! Whatever's stuck in your craw, get it out right now!"

She stared at him, at his furious, confused face, and the dam of her composure finally broke. She couldn't hold it in anymore.

"It's the perfume, okay?!" she yelled, her voice cracking. "There's a new perfume in the car! It's not mine! It's some… some flowery, vanilla bullshit that smells like a department store counter and it's all over the fucking place and I can't breathe!"

The confession hung in the air, raw and ugly and desperate. She immediately regretted it, her face flushing with humiliation.

She had broken every rule.

She had shown him exactly how much he could still hurt her.

Katsuki just stared at her, his mouth slightly agape, his fury deflating into stunned disbelief. For a long, agonizing moment, he just blinked.

Then, a slow, dawning comprehension spread across his face, followed by something that looked suspiciously like… amusement.

"The perfume," he repeated slowly, a strange, choked sound escaping his throat "You're having a fucking meltdown because of the perfume?"

"Shut up!" she cried, turning away from him, hot tears of shame and anger pricking at her eyes "I told you it was nothing! Just drive!"

He didn't drive. He just sat there, and then he started to laugh. It wasn't a mocking laugh. It was a deep, rumbling, genuine laugh that shook his entire body. He laughed so hard he had to wipe his eyes.

"What is so funny?!" she shrieked, whipping her head back to glare at him.

"You," he gasped, trying to catch his breath "God, Izuku. You're still the same jealous little gremlin you've always been."

"I am not!" she protested, her face burning.

"You are," he said, his laughter subsiding into a wide, genuine grin. It was the first real smile she'd seen from him in months, and it was devastating. He looked at her, his crimson eyes soft with an affection that was infinitely more painful than his anger "It's not perfume, you idiot."

"Then what is it?" she demanded, her voice still thick with unshed tears.

He sighed, running a hand through his spiky hair, the grin softening into a fond, exasperated look "My mom. She bought me one of those stupid car air fresheners. The 'new car scent' one. She said my shop smelled like 'a sweaty armpit' and she was 'embarrassed for the customers.' I hung it up this morning before I picked you up. It's probably that cheap jasmine-vanilla crap she loves."

Izuku just stared at him, her mind completely blank. His mom. Mitsuki. An air freshener.

The sheer, overwhelming anticlimax of it all was so staggering, so utterly ridiculous, that she couldn't process it. All that pain, all that jealousy, all that righteous indignation… over a cheap car air freshener from his mother.

"Oh," she finally managed to squeak out, her face a brilliant shade of crimson.

"Yeah," he said, his voice soft "Oh."

He watched her, his expression unreadable. The anger was gone, the amusement was gone. All that was left was a deep, lingering tenderness that made her heart ache.

Without another word, he reached over, his movements slow and deliberate. She flinched, expecting him to touch her, to do something to shatter the fragile peace again. But he didn't. He just leaned across the console, his arm brushing against her chest in a way that sent a jolt of electricity through her, and opened the glove compartment. He rummaged around for a second, then pulled out the offending object.

It was a cheap, cardboard tree, drenched in cloying floral scent. He held it between two fingers like it was a piece of toxic waste.

"This?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

She just nodded, unable to speak, her face buried in her hands.

He didn't laugh again. He just rolled down his window, and with a flick of his wrist, sent the air freshener sailing out

The air freshener sailed through the open window in a graceful arc, landing somewhere in the bushes along the roadside. Katsuki rolled the window back up, the hum of the mechanism loud in the sudden, heavy silence.

Izuku kept her face buried in her hands, her fingers pressed against her eyes as if she could physically hold back the mortification. Her shoulders were hunched, her entire body curled inward, trying to make herself smaller, invisible. The heat in her cheeks was unbearable, a burning brand of humiliation.

She heard him shift in his seat, the leather creaking. She felt his gaze on her, heavy and inescapable. She waited for the mockery, the "I told you so," the cruel laughter that would seal her shame.

It didn't come.

Instead, she heard a sound that was somehow worse, a soft, ragged exhale, like a man releasing a breath he'd been holding for years.

"Izuku," he said, and his voice was different. Not gruff. Not angry. Barely above a whisper.

She shook her head, her voice muffled by her palms "Don't. Please don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't… don't make me say it." Her shoulders trembled. A tear escaped, tracing a hot path down her cheek and onto her fingers "Don't make me admit how stupid I am. How pathetic."

"You're not pathetic," he said, and there was a rough edge to his voice now, something that sounded dangerously close to his own vulnerability.

"Then what am I?" she asked, her voice breaking. She dropped her hands, her face streaked with tears she couldn't control anymore "I'm sitting here crying because I thought you had a girlfriend. A girlfriend, Katsuki! As if I have any right to care! As if I didn't end this! As if I don't have to live with the fact that I walked away from you!"

The words tumbled out, a dam breaking, years of suppressed grief and regret flooding the space between them.

"I gave up," she sobbed, her fists clenching in her lap "I gave up on us because I was tired and scared and I thought… I thought leaving would hurt less than staying. But it doesn't. It hurts every single day...and seeing you, and smelling her on you, or thinking I did, it felt like dying. It felt like you finally moved on and left me behind in this stupid car with all our stupid memories and I can't- I can't-"

She couldn't finish. The tears were coming too hard now, her breath hitching in painful, ugly gasps. She turned away from him.

Katsuki didn't say anything. He just sat there, his hands frozen on the steering wheel, his jaw working like he was chewing on words he couldn't speak. The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating, broken only by her ragged breathing.

Then he sighed. Not the dramatic, put upon sigh of irritation she knew so well, but something smaller. Something exhausted. Something resigned.

He put the car in drive and pulled back onto the road.

They didn't speak. The 20 minute drive to her apartment was the longest of her life. She kept her face turned to the window, watching the city blur past through a veil of tears she couldn't quite stop.

He stared straight ahead, his knuckles white on the wheel, his expression carved from stone.

When he pulled up to her building, he didn't look at her. He just stared at the steering wheel and said "Goodbye."

That was it. One word. Flat. Final.

Izuku gathered her things with trembling hands and got out. She didn't slam the door. She closed it gently, like she was afraid of waking something that should stay sleeping. She didn't look back as she walked into her building, but she felt his eyes on her anyway, burning holes in her back until she disappeared inside.

The car sat there for five minutes after she was gone. Then it pulled away, disappearing into the night.

--

The next morning was a study in avoidance.

Izuku climbed into the car at 7:45, her coffee in hand, her eyes carefully fixed on anywhere but him. Katsuki was already there, already in drive, already staring forward with the intensity of a man trying not to see what was right in front of him.

"Morning," she mumbled.

"Morning," he grunted back.

That was it. They didn't speak again. The radio stayed off. The air between them was thick with the ghost of yesterday's confession, the weight of her tears, the memory of his silence. They both pretended it hadn't happened. They both pretended the car didn't smell like her vanilla coffee and his cologne and the lingering scent of emotional carnage.

But it had happened. And they both knew it.

Izuku kept her eyes on her phone, scrolling through emails she wasn't reading, while Katsuki drove with mechanical precision, taking the long way to avoid traffic, his jaw tight.

It was working. They were surviving. They were following the rules.

Until she glanced at the clock on the dashboard and felt her stomach drop.

"Shit," she breathed.

Katsuki's eyes flicked to her, then back to the road "What?"

"I'm late," she said, her voice rising with panic "I'm so late. I have a presentation in twenty minutes and I'm still wearing-" She looked down at herself. Yoga pants. An oversized hoodie. Her hair in a messy bun "I look like I just rolled out of bed. Which I did. Because I couldn't sleep. Because-"

She stopped herself. She wasn't going there. Not now. Not with him sitting right there pretending he hadn't heard her sob her heart out yesterday.

"I need to change," she said, her voice tight. "I have clothes in my bag but I don't have time to-" She glanced around. The car. The tinted windows. The highway stretching ahead of them, relatively empty at this hour.

The windows were tinted. Darkly tinted. Katsuki had paid extra for that when they bought the car, claiming he didn't want people looking at his "shit." She'd teased him about his paranoia.

Now she was grateful for it.

She looked at him. He looked at her, one eyebrow raised, understanding dawning in his crimson eyes.

"No," he said immediately, his voice rough.

"I have to," she said, already unzipping her tote bag and pulling out a wrinkled blouse and a pair of black slacks "It's just a shirt and skirt. I'll keep my underwear on. The windows are tinted. Please, Katsuki. I can't miss this presentation. It's thirty percent of my grade."

"Izuku-"

"Don't look," she said, and then she was pulling her hoodie over her head, her heart hammering against her ribs, her face burning with a mixture of embarrassment and desperation.

The car swerved slightly. Katsuki cursed under his breath, his grip tightening on the wheel, his eyes snapping back to the road with violent force. "Fucking hell," he growled. "Izuku, stop-"

"I have to change," she repeated, her voice muffled as she wrestled with the hoodie, her hair spilling out of the bun in wild green curls. She got it off, tossing it into the backseat, and then she was sitting there in just her sports bra and yoga pants, her skin prickling with goosebumps, her face flaming.

She didn't look at him. She couldn't. She focused on the blouse, shaking it out with trembling hands, trying to remember how buttons worked.

The silence in the car was absolute. Katsuki wasn't breathing. She could see his chest frozen, his hands gripping the wheel so hard she thought he might snap it. His jaw was clenched so tight a muscle was twitching in his cheek.

She pulled the blouse over her head, her arms tangling in the sleeves, her face hidden in the fabric. It was a simple white button up, professional, appropriate. But getting it on while seated, while the car was moving, while he was right there-

"Need help?" he asked, his voice a low, dangerous rasp.

She froze, her head popping through the collar, her eyes wide. He was still staring at the road, his profile sharp and tense.

"I… I can't reach the buttons in the back," she admitted, her voice small.

He pulled the car over by the side of the road.

His hand moved. Slowly, deliberately, like he was reaching into a fire. He found the fabric at her shoulder, his fingers brushing her bare skin as he pulled the collar straight. Then his hand moved down, finding the first button, then the second..

She stopped breathing. He was so close she could smell him, soap and motor oil and that sharp, clean scent that was just him. His hand was warm, slightly calloused, familiar in a way that made her chest ache.

When he finished, his hand didn't immediately withdraw. It rested on her shoulder, his thumb tracing a slow, absent circle on her skin, right over the place where her sports bra strap cut across her shoulder blade.

"Katsuki," she whispered, not turning around.

"Don't," he said, his voice strained "Don't say my name like that. Not now."

She turned back around, slowly, carefully. His hand fell away. He was staring at the road, his expression stormy, his jaw tight.

"Thank you," she said.

He didn't respond. He just started to drive again. He just drove faster, his eyes fixed on the horizon, his knuckles white.

She pulled the skirt on under the cover of her blouse, shimmying out of the yoga pants and stuffing them into her bag. She was fully dressed now, presentable, professional. But the air in the car had shifted, charged with something electric and dangerous.

They pulled up to the university with five minutes to spare.

Izuku gathered her bag, her hands shaking. She reached for the door handle, then paused. She turned to look at him, really look at him, for the first time since she'd climbed in that morning.

--

The clock on the dash read 9:47 when Katsuki finally pulled up to the curb outside the university library. He was late, nearly three hours later than he'd said he'd be. Not because he'd forgotten. Not because he didn't care. But because he'd sat in his shop for two hours after closing, staring at the wall, trying to convince himself not to go. Trying to convince himself that whatever needed to be said could stay buried, that the rules were working just fine, that he didn't need to hear her explain why she'd destroyed them.

He'd gone anyway. Because he was weak. Because he was hers. Because he always had been.

He spotted them immediately, Ochako Uraraka in her signature pink jacket, her arm wrapped around Izuku's waist, holding her upright. Izuku was... not okay. Her head lolled against her friend's shoulder, her green hair a tangled mess around her face, her body limp and uncoordinated. Even from 20 feet away, Katsuki could see the glassy sheen in her eyes, the slackness in her jaw.

His stomach dropped. He threw the car into park and was out the door before he could stop himself, striding toward them with long, aggressive steps.

"What the hell happened?" he demanded, his voice sharper than he intended.

Ochako looked up, her expression immediately defensive. She tightened her grip on Izuku, pulling her slightly away from him.

"She's drunk. Really drunk. We had a thing, a grad student celebration. She said she was fine, but then she just kept drinking, and she wouldn't stop talking about you, and-" Ochako stopped herself, shaking her head "Never mind. Just... just take her home. Please."

Katsuki reached for Izuku, his hands finding her waist, his grip steady and sure. She swayed toward him, her body recognizing his touch even through the alcohol haze. Her head lifted, her eyes finding his face, and a slow, devastating smile spread across her features.

"Kacchan," she slurred, the childhood nickname falling from her lips like honey "You're here. You came."

"Yeah," he muttered, his voice rough"I came."

Ochako transferred Izuku's weight to him, and he caught her easily, his arm wrapping around her waist, pulling her against his side. She immediately melted into him, her face pressing into his chest, her arms snaking around his torso, holding on like he was the only solid thing in a spinning world.

"Listen to me," Ochako said, her voice low and serious, her eyes locked on his "She's vulnerable right now. She's been through hell these past few months, and tonight she finally let herself feel it. Don't-" she paused, her jaw tightening "-don't hurt her more. Get her home safe. That's all I'm asking."

Katsuki met her gaze, something fierce and defensive rising in his chest "I would never hurt her," he said, the words coming out like a vow.

"..Just... be gentle with her. Please." Ochako said quietly.

She didn't wait for a response. She squeezed Izuku's shoulder once, whispered something in her ear that made Izuku nod drunkenly, and then walked away, disappearing into the night, leaving them alone on the curb.

Katsuki guided Izuku to the car, his arm tight around her waist as she stumbled against him. She was wearing the same blouse he'd buttoned that morning, now wrinkled and slightly untucked, smelling of beer and vanilla and her.

He opened the passenger door and tried to ease her into the seat, but she clung to him, her fingers fisting in his shirt, her face buried in his neck.

"Don't let go," she mumbled, her breath hot against his skin, smelling of whiskey "Don't let go, Kacchan. Please."

"I have to let go so you can sit," he said, his voice strained.

"No," she whined, tightening her grip "No, don't. I want to stay here. With you. You're warm."

He made a sound in his throat, something between a growl and a groan, and then he was lifting her, his hands under her thighs, cradling her against his chest as he lowered them both into the passenger seat, her body sprawled across his lap, her legs dangling out of the car.

"Kacchan," she sighed, her eyes closing, her hand coming up to touch his face, her fingers tracing his jaw with drunken reverence "You're so pretty. You were always so pretty. Even when you were mean. Even when you broke my heart."

"Izuku-"

"Shh," she hushed him, her finger pressing against his lips. Her eyes opened, hazy and unfocused but somehow still seeing straight through him "I missed you. I missed you so much. Every day. Every night I sleep in your hoodie, did you know? The black one. It doesn't smell like you anymore, but I pretend it does."

His heart stopped. His chest ached with a physical, crushing pain. "You have my hoodie?"

"Mm," she nodded, her hand sliding from his face to his chest, resting over his heart "Took it when I left. I'm a thief. A hoodie thief...and a heart thief, I stole yours and then I broke it. I'm sorry, Kacchan. I'm so sorry."

She was crying now, soft, drunken tears that tracked down her cheeks and onto his shirt. She curled into him, her body shaking, her face pressed against his neck, her arms wrapped around him like she was drowning and he was the shore.

He sat there, frozen, his hands hovering in the air, unsure of what to do. She was warm and soft and heavy in his lap, and she smelled like home, and she was apologizing for breaking his heart while simultaneously breaking it all over again with her tears.

Slowly, carefully, like he was handling something infinitely precious and fragile, he wrapped his arms around her. One hand cradled the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair. The other arm banded around her waist, holding her close, anchoring her to him.

"I have you," he whispered, his voice rough, broken "I have you, Izuku. I've got you."

"Don't let go," she sobbed against his neck.

"Never," he promised, the word slipping out before he could stop it, before he could remember that they weren't supposed to make promises anymore "I'm not letting go."

He sat there with her in his lap, in the passenger seat of their shared car, on the curb outside the library, holding her while she cried.

He didn't care about the time.

He didn't care about the talk they were supposed to have.

He just cared about the woman in his arms, the one he'd been trying not to love for six months, the one he was completely, hopelessly lost to.

Eventually, her tears subsided into hiccupping breaths, her body going limp and heavy against him. She was falling asleep, her eyelids fluttering, her grip on his shirt loosening.

"Izuku," he murmured, his lips brushing her forehead without his permission "We need to get you home."

"Your home," she mumbled, her voice barely audible "Take me to your home, Kacchan. I don't want to be alone. Please. I want to sleep where you sleep. I want to wake up where you wake up."

He should have said no. He should have taken her to her apartment, dropped her on her bed, and left. That was the smart thing. The safe thing. The thing that would keep the walls intact.

But he was never smart when it came to her.

"Okay," he whispered, adjusting his grip, lifting her as he stood, maneuvering her into the passenger seat properly. He buckled her seatbelt, his knuckles brushing her cheek, his heart hammering as she leaned into his touch, her eyes closed, a small, trusting smile on her lips.

He closed the door and walked around to the driver's side, his hands shaking. When he got in, she was already reaching for him, her hand finding his thigh, her head lolling against his shoulder.

"Kacchan?"

"Yeah?"

"You're the only one," she whispered, her voice fading into sleep "The only one I ever wanted. The only one I still want. Even when I shouldn't. Even when it's stupid. I want you."

He gripped the steering wheel with his free hand, his eyes burning, his throat tight "I want you too," he said, the words barely audible "I never stopped wanting you. I never will."

She didn't hear him. She was already asleep, her breathing evening out, her body curled toward him, her hand still resting on his thigh like she owned him.

Katsuki sat there for a long moment, watching her sleep in the glow of the dashboard lights. Then he started the car and pulled away from the curb, driving not toward her apartment, but toward his, toward the home that had been empty for 6 months, toward the bed that still had her shape in the mattress, toward the future he didn't know if they could have but was suddenly desperate to try for.

The click of the turn signal was the sound of a man choosing hope over fear, choosing love over pride, choosing her over everything.

He drove carefully. He drove like she was precious cargo. He drove like he had somewhere important to be, and she was already there, waiting for him in his passenger seat, exactly where she belonged.

The drive to his apartment was a study in torture. Izuku slept against his shoulder, her hand never leaving his thigh, her breath warm and even against his neck. Every stoplight, every turn, every moment of contact was a test of his restraint.

He hadn't touched her in 6 months. Hadn't kissed her, hadn't held her, hadn't buried himself in her warmth. And now she was here, in his car, coming home with him, her body curled trustingly against his like no time had passed.

He parked in the underground garage and killed the engine. For a moment, he just sat there, his heart hammering against his ribs, his body already hard and aching from her proximity alone.

"Izuku," he murmured, his hand coming up to stroke her hair. "We're here."

She stirred, her eyes fluttering open, hazy and unfocused. "Kacchan?"

"Yeah. Come on, let's get you inside."

He got out and came around to her side, unbuckling her seatbelt and lifting her out of the car. She wrapped her legs around his waist immediately, her arms around his neck, her face tucking into the crook of his shoulder. She was light, lighter than he remembered, but she felt right in his arms.

Like she belonged there.

He carried her to the elevator, punched in his code, and rode up to the fifth floor with her clinging to him, her lips brushing idle, sleepy kisses against his throat. Each one was a spark, a brand, a promise of what was coming.

"Kacchan," she whispered against his skin, her voice still thick with sleep and alcohol but clearer now "I want you."

His knees almost buckled. The elevator doors opened, and he stumbled out, fumbling with his keys, his hands shaking so badly he dropped them twice.

"Izuku," he warned, his voice a low growl "You're drunk. You're not thinking-"

"I'm thinking," she insisted, her teeth finding his earlobe, nipping hard enough to make him groan "I'm thinking that I want you inside me. I'm thinking that I miss how you taste. I'm thinking that six months is too long, and I don't want to wait anymore."

He got the door open and kicked it shut behind them, pressing her against the wall in the entryway, his body crowding hers, his hands gripping her thighs.

"You're sure?" he asked, his forehead resting against hers, his breathing ragged. "Tell me you're sure. Tell me you want this. Tell me you won't regret it in the morning."

"I want this," she said, her eyes finding his, clear and certain despite the alcohol. "I want you, Katsuki. I've always wanted you. No regrets. Just you. Just tonight. Just please-"

He didn't let her finish. His mouth crashed down on hers, and it was like coming home. She tasted like whiskey and vanilla and her, always her, and he groaned into the kiss, his tongue sweeping inside, reclaiming territory that had always been his. She met him eagerly, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, her body arching against his, seeking friction.

He carried her to the bedroom without breaking the kiss, his hands supporting her thighs, his steps sure and desperate. He laid her down on the bed, their old bed, the sheets still rumpled from his lonely sleep and crawled over her, his body covering hers, his weight pressing her into the mattress.

"Clothes off," he commanded, his voice rough with need.

"Now."

She obeyed, her movements frantic and clumsy as she tore at her blouse, sending buttons flying. He helped her, his hands rough and impatient, pulling the fabric from her shoulders, revealing her skin inch by inch. She was wearing a simple black bra underneath, and he paused, his breath catching at the sight of her, familiar and new all at once.

"Beautiful," he whispered, his hand tracing the curve of her breast, his thumb brushing over her nipple through the lace.

She whimpered, arching into his touch "Katsuki, please. Don't tease. I need you."

He stripped her efficiently, his hands moving with practiced familiarity, unclasping her bra, pulling off her slacks, dragging her underwear down her legs until she was bare beneath him, her skin flushed and glowing in the dim light from the window. He sat back on his heels to look at her, his chest heaving, his eyes devouring her.

She was perfect. She was everything. And he was going to ruin her in the best way possible.

"Touch yourself," he ordered, his voice dropping to that dangerous register that made her shiver "Show me what I missed."

Her eyes widened, but her hands moved, sliding down her stomach, her fingers finding the wet heat between her thighs. She touched herself, her eyes locked on his, her lips parted in a silent gasp.

"Fuck," he snarled, tearing at his own clothes, his shirt flying across the room, his pants kicked off with desperate violence. He was naked in seconds, his cock hard and heavy against his stomach, aching for her "Look at you. Look at what you do to me."

He crawled back over her, his mouth finding her breast, his tongue swirling around her nipple, sucking hard, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh. She cried out, her back arching off the bed, her hands leaving herself to grip his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin.

"More," she begged. "Please, Katsuki, more. I need you inside. I need to feel you."

"Not yet," he growled against her skin, his hand replacing hers between her thighs, his fingers sliding through her wetness, finding her entrance "I want to feel you first. I want to make you scream before I even fuck you."

He pushed two fingers inside her, curling them, finding that spot that made her see stars. She was soaked, dripping, her body ready and welcoming, and he groaned at the feel of her tight heat clamping down on his fingers.

"Katsuki!" she cried, her hips bucking, meeting his thrusts. "Oh god, please, I can't- it's been so long-"

"I know," he soothed, his thumb finding her clit, circling it in tight, relentless strokes "I know, baby. Let go for me. Come on my fingers. Show me you're still mine."

She came with a scream, her body convulsing, her nails raking his back, her head thrown back against the pillows. He watched her, mesmerized, his cock throbbing at the sight of her unraveling beneath him, her face flushed, her lips parted in a silent cry.

Before she could come down, he was there, positioning himself at her entrance, his hands gripping her hips, his eyes locked on hers "Tell me again," he demanded. "Tell me you want me."

"I want you," she gasped, her hands reaching for him, pulling him down. "I want you, Katsuki please fuck me make me yours again."

He thrust into her in one hard, claiming movement, burying himself to the hilt, feeling her stretch around him, feeling her body welcome him home. They both cried out, the sensation overwhelming, the connection electric.

"Fuck," he groaned, his forehead dropping to hers, his hips stilling as he adjusted to the feel of her, tight and hot and perfect. "Fuck, Izuku. You feel- god, you feel-"

"Move," she begged, her legs wrapping around his waist, her heels digging into his ass "Please, Kacchan, move. I need you to move."

He started slow, pulling out almost completely before thrusting back in, deep and hard, angling his hips to hit that spot inside her that made her gasp.

But the slow pace didn't last. It couldn't.

6 months of celibacy of self-imposed starvation ended now, and he was ravenous.

He picked up the pace, his hips snapping against hers, the sound of flesh meeting flesh filling the room, along with their ragged breathing and desperate moans. He fucked her like he was trying to erase the time they'd lost, like he was trying to mark her from the inside out, like he was trying to fuse them together so they'd never be apart again.

"Mine," he growled, his teeth finding her shoulder, biting down as he thrust harder, deeper "Mine. Say it. Say you're mine."

"Yours," she cried, her nails scoring his back, her body meeting his thrust for thrust "I'm yours, Katsuki. Only yours. Always yours."

He rolled them over, putting her on top, his hands gripping her hips, guiding her movements. She sat up, her hair a wild halo around her face, her breasts bouncing with every roll of her hips. She looked like a goddess, like a siren, like everything he'd ever wanted and lost and found again.

"Ride me," he commanded, his hands sliding up to cup her breasts, his thumbs brushing her nipples "Take what you need, Izuku. Use me. I'm yours."

She did, her hips moving in a desperate, grinding rhythm, her hands braced on his chest, her eyes locked on his. The angle was perfect, hitting her just right, and she was already close again, he could feel her tightening around him, her walls fluttering, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

"Katsuki," she whimpered, her movements becoming erratic, losing rhythm as she chased her release. "I'm gonna- I'm gonna-"

"Come for me," he snarled, his hands gripping her waist, thrusting up into her, meeting her movements "Come on my cock, Izuku. Let me feel you."

She shattered, her body convulsing, her head falling back, her scream echoing through the room. The feel of her coming around him, milking him, was too much. He flipped her back over, pinning her wrists above her head, and drove into her with abandon, chasing his own release.

"Look at me," he demanded, his voice guttural, animal "Look at me when I come inside you."

Her eyes found his, hazy and satisfied and full of love, and that was it. He buried himself deep with a roar, his release ripping through him, hot and endless, filling her, marking her, reclaiming her as his.

He collapsed on top of her, his face buried in her neck, his breathing ragged, his body trembling. For a long moment, they just lay there, tangled together, sweating and panting and shaking.

"Again," she whispered, her lips brushing his ear "Please, Kacchan. Again. I want more. I want all of you."

He groaned, already hardening inside her, because she was Izuku and he would never, ever get enough.

"Greedy," he accused, but he was already moving, rolling his hips, stirring himself inside her, making her gasp.

"For you," she admitted, her legs wrapping around him again, pulling him deeper. "Only for you. Always."

They made love. Fucked. Through the night.

In the bed, against the wall, in the shower, back in the bed. It was desperate and filthy and tender and raw. He took her from behind, his hand wrapped in her hair, his teeth on her shoulder.

She rode him slow and deep, her eyes locked on his, her hands tracing the scars on his chest.

They tangled together on the floor at one point, too desperate to make it back to the mattress, their bodies sliding together with sweat and need.

It was a marathon, a reclaiming, a homecoming.

Every touch said what they couldn't speak.

Every kiss healed a wound.

Every thrust was a promise.

By dawn, they were exhausted, their bodies sore and marked and thoroughly used. Izuku lay sprawled across his chest, her hair a tangled mess, her skin glowing with the aftermath of too many orgasms to count. His hand traced idle patterns on her back, his heart still hammering against his ribs.

"I love you," she whispered, her voice hoarse, her eyes closed "I never stopped."

"I love you too," he replied, his voice rough, his arms tightening around her "Welcome home, Izuku."

She smiled against his chest, her hand finding his, their fingers intertwining. The car had brought them back together. The bed had sealed it.

--

The morning light was different when it filtered through his curtains, softer, warmer, somehow more forgiving than the harsh brightness of her lonely apartment.

Izuku drifted awake slowly, her body heavy and sore in the most delicious way, every muscle aching with the memory of the night before.

She was warm. Warmer than she should be, wrapped in blankets and something else, something solid and moving-

"Mm," she murmured, her eyes fluttering open, her mind still foggy with sleep.

Katsuki was above her, his hips settled between her thighs, his cock buried deep inside her, moving with slow, lazy thrusts that sent sparks of pleasure up her spine. He was braced on his elbows, his face inches from hers, his crimson eyes dark and heavy-lidded with desire, his hair a wild mess of blond spikes.

"Morning," he rasped, his voice rough with sleep and sex, his hips rolling against hers in a way that made her breath hitch.

"K-Kacchan," she gasped, her body arching instinctively into his, her legs wrapping around his waist even as her mind scrambled to catch up. "What- what are you-"

"Having breakfast," he said, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. He thrust deeper, his pelvis grinding against hers, making her see stars "Best meal of the day. Morning sex breakfast."

"That's not-" she started, but he cut her off with a kiss, his tongue sweeping into her mouth, his hips picking up a slightly faster rhythm.

"You were too tempting," he murmured against her lips, his hand sliding down to grip her thigh, pulling her leg higher around his hip "Woke up hard, felt you all warm and soft against me, couldn't help myself. You were already wet, baby. Even in your sleep, you wanted me."

She whimpered, because he was right. She was wet, her body responding to him even before consciousness had fully returned, her hips rising to meet his thrusts with eager, desperate movements.

"Didn't think you'd mind," he teased, his teeth finding her jaw, nipping down her throat "Not after last night. Not after you begged me to fuck you until you couldn't walk."

"I didn't-" she protested weakly, even as her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer.

"Oh, you did," he laughed, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated through her chest "You begged, Izuku. You said 'please, Kacchan, please don't stop, please give me more, please ruin me.'" He punctuated each word with a thrust, his hips snapping against hers with increasing speed "And I did, and I'm going to again. Right now."

He rolled them over, putting her on top, his hands gripping her hips to guide her movements. She sat up, blinking down at him, her hair a wild tangle around her face, her body flushed and marked from the night before.

He looked up at her with something like worship, his hands sliding up her waist to cup her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples.

"Ride me," he commanded, his voice soft but firm "Slow. I want to watch you. I want to see your face when you come."

She obeyed, her hips rolling in a slow, grinding circle that made them both groan. The angle was different like this, deeper somehow, hitting places inside her that made her toes curl.

She braced her hands on his chest, her nails digging into the muscle there, and found a rhythm, lazy, unhurried, the pace of a Sunday morning with nowhere to be and all the time in the world.

"That's it," he praised, his hands sliding down to grip her ass, his fingers digging into the soft flesh "Just like that. Fuck, you look beautiful. Look at you, taking me so deep, so good. My girl. My Izuku."

"Yours," she breathed, her head falling back, her movements becoming more purposeful as pleasure built low in her belly "I'm yours, Kacchan. Only yours."

"Damn right," he growled, his hips thrusting up to meet her, his hand sliding between them to find her clit, his thumb circling it in tight, relentless strokes "Come on, baby. Come for me. Give me my breakfast."

She came with a cry, her body convulsing, her walls clamping down on him so hard he saw stars. He followed her over the edge with a groan, his hips jerking up, his release spilling hot and deep inside her, marking her as his once again.

She collapsed on top of him, her face buried in his neck, her breathing ragged. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, his cock still twitching inside her, their bodies joined and messy and perfect.

"Morning sex breakfast," she mumbled against his skin, a laugh bubbling up in her chest "You're ridiculous."

"And you love it," he said, his hand stroking her hair, his voice smug and satisfied.

"I love you," she corrected, pressing a kiss to his thundering heart.

"That too," he agreed, rolling them onto their sides without pulling out, keeping her close, tangled in the sheets and in him "Now go back to sleep. We'll have lunch in a few hours. And by lunch, I mean round two."

She laughed, a bright, happy sound that filled the room, and curled into his chest, her eyes closing, her body finally, finally home.

"Okay," she whispered. "But you're making actual food next time. I'm starving."

"Greedy," he accused, but he was smiling, his arms tightening around her, his heart full.

"For you," she murmured, already drifting back to sleep "Always for you."

"Yeah," he whispered back, pressing a kiss to her forehead "Me too, Izuku. Me too."

The afternoon sun slanted through the curtains, painting golden stripes across the rumpled sheets.

They lay tangled together, limbs heavy and sated, the air still thick with the scent of sex and sweat and the vanilla shampoo she'd used in his shower. Izuku traced lazy circles on his chest, her ear pressed against his heartbeat, while Katsuki stared at the ceiling, his hand stroking her hair in a rhythm that had become automatic.

"We need to talk," he said quietly.

She stiffened slightly, her fingers stilling "I thought we were done talking. I thought we were-"

"Not about that," he said, tilting her chin up so she could see his face. His expression was soft, open, nothing like the guarded mask he'd worn for months "About us. About what happened. About why we broke."

Izuku was quiet for a long moment, her eyes searching his. Then she nodded, shifting up onto her elbow so she could look at him properly.

"Okay."

He took a breath, his hand falling from her hair to trace the line of her jaw "I was an asshole," he said simply "Before. When we were together. I took you for granted. I stopped listening. I thought you'd always be there no matter how I treated you, and I acted like... like you were part of the furniture. Like you belonged to me instead of being with me."

"You were stressed," she started, but he shook his head.

"No. Don't make excuses for me. I was cruel. I snapped at you for stupid shit. I missed your important days. I made you feel small. And when you tried to tell me you were unhappy, I didn't hear you. I just... I dug in my heels and got defensive because I couldn't stand the idea that I was failing you."

"You weren't failing-"

"I was," he insisted, his voice rough "Izuku, I was. You were drowning, and I was standing on the shore telling you to swim harder. You had every right to leave. You were right to leave."

Tears pricked at her eyes. "I shouldn't have done it the way I did. I just... I got so tired of screaming into the void. I thought if I left, you'd finally see me. But I should have fought harder before I gave up. I should have told you I was thinking about leaving instead of just... doing it."

"We both fucked up," he said, his thumb brushing away a tear that escaped "We both let it rot instead of fixing it. We both pretended we were fine when we weren't."

"So what now?" she whispered "Where does that leave us?"

Katsuki was quiet for a moment, his hand falling to cover hers on his chest "I don't want to go back to what we were," he said finally "That version of us was broken. I want to build something new. Something where I actually listen to you. Where I show up for you. Where you don't have to carry the weight of us by yourself."

"I want that too," she said, her voice trembling "But I'm scared. Katsuki, I'm so scared that we'll fall back into old patterns. That you'll get busy and I'll get resentful and we'll end up right back where we were."

"Then we make rules," he said, his voice firm.

"We communicate. We go to counseling if we need to. We don't let things fester. And if I start slipping, you tell me. You don't wait until you're ready to leave. You tell me the second you're unhappy, and I swear to god, Izuku, I will listen. I will fix it. I won't let you down again."

She stared at him, her heart hammering "And if I start pulling away? If I get scared and try to run?"

"Then I'll chase you," he said simply "I'll chase you every fucking time. I'll remind you that you're mine and I'm yours and we're worth fighting for."

The words hung between them, heavy and true. Izuku took a shaky breath, her hand tightening on his "So we're... what are we?"

Katsuki sat up, pulling her with him, his hands framing her face. His eyes were bright, burning, full of a fierce determination that took her breath away "Be my girlfriend," he said, the words rough, almost desperate.

"Officially. Again. Let me take you on dates. Let me pick you up from class. Let me love you out in the open, where everyone can see. No more pretending. No more rules about not touching. Just... us. Together."

"Yes," she breathed, the word escaping before he even finished.

"Yes, Katsuki. I want that. I want you."

He kissed her then, slow and deep and reverent, a promise sealed with lips and tongue and breath. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers, his eyes closed, his chest heaving.

"Good," he whispered. "Because I already told my mom. This morning. While you were asleep."

She pulled back, her eyes wide. "You what?"

"I texted her," he admitted, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. "Told her we were back together. She cried. Said she's making dinner Sunday and you're required to attend also she wants to know if you're pregnant."

Izuku laughed, the sound bright and startled and full of joy "Katsuki! We just got back together five minutes ago!"

"Technically we got back together last night when I fucked you against the wall," he said, his grin turning wicked. "But I wanted to make it official. I wanted to tell people. I wanted to make sure you knew I wasn't hiding this. I wasn't hiding you. Not anymore."

She kissed him then, hard and fierce, her hands tangling in his hair. "I love you," she said against his lips "I love you, I love you, I love you."

"I love you too," he said, his arms wrapping around her, pulling her into his lap. "My girlfriend. My Izuku. Mine."

"Yours," she agreed, her heart full to bursting. "And you're mine. My boyfriend. My Kacchan."

He made a sound, low and satisfied, and buried his face in her neck "Say it again."

"My boyfriend," she whispered, her lips brushing his ear "My love. My home."

They stayed like that for a long time, wrapped around each other, the afternoon light turning golden around them. Outside, the city hummed with life. Inside, in the space they'd carved out for themselves, there was only peace.

"So," she said eventually, her voice muffled against his skin. "Since we're official... does this mean I can keep the hoodie?"

He laughed "No. But I can help you steal a new one."

"Deal," she said.

His hands finding her hips, his eyes darkening with renewed desire "But first... round three?"

"Greedy," she accused, but she was already sinking onto him, her head falling back, her heart finally, impossibly, home.

"For you," he agreed, his voice rough. "Always for you."

And as the sun set on their first day as a couple, again they proved it, with lips and hands and whispered promises, until the only thing that mattered was the love they'd fought so hard to keep.

--

The morning was crisp, the sky a clear blue that promised a perfect day. Izuku sat in the passenger seat of the silver sedan, her hand resting on Katsuki's thigh as he drove, her fingers tracing idle patterns that made his muscles twitch beneath his jeans.

They were driving to the university, her first day back since their reconciliation, since they'd officially become boyfriend and girlfriend again. She was wearing a simple sundress, nothing underneath because he'd asked her not to, his eyes dark with that possessive hunger she'd missed so desperately.

"You know," he said, his voice casual, his hand covering hers on his thigh, "we have time."

"Time for what?" she asked, though she knew. She could see the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers drummed against the steering wheel.

He didn't answer.

He just took a turn off the main road, down a narrow lane she didn't recognize, winding through trees until they were completely secluded, hidden from the road by a thick wall of foliage. He killed the engine, the silence sudden and heavy.

"Kacchan-"

"This car," he said, turning to her, his eyes burning. "This fucking car. It was supposed to be our prison. Our punishment. The thing that forced us together when we wanted to be apart."

He reached over, his hand sliding behind her neck, pulling her close. "But it brought you back to me," he whispered, his lips brushing hers. "Every morning. Every night. This car made sure I didn't lose you completely. This car made me face what I was losing."

Izuku's breath hitched, her heart hammering. "Kacchan-"

"So before I drop you off," he continued, his hand sliding down her shoulder, her arm, finding the hem of her dress, "I want to claim you here. In the place that saved us. I want to fuck you in this car, Izuku, so that every time you sit in this seat, you remember who you belong to."

She was already wet, her body responding to his words, to his touch, to the intensity in his eyes "Yes," she breathed.

"Please. Here. In our car."

He groaned, his mouth crashing down on hers, his tongue sweeping inside as his hands found her waist, lifting her easily across the console.

She went willingly, climbing into his lap, her knees bracketing his hips, the steering wheel digging into her back but she didn't care. She could feel him, hard and thick beneath his jeans, pressing against her core.

"Lift your dress," he commanded, his voice rough, his hands already working at his belt. "Show me. Show me what's mine."

She obeyed, gathering the fabric in her hands and pulling it up, exposing herself to him, bare and wet and wanting. He groaned at the sight, his cock springing free from his jeans, heavy in his hand.

"You're soaked," he accused, his fingers sliding through her folds, testing her, teasing her. "Already? Just from me talking?"

"Always," she gasped, her hands finding his shoulders, her hips rocking against his fingers "Always for you, Kacchan. Only for you."

He positioned himself at her entrance, his hands gripping her hips, his eyes locked on hers. "Take me," he commanded. "Take me inside. Let me feel you."

She sank down onto him, slowly, her head falling back, a moan tearing from her throat as he filled her, stretched her, completed her. The car was small, cramped, the steering wheel pressing into her back and the gear shift digging into his side, but none of it mattered. All that mattered was him, inside her, around her, everywhere.

"Fuck," he groaned, his forehead dropping to her chest, his hands tightening on her waist. "You feel- god, Izuku, you feel-"

"Move," she begged, rolling her hips, grinding against him. "Please, Kacchan, move. I need you."

He did, his hips thrusting up to meet her, his hands guiding her movements, setting a rhythm that was desperate and deep. The car rocked slightly, the suspension creaking, but they were hidden, cocooned in their own world of leather and lust and love.

"Look at us," he growled, his teeth finding her collarbone, nipping hard enough to mark "Fucking in our car. The car that almost destroyed us. The car that saved us."

"Saved us," she agreed, her nails digging into his shoulders, her movements becoming frantic as pleasure built low in her belly. "You saved us, Kacchan. You chose us."

"We chose us," he corrected, his hand sliding between them to find her clit, his thumb circling it in tight, relentless strokes.

"Together. Always together."

She came with a cry, her body convulsing, her walls clamping down on him so hard he saw stars. He followed her over the edge with a groan, his hips jerking up, his release spilling hot and deep inside her, marking her, claiming her, loving her.

They stayed like that for a long moment, panting, sweating, tangled together in the driver's seat of their shared car. He held her close, his face buried in her neck, his heart hammering against hers.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice rough, wrecked. "In this car. Out of it. Everywhere. Always."

"I love you too," she said, pressing a kiss to his temple. "My boyfriend. My driver. My everything."

He laughed, a low, rumbling sound, and helped her climb back into the passenger seat, his hand lingering on her thigh as she adjusted her dress. He tucked himself back into his jeans, his eyes never leaving her, dark with satisfaction and love.

"Now," he said, starting the engine, pulling back onto the road, "let's get you to class. And Izuku?"

"Yeah?"

"After class, I'm picking you up. And we're doing this again."

She laughed, bright and happy, her hand finding his on the gear shift.

 

The car pulled back onto the main road, carrying them toward their future, the engine purring like a contented cat, the leather seats holding the warmth of their bodies, the air still thick with the scent of them.

The car that had been their prison was now their sanctuary.

The space that had forced them apart had brought them back together.

And as they drove toward the university, toward the life they were rebuilding, they both knew that this was just the beginning.

The car would carry them forward, together, wherever the road led.

The click of the turn signal was the sound of a love that had survived the darkest nights, finally driving into the light.

 

.