Archive of Our Own

A pair of viridian greens dilate as they watch firm hands roam across marred skin. The gentle motion causes a wave of shivers to consume Izuku’s body. They come in erratic intervals, each touch causing skin to erupt in a rush of heat. He watches, expectantly, as ruby red eyes trace over plump skin with a ravenous gaze.

“K’cchan”

He draws the word out, speaks it as though someone had weighed a bar of gold on the tip of his tongue. His mind was fogged over with a sense of nothingness, yet it was buzzing with a glaring clarity. Katsuki. This was the only thing he could focus on—the only word. Nothing else mattered. Nobody else mattered as he found himself sinking into a burgeoning obsession. 

Katsuki simply watches Izuku’s inner turmoil. Down on his knees, he caresses the sides of Izuku’s waist and holds it against the wall. Izuku’s belly has become a point of fascination; therefore, he rests the side of his cheek upon it. He rubs against it, first gently, then gradually more frenetically. There’s a faint scent as he moves, raw and powdery. Its effect is akin to liquor; it intoxicates him, drowns out his senses and replaces them with something filthy. When he blows a faint breath on Izuku’s belly button, he’s rewarded with soft quivers. He shudders. 

There’s hardly any clothing restricting Katsuki’s access to him. His chest is void of any shirt and the only thing covering his bottom is a pair of boxers. His hands rest on Katsuki’s shoulders, each new sensation causing him to grip them harder. Katsuki himself is only in a pair of sweatpants.

Katsuki can hear his heart pounding as though it were in his head. He wants—God, he wants so much. His grip tightens. Delicate kisses are scattered across flushed skin before he drags his tongue downward, pursuing the center of Izuku’s heat. 

“Ngh—”

Izuku’s hands dart out and attempt to push his head away. It’s too much. Having Katsuki near his most vulnerable parts, it was too much. A high pitched whine escapes his lips, a mixture between a plea and a protest. The noise only emboldens Katsuki. Despite the unrelenting grip in his hair, he licks up Izuku’s clothed length. 

He releases a filthy moan. Back curving, he bends himself until his body mellows out into a beautiful arch. Katsuki, upon seeing this, moves his hand up Izuku’s waist. He caresses it, maps out its shape until its figure is seared into his mind. Each time he raises his head, dragging a trail of wetness, he’s met with forest greens. They watch him with such startling receptivity that goosebumps erupt all over his skin.

He flashes a few of his fangs before softly nipping Izuku’s tip.

“W-wait—!” Izuku lets out a loud mewl.

He knew Izuku was close, could see it. The sight alone made him feel like a rabid dog, unable to deny himself the maddening obsession of wanting Izuku’s climax to undo itself in his mouth.

His body feels linked to Izuku’s. It’s as though every touch, word, and gesture that sends a tingle through Izuku also sends it through Katsuki. 

Before Izuku can cum, Katsuki pulls away. The sudden denial sends a violent jolt through his body. There was an abrupt cut in sensation causing a lingering pain to pulse. He tried to get closer, hopelessly trying to close the distance between Katsuki’s face, but the man stayed still, merely watching. 

One agonizing minute goes by before Katsuki finally decides to move. He removes Izuku’s boxers, releasing his warm length into the frigid air. Still, Katsuki does nothing. Izuku was beginning to feel frustrated. Didn’t Katsuki want him? Was he repulsed? Did he decide he no longer wanted to continue? A feeling of dread creeps up on him as his insecurities manifest themselves.

“What are you…“ Izuku’s voice was strained from the throbbing pain of being denied—both physically and emotionally.

“ ...pretty.” Katsuki said.

“What?” 

“Do you know how pretty you are?”

Izuku’s face heats up; a rose colored tint rests itself on the surface of his cheeks. He hadn’t planned on responding. Not at all. But when he looks down, he’s met with glossy eyes that plead with him. For what, he does not know.

“I—” His chest rises and falls. Katsuki’s gaze is immobilizing, causing his breath to come out haggard and unsteady. His mouth feels far too full to say anything profound, “I’m not pretty.”

“But you are. The prettiest man, even.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“Am I? Shall I prove it to you?”

He doesn’t bother to wait for a response. He takes Izuku’s length whole, his throat bulging from the sheer depth. Izuku, taken by surprise, lurches forward. Shivers ripple all throughout his body, rendering him speechless. His hands remain rested on Katsuki’s shoulder, though they now carve into them crescents of a violent red.

“Kacchan…!”

Katsuki circles his tongue around the veiny shaft. He slides his hands down to the back of Izuku’s thigh, seeking an anchor. His head slowly bobs forward before resting at Izuku’s base, allowing the member to pulse within a moist wetness. He greedily swallows solely to elicit another weak quiver from the overwhelmed body. And when he does, his nose brushes up against Izuku’s pubic mound, feeling the hairs located there tickle the tips of his nose.

It’s obsessive, the way Izuku’s at a loss of what to do with himself. Katsuki trembles at the sight, so much so he finds it impossible to determine where they begin and end. It’s only when he draws back and licks up a trail of sticky substances—leading all the way up to his urethra—that Izuku unravels.

Foresty hair collides with white walls as blunt teeth bite down against plump lips. A misty glaze casts itself over sensuous greens. The pleasure explodes within Izuku. It’s as though his body had been stripped of its autonomy and replaced with something uncontrollably craving.

His chest heaves as he attempts to come down from the high. Twitches, shivers, and random jolts rain through his body. He looks somewhere into the far distance, reflecting on how exactly they’d gotten here.

They were in the bedroom of Katsuki’s condo, up against a wall just south of his actual bed. Originally, they both had no intention to end up in such a predicament. The plan was to simply attend their monthly class gathering and come back to Katsuki’s place and watch an All-Might movie he had promised to show Izuku. Somewhere down the line, something between them had turned needy and wanting. A result, perhaps, from the constant tension lingering above them, a string that had been pulled taut and had finally broken loose.

This isn’t the first time something like this has happened. There have been multiple moments where they’d found themselves engulfed by the throes of passion, exploring places no one else has been. Yet, a name for it all has yet to be defined. Under a layer of secrecy there remains a faint but pulsing beat of dread.

Katsuki still sat bended at the knees. His face was covered in Izuku’s fluids. He leans slightly towards Izuku’s leg, resting his cheek on his quad muscles. Unknowingly— likely still caught in a daze—Izuku gently massages Katsuki’s scalp, prompting him to look up. The sight presented to him is one he sears into his brain. Izuku’s all ruddy—various shades of red rest on the surface of tepid skin. His head is turned slightly to the side, somewhat shy and tense. When Katsuki inspects closer he can see a slight swelling forming on his lip. A habit, evidently, that Izuku never truly got rid of.

Katsuki grabs onto the wrist stationed just above his head. He caresses it before grabbing onto the back of Izuku’s hand, bringing it down to his cheek so that he may nuzzle into it. 

He sticks a tongue out to lap up the liquids on his face, making sure to maintain eye contact as he does. Izuku’s face turns an impossibly darker red. It’s weird, he thinks, how desperate he seems whenever it was only the two of them. In public Katsuki’s affections are relatively tame. He knows that on the outside his rough edges seem vicious and involuntary. His demeanor was a point of confusion; people could never determine whether he was being patronizing or deferential, indignant or accepting.

But Izuku? Izuku could do it. He could do it all. Had Katsuki been a star, somehow scattered amongst a vast array of pearls, Izuku would lift his finger to point him out. His eyes would glitter with wonder as he boasts of Katsuki’s significance—why out of all the stars, only that one amounted to anything. He would do this all in such a manner that you’d think he’d lost a piece of himself up there. That, somehow, he got lost and ended up on rocky land rather than in a dazzling sky. And for this, Katsuki loved him dearly.

He loved him so much it was almost impossible to function without doing so. The familiar ache he feels for Izuku is so ingrained into his own body that to not feel it means to not feel anything at all. Izuku has carved his space snuggly in Katsuki’s aorta and Katsuki can do—would not do—nothing about it. 

“Kacchan? Are you okay?!”

The words are lathered with concern. They come out urgent and despairing, like something about Katsuki deeply shattered Izuku.

Izuku brings his other hand to Katsuki’s cheeks, effectively cupping them. It’s only when Izuku swipes his thumb across his left eye that he realizes he’s crying. He looks up, knows that he has yet to respond to the question asked of him, but somehow words have eluded him. Izuku’s face is contorted into a wretched expression. His brows are drawn together, both in a downward fashion. His eyes are wider than usual and they stare at Katsuki with such pained intensity that his lips, which were already swelling, are now bruised from the sheer force Izuku bites them with.

“I’m so sorry. I—do you want to stop?! We should stop! Did I do something? Kaccha—“

Izuku flinches at the speed in which Katsuki abruptly stands, easily towering over him. 

“…Kacchan?”

It seems that Katsuki has lost complete autonomy of his own mouth, unable to utter coherent sentences with clarity. This is contrasted greatly by the amount of thoughts actually running through his head. He’s never been great at verbal expressions. It’s simply never been his expertise nor his preference. It’s why as he watches Izuku, on the verge of crying himself, he leans close into his face and connects their foreheads. 

His actions are clearly unexpected but nonetheless welcome; because in what world does Izuku not accept anything Katsuki has to give him?

They stay like that, quiet and undisturbed in a place that contains only two. It’s only when Izuku speaks that the silence is broken.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Yes

Katsuki shakes his head, rubbing his forehead against Izuku’s in the process.

“Was it me?”

Of course it’s you. Everything about you.

He shakes his head again.

“Do you want to stop?”

To this, Katsuki shakes his head with vigor.

A small chuckle leaves Izuku’s mouth. Katsuki can feel the breath of it hit his face and he wants to swallow it, recycle its volatile existence and breathe it as though it were the oxygen he needed to live. He wanted everything pertaining to Izuku; he wanted his heart, his body, and if willing, his soul. He’d want to tie a red string around the both of them so that being separated could never be a thing. Separation would be a concept intangible to them. He wishes, with all his might, that somewhere in the numerous universes that there exists none where the two of them aren’t together. 

The need for it all is so vexing that his thoughts sometimes venture off into a murky area, an area where thoughts so configurationally unreasonable cultivate and attempt to crawl their way out into the light. Thoughts such as merging himself with Izuku so that he could forever feel his presence, thoughts like instilling a piece of Izuku or vice-versa, whether that be his skin, his freckles, his eyes, the color palate of green that makes Izuku Izuku. 

He wonders if he’s somehow gone crazy. Surely, he hasn’t always been this way, hasn’t always been so obsessed with the concept of unification. But Izuku, his name is like a mantra being played on loop. He imagines, absurdly, someone cutting into his body and placing a stereo inside it so that he may never know peace. 

Although Katsuki naturally runs hot, he feels warmer than usual—as though he set up a campfire and forgot to put it out. Something threatens to take his place, something covetous and yearning; a piece of himself he oftentimes diminishes but at the moment, reluctantly emphasizes with.

He’s scared. So, so, very scary. Of his desire, of the abundant amount of love he holds, of the need for closeness—an immense depth of connection, an immense depth of Izuku. He is scared that his heart will scare him off, that if Izuku were to take a brief peek he’d realize this was something far above him. That, the idea of Katsuki being filled to the brim with Izuku, so much so that he’s managed to conceptualize him completely, is something that requires a frightening level of profoundness.

But he’s like an overflowing cup that’s been sitting for so long that people forgot just how disastrous a slight nudge would be. Izuku, although receptive, gives just as much of himself to Katsuki. And that, in itself, is a dangerous thing. Izuku has been nudging Katsuki for some time now and there’s nothing else for Katsuki to do but fall.

“…Zuku.”

His voice is strained, like it hurts him to utter the entire thing. Izuku just stands there giving a soft smile. He tilts his head ever so slightly before saying, 

“What is it, Kacchan?”

Katsuki thinks he wants to cry, or shout, or do nothing at all. The tone that Izuku speaks with is one filled with tender familiarity. He knows Katsuki’s struggling and though he’s unaware of what, he still attempts to meet him halfway.

Katsuki shakes his head again, unsure.

“You…I want…”

“Mhm. Do you need me?”

God, yes. Yes, I need you. Like a body needs blood, I imperatively need you.

Katsuki attempts to connect their lips. He leans in—opens his mouth while doing so—before pulling back. It’s almost like his body knows; if he dare touches Izuku any further they’ll be no going back. The overflowing passion coursing through his body will spill out onto Izuku, drowning him.

Izuku, watching this scene unfold, brings both his hands back up to Katsuki’s cheek. 

“You can have me.”

No. You don’t understand the extent to which my existence calls for you.

Once again, Katsuki shakes his head. It seems as though that’s all he’s been doing today. Only communicating through simple gestures.

Izuku doesn’t question the oddity in his responses nor how he seems to know nothing of what it is he truly wants. He simply grabs his hand, interlocks their fingers, and leads Katsuki towards his own bed.

He sits them both down before turning to stare at Katsuki. Their eyes meet and Katsuki notices a deep sincerity that sets in Izuku’s eyes. It’s gratifying, how open Izuku is when he’s with him. As if vulnerability is a natural state, only abnormal around anybody who isn’t Katsuki. He climbs himself into Katsuki’s lap, grabbing onto his hands so that he can wrap them around his waist. He fits so perfectly, so comfortably, so beautifully. 

Izuku caresses his face before planting a kiss on his forehead, then his left eye, right eye, left cheek, right cheek. Everything about the scene feels slow; he feels like time has lost its grip and has left him in an enduring state. Left him to endure the epitome of his fixation. He watches as Izuku litters his face with kisses, watches restlessly as he kisses every spot but the one just below his nose.

He gains his bearings, if just barely. 

“Izuku…please—” 

He tightens his grip around Izuku’s waist and guides him as he grinds up against Izuku’s naked rear. 

Izuku trembles. His eyes flutter and he brings a hand up to muffle his moans. Katsuki hates that—why is he doing that? He leans closer to Izuku’s face, still grinding up into him, watching as he struggles to contain his voice.

“Why are you doing that?” The words come out before he can process them.

Izuku continues to tremble, confused on what Katsuki’s asking of him and painfully aware of his hardening member. 

“Wh—what?” Izuku manages to say.

“That. Why are you covering your mouth?”

Izuku’s eyes widened slightly, dilated and misty. He turns his head away from Katsuki’s face, looking off to the side as a crimson red colors the tips of his ear. It’s then that it dawns on Katsuki. He’s embarrassed.

But of what? That he could not understand. His voice is a melody Katsuki could listen to for all his days, so why silence it? He wants to hear it. He needs to hear it. It’s like a craving, a thirst he desperately needs quenched. There are moments where he finds Izuku trying to hide pieces of himself, bits he deems unsightly and shameful. Everytime it happens Katsuki makes an effort to drag it out of him. He purposely pulls at his insecurities so he can demonstrate how willing he is to love them, how gently and delicately he’d dig up the parts deemed hideous and devote himself to worshipping their beauty. He loves Izuku down to his very core, down to his best and worst traits. He’d love even the most ungodly of Izuku.

So it’s lost on him, truly, how Izuku still thinks there’s any part of him Katsuki won’t embrace.

Izuku abruptly jolts as he feels a wet sensation on his neck. He tries to turn his head but rough hands find their way to his chin, holding his head in the same position as Katsuki continues to leave hickeys up his neck. 

“Please, won’t you let me hear it?” 

He sucks a mark just underneath his ear before biting on the lobe. Izuku, still being guided by his other hand, lets out a sopping gasp.

“Let it out. Let it all out.” 

He pulls Izuku impossibly closer, to the point where they’re chest to chest. Izuku completely removes his hands from his mouth and rests them on Katsuki’s biceps. With his head still facing the other direction, Izuku attempts to put some space between them. He pushes him away lightly, perhaps trying to gain some form of control—dominance, but it’s hard to tell because Katsuki barely budges. He wouldn’t have noticed, really, if he hadn’t been paying so much attention.

But Katsuki’s paying attention—too much attention. He watches like a drunkard, inebriated and helplessly distracted by Izuku’s stunning display. He’s high off of the small reactions given to him whenever he sucks on a particularly sensitive spot.

Without thinking he grabs the back of Izuku’s hair. He pulls it nimbly so that they’re face to face. He sticks out his tongue and runs it up his cheek, bites on the area where his freckles lay. He’s not quite sure why, but the urge to consume, to taste, has overtaken him. Izuku squirms, but with the movement comes the accidental grind against Katsuki’s hardened length—which had been poking out of his sweatpants for a while now, causing a big protruding bump.

“Mngh—!” Izuku whines. With his hands now removed, his voice resonates throughout the room.

Katsuki feels the blood rush straight to his head. He feels delirious, like he’s tap dancing on the edge of a cliff.  Everything’s happening so slow yet so quickly. He can physically feel the pulse of his heart; he briefly wonders if it’ll give out again. Time must have stopped, or maybe it’s passed. Whatever the case may be, Katsuki cares nothing about it. All he cares about is the man sitting in his lap, twitching and wriggling in his grasp. 

“I love you.”

Katsuki pauses, looks him deep in the eye as he says it. The syllables came rushed and hurried, as though there were a time limit Katsuki had to reach but somehow fell short of. Izuku stops moving, stills the moment the words leave his lips. Katsuki watches as he turns his head to face him. They’re so close now; they cycle through the same air. At such close proximity, the sound of Izuku’s heart is easily heard, its rhythm rapid and boisterous. And within a sea of itching greed sits an unhinged wish to contain it. 

How abhorrent it is, to love someone so much you wish to obtain the one and only thing that allows them the agency of it.

Katsuki slides his fingers into his own mouth. He coats them thoroughly in his own saliva before slipping a hand down Izuku’s back, grazing the skin all the way down until he reaches his most intimate part. He feels Izuku shake, feels the hands once placed on his biceps now wrap around his neck, enveloping him in a warm embrace.

Izuku buries his face into Katsuki’s neck and turns it just to the side so that his lips rest upon skin. He whispers, lovingly, 

“I love you too.”

He feels the emotions barreling into his body. It was hard to tell if he was feeling anguish or relief, but that the combination of the two was a clashing force. Emotions have always been a construct Katsuki was unqualified to handle. Never once has he been able to pick them apart with ease. They fuse together with such vigor that their intensity necessitates violence; whatever feeling it may be, it’s inevitably accompanied by something brutal and demanding. Anger is the easiest thing to know, easiest to understand. It must be why it so easily translates into love. Passion. Why when it simmers down, it melts into a velvety state of weakness. 

Weak—the words used to scare him greatly. The idea that people perceive him as a frail, tenuous man, someone who could never be substantial enough to shelter. He loathed it, to such an extent that he took it out on the only person who could’ve ever known him. This, he judges, will forever be a deplorable crime he cannot rescind. For that, he resents himself greatly.

Izuku forgives him freely. Despite it all, he still cloaks Katsuki with a body that screams of safety. He guards him, secures him, all while reminding him of how capable he is. When Izuku loves Katsuki, he loves him as if his body would turn brittle and blue, wilt from a lack of purpose. Katsuki can’t help but feel undeserving. It feels like he’s unjustly acquired something precious, like he’s tainted a fallen angel of some kind. But if Izuku was truly an angel, Katsuki would naturally be the devil. And he cannot deny the selfish truth that he’d spare no effort in making him fall.

He inserts one finger into Izuku and is met with slight resistance. He massages the walls in search of something firm and rounded. As he moves, he notices Izuku expectantly grinding down. He kisses Izuku’s shoulder and asks,

“Do I make you feel good?”

Izuku only nods, too busy chasing his own pleasure to think coherently enough to respond. Katsuki slips in two more fingers and continues his pursuit in Izuku’s warmth. He rubs his walls, pokes at them and gently brushes along the softened tissues until he stumbles upon Izuku’s prostate. The reaction is instant. Izuku lets out a startled gasp and twitches so vehemently that Katsuki has to hold him in place.

Enraptured, he stares at Izuku as he continues to assault that one single point, taking in all his bodily responses. He licks a long and wide stripe from the bottom of Izuku’s neck to the tip of his chin. The salacious act prompts Izuku to throw his head back in order to give Katsuki more leverage. His cock, caught in between his and Katsuki’s abs, leaks pre-cum from overstimulation. 

Katsuki realizes belatedly that they still have yet to link lips. Granted, it’s a task he’s been too hesitant to enact, afraid of how it promises to unleash something precariously desperate. Still, he can’t help the overbearing itch to experience it. 

“Kacchan, I’m close.” Izuku whines.

“Kiss me.” Katsuki says.

“Huh?”

“Kiss me. Make my thoughts shut up. Poison me with your sickening sweetness. Just please, let me taste you.” 

Katsuki begs so much it’s almost pathetic. His voice trembles as he speaks and it sounds as though there’s a gush of water rolling around in his throat. He pleads with Izuku to offer himself up, to give to Katsuki what he’s already given so many times before.

Izuku stares at him for a few minutes before connecting their lips. It starts off as a peck, a simple press between two mouths. But once the feeling registers it quickly turns into something vulgar. Katsuki licks the bottom of Izuku’s lip, urging him to open up. Izuku obediently obeys. From then on is a fight for dominance. Katsuki plunges his way inside and licks up the smooth, moist surface of Izuku’s tongue. He sucks the tip of the muscular organ and drags his tongue underneath it. Izuku tries to keep up, but ultimately fails. They kiss ardently, tongues intertwining like two snakes mating one another. Saliva drips down the side of Izuku’s lip as Katsuki grips onto green curls in order to angle himself better.

Kissing Izuku is addicting. He doesn't think it’s possible to ever grow tired of it. Katsuki can feel himself cave into Izuku’s grueling body, can feel his brain delude itself into believing Izuku is the only signal needed to aid its function. The urge to please is so strong that his grip in Izuku’s hair clenches involuntarily. 

He still massages Izuku’s prostate. Understands that in just a few more strokes Izuku will be on his 2nd orgasm of the day. Yet, when Izuku breaks off the kiss in order to satiate the overwhelming need to allow his body relief, Katsuki drags him back and connects their mouths once more. Izuku cums fast and keen. He aggressively grinds down in Katsuki’s lap, trying to calm down the persistent spasms.

Katsuki still kisses him, both while he’s going through the stages of orgasm and even once he’s calmed down from it. He only relents to allow Izuku the chance to breathe. 

He feels weird, but it’s a pleasant kind of weird. Like he, too, came down from some sort of physical high. He feels uncomfortably stuffy and looks down at his sweatpants to find a growing patch of wetness. It dawns on him that in the midst of Izuku’s orgasm he unknowingly had his own. 

The room is filled with nothing but harsh, heavy, and breathless gasps. 

It’s like he’s on cloud nine. Him, here, with Izuku. He wishes it could always be like this, just them and nobody else. Somewhere in the back of his mind is a voice that screams at him to end the night here. That they should stop before Izuku takes what little left of Katsuki there is, before he makes it so Katsuki cannot look another person's way without seeing his face first, before Izuku’s touch becomes something so woven into Katsuki’s soul that it’s guaranteed to kill him. But Katsuki’s already a gone man—has been for years now. There’s nothing Izuku can do that Katsuki won’t automatically comply with. 

He grabs Izuku’s by the waist, lifts him, and lays him on the bed with his back against the mattress. He removes his sweatpants before climbing on top of Izuku, hovering over the florid body.

Katsuki doesn’t say or do anything. Just like earlier, he watches Izuku intently. He doesn’t know why he does it either, only that his eyes seem to have convinced themselves that if they aren’t constantly analyzing—observing Izuku’s every being, he’ll disappear. 

His hand finds its way to Izuku’s chest. They skim over the skin there, massage his pectorals before moving lower. Once again, he’s met with Izuku’s belly. He presses down on it with his palm and distantly wonders how it might look rounded, plump, and expanded. Somewhere in the many realities, he reasons, Izuku is carrying a small part of Katsuki—a small part of them.

A slight giggle is let out. It causes Katsuki’s hand—still pressed against Izuku—to move up and down as a result of the silly fit.

Izuku’s eyes have somehow morphed into smiles. His mouth is stretched wide and his teeth peek out from underneath.

“All you’ve done today is stare at me. Is there something on my face?” He says it lightheartedly.

“No.”

“Then what is it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well that’s not very helpful, now is it?” He laughs again.

The room goes quiet. Katsuki's hand rests on Izuku’s stomach and Izuku just lays there, watching Katsuki watch him. Katsuki’s eyes are narrow and his lips bend into a small frown; it’s how his face always looks. But when he’s face to face with Izuku’s blinding smile, he can feel himself crumble. 

“Izuku…”

“Hm?”

“I love you—.”

“I kno—”

“—Disgustingly so.” 

Silence.

“I love you so much that it bleeds out onto the floor, ready to exsanguinate me. As though I came into this world already loving you, as though it were a requirement. I dream of you when I’m asleep, but I also dream of you when I’m awake. There’s nobody else walking this earth that could disassemble me and still put me back together, and I prefer it that way. If I am to remain broken then that only means you’re no longer around. 

Izuku, you fill me with so much courage but I am undeniably afraid of you. You hold unimaginable power over me. Do you understand? I am so consumed by your existence that I depend on it to keep me alive. You’ll forever haunt me with your tortuous spirit yet all I can ask is that you keep doing so.

I love you: disgustingly, sickeningly, revoltingly, but ultimately, lovingly.”

There’s a long pause that stretches out for eternity. Katsuki fiercely stares at Izuku, who returns the gaze with kind and sympathetic eyes. He looks up at Katsuki as though he hadn’t said anything new, as if he already knew all about it. Of course he would. It’s Izuku, after all.

He brings his hand up to touch the side of Katsuki’s face. His thumb rubs the corner of his lip before tracing the entire thing. He traces Katsuki’s nose, his eye shape, and again his lips. Izuku maps out his entire face before laying his hand back down onto the bed. Just like Katsuki, Izuku needs some confirmation that he actually exists.

“I know, Kacchan. I know,” He starts. “I know because I understand what it means to love someone—to love you. There are days where my body tenses, where my muscles lock up, and my throat restricts and I no longer have the voice to say your name. There are times where I feel like I woke up in a world in which you were just a memory,  times where I wish I could be a vessel for your heart. I wish a single body could be enough for two, to keep one alive the other only has to keep beating. Kacchan I…If you were to leave me…I think I’d die. Even if I somehow still had the will to keep going, there’d be an error in the universe, because a body without its soul couldn’t possibly survive long.

I think of you all the time. You are my muse and so it’s only through you that I imitate. I can’t go a day without worrying if you’re okay, if you’re somewhere out there being reckless again, if my lifeline suddenly decided to cut itself short once more. 

I love you, Kacchan, but you scare me too. You carry the most vital parts of me and you don’t even know it.”

Something broke between them, something that was once indecisive is now currently indulging. Katsuki had let everything spill out from inside him just for Izuku to absorb it, consummate it, and return it. Both were choking on their own fear for one another, yet the tenacious desire to bond was enough to keep them breathing. And now, it’s all been laid out, open and free.

The room is a dim and warm space. Somewhere a few feet before the bed rests a fireplace. The hardwood crackles and splinters from the blazing heat, a heat that illuminates the entire room with a balmy shimmer, wrapping the two bodies in a blanket of light cashmere. The sky is filled with glistening whites as the wind blows gratingly against the windows. Other than this, not a single sound is made. They allow the confessions to sit between them, simmer until the words become something tangible—malleable. Now that everything’s been done, nothing is left to be. So, they sit, stare, and breathe. They exist, for a moment, silently. They exist as though any sound coming from them would be detrimental and fatal. They exist as one. Not two.

It’s why from here on out words become useless and unnecessary. They’ll move, but they won’t speak. To speak is to break the unspoken rule that they don’t need to; to speak is to eject from the current merging, to reject it. 

Katsuki reaches for his bedside table before sitting back on his heels, settling in between Izuku’s thighs. He pours the bottle of lube onto his hands and rubs it up and down his shaft. Izuku licks his lips in anticipation and stretches his legs further apart. Katsuki angles himself right against Izuku’s hole before slowly pressing in. Izuku’s body stretches out with ease. The more space Katsuki fills, the more relaxed the freckled body becomes. Once he bottoms out he gives Izuku a few minutes of rest before plunging back inside.

The speed he sets is brutal and all consuming. He immediately aims for his prostate, thrusting against the bundle of nerves with unrelenting strength. He hits it repetitively, careful about precision and accuracy. Every time he enters, Izuku’s stomach bulges then flattens when Katsuki pulls out. The sight is something sinful. Izuku throws his head back against the pillows. His mouth is open in a silent scream before he finally gains his bearings. Tears gather on his face as he whimpers and whines.

Katsuki’s arousal heightens when he sees this. He quickly leans down, grips both of Izuku’s thighs as he does so. The new pose raises Izuku’s legs up towards his head and drives Katsuki’s member impossibly deeper, causing it to breach new territory. Izuku screams, cries from the overflowing sensations. Katsuki—who has now closed significant distance between them—nips at his neck. His teeth nibble and browse the bruised skin, sometimes darkening hickeys that had been left earlier.  As he worships Izuku’s skin, placing kisses wherever he can, he continues to slam into him.

Izuku’s body quivers. Each time Katsuki thrust inside him, pecks at his neck, his body lets out a wave of shudders. He feels both lightweight and heavy; something’s occupying his body and the only way out is through Katsuki. His mind struggles to form a singular thought. It can't reason beyond the strings of ravenous greed. 

He’s close. He can feel his body readying itself for release. Izuku brings his hands down to his center and tries rubbing himself off, but he’s abruptly snatched into a firm grasp. His hands are forcefully detained just above his head. He wants to wail, but the man above him drinks in his complaints, downs them down like a lapsing alcoholic. Their tongues dance to a tune of ardor, linking and blending their way in fervent harmony. Izuku’s body seizes up and his cum paints them both in splatters of pristine whites.

Katsuki continues to ram into Izuku’s hole, uncaring of the fresh orgasm. He uses Izuku as though he were a vessel for his infatuation, smashes into him with the same amount of force he uses to love him. Izuku’s eyes roll back into their socket and his hips wimpily lift themselves off the bed. With his hands pinned against his head, his mobility is restricted. He clenches and unclenches his fingers to compensate for the ongoing pleasure. Despite just cumming, he can feel a new lustful wave hitting him. 

Katsuki leans back just a bit. He gives himself enough room to continue watching Izuku while also restraining him with a singular hand. Sweat rolls down his toned muscles as his abs strain and tighten from the sheer strength. He burrows himself deep before pulling out and repeating. Katsuki doesn’t think he can see. He doesn't think he has the ability to do anything but plant himself within Izuku, it’s all his head is filled with: Izuku, Izuku, Izuku.

He uses his unoccupied hand to press onto Izuku’s stomach, feeling the protruding skin against his palm. He puts pressure into it and watches wildly as Izuku viciously spasms. The corners of Katsuki’s lips tilt up gradually and soon a deranged smile sits itself on his face. His eyes are completely dilated and his body is a searing heat. The oxygen to his brain must have cut off, he thinks, because he feels incredibly euphoric. This must be what it feels like to be high, to be so addicted to something you allow it to hinder your brain chemistry.

He grabs Izuku’s leg and throws it on his shoulder, maneuvering his body so that he’s on his side and only one leg remains on the bed. Katsuki pushes back into the wet hole and continues his ravaging endeavors. Izuku lets out the most obscene sounds. They send shocks right up Katsuki’s spine. 

He kisses all up Izuku’s lower leg before bringing his feet to his mouth and proceeding to lick his sole. Izuku, far too stimulated, tries wriggling his foot out of Katsuki’s mouth. In response, Katsuki pulls out until only the tip could be seen, and slams back in. He continues lapping up the firm surface before nipping at his toes. Izuku’s eyes widen and his vision goes remarkably blurry. He clenches the blankets and pulls pitiably. Though, with Katsuki drilling into him he can’t go very far. 

Izuku’s cock is so hard that it’s borderline painful. Still wet from his last orgasm, it progressively leaks more precum. His body responds to Katsuki’s call. It relinquishes its own control and trusts him to navigate.

Katsuki lets go of his legs so he can do him doggy-style. He grabs Izuku’s hips and pulls it in time with his thrusts. He pistons into his dripping hole, listens as the room fills with squelching noises. Izuku has somehow gotten hold of a pillow, keeps it just above his chest, holding it in a death grip. The harder Katsuki goes, the more Izuku fists clench. He bites at the pillow when a familiar feeling starts to build up again. His upper body lays relatively flat on the bed while his lower parts are angled upwards. It’s a natural arch that allows Katsuki all possible access.

It seems he wasn’t so satisfied with this as he grabs onto Izuku’s right arm and yanks it back. Izuku almost chokes on his gasp. He sobs at every touch, sobs at how the only thing he’s able to do is take. His emotions are like a rollercoaster he has no way of stopping. They’re heightened to such extreme levels that he’s confident Katsuki could lightly tap him and it’d evoke the same reactions. He feels a throbbing sensation in his stomach and his hole suddenly contracts. He momentarily registers that he has cum, however there’s no visible proof of it. His cock sits in between his legs still hardened. No fluid has expelled itself from the tip. 

He thinks about asking Katsuki, telling him that something might be wrong with his body. But his mouth has turned silky and he can barely think of any letters needed to speak. He goes cross eyed and bites sternly at his lips. He’s still cumming, he can feel the contractions continuously coming and going. Yet, Katsuki seems committed in dragging out everything Izuku has to give. He feels a heavy body press onto his back; Katsuki’s laying on top of him, still ramming inside. He drags his hand underneath Izuku’s armpit and in between the pillow so that he can reach his chin. Just like before, he pulls his head to the side and kisses him.

In comparison to the brutal pace he’s set, he kisses Izuku like a delicate flower: soft, kind, and caring. He licks the salty tears from his face and leaves hushed pecks on his eyes. As if to say I love you. I love you. I love you. Izuku arches his back all the more, widens his legs unbelievably so. When Katsuki draws back his body hits him with sporadic tingles. His walls contract once more before he abruptly cums again, this time evident, repeating a seemingly endless orgasmic cycle. It's almost embarrassing how reactive he is. In any other headspace he’d shame his lewd acts. But right now his head is foggy, misty, and so undeniably out of it that he can hardly keep his eyes open long enough to see anything. 

Katsuki seems to be reaching his peak, as he starts thrusting without rational reason. The motions become erratic and chaotic, rubbing all against Izuku’s walls before spilling out into him. The feeling is rewarding—so fulfilling. He looks down and watches as Izuku takes in every gush of sperm that flows inside him. Katsuki lets a hand run up and down his back. The freckles there are beautiful, but everything about Izuku is so very beautiful. He pulls out and watches as the cum drips from Izuku’s hole. As he stretches it, he looks as the fluids run all the way down his thighs until they stain the sheets. It makes his cock twitch.

Ignoring his high libido, he instead lays on the bed right next to Izuku, tired and somewhat dizzy. When he looks over, wanting to say something, he’s met with closed eyelids and steady breaths. Izuku is sleeping. He must have passed out from exhaustion. Katsuki brushes his hazardous curls, plays with them before swiping them to the side. He gives a little smile before finally breaking the silence,

“Good night.”

*************************

Izuku wakes up to a weird feeling settling down in his genitalia. It takes him a moment—still groggy and disoriented from having just woken up—to understand what’s happening. There’s a shift in his movement, not caused by him, but something enticing bursts within him. Once Izuku’s eyes clear up he finds that he’s faced with a reflection of himself. In the reflection he sits in Katsuki’s lap with both his legs held up by the knees. When he looks a bit lower, he sees how Katsuki lifts him up and down on his cock.

The blonde currently has his face buried into the side of Izuku’s neck, unaware that he’s woken up from his hazy fucking.

“—acchan?” The first part of the word is barely heard due to a scratching voice caused by disuse.

The blonde looks up. He looks lethargic but still present in a way. His eyes are just as dilated as they had been, if not, more. There’s a softness that settles over his features and makes him look incredibly younger than he should be. Katsuki must’ve also just woken up some time ago, immediately seeking refuge in Izuku’s body.

“You’re awake.” Katsuki says it enthusiastically, absentmindedly. The display is unlike him but it still carries a unique feeling of it being Katsuki. His eyes, however, are polluted with a deep mist and Izuku can tell right away that something’s off. 

“Kacchan…? Are you okay?”

“Mhm.” He hums, snuggles more into Izuku’s shoulder.

Izuku reaches just a bit behind him so that he can touch Katsuki’s forehead. It’s burning.

“Kacchan, wait! Put me down, something’s wrong. You’re burning up.” 

Izuku tries to pry himself out of the tight hold he’s been put into, but it doesn’t budge. His muscles haven’t woken up enough to be able to put up a fight. He tries protesting once more,

“Kacchan, please. I’m worried.”

“Hm? Why? I’ll take care of you. Don’t you trust me?” Katsuki watches him in the mirror. Izuku doesn’t know why, but he looks intimidating. 

“No, I do but—”

“Izuku. your body is really sensitive, y'know?"

It’s clear Katsuki wasn’t listening to a thing being said to him. His focus is solely placed on Izuku that nothing else could deter his thought process. Katsuki doesn’t understand that he’s running a fever, rather, he just blabbers anything that comes to his mind.

“Izuku you’re so beautiful. I love you. You love me too, right? Let’s make love together. Hm?”

“No, Kacchan you—”

“Don’t you love me?” Katsuki lets out a whine so needy that it sends itself straight to Izuku’s cock. It’s mortifying. There are more pressing matters to be addressed.

“I do, I—”

“Then let’s have a child together.” He exulted.

“What?” 

Katsuki lifts Izuku lightly into the air, just above his tip. Before Izuku could comprehend what he was going to do, Katsuki drove his cock into his stretched hole, until the entirety of his length could no longer be seen. It’s not as fast a pace as earlier. It’s slower, less brisk. The thrusts are dragging yet deliberate. Izuku’s feet clench as they swing in the air. His body hasn’t been given enough time to adjust to being awake; he feels overwhelmed.

“See? Look at how pretty you are. You didn’t believe me earlier but you can see for yourself now.” Every time Katsuki speaks, it’s filled with a sudden elation, a thrilling sense of wonder. 

Katsuki fucks up into Izuku, not allowing him enough time to speak. He kisses his shoulder as he keeps him suspended in air, doing the work all on his own. Izuku has no choice but to watch himself in the mirror. It’s a long, wide, and rounded thing. Unfortunately, big enough to reveal the entire scene. He watches the way his hole gives way to each of Katsuki’s movements, watches as it overflows with cum from their previous round, how it so easily creates space for him. He watches as Katsuki’s vice-like grip latches onto his knees, watches as he spreads them open in order to aim more rigorously. His own cock rests in between, a glaring point of view. The tip is a reddish-pinkish shade, it’s clearly spent, yet it’s being pushed back into action. 

The last thing he looks at is his face. He knew he looked a mess but it was so hard to ignore when it was staring him right in the face. His hair is a bushy mess of untamed curls. They stick out in all the worst ways. His eyes are brimming with tears and his mouth displays a string of saliva whenever he moans. His face is immensely rosy. He wants to look away. The sight is something downright filthy and he’s embarrassed to admit that it turns him on.

“Pretty. The prettiest. I love you, Izuku. I love you this much. Will you marry me?”

Izuku wishes Katsuki wasn’t so talkative. Every word travels up his spine and into his chest, rippling convulsions throughout his body. He really, really, doesn’t think he has anything left to give. But Katsuki seems to disagree. He harshly bites Izuku’s nape, lacking any concept regarding physical power.

“Let’s start a family. Hm? A big and happy family. Me. You. Our baby.” He whispers onto the back of his neck, smiles dreamily while doing so. 

“I can’t.” Izuku cries.

Katsuki stands up, catching Izuku off guard. Rather than keep his hands stationed on Izuku’s knees, he reaches them up to the sides of his head. Now, Izuku’s knees fall over Katsuki’s elbows as his ears are covered by his hands. He doesn’t understand how, but he can hear everything so vividly now. It’s like he’s listening from inside his own body. He hears the sounds his hole makes, the force from Katsuki’s thrust, the rapid acceleration of his own heart. Everything is heightened, his hearing, his sight, his sensitivity. Everything.

“K’chn…” his voice is strained.

“Yes, baby? Is it too much? But you’re doing so good. Just a little longer, hm?”

Izuku tries to throw his head back but he can’t. Katsuki has his head set in place, leaving him no option but to stare straight into the mirror and watch as Katsuki fucks up into him. There’s nothing else he can do. Even though he knows Katsuki is running a fever and should rest, his body goes limp from everything it’s endured. He’s only just woken up but he’s ready to pass out again.

Amidst it all, he feels something odd building in his core. It’s different from all the other orgasms he’s had thus far. This one feels heavier, warmer, and more painful. It feels less out of his control and he can’t pinpoint what it might be. Katsuki has turned his body weird and broken. 

“Smntin’s wrong.” Izuku jumbles his words. His brain has cut off all communication with his mouth. 

“Hm?”

“Itss…wrng. Mmm body…” he repeats.

“Hm? Your body? Do you want to cum?”

Izuku can barely manage a nod.

“Then let me see it.”

Katsuki picks up the pace then. He’s saved all his energy for this moment, jamming himself into Izuku so they may reach a simultaneous climax. He watches Izuku—whose eyes are halfway closed—as he moves deeper into him. He hits his prostate a final time before they both cum together. But out of nowhere, there’s a sudden gush of transparent fluids coming from Izuku’s cock. They surge from his body and splash against the glass mirror. His muscles contract and his body goes through several convulsions before finally calming down. He closes his eyes, allowing the tears to drip themselves down his chin. 

Katsuki also seems to have finally calmed down. Some semblance of clarity has returned to his gaze and Izuku can tell he’s a bit more coherent. He sets them both back down onto the bed, finally releasing Izuku who, miraculously, is still awake—but not for long. He wants to help Katsuki, to do something that’ll make his fever go down but his muscles are tired from all the strain that he can’t help but collapse.

Before he can get to do anything, he’s out like a light.

*************************

The second his eyes open he immediately raises from the bed. The sun now shines into the room, brightening the entire place. He looks over and sees that Katsuki’s side of the bed is empty. His brain short circuits before supplying him with terrible possibilities he doesn’t want to entertain. He tries to stand but the moment he places one foot onto the floor he feels his muscles tense. 

“Ouch…”

“I’d be careful if I were you.”

He looks over and sees Katsuki standing in the doorway with a plate of food in his hand.

“Kacchan. You’re running a fever, we have to go to the hospital.” He blurts, panicked.

“What the hell are you talking about?” 

The roughness in his voice gives Izuku whiplash. Just moments ago, he had been in a state of delirium, babbling and whining about all sorts of things. But now he speaks with enough lucidity that it’s hard to mistake it for his previous mood.

“Well…you were burning up.”

Katsuki sighs and a shade of pink appears.

“I do that sometimes. My body naturally runs hot but there are times where if I exert too much energy, it makes me a bit…weird.” He looks away as he says this, too embarrassed to acknowledge everything that went down the previous night. “It just so happens that it hit a new low. Granted, since I always do when I’m with you…a few more bottles of water and I’ll be fine.” 

Izuku stares at him with amusement. It’s not too often you see Katsuki blushing. 

“So, you’re okay?”

“I’m okay.”

Izuku smiles, then. Although, his stomach ruins the mood when it grumbles over the plate of Katsudon in his hands.

“But I guess your stomach isn’t.”

Katsuki pulls a chair next to the bed and sits down. He picks up his chopsticks and feeds Izuku a piece of chicken, who takes it happily. Some time goes by before Katsuki says,

“I’m sorry.”

But Izuku was confused. What on earth could he possibly be sorry for?

“For what? You didn’t do anything?”

“I was too rough with you. You passed out twice. I should’ve been more careful.” He scolds himself.

“But I don’t want you to be careful.” Izuku says. “I love it when you’re rough with me, it makes me feel…wanted. Not that I don’t feel unwanted or anything! But, uh, yeah.”

Katsuki only stares at him before sighing again.

“You’re so weird.”

“But you love me.”

“I do.” Katsuki says it so quickly Izuku wonders if he even let the question sit.

Izuku lets out a hearty laugh and leans over to kiss his forehead.

 “I do too.”