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It’s nearly 10 pm when Izuku shows up at Katsuki’s apartment in rumpled date wear.
The apartment’s already dim because Katsuki winds down early, and it's one of the lucky days that Katsuki has a night without a shift.
They sip on their drinks, Izuku on his beer and Katsuki on his very, very shallow tumbler of whiskey because he’s got an afternoon shift and despite what anyone thinks regarding his rough exterior, he won’t let anything fuck up his perfect track record. Katsuki never misses a day of work unless he’s almost dead or contagious.
“You’re earlier than usual. So what’d the knucklehead do this time?”
“Atsushi’s kinda over. It wasn’t working out. Today was someone new. Nami.”
Katsuki cocks an eyebrow and leans over the counter, shoving the bottle aside with his forearms, crossed tight across his chest.
“What’s she look like?”
“Pretty. Huge eyes. Short hair. Really nice smile.”
“Bug face.”
Izuku cracks a grin. “Is that all you got from that?”
Katsuki scoffs and leans against the sink. He looks cool and collected, even in the comfort of his apartment on a rainy night. The light under the overhead cabinets outlines his lithe body with a dusky glow.
“The extras you choose to waste your time with aren’t taking up any of my fuckin’ effort. You’re here barely three hours after your dinner started. You tellin’ me it went good enough to warrant seein’ her ever again?”
“Well…”
“Let me rephrase. You gonna date her bug-eyed mug or no?”
Izuku chews on his lower lip as he peeks at Katsuki’s indifferent face from under his lashes. “...No. I don’t think so.”
“Good to see Sherlock’s finally using that thinking cap.” Katsuki takes another slow sip of his whiskey, smacking his lips together to savour the smoky sweetness evaporating quickly on his tongue.
“Why the fuck else would you be here, right?” he mutters nonchalantly, turning around to check in on his backsplash for no apparent reason.
Brows furrow over big, green eyes, catching the slip despite Katsuki’s weak efforts to conceal it. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Izuku asks, affronted. “That’s not—I can’t visit my best friend when I want to?”
Katsuki’s handsome face twists with a roll of his eyes, and Izuku pouts back at him.
“Oh, put that face away. I didn’t say that. C’mon, Izuku. We both know why you’re here. You done?” he says, motioning to Izuku’s almost empty bottle.
Pensive, whorling Katsuki’s statements around in his brain, Izuku shrugs noncommittally, and Katsuki finishes up his whiskey before snagging the brown glass bottle to rinse out in the sink.
“Look,” Katsuki slides in front of Izuku and slips his long, calloused fingers around the wrist Izuku has draped on the marble countertop. Izuku’s always admired how delicate and pretty Kacchan’s fingers were, despite his gruff personality and occupation. Like he barely weighs anything, Katsuki pulls Izuku up onto his feet. He doesn’t mean to, but he stumbles into the man in front of him just enough for Katsuki to snap a strong hand across to catch his waist. A shudder runs through Izuku’s core. “It’s fine. Whatever we’re doing, sure, it’s fuckin’ weird sometimes. but—”
Izuku cuts him off with hot, urgent lips covering his own. He pulls away with a wet smack, a delicate thread of spit hanging between them before snapping just as quickly as the kiss had ended.
“Sorry.”
Katsuki huffs, striking Izuku’s forehead as gently as he cares to make it with the heel of his palm. “No, you’re not, shithead.”
The room is objectively cold, the frigid temperature of the rain and wind outside seeping into the icy stone, marble and metal of Katsuki’s apartment. But Katsuki’s breath hovering over Izuku’s lips is hot, searing like the hands rubbing absent circles into his skin right above his waistband. When Katsuki slides his palms around his middle and drags his mouth against his own, slipping his tongue in to taste the last dregs of beer behind his teeth, Izuku doesn’t feel the cold at all.
They stand there, in the middle of Katsuki’s kitchen, kissing like they’re starved for it. Hands pulling at clothes and slipping under hems. It’s a practised dance, one they're entirely familiar with after years of going through faces and short-lived romances, only to show up on each other’s doorsteps when the spark (if any) inevitably fizzles out.
It’s always them, again and again.
It’s been a while since they’ve done this. The last time they fucked was his penultimate date with Atsushi, a bottle blonde with an attitude. The two of them got drunk while Izuku aired his grievances about the state of his ‘relationship’ (more like a hesitant, drawn-out talking stage) up until that point, and it ended with Katsuki scrambling his guts from behind, Izuku’s staccato whines muffled by the leather couch cushions his face was buried in.
His ass was sore for days.
It’s convenient. Some people might call it psychotic, or woefully codependent, but at this point, having his best friend’s hard-on rubbing against him through thick denim is a safety blanket he knows won’t ever let him down.
As he grinds down on Katsuki’s thigh, purposefully angled between his legs, Izuku’s wrecked moans are equal parts relief and pleasure.
“How do you want it?” Katsuki mutters against the shell of his ear as Izuku mouths thoughtlessly against the side of Katsuki’s neck. The musky, smoky pallor of his cologne lingers, and Izuku wonders if he was out tonight at all, meeting people before he crashed his apartment, or if he had plans to see anyone.
“Bed. Please.” Izuku bars the thought. Even if there had been plans, there aren’t anymore. Izuku always comes first, so say the unspoken best friend privileges they’ve abided by since their second year of high school.
No one before Kacchan. No one before Deku.
“So polite. The date must have been hell if you’re practically begging.”
Izuku pushes against Katsuki’s chest, driving him backwards towards the master bedroom. He knows the route by heart, eyes closed. “Move.”
Katsuki scoffs as he pulls Izuku in by the hair for a sloppy kiss. “There he is. Bossy asshole,” he teases as he hikes Izuku up to carry him the rest of the way by the thighs.
“Kacchan!” Izuku yelps as he scrabbles for purchase on defined shoulders. He kicks Katsuki’s back with his heel, indignant. “I can walk perfectly fine.”
Katsuki kicks open his bedroom door and tosses Izuku onto the impeccably made sheets before shuffling around the mattress to hover over him. Sharp eyes and severe brows loom over Izuku, and despite feeling—no, knowing—he’s more than safe, the feeling of being undeniably hunted zips up his spine.
“I can fix that.”
A flush bursts across Izuku’s cheeks. No smile, no teasing lilt. Katsuki was 100% serious.
“Promise?”
Katsuki smiles at him through the haze and rucks up Izuku’s shirt to lick a wet stripe up his sternum. “Off. Marks okay?”
Izuku moans, doing as he’s told. He tosses the shirt somewhere into the abyss, letting it land anywhere and nowhere, busy running his nose, mouth, and hands all over Katsuki’s warm, deliciously velvety skin. “God, yeah, okay.”
“You sure?” Katsuki slurs, dragging his teeth over the skin of Izuku’s abdomen. “Last time I got my head chewed off for leaving some spots on you during practical exam season.” His tongue plays carefully with the bud of his nipple, flicking over it a few times before flattening out. “If you say ‘yes marks’, I’m not holding back, Deku.”
“Shoot,” Izuku gasps out, Katsuki’s knee driving into the apex of his thighs. Mean. “Yeah, yes, I promise, it’s fine. I won’t yell at you, I swear.”
“Mm, heard,” is all Izuku gets in response before Katsuki surges up towards his neck to latch on and suck like his life depends on it. Hands are trailing up and down his ticklish sides, so hyper-sensitive his legs jerk up to wrap tight around Katsuki’s svelte waist, so pretty and shown off in his lowly slung grey sweatpants.
He remembers walking through the door earlier and seeing Kacchan, looking relaxed and a little loose from the whiskey, reaching up his own baggy shirt to scratch at his chest and giving Izuku a peek at his cut V-line and perfectly sculpted abs. He’s always been so pretty and perfect. Izuku knows how lucky he is that he has a best friend like Kacchan, who just so happens also to be insane enough to have sex with him for fun.
He knows how many people would die to have a moment like this with Katsuki.
Katsuki grinds down hard against his still-clothed ass.
He gets it all to himself.
“Ge’ off,” Izuku mumbles, pushing Katsuki off of his mauled neck.
“Why? Why, what happened? You okay?” Katsuki pulls back immediately, sitting back on his haunches to survey Izuku with his hands hovering over him. Like this, Izuku can see his dick print front and centre. Most of the detail is obviously lost to the grey heather, but he can see the heaviness of it in the way it bobs and sways with his movement, a little teaser of what Izuku’s chasing after.
See you soon, Izuku thinks.
“m’fine, you worry wart.” Izuku unbuttons his pants with frantic speed and shimmies desperately, still horizontal, trying to yank the fitted denim off his ass and down his legs. “I just need my freaking pants off.”
Katsuki snorts and leans over to help tug his pants down. “Okay, baby,” Katsuki lets the nickname slip condescendingly, as in—he’s calling Izuku a baby, instead of baby in a sexy way, but it makes Izuku pause. That’s not something they usually call each other. He decides he might not mind it if Katsuki didn’t mind using it either.
“Hm…” Izuku hums, giving it some thought as Katsuki nuzzles his face headily into Izuku’s cotton-covered crotch.
“What, Izuku?” Katsuki keeps mouthing at his painfully hard dick through the fabric, one hand gripping his hip and the other roving around his torso.
“‘Baby’ sounds kinda nice, right?”
“Does it?” Katsuki’s movement stops for barely half a second before they start up again, hands dragging his waistband down, down, down until his very hard cock springs out and catches against Kacchan’s chin.
Izuku bites back a loud moan.
“Feel good, baby?”
This time, his ‘baby’ sounds like a sexy one.
“Yeah,” Izuku’s voice wheedles out.
Katsuki pulls off his own shirt and tugs off Izuku’s underwear all the way off of him, throwing both articles over his shoulder before pushing Izuku’s whole body up the bed towards the pillows and spitting on his cockhead, leaning over to circle the tip with his wet, hot mouth.
He licks up Izuku’s length before swallowing it all down, sucking him off so indulgently that Izuku feels like one of those sushi buffet guys, the ones where they lie down and have grazing feasts served on their bodies. A meal to be savoured and digested, piece by piece.
The devouring doesn’t stop there, Katsuki biting and sucking and licking a trail up his torso, Izuku wincing every time Katsuki’s sharp teeth dig harder into his thin skin.
“Ah!” Izuku sucks in a harsh breath as the man on top of him kisses languidly over the broken skin he’d just nipped into Izuku’s chest apologetically.
“Kacchan…”
Katsuki hums, questioningly, against his skin, rubbing circles into his hips.
“I wanna try.”
“Try… What, putting hickies on me?”
“Yeah, can I?”
A flash of something amused, almost fond, dances across Katsuki’s face before he rolls his eyes and flops over.
“Go nuts.”
Izuku chuckles to himself, rolling over and swinging a leg over to straddle Katsuki comfortably, nosing his way down his warm furnace of a body.
Izuku picks a spot, a nice plane of skin right under Katsuki’s right pectoral and sucks, lips puckered over skin and tongue flicking occasionally, darting out to lave over the sweet skin. Katsuki’s back arches, sighing a little as he pushes up into Izuku’s waiting mouth.
“How’s it going?” Katsuki whispers after a minute of work.
He pulls off Katsuki and frowns, finding only a faint shadow of a bruise, quickly dissipating.
“Nooo… That’s no fair, how do you do that?”
He looks up and catches Katsuki grinning down at him, not even at all sardonically. Wow.
Rare, seeing a joyful Kacchan without the aggression. Quite cute, really. But Izuku’s always known that. Which just means he appreciates it more than anybody else.
“Felt good, Freckles. It’s fine. C’mere.” Katsuki pulls Izuku back up to lay a deep, searing kiss on his mouth, and Izuku melts back into him. With him pliant and distracted, Katsuki has no problem pushing them over again so they’re both on their sides facing each other, heads comfortably nestled on the deluxe pillows Katsuki keeps at the head of the bed.
Through the haze of the kiss, Izuku feels a hand slide up his dick, brushing up and down with enough pressure for a tingle of electricity to flutter down his spine. He breaks the kiss to look between them, just in time to see Katsuki gather his own hard-on in the same hand to jerk both of them off at the same time.
His mouth waters at the sight of Katsuki’s pretty, wet cockhead dragging along his own, making a sticky mess out of Katsuki’s hand. The restrained moans coming from the other man’s throat don’t help the stimulation either. God, he sounds like he’s purring.
But no—Izuku needs something more.
“Wuh— Izuku, the fuck are you doing?”
Whining, he knees Katsuki’s thigh gently, trying to push him away. Batting his hand away from his dick (regretfully), Izuku turns himself over and presses the cleft of his ass against Katsuki’s own dick. Both of them let out a strangled sigh as Katsuki’s dripping cockhead swipes against the curve of Izuku’s skin.
Shutting his eyes, Izuku can hear Katsuki swear under his breath; he can feel Katsuki grip the meat of one cheek in his big hand to spread him open, just to take a look at the fluttering hole he’d slid into a few good times before.
Izuku can feel the cock twitching against his hole, Katsuki having taken to rutting gently against it, clearly soaking in the spectacle of it all at his own pace.
“Gonna make you cum so hard,” Katsuki mutters, reaching around Izuku to grab his dick again, very much ignoring Izuku’s hole. Grunting, Izuku pushes back hard against Katsuki’s dick, hard enough to hurt a little.
“Kacchan, just put it in.”
A hand comes down on his ass, chiding. Izuku snaps around to glare at the other man. In retaliation, he reaches back to grab at Katsuki’s cock, dragging his fist up and down. Katsuki takes it in stride, pulling at Izuku’s most accessible knee to pull his thighs open enough for him to wrestle a leg in between, settling both of their cocks back in his hand. He strokes them lazily, almost triumphantly, shooting Izuku a smarmy arched brow.
Even their sex is competitive. Izuku almost laughs, but he has more pressing matters to attend to. “I’m not fucking your ass if you’re not prepped—”
“I’m prepped.”
Katsuki’s mouth drops open at the interjection, questioning.
Izuku shrugs, as best he can.
“I dunno, you never know how dates might go, even if they’re girls, okay?”
Katsuki’s brows furrow, and a scowl forms over almost-bared teeth.
“You fuck your first dates?”
Izuku shrugs bashfully, turning over a little more generously to face Katsuki as he speaks. He runs his foot over Katsuki’s calf, tangling themselves together. “It’s happened before.” Katsuki tightens his grip on Izuku’s hand, still pressed around both their leaking cocks. “And sometimes I don’t, and I end up here.”
The look Katsuki pins Izuku with is nothing short of feral, a hungry, sharp look that slices through Izuku’s chest and bites hard into the flesh of his beating heart.
“Don’t fucking say that.” Katsuki puts a finger in his mouth and pulls it out with a wet pop.
“Why not?”
“Doesn’t matter.” Katsuki wraps his hand around Izuku’s throat and reaches down to shove his long, calloused finger into his tight entrance with no preamble. Izuku wails, bucking around the digit, walls fluttering around it as Katsuki twists it around. “I’m gonna fuck you.”
“Ough, more. More, please, Kacchan!” Izuku babbles, grinding down hard on his finger, arms snaking up to wrap themselves around his neck as much as physically possible, trying to pull him down for another messy, tongue-y kiss. “I need Kacchan’s big fingers inside me. Please.”
“Nah, not tonight.”
Izuku almost cries, his need for more overwhelming him. Then he does actually cry, fat tears spilling over, when Katsuki lines up his strong, thick cock with his hole and pushes in slowly.
“Oh, fuck, Iz’ku,” Katsuki grits out, steadily splitting Izuku open on his unfairly big dick. “You’re so fuckin’ tight.” Katsuki grips his waist and shoulder so tightly that Izuku feels like he’s being crushed from all ends. It’s definitely not their first time fucking, not by a long shot, but it might as well be, with how new and virginal his asshole feels wrapped around Katsuki with minimal prep.
“Is it in?” Izuku moans when Katsuki stops moving for a minute, arms covering his eyes.
“No, you baby, not all the way.” His ‘baby’ sounds mean again, definitely edging into condescension. Izuku runs a hand over his stomach, imagining it sitting deep inside of him and curls into himself. “Holy shit, stop moving—I’m trying not to shoot my load, Izuku, you’re making it fucking difficult.”
“Sorry,” Izuku croaks. Katsuki has the presence of mind, or maybe lack thereof, to laugh a little before sheathing himself fully in Izuku, the tip dragging against his prostate so suddenly, Izuku yelps and jolts, sucking Katsuki in even deeper.
Katsuki groans low, grabbing Izuku’s hips to still him. “Don’t fucking do that, you jackass.”
Izuku doesn’t waste time telling him not to call him names; he doesn’t have the patience. “Kacchan, please fuck me hard, hard. Stretch me open. Fill me up, please.”
“Yeah?” Katsuki pulls out slowly and pumps back in, rough. “Tell me what else you want, baby.”
He doesn’t stutter.
“Kacchan’s perfect cock in my stomach.”
Katsuki’s eyes gleam as his hips kick again, punching a high moan out of Izuku.
“Right here, Deku?” Katsuki pulls out a little and rubs a spot on the first row of Izuku’s abs, deep, deep in Izuku’s guts.
“Yes!”
“Has anyone else been there before? Anyone else fuck you as deep and full as Kacchan does?” Katsuki’s teasing him, voice a little sing-song and lilty, but Izuku hears something else, a sharp undercurrent that doesn’t feel as casual as Katsuki means to make the jab. Izuku, maybe a little cock-drunk and stupid, feels compelled to do something about it.
“Mm, yeah,” he breathes out, letting his eyes slide shut.
Kacchan freezes on top of him. Only his dick jumps minutely. “What?”
“Answering your question, Kacchan.” Izuku pushes his hips up needily, but Katsuki keeps a controlled hold on him and pulls back enough so his dick stays half-out.
“Wha—who? You never told me about this before.”
“‘Bout what, Kacchan?” Izuku reaches for his own dick, but Katsuki smacks his hand away. “Hey!”
“Hey, yourself. Izuku, I'm serious. Who’d you fuck.”
“Keep going, and I’ll tell you.”
Katsuki narrows his eyes but concedes, driving his dick deep into Izuku’s hole, going so fucking slow he knows it's on purpose, just to make him feel every inch.
“Was it Atsushi?” Katsuki’s impatient voice cuts through the lusty, pleasure-addled fog surrounding Izuku’s brain. “You don’t date that many guys.”
Izuku hums contentedly as Katsuki’s hips roll languidly, pulling out so he can push back in, just as slow, but full of purpose. It’s so big and heavy, it’s almost digging into his insides. Fast or slow, the way Katsuki fucks is so addicting, Izuku fears he may have developed a Pavlovian response to shitty dates, quietly thrilled when his dinner partner ends up being a dud.
That just means he can zip off after, drop Katsuki a text and feel amazing for the rest of the night and spend great quality time with his best friend all at once!
He doesn’t recall a time Katsuki has ever called him up after a bad date, needing to have his needs met. He just assumes that, unfortunately, Katsuki’s dates are probably top-tier, and anyone who goes on a Katsuki date probably has chemistry to match. He can see it, Katsuki running through a decent line of women and men, splayed out on this very bed, screaming and writhing on Katsuki for a release.
Izuku grunts and pulls Katsuki all the way in with his legs, and grinds on Katsuki’s cock, clenching impossibly tight just the way he knows he loves it.
“Maybe,” Izuku says flatly, pissed off with the Katsuki he’s conjured up in his head, getting his rocks off with other people.
“Yeah, well, his stroke game ain’t shit,” Kacchan bites right into his ear, as he fights off Izuku’s legs and slams in again.
“He stroked just fine, actual-ah!”
Izuku gurgles, fighting for conscience as Katsuki pummels his insides over and over, rough and demanding. He’s fucking lying. Atsushi didn’t even come close. All they did was suck each other off in a club bathroom once, dry hump drunk another time, and then they broke up.
He’s fucked one guy besides Kacchan, and that was awkward and hesitant, and nowhere as wrecking as Katsuki’s sessions are.
“If you’re acting up the way you do just from me fucking you missionary, then no, his stroke game’s shit, Deku.”
Liar. Katsuki makes it sound like their sex is normal. It’ll never be less than intense and wildly charged. The history, Izuku thinks factually and scientifically, makes it sexier.
He’s a little put out that Katsuki doesn’t seem to think the same.
But maybe Katsuki’s busy, forearm pressed into the mattress next to Izuku’s head as he screws his eyes shut, squeezing out audio drama BL-grade wrecked moans from Izuku as he fucks his still-tight ass with as much power and precision that he brings to his day job.
Izuku lets his head drop back onto the bed, feeling his body jerk and shake with every thrust. “Kacchan, you feel so good.”
“Yeah?” He sounds distracted, barely even grunting while Izuku falls apart under him. The grip he has on his thigh is punishing, pulling his skin tight and white over muscle.
“Mm–ah! Mmhm,” Izuku struggles to even hum.
“... Right.”
“Oh fuck, oh fuck!” Izuku doesn’t swear very often, but when Katsuki’s bullish cockhead slams into his prostate like this (he swears he sees his abs rippling with the pressure against his stomach), he can’t really help himself. “Ka-cha-ah-ahn—”
Izuku feels like he’s being attacked from all angles, a hot spaciness taking over his brain and turning his limbs into putty. His back melts into the mattress, high moans punched out of him as he feels every ridge and drag of Katsuki’s cock against his pulsing walls. His sobbing is muffled by Katsuki’s broad shoulder pushing into his mouth, his whole body crowding him to keep him in place, and he shoves into him. Izuku would have been halfway through the headboard otherwise.
“You’re takin’ it so well, Deku,” Katsuki bites out between fast, hard thrusts. “Practising with the other guys you’re fucking?”
Izuku’s head is too empty and too ready to spill over all at the same time, barely processing the question. Who the hell was Kacchan talking about? Shit, he thinks, as a fizz of electricity ripples from his toes straight to his dick. He’s definitely—
“Gonna—ngh, gonna cum, Kacchan,” Izuku barely manages to gasp out, lungs fully emptied with every stroke Katsuki fucks into him.
“Don’t think so,” Katsuki grumbles, still keeping his rhythm but circling Izuku’s root tight.
“Please!” Izuku wails, tears streaming down his temples into his hair as Katsuki slows his barrage a little to let a trail of spit fall from his mouth to lube up Izuku’s own flushed and red cock. Katsuki tugs on it gently as he pushes Izuku’s right thigh up, tapping it once to get his attention once it’s level with his ear.
“Hands.” Izuku grabs one thigh as Katsuki pushes the other up for Izuku to hold onto also, folded neatly in half, Izuku’s speared hole on full display for him.
“Fuck whoever’s fuckin’ you.” Katsuki speeds up again, one hand thumbing Izuku’s weeping cockhead while he keeps Izuku in place with another hand locked in between his hipbone and his muscular thigh. The sound of Katsuki fucking Izuku’s dripping, creamy hole—skin slapping hard against skin—is lewd and so fucking loud, he’s never been more grateful that Katsuki lives in a fancy apartment building that prides itself on thicker walls and tenant privacy. “They don’t take this shit serious enough.”
Izuku’s legs shake as he screams out, begging Katsuki to stop, even with his hands still firm on his thighs to make space for Katsuki’s relentless thrusts.
“That’s it, baby. You’re doing so good for me.” Izuku’s head spins. Fuck, he could cum from Katsuki talking to him like that alone. He needs it. Needs to.
“Kacchan!” Izuku claws at Katsuki’s sides, feeling just the slightest bit spacey. “S-stop…”
“Yeah? You want me to stop? Are you sure?” Katsuki presses a searching kiss into Izuku’s mouth, and Izuku presses back up into him, pulling him closer, breathing raggedly through his nose and tears.
“Please, it’s too much,” He ekes out, thighs shaking, relishing in the feeling of getting filled up over and over again, so close to Katsuki, breath mingling with his. He angles his chin up, mouth parting in a coy effort to get Katsuki to drink him in again. No such luck.
“C’mon, baby, you’re doing so good, you gonna cum untouched for me?” He grabs a handful of Izuku’s ass and pulls, the stretch making Izuku cry out. “Fuck, you’re so fucking perfect—mmh—so fuckin’ pretty for me—”
Izuku cries harder, big wet tears running down his cheeks as Katsuki steals another kiss from the corner of his mouth. His legs are shaking uncontrollably, involuntarily inching shut with the stimulation, but Katsuki helps in his own way: pinning one of his legs up so Izuku stays wide open for his hips to piston comfortably between.
One particularly deep thrust has Izuku gurgling, bucking himself deeper on Katsuki, legs straining against both his and Katsuki’s grip.
“Wanna cum so bad, don’t you? Eyes on me, Izuku,” Katsuki whispers, reaching up to grip his face in a hold so possessive that Izuku’s fluttering heart threatens to spill all the way out onto Katsuki’s bed for the world to see. Beautiful, wonderful Kacchan. He struggles to keep a coherent thought, Katsuki pounding his ass so hard that everything beyond Katsuki’s eyes and sharp nose is a bouncing blur.
“So fucking wet, holding on like I told you to. Feel good?”
Izuku nods as best as he can, his hole clenching around Katsuki’s thick cock.
A growl rips from the back of Katsuki’s throat. “Tell me.”
“Hnngh?”
The loudest, most debauched moan/whine/shriek Izuku’s ever made in his life peels out of his mouth as Katsuki, still fucking sharply into him, leans down and sucks hard on a pert nipple, scraping his teeth on the sensitive flesh, all while pressing a palm into his tight abdomen.
“Tell me you feel how fucking good I make you feel. The best fuck you’ve ever had. Am I, Izuku?”
“Nngh,” is all Izuku can get out before he feels like the breath is ripped out of him in one fell swoop—Katsuki yanks himself out of Izuku, rolling over onto his side to reach over and stroke his puffy hole. A choked sob is wrenched out of him as he spurts white all over the starburst scar emblazoned across Katsuki’s broad chest, the man slung around him offering nothing but a few gentle kisses to his temple to soothe his throbbing dick and the hole clenching around nothing. Ow.
Katsuki thumbs at his back while he comes down, letting Izuku nestle his head in the crook of his arm, the one holding his weight, while he watches Izuku suck air back into himself.
“You’re,” Izuku gasps, breath still finding its way to his lungs. “Mmn... Still hard.”
“Mmhmm.” Izuku eyes Katsuki’s chest, the pearly stripes on his chest dripping and drooling towards the bed, trickling over one dark nipple. It’s got a ways to go, but it’s still worryingly close to messing up the sheets even more. He can’t help himself—Izuku reaches over to wipe it on instinct, fingers barely grazing Katsuki’s pectoral before his hand is slapped away.
“Don’t.” Katsuki leans back against the mattress and reaches down, stroking himself lazily, Izuku still boneless over on his left arm. Izuku shifts, wondering if he should throw a leg over or crawl down to fit Kacchan into the back of his throat. Mm…
He swallows.
“Do you… want me to—”
“You wish,” Katsuki scoffs, hand still wrapped around his dick. He jostles Izuku’s thigh with a sidelong knee. “You owe me a statement, stupid. Gonna fess up and tell me? Maybe then I’ll let you cum with me inside.”
“You’re such a bully,” Izuku grumbles, flopping back. He can see the dimpled grin peeking over the curve of Katsuki’s cheek from where he lies, tracing the way the dip shadows his cheek progressively, as if he finds Izuku’s aggravation increasingly amusing. Handsome. Even if Izuku feels like choking him occasionally, in a non-sexual way.
“Tough luck. Say it.”
“No.”
“Then I’m not fucking you. Go get Atsushi to put it in.”
“Kacchan! Now you’re just being ridiculous,” Izuku huffs.
“Promise.”
Izuku rolls his neck to look at Katsuki, before a big, smooth hand pushes him down into the mattress by his collarbone. He shrugs as much as he can with the heavy weight pressing into his shoulder.
“Promise what?”
“Promise you want this.”
A blink.
“I want it.”
Kacchan smacks a hand to his cheek and jiggles the leftover baby fat.
“Don't skimp.”
The way Katsuki looks down at him is arresting, eyes searching, mouth set in a wobbly line. Izuku knows he’s not trying to look like he wants. Wants too much, or at all. But he’s known Katsuki far too long not to recognise the vulnerability peeking through like evening sun through autumn leaves.
Izuku gives up on teasing him.
“Kacchan, I promise, I want you.” Izuku pecks him on the corner of his mouth, channelling as much sweetness and his buried-deep feelings into one narrow point as he can. Katsuki watches him pull back with a long, unblinking stare.
He shifts around, just to get on his knees. Izuku feels the emptiness reverberate through him as his limp body undulates with the dipping mattress, his body mourning the warm heaviness of Katsuki pressing against his walls. He whimpers, rolling over onto his side to keep himself warm. It’s still cold, the rain long becoming a steady soundtrack (and muffler) to his and Katsuki's many noises.
“Come on,” a hand taps his ass cheek, and he looks up to see Katsuki swiping a hand across the mess he made on his broad, beautifully scarred chest, using the handful of his cum to lube up his cock further. Izuku feels like he could pass out from the sight alone, holy cow. Katsuki smacks his ass again—making his hole clench around nothing—nodding at him to roll over onto his stomach. “Ass up.”
Obediently, with breathless effort, Izuku rolls over, sensitive cock already feeling flush and warm with new blood.
Katsuki feeds himself into Izuku again with no preamble, tearing a wanton cry from Izuku’s throat. He pounds into him with a distance goal, going for multiple long strokes that fill him up over and over.
At one point, it slips out, catching a little painfully on his loosened but still tight muscle.
“Squeezin’ me, Deku, fuck,” Katsuki groans, pulling Izuku’s cheeks apart to watch what Izuku can only guess is Katsuki’s fat cock pushing a creamy mess in and out of a stretched-out, red hole. He can imagine it, sucking it in greedily and then puckering and getting shiny with how tight it's being pulled every time Katsuki rolls his hips back.
Izuku tears at the bedsheets, eyes rolling into the back of his head with how deep Kacchan is stroking him right now; mouth agape and wheezing, barely any air passing in and out.
“Deep…”
He really doesn’t know how he manages falling into bed with this man only occasionally. He lets himself entertain the thought of having this regularly, if not every day. Gosh, if only he were so lucky.
“Where’re you feelin’ it? Tell me, Deku.”
“Lungs, Kacchan… Can’t breathe…” Katsuki groans loud and long at that, and Izuku pictures what he looks like behind him, hips ploughing into him with his glistening, corded body and sweat-darkened blond hair falling into his eyes as he screws his eyes tight. The thought of it makes him clench.
“You drive me insane.” Katsuki smacks one side of his ass, lightly but enough to make Izuku keen. “Gonna make you feel it. Gonna pump you full for hours.”
Izuku grunts, sad, lonely thoughts rolling around in his brain. “So I’m, nghhh, satisfied longer? So I come by less?” Katsuki’s cock hits his prostate hard, and he cries out, scrabbling at the filthy fitted sheet under him.
“Mm. Something like that.”
Going through his rolodex of situationships and dates, Izuku can’t think of a single one he’d rather have fucking him into a mattress. He rocks back, enjoying the tight rhythm of skin against moist skin, Katsuki’s gravelly sounds, the bed frame creaking and thumping against the wall with every hard thrust.
He gets into the motion, feeling wickedly smug that he’s making Kacchan fall apart too, based on the faltering one-two beat he’d helped cultivate. Not some random extra, who probably can’t make Katsuki feel as good as he deserves. Still, he’s bitter that there’s anyone else to compete with, anyone else taking Katsuki’s time while Izuku’s satisfied after a good post-date session, going about his life. Ooh, the thought is incendiary. He squeezes tight around Katsuki.
“Oh, fuck. Shit, I’m gonna cum.” Katsuki speeds up, slamming into Izuku so hard that he’s gripping onto those sheets and seeing sparks. Hell, how could he ever do this with anyone else? “You feel so good. Made to take all of this. Mm, gonna cum and fill you up, Deku.”
“No— Stop, don’t!”
Katsuki, obedient, halts and snaps out of his lusty daze.
“What? Why not?”
“You don’t wanna mark my face up with your cum?”
“... No?”
Izuku ignores the sting of rejection. He twists his face into what he thinks is a very intimidating scowl. Katsuki scoffs and grabs his chin to boggle his head around, so unfortunately, he doesn’t think it worked so well.
“Stop! Cum on my face.”
“I’m not shooting my shit in your eyes, you freak.”
“Please, Kacchan? Mark me uuuup.”
Hesitation sits heavy on Katsuki’s furrowed brow and set face, but Izuku can see the temptation flickering in his eyes, just enough to know he’s winning. Izuku tries something, wriggling off of Katsuki’s dick slowly, keeping eye contact as he tips the other man over and gets on his knees to scooch down, down, down Kacchan’s prone body to take him in both hands and nuzzle at his scrotum.
C’mon, Kacchan.
Katsuki grumbles, threading a pretty hand through Izuku’s mess of curls. Izuku suckles shallowly at the tip, then drags his mouth over Katsuki’s length with deliberate apathy. A groan rumbles out from his scarred chest as his head drops, eyes screwing shut. “Mm… Fuck, I love you.”
Huh?
Izuku snaps his head up, eyes hurting with the strain of how hard he’s staring Katsuki down, hand still wrapped around his dick. “Eh?”
Katsuki snaps up into a sitting position—Izuku will ask for his core routine later—with critical eyes.
“Huh?” he echoes, although the defensive, panic-laced gleam in his eyes gives away any farce of nonchalance.
“What’d you say, Kacchan?”
“Nnnnothing?”
Izuku pulls off completely, watching Katsuki rub a hand over his mouth, curling in on himself in a crumpled duvet nest. Izuku sits on his haunches, head feeling a little overheated, not from sex or anything, but more from trying to figure out if he’d died somehow during coitus and some sort of liminal demon was taunting him with his most ardent fantasies.
He traces the high ceiling with his eyes, still thinking about the possibility of being in Hell. Did he really do so bad?
“Love? Like… as a friend, right?”
Now, Izuku’s faced villains.
Murderers.
Aizawa-sensei—or maybe Aizawa-san, now—during exam season.
None of his past experiences facing The Terrors had anything on the look Kacchan gives him, searing enough to make every last shred of his bravado wither away.
“Izuku. What about this screams ‘friends’ to you, idiot?”
Izuku's brain screams for a split second before it bluescreens. “Wait.”
Katsuki flops back onto the bed. “You’re fucking kidding. You’re fucking kidding.”
“Kacchan.”
Katsuki turns his head, the muscle in his jaw jumping. “Forget it.”
Izuku winces, ass feeling tender as he sobers up from the pleasure high, as he scrabbles against the sinking, fluffy bedthings to get a closer peek at Katsuki, chewing an anxious hole through his bottom lip.
“I don’t think I can.”
Katsuki scrubs his eyes with long fingers.
“That’s not good for your eyes,” Izuku comments, before the glare thrown his way between rosy knuckles quiets him down.
“... Did you mean it?”
“Which p—Izuku, I said it’s fine, seriously. Just forget it.”
“It didn’t sound like you didn't mean it.”
The long fingers have since migrated; now it’s a dense forearm that stays firmly planted over Katsuki’s eyes, but Izuku catches the microscopic tremble in his chin and lower lip.
He takes a moment, letting Katsuki sit with himself, no doubt in need of some privacy, watching him through his lashes.
A few beats pass, and Izuku crouches to peel Katsuki’s fingers away from his face.
“Hm?”
Katsuki exhales sharply, looking cornered by something he can’t blast his way out of. “This wasn’t supposed to—”
“I love you more.” Izuku shuts his mouth, wondering if his brain knows that he meant to let Katsuki finish before he confessed his ardent love for his longtime friend and comparatively short-time friend with benefits. Curse his big fat mouth.
Katsuki looks at him, stricken, a tinge insulted as if he can’t believe Izuku’s under the impression that he could beat Katsuki in a loving competition.
“... No.” Izuku pulls back, looking at Katsuki tilted.
“What do you mean ‘no’?”
“I love you more. You don’t love me.”
Izuku clambers off of Katsuki and stands by the bedside, holding a pillow over his now very exposed penis. It’s still a little chubbed up, but he still feels too naked to be having this conversation. Katsuki sits up on his elbows, proudly bare and staring straight at him. Izuku frowns at his lack of shame. A little bit of self-consciousness would be appreciated in this time of vulnerability.
But goddamn. With that body, face, capability, and heroic spirit (and fantastic hair, he can’t forget that), why would he be?
“I’m telling you I love you; why would I be lying to you?”
“Pity.”
“Why would you need pity?”
“Because I love you. And you don’t love me.”
“I thought we established eight years ago that a) you don’t need my pity and b) I’d never pity you.”
Katsuki nails him with a stony gaze. “This is a transactional, casual, sex-only relationship for you.”
“Well— Isn’t it for you?” Izuku presses the pillow closer to his dick and looks around the room, scrambling for something to say. “Why are we doing this?”
On the bed, Katsuki’s face shutters, his own hard-on long-gone. Izuku backtracks, skittering back onto the mattress. “I mean, why are we fighting about this? Kacchan, you can’t be mad at me for that.”
Izuku lets a thumb brush over the back of Katsuki’s hand, trailing over delicate veins and tendons.
“I like you.”
“.... I thought you loved me.”
“You are doing this on purpose.”
The room falls into a heavy silence as Katsuki’s lower lip trembles in a tiny pout. In horror, Izuku watches as his eyes begin to glisten.
“Kacchan, don’t cry! I mean, you can if you want, I just don’t want you to— ah, jeez—”
“You mean it?”
“Yes, please, don’t cry.”
“No, the part about you loving me, numbskull.”
Izuku’s arms fly out in mild exasperation. “Yes, Kacchan, I do love you! I’ve loved you for years! You’re so good, great even, and there is a huuuuge line of people who want you, and you probably spend all your other nights with great people who are beautiful and smart and are very masterful in bed.
“It drives me crazy to think about. You’re so incredible, and I want you, but that’s selfish when you could be with literally the second most amazing person in the world, only because you’re the first! I wake up, I think of you. I go to work, I think of you. I go to bed, I think of you. When I’m on my dates, I just can’t— let them touch me because it just makes me sad that it’s not you, so—”
Izuku claps a hand over his mouth, mind whirring at an unbearable pace.
“Oh my god, I’ve been sabotaging my own dates. I sabotage them so when it goes bad, I can see you because I just want you. That’s messed up. Ah, that’s really bad.”
“Blabbermouth.”
“Kacchan, please, this is seri—umph!” Izuku thanks the powers that be for cutting his rambling off, one, because it was getting embarrassing, and it was getting hard to listen to it spill out of him like oil into an ocean, two, because Kacchan still seems more than happy to kiss him after running his mouth like that. Miracles really do happen.
The kiss is sweet but thorough, Katsuki dragging his mouth over Izuku’s like he’s trying to prolong the kiss as much as possible by taking away any chance Izuku might have to say stop. Like he would ever.
When Katsuki is satiated for the time being, he pulls Izuku up and into his lap, running the hand that isn’t gripping the side of his face up and down his ribs.
“You lied to me about the other guys.”
Izuku sighs breathily, feeling his blood already starting to rush downwards at the sound of Katsuki’s deep voice. “We’re not going back to that conversation.”
“You love me.”
Izuku ducks his head to suck a hickey into Katsuki’s neck. Or tries to at least. “Mm-hmm. This is really hard.”
“My dick?”
“No, hickies.” Izuku shuffles forward. “Oh, you’re hard.”
“I love you.” Katsuki kisses Izuku hard on the mouth, and Izuku feels a million fireworks exploding behind his eyes, in his heart and under his fingertips. Around Katsuki, a few sparks go off, which Izuku catalogues in his mind to bring up later for quirk research and first ‘i love you’ memories. He’s lifted shallowly and placed right over Katsuki’s hard cock, sliding back and forth between his still slick hole. “Can I make you mine?”
Izuku catalogues this too.
“You always have.”
Katsuki hums into the next kiss, pushing his cockhead into Izuku’s hole slowly at first, just to make Izuku feel the pop of the thick tip into his tense rim. Izuku moans gutturally, forehead dropping into Katsuki’s shoulder as Katsuki moans with him, although his sounds just a touch teasing, enjoying the state of mindless bliss Izuku’s already fallen headfirst into.
Then, every nerve ending in Izuku’s body lights up, Katsuki yanking him down to fully seat himself inside him. Izuku’s body shudders violently, toes flexing as he scratches angry red lashes across Katsuki’s wide back.
“Oh, fuu-uck!” Izuku cries out, feeling Katsuki’s big dick poking around in his stomach. “So big inside me, always so good.”
“You like how I fuck you?” Katsuki mutters, lifting Izuku off and slamming him back down into his lap. Fuck, his prostate. Izuku’s vision is about to white out if he keeps hitting his—
Katsuki’s strong arms wrap around his waist to pull him up before pulling him down this time, helping gravity and his dick pound hard into his prostate.
“Fuck, yes!”
Of course, of course, Katsuki would be incredible at sex, time and time again, making him boneless and euphoric every stupid time he’s made an excuse to wander over after some mediocre TED talk at some three-stars-on-Google-reviews restaurant. And now he gets to have this. Forever, god willing.
Izuku’s so fucking lucky.
“Gonna fuck you so good, Izuku.” Katsuki slams into him again, and another involuntary moan is pulled from him like loose thread. “God, I love you.”
“I love you, too, Kacchan. I love you so mu—AH!”
Katsuki doesn’t give him a chance to finish his thought, bouncing him up and down on his fat cock so fast that Izuku feels his thighs springing off of his calves.
“You’re wrong, by the way,” Katsuki pants into his mouth, never breaking his stride. Izuku struggles to keep his eyes open. “I haven’t been fucking anyone else. Not since we started.”
“You serious?” Izuku slurs, cockdrunk. He wants to touch himself so badly, but he’s confident he'll lose his balance if he lets go of Katsuki’s big shoulders to reach down. Fuck, he can’t imagine life without Kacchan’s cock inside him. How’d he manage his hormonal teenage years without knowing this?
“Dead serious. Fuck, I love you so much, Izuku.” Katsuki pulls Izuku in closer, deeper than he’s been before—oh, fuuuuck, it’s so deep in his belly—to press a kiss into Izuku’s shoulder. He hugs Izuku tight, rolling his hips up to dig deep into Izuku, pressing him, moulding him to the shape of him inside and out.
“Again,” Izuku ekes out, face buried in his sweet-smelling hair. “Kacchan, again, I love you so much, I need you.”
“Again,” Katsuki parrots back, before rolling, slow and deep into him, both of them groaning together, feeling Katsuki’s thick length drag roughly along Izuku’s fucked-out walls.
“You feel me so deep, huh? Fucked you so hard you’re all puffy and tight again?” Izuku shivers as Katsuki runs his nose along Izuku’s collarbone, big hands running all over every available expanse of his freckled skin. “God, your skin drives me fucking crazy.”
“Kacchaaan…”
Katsuki grinds back into him with a high moan echoing into his clavicle. “I love hearing you say my name…. Say it f’rever.”
A jolt splits through his spine. Izuku lets a few tears slip, pushing the other man back by the neck to look at Katsuki with stars in his eyes. Izuku runs his fingers through his smooth hair, the blond strands glowing in the dimmed overhead light.
So beautiful.
“Forever?”
Katsuki looks up at him, with a soft reverence Izuku hasn’t seen on him before. Katsuki’s arms tighten around him, fingers pulling gently at his skin like a nervous tic.
“Yeah.”
Well, how could he ever say no to that?
So Izuku nods, already rushing forward to cover his mouth with his own, with all the love he has to offer, unrelenting and everlasting, his cup just filling up and up, unremittingly. His hips work with Katsuki’s rolling with each other in tandem, grunting and moaning and sighing like they have all the time in the world to make love to each other.
It’s so cheesy, straight out of one of those romance books Mina’s reading club (Hagakure and Ochako, et al.) recommended to him. It’s magical, and wonderful, and feels… different.
Not hugely, considering he’s always loved Katsuki in every rock of his hips or filthy lick into his mouth, and, now, he supposes, vice versa. But there’s a liberty that comes with truth, no barriers between them, while they’re wrapped around each other in love manifest.
The feeling of something running along his already stretched-out rim tackles Izuku out of his thoughts.
“Whoa, Kacchan, what’re you—”
“Lemme try something?”
“Yeah, sure b—oh, shit! Kacchan, ah! Ah!” Izuku arches his back, core snapping tight as he feels a deft finger slip past tight muscle to join Katsuki’s already huge thickness inside of him. “Sooofuckin’tight, Kacchan fuck me, fuck me,” he chants, already doing his best to wriggle his hips up and down, against the strong hold of one GEMG Dynamight arm coiled tight around his waist.
“I got you, Izuku,” Katsuki grunts, fucking up into Izuku roughly. “Shit, gonna cum inside you.”
Izuku sighs, eyes closing as he grinds his own cock against Katsuki’s washboard abs, the tense muscle proving a sensory marvel to rut against. “Yes, baby,” he whimpers, losing himself with the debilitating pleasure coursing through his blood. Katsuki moans so low that Izuku can feel the vibrations thrumming through his dick, still schlicking across his abdomen, and licks a stripe onto his shoulder. “Cum inside me, Kacchan, need you to fill me up so bad.”
Izuku can feel it coming. The jackrabbiting of Katsuki’s hips is familiar, losing pace and stuttering faster. The zip up his spine is back, the blunt tip of his Kacchan’s hardness driving into his prostate while his long, middle finger stays put, stretching out his hole, bullying Izuku’s orgasm out of him while he chases his own release.
“Oh, fuck, Kacchan!” He shrieks as he cums untouched, head lolling back in full-blown pleasure, arms hanging onto Katsuki’s neck for dear life while he fucks rapidly into him.
“Fuck,” Katsuki gasps. “Izuku, I love you, I love you—” Katsuki manages to choke out, before Izuku feels his hot cum flood his fucked-raw insides. As if he weren’t already deep enough, Katsuki grinds in more, greedy, pushing his cum (still pumping into him, Izuku notes dizzily) even further in.
“You’re amazing, Kacchan,” Izuku breathes out, catching his breath. He snuggles in close, rubbing his cheek against the side of Katsuki’s face, feeling out his ear, his sideburn, his cheekbone. Kacchan.
Kacchan, Kacchan, Kacchan.
“Baby, clench.”
Izuku does as he’s told as Katsuki pulls his finger out and lets Izuku sit, plugging the cum in his ass with his cock. How considerate of Kacchan. Izuku had always dreamed of doing something like this, not having to roll out of Katsuki’s bed at some ungodly hour of the morning just to keep the ‘casual-slash-no strings attached’ pretence up between the two of them, or keeping a condom on because. Well, sometimes they like pretending they have safe sex.
Now, he gets to sit happily on Kacchan’s lap, warm and full, for as long as he wants, whenever he wants. What a deal.
Katsuki scooches them both back to rest his back against the pillows before he kisses Izuku sweetly. “You okay?”
Izuku pecks his lips again, because he can. Wow, this is so thrilling. “Mmhmm. All good. Just a little sleepy.”
“Your ass is gonna feel that tomorrow.”
“Yeah. Worth it.” Izuku drapes himself over Katsuki’s torso and sighs. “Kacchan loves me.”
“Shut up, nerd.” Katsuki pinches one of his buttcheeks. Izuku can feel his chest and neck getting hot. “You love me.”
Izuku hums long and affirmatively.
They sit like that until Izuku starts getting sleepy. The second Izuku yawns, Katsuki is shifting them, carrying Izuku with big, well-sculpted arms. Izuku sees no problem in groping them on the way there, out to Katsuki’s en suite bathroom and into the shower. Under the warm spray of the overhead rain shower, Katsuki pulls out and cleans Izuku out for him, giving them both a sudsy once-over before towelling down in the softest, fluffiest towel Izuku’s ever had touch his body.
“Gonna stay the night?” Katsuki mutters while he noogies the towel over Izuku’s mop of green hair to dry it out. He sounds almost shy, his voice low and withheld.
Izuku looks at him in the mirror with wide eyes. “Can I?”
Which is enough for Katsuki to frog-march them back to the bed, shuck the duvet and dig around his closet for an old but clean quilt and force Izuku under it.
“Need a shirt? Shorts? Here,” Katsuki tosses a few oversized articles of clothing at Izuku, who’s busy running his fingers over the All Might comic book print and stitching on the quilt.
“Kacchan… These are your old bedsheets—I remember these from the sleepovers in elementary school! Ah, this is so cute, it’s like we’re having sleepovers all over again!”
“Yeah, sure, it’s exactly like that,” Katsuki drones sarcastically as he makes a running jump into the sheets, dressed in a fresh change of clothes. “Put some clothes on, you pervert bastard. C’mere.”
Katsuki’s phone reads 2:14 am when Izuku glances at the tiny characters in the top right corner while they watch hero footage play-by-plays from the day before. They’re cuddled together, Izuku wrapped around Katsuki’s head, while Katsuki lies in the crook of his arm, sort of on his chest, propping the phone screen and video up for both of them.
“Kacchan, I gotta get up tomorrow. Sleep?”
“Mmrgh,” comes the disgruntled answer, Katsuki clearly already one step ahead of him.
Their phones are put down to charge— Katsuki’s on his magnetic charging pad, and Izuku’s plugged into the spare charger that Katsuki always seemed to have ready on his other bedside table whenever Izuku was over for a tryst. A wave of giddy happiness washes over Izuku, his phone flashing with the charging symbol, as he realises why the spare charger might’ve been there all this while.
In the darkness, Izuku feels the reality of his circumstance ever more profoundly.
“Love you, Kacchan. Night.”
“Izuku,” Katsuki calls out, like Izuku’s not one breath away from him, fingers tangled in the fabric of his shirt.
“Mm?”
“No more dates with other guys. Or girls. Please.”
Izuku wants to squeal at how pleading Katsuki sounds. His heart grows six times bigger, and he hopes Katsuki can feel it fill the room when he wiggles closer to sniff at Katsuki’s jaw. He smells so good, so fresh and foresty after his shower.
“Okay, no more.”
“Promise?”
I love you, I love you, I love you.
“Say you love me back first. Hurry.”
Katsuki reaches out and drags a giggling Izuku into his embrace, tucking him under his chin as he breathes out—drawn out and sleepy—into Izuku’s still-drying hair.
“Annoying. I love you.”
Izuku hums back, feeling sleep trickle into tired muscle and bone, quickly seeping into his groggy head. He lets his body lean the rest of the way to press one last sleepy kiss into Katsuki’s chest, already slow to rise and fall. So warm. Kacchan’s calm, steady heartbeat is Izuku’s new favourite lullaby, beating in time with Izuku’s rhythmic, drowsy huffs.
Kacchan needs to know. Kacchan should have always known.
“All yours. Promise.”