Chapter Text
Katsuki knows something is wrong the second he arrives.
He, Izuku, Ashido, Uraraka, and Kaminari are supposed to be going to the mall. (Note that Katsuki was only dragged into this by the invocation of a number of different favors from a number of different people.) When he and Izuku show up, however, only Ashido and Uraraka are where they agreed to meet, even though they're already 20 minutes late—completely and utterly Izuku's fault, by the way. If they were 10 or 15 minutes late, sure, maybe Kaminari would still be coming, but by now even that idiot has begun to at least understand the concept of punctuality.
Not to mention the way Ashido is hanging off of Uraraka like a goddamn leech, reaching out to softly brush an eyelash off of her cheek. God, those two are sickening. He doesn't know why he ever agrees to hang out with them together anymore now that they're dating. But even they aren't usually like… this.
He has a bad feeling about this. A very bad feeling.
Katsuki glances to Izuku to see if he's picking up on it, but he's still busy rambling about some new Team Lurkers collab. Katsuki pushes down a smile. Nerd.
"Where the hell is Dunce Face?" Katsuki demands as soon as they're within earshot.
"Oh, you haven't checked your phone?" Ashido says, overly innocent, and he already hates wherever this is going. She shoves her phone, case blinding glittery pink and blue, in his face. The screen is so close that he has no idea what she's trying to show him. He tears it out of her hand to look for himself, then fumbles his own phone out of his pocket to verify the group chat message.
…Well, shit.
"Kacchan? What's going on?"
Katsuki lets out the most heartfelt, exasperated sigh that Japan, if not the world, has ever heard. "Dunce Face cancelled. He's sick."
He and Izuku? Left alone with Uraraka and Ashido all over each other? On accident? Yeah fucking right. There is no amount of money that Katsuki could be paid to believe this is a coincidence. Fucking scheming, double date-loving bastards. He needs new friends.
Izuku frowns worriedly. "Oh no, is he okay?"
Katsuki scoffs. "Oh, I'm sure he's just fine." He glares at Ashido, who just blinks and smiles at him over Uraraka's shoulder.
Sure, Ashido and Uraraka are fairly affectionate on a normal day, but this? This is a premeditated attack for which Katsuki will not stand.
Whatever. Fuck them. He doesn't need to give them a reaction. He'll just do what he was originally planning to do: power through this outing, go home, and finish his math homework. He spends so much time trying to ignore his friends' bullshit daily. This'll be a breeze.
This is not a breeze. This is not a breeze, and Katsuki thinks he might level the whole damn mall before they're done here.
Izuku, whether he knows they're doing it on purpose or not, has clearly picked up on whatever vibe Ashido and Uraraka are trying to put out; he keeps looking at them, blushing and averting his eyes, looking at Katsuki, and giving him a shy little smile when Katsuki looks back. It's adorable in a way that's absolutely intolerable (makes Katsuki want to punch Izuku's face in) and an annoying reminder, too.
It's been a week since Katsuki decided he had to tell Izuku how he feels.
A week. And he keeps being too chickenshit to follow though. Every. Fucking. Time.
There are a lot of feelings Katsuki hates. Helpless is number one. Cowardly is number two. And he's feeling awfully fucking cowardly right about now.
That doesn't stop him from being pissed the fuck off, though.
Does he need to get this thing with Izuku the fuck over with? Yes. Does that mean he needs their friends meddling to tell him that? Absolutely fucking not.
By the time they end up in a Daiso, Katsuki's done.
Uraraka calls for Izuku to come look at this, it's soo you! and Katsuki takes the opportunity to hiss at Ashido. "Don't think for a second that I don't know what you're fucking doing."
She shrugs. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"You and all the rest of the idiots just orchestrated this whole thing to get me and Izuku on a fucking double date, and I know it.
"I thought you weren't dating?"
"We're— I— Fucking— If you don't drop the act, Dunce Face and your scheming ass girlfriend are gonna find you dead in a fucking ditch, got it?"
She deflates a little, rolling her eyes. "Okay, okay, maybe we thought it'd be nice for you and Midoriya to spend some time together in an environment more… conducive to romance. Is that so wrong?"
"Yes! It is! Stop meddling in our goddamn lives! We're fine!"
"Bakugou," she says, sending him a level look. "A week ago, you guys didn't talk for, like, days. Get serious."
"That had nothing to do with our— thing," he insists.
"Uh huh. Sure. Look, we just wanna see you guys happy. Sue us. If you're really so upset about it, why don't you finally do something."
"I'm trying to—!"
Izuku chooses that moment to return with a package containing a collection of… multi-colored capsules. "Trying to what?"
"Nothing." He can feel the heat in the tips of his ears. "What the hell is that?"
"Oh, yeah! Kacchan, look!" Izuku says for the gazillionth time today, holding up the brightly colored whatever-the-fuck.
Katsuki rolls his eyes, hopelessly charmed. "I'm already looking, dumbass."
Upon further inspection, the capsules turn out to be those magic-foam grow-in-water things for kids. And upon further inspection, they grow into little cartoon heroes. Everything makes sense now.
"This is fucking stupid."
"Kacchan," Izuku groans. "You do this every time."
"You look like a four-year-old."
"They're cute!"
"And made for small children."
"The yellow one is a little All Might!"
Katsuki flicks him in the forehead just to see him pout. It's nice. Comfortable.
People often get this romantic notion about tough faces and soft, sweet interiors. That's not Katsuki's deal. It never has been. His outer shell is hard and jagged because that is the shape his emotions take as they burst too big and too bright from his body, even as he tries desperately to stop them. Always ungovernable and messy and so fucking loud. Too much—for him and for everyone else.
It's moments like these that make him think that might not always be true.
Izuku's leaning into him, shoulder to shoulder, pink-cheeked and grinning, when Uraraka clears her throat conspicuously, and Katsuki remembers where he is right now.
Goddamnit. He doesn't know what's more infuriating: the fact that their friends cooked up this stupid plan or the fact that it's kind of working.
She sends some sort of best friend-telepathy look at Izuku that Katsuki can't decipher, but whatever it means makes Izuku's eyes go wide, and he kicks her warningly in the shin while she giggles.
Katsuki's getting his own look from Ashido that translates to something like "Hello?! Are you freaking kidding me?!" He rolls his eyes and sends her a murderous glare in return. It should be an eyebrow-singing explosion, but he "can't use his quirk recreationally in crowded public places" anymore. Or whatever.
Izuku takes the opening to scurry off and, tragically, purchase the magic grow capsules before Katsuki can wrestle them away from him. Katsuki does manage to get in a loud lecture about fiscal responsibility, though. Silver linings.
Possibly sensing Katsuki's waning patience, Uraraka suddenly claps and exclaims, "Let's get ice cream on the way back!"
Katsuki just sighs, resigning himself to one last humiliation ritual before he can go home and block all his friends' numbers.
After being harassed into ordering something, he decides on the least sickeningly sweet flavor he can get: matcha. Izuku gets strawberry, which provides Katsuki with a nice opening to mock him for looking like a strawberry when he blushes. Theoretically, Uraraka got chocolate, and Ashido got Ramune (because she likes tooth decay, apparently), but they're swapping cones so much on the walk back to the dorms they might as well have planned to share.
Katsuki's staring into space, walking robotically and contemplating what his life has come to, when Izuku says, "Kacchan, your ice cream's melting!" By the time Katsuki has processed this information, Izuku is already grabbing him by the wrist and licking away the drip that had begun running down the cone and across his knuckles.
Katsuki combusts.
(Not literally. …Okay, if sparks count, maybe a little literally.)
"What the fuck," he says, bewildered. After everything they've been through over the years—not to mention all they've done in the past few months—this should be nothing, but for some reason, Izuku licking the back of his hand for less than two seconds is throwing him hard.
Izuku, completely unfazed except for a light dusting of pink across his cheeks, just goes back to his own ice cream, saying, "Oh, ours go so well together! I guess there's a reason strawberry matcha's a thing, huh?"
Katsuki makes a grunting noise that hopefully amounts to a half-decent response.
He's mostly recovered by the time they're finished their ice cream, and as soon as they reach the edge of UA grounds, Izuku side-eyes him. "Race you?"
"You're on."
Izuku takes off the second the words are out of his mouth.
"Oh, fuck you!" Katsuki calls, sprinting after him. "Not fair!"
All he hears in response is laughter.
Somewhere along the way, after Katsuki's caught up, Izuku falls and eats total shit like the clumsy loser he is. Katsuki knows this because he hears him go down, looks over for a second or two to make sure he isn't, like, dead (he's fine), and then takes advantage of the opportunity and bolts.
Needless to say, Katsuki wins.
Now, in Katsuki's room, they stand hunched over and panting, and Izuku is beautiful.
His cheeks are pink, and his grin is wide and crooked and goofy, and he's breathing hard, and there's still a piece of fucking grass in his hair because he's a dork ass nerd, and all of a sudden, Katsuki breaks, and he's kissing him full on the mouth.
It's… gentle. Their mouths are closed. Katsuki's hand is in Izuku's sweaty hair, fingertips running reverently over the long scar across his scalp. Not what Katsuki always imagined, but fantastic in its own right. Warm and soft. Something like coming home, if that wasn't such a godawful cliche.
Izuku stands stock-still, but Katsuki can feel eyelashes brush his cheeks as his eyes flutter closed.
Fuck. What the fuck is he doing?
He means to pull back all the way, far enough to get some real distance, but somehow he can't bring himself to do that, and he ends up only maybe a dozen centimeters away from Izuku's face.
Then, Izuku's eyes slowly peel back open. He presses his lips together and wets them as if he can somehow taste Katsuki from that kiss.
(That flash of pretty pink tongue punches Katsuki in the gut with all the things he might've ruined here.)
Izuku's eyes are big and wet and electric bright with something that might be anger. His eyebrows are tucked up together how they get when he's trying not to cry.
Fuck. Actually, fuck is an understatement. He used fuck the first time. Before anyone was angry or crying. He needs a new curse word, more severe than fuck, just for this moment.
Uh.
Fuck.
Katsuki goes to flee his own room.
Izuku catches him by the wrist, pulls him back, and plants the firmest kiss right on his mouth.
This kiss is wet, not with saliva but with tears. Izuku pulls back after a few seconds, hard like it hurts him.
When Katsuki can see again, Izuku's whole face is one big wobble.
Izuku says, voice also wobbly and definitely angry this time, "How long."
It's not a question, which is good because Katsuki can't bring himself to answer that.
Izuku grabs him by the shoulders and digs his fingers into them hard. "How long?!" he demands.
A burning begins behind Katsuki's eyes that he needs to eradicate right fucking now. "Dunno."
"You're lying." His eyes are still wet, but also fiery somehow, in that way Izuku is always a million things at once.
Katsuki swallows hard. "I've known I wanted to do that for… two years, maybe, now. If that's what you mean."
At that, Izuku shoves him away hard into the door. By the time the breath has returned to Katsuki's lungs—stolen more by the concept of being pushed than the reality of it—Izuku is pacing with his hands in his hair.
"You are so—" He cuts himself off with a frustrated groan. More of a growl, really.
(Katsuki fleetingly wishes he'd make that noise in a different context. Then feels like an idiot for having that thought right now.)
"Why," Izuku starts, "why would you do all this, then? Just to- to mess with me?"
And Katsuki's suddenly all caught up on the anger front.
"Are you fucking kidding? Is that really how you think of me? As if you haven't been on board! And I'm not the one who all indifferent!"
Izuku lets out an incredulous little laugh. "Indifferent? Indifferent?! You are the biggest hypocrite I've ever met! All I've done for the past couple of months—hell, the past decade—is be obsessed with you! And you're calling me indifferent?!"
"Yeah, I am! You're so fucking unaffected all the time! Like nothing ever happened!"
"Again, hypocrite! And sorry for not, what, broadcasting our sex lives to the entire class? Maybe if you wanted to be so open about it, you should've made it something to be open about!"
"What the hell does that even mean?!"
"It means maybe you should've kissed me two years ago!"
Silence.
Izuku's eyes go wide like he didn't mean to say that out loud, but his eyebrows stay pinched and determined, and he doesn't back down.
Katsuki thinks back on the person he was two years ago, and it occurs to him that maybe Izuku's a masochist.
His mouth opens, but nothing comes out because, really, what the hell is he supposed to say to that, until something occurs to him and words just come tumbling out of their own accord. "Who were you thinking about?"
"What?"
"The first time. When I found you. Who were you thinking about?"
Izuku just stares at him for a few seconds, looking well and truly baffled, before saying, "Oh my gosh, I know you're smarter than this. You! I was thinking about you! Obviously!"
Katsuki's thoughts all stumble together for a moment, trying to make that statement compute with every other fact he has in his head.
"Then— you lied to me!"
Izuku makes an incredulous scoffing sort of sound. "No, actually, I didn't! Since when can I lie to you?"
"Since you said it wasn't any of your friends, I guess!"
"That's not what I said. Not any of my other friends, Kacchan! Other! I told you right then and there, I spiraled at night for weeks about being too obvious, and you're telling me you've been obsessing over this this whole time?"
Shit. He did say that, didn't he. And Katsuki has kind of maybe been obsessing this whole time. And Izuku's right. Again. Fuck. Wow. Embarrassing. Shit.
Just as Katsuki's contemplating leveling the whole dorm, Izuku bursts out laughing.
"I— Wha— Fuck you!" Katsuki splutters.
"I-I'm sorry," Izuku gasps between peals of laughter, "I'm sorry! It's not you! Or— it is you, but it's not— I'm not— I'm sorry, this is all just so crazy. I can't believe this is happening!"
And all Katsuki can do, standing there and feeling like this conversation has put him through a taffy puller, is start laughing too.
"We're both," he exclaims breathlessly, "so fucking stupid!"
Izuku just doubles over straight into Katsuki's side in response.
Eventually, they're left a lot like they were when they got here: hunched and breathing hard. But this time, instead of being curled into themselves, they've curled into each other for support.
Now, when Izuku looks up at him with wet eyes, Katsuki knows it's from laughter.
"Kacchan."
"Mm."
"I'm gonna kiss you now."
Izuku's on him before he can even say anything. This is more like what Katsuki imagined their kisses would be like. Izuku dives in with a level of gusto that, when matched by Katsuki and combined with mutual inexperience, probably renders the whole thing objectively bad, but Katsuki cannot fathom having it any other way.
Despite the fact that the kiss itself is messy and heated, Izuku's hands come up to cup Katsuki's cheeks so sweetly he could cry. A crooked thumb brushes just under his eye, over his scar. It's tingly, and he realizes this is the first time anyone other than himself has touched it since it healed. He wonders if this is how Izuku felt when Katsuki touched the scar in his hair. Loved, wholly and desperately. He hopes so.
The rest of Izuku's fingers wander up and ghost over the shells of his ears. The touch makes something warm and liquid flow through him, settling in his lower stomach, and he shivers, suddenly aware of his growing erection.
Izuku pulls back just far enough to talk and says, breathless, "Kacchan?"
"I, uh. I didn't know it would do that."
Izuku's voice takes on a dangerous, analytical sort of quality that Katsuki's never heard before. "Me neither," he says, and then they're kissing again, and Katsuki's being walked back until the backs of his knees hit the edge of his bed.
The faint taste of strawberry ice cream on Izuku's tongue is dizzying. Katsuki suddenly, desperately needs to touch him skin-to-skin.
He sits down, pulling Izuku down on top of him, before reaching to roughly tug at his stupid shirt. Izuku feels what he's doing and matches him immediately, going to work at getting rid of their clothes as fast as possible. After a few months of practice, they're a well-oiled machine.
As soon as they're down to their underwear, Izuku's hand is in Katsuki's boxers and on his cock. Katsuki lets out a heavy exhale.
"Oh," Izuku whispers, and Katsuki can tell the muttering is coming before it even starts. "Kacchan looks so pretty in my hand, love making him feel this good, he gets so wet for me, so sensitive—"
And Katsuki goes stock still because—
"W-Where the hell did that come from?"
Izuku stops too. "What?"
"All your goddamn motormouthin'," he says casually and normally and not at all like he's about to come just from the words leaving Izuku's mouth. Izuku's always been uncharacteristically quiet during sex. It's one of the many things about him that Katsuki wouldn't have guessed in a million years.
Izuku's eyes widen. Not a lot but enough for Katsuki to catch it.
"...It's embarrassing."
"Everything you do is embarrassing." Katsuki says, smirking. "Besides, don't act like you don't get off on that."
Izuku looks downright scandalized at that, but his cock pulses a little against Katsuki's thigh. Katsuki smirks some more. "I do not! I get off on you. You just happen to make fun of me when I'm embarrassed. Two completely different things. Correlation does not equal causation, Kacchan."
"You did not just say correlation does not equal causation with your hand on my dick. And stop deflecting."
Izuku sighs all pouty. "...I knew if I talked, I'd say something too much. Too fast. Mess it all up."
Oh. Well.
He supposes that makes sense, as depressing as it is. Katsuki has significantly more practice with inside thoughts than Izuku does.
"Damn," he says, sighing lightly. "Just when I thought I had a way to shut you up."
"There might still be a couple ways…"
"You are so goddamn corny."
"You like it. You like me," Izuku teases, still a little shy, a little awed, and wow, talk about déjà vu.
Katsuki swallows. "Yeah."
Izuku must not have been expecting an earnest response to that because he flushes and, to Katsuki's horror, his eyes go glassy.
"I—" Katsuki starts, on the edge of panicky.
"It's okay!" Izuku says, giggling. When his eyes scrunch up with his smile, a tear traces down his cheek. "Happy tears. I'm not upset. Why would I ever be upset by that?"
Katsuki feels his face get hot this time. "You don't even know what I was gonna say!"
He gets a look for that one. "I hate to say this, but Kacchan's gotten predictable."
"What— I— Shut the— I'll show you predictable!"
Izuku laughs again. It makes Katsuki's heart do a little dance behind his ribs. "Kacchan, that doesn't even make any sense."
"Just. Shut up. Crybaby," he scoffs, voice low and fond as he reaches up with his clean hand to brush a thumb softly over Izuku's cheek. The scar there is shiny smooth. Katsuki wants to bite it.
Izuku breath stutters, barely noticeable, and he glances quick to the side.
Katsuki feels his mouth get slick. He swallows.
"Yeah? You like bein' a crybaby for me?"
The red on Izuku's face is the deepest Katsuki's ever seen it. "Anything for Kacchan," he says, always so goddamn earnest.
And fuck if that doesn't get Katsuki going. He starts to move down the bed, but a hand in his hair and a whine stop him.
"We're not gonna kiss anymore?" Izuku says, puppy dog eyes out in full force.
Katsuki gives him a level look. "You're saying no to getting a blow job. Because you would rather kiss me. We're basically just breathing in each other's faces at this point!" Not that kissing Izuku isn't the best thing that's happened to him in a long, long time, but he really just wants to get his mouth on Izuku's cock right now.
"Well— I wanna breathe in your face, then!"
"And I," Katsuki murmurs, leaning in to say it into Izuku's mouth, "wanna blow you. Gonna let me do that?"
Izuku shivers and blinks for a moment. "Y-Yeah, okay," he whispers shakily.
Something hot runs through Katsuki. This is one of the strongest people in the world, and Katsuki can make him fold like it's nothing. Holding that much power is exhilarating.
"Good choice." He makes sure to leave a slow kiss on Izuku's lips as he moves away to soften the blow.
Actually, he takes everything slow. Nosing down Izuku's neck. Stopping to plant a soft kiss on each of his nipples—they're not particularly sensitive, but they're cute. Pulling down his boxers and following the waistband softly with his teeth. Taking the time to run his fingers, light as a feather, through the hair on his belly, over the sweet little creases where his thighs meet his torso.
Izuku squirms the whole time, impatient and maybe a little ticklish, but doesn't complain. Good. Katsuki's wanted to be slow with him like this for months, and now that he has his chance, he's not passing it up just because the nerd wants to get his dick wet a little faster.
Once Izuku starts making pathetic little borderline-whimpers, Katsuki decides to cut him some slack.
Working his way around methodically, he licks fat stripes up Izuku's cock, stopping to kiss the freckles. Once it's all shining with saliva, he tongues away the precum that had drooled from the slit and takes the head in his mouth, starting an up-and-down rhythm that should be fast enough to keep Izuku from losing it but not fast enough for Izuku to lose it.
He takes a moment to just feel. There's something about this—maybe the power and control it brings, maybe the power and control it takes away—that he loves. It's a hot, heavy weight on his tongue and a loose grip in his hair, it's Izuku mumbling praise above him, it's the closest he can get to satisfying the part of himself that yearns to tear the both of them into pieces and stitch them back together into one body.
He presses himself down until his nose rests in the nest of green curls at the base of Izuku's cock and breathes deep, soaks it all in. He's about to pull back up when something occurs to him.
He's had a theory for a while concerning Izuku's pain tolerance and general sensitivity—or rather, his lack thereof—and now seems as good a time as any to test it out.
On his next upstroke, he lets his teeth graze lightly over the shaft. Izuku makes a deep, guttural sound that Katsuki's never heard before.
He is intimately familiar with all the noises Izuku makes when he's in pain; that was not one of them.
Part of him, the part that lives just to push buttons, wants to pull off to make fun of him, but Izuku's fingers drift down from his hair to softly play with the tips of his ears and his horny side wins out, sending his hips pressing into the mattress for some semblance of relief.
He renews his efforts, following his lips up the shaft with his hand, twisting just right and pressing his tongue hard against the tip. Partly to hear Izuku stumble in his muttering, but mostly because, while he does love this, he also thinks his dick might fall off if he doesn't get some sort of something soon.
"Kacchan, Kacchan, I'm, you're, ah—!"
Instead of the feeling of Izuku spilling into his mouth like he expects, Katsuki gets the feeling of being pulled up hard by the roots of his hair. Izuku drags him in for a kiss that must taste like himself which should probably be gross but does something irrevocable to Katsuki's brain chemistry instead.
"S-Sorry, I just, uh… Would you be— Can I, um." Izuku visibly does some mental calculus, breathing heavily. "F-Fuck you?"
Katsuki can't tell if he stumbles over the curse or the concept or both, but that doesn't matter because, no matter what, Jesus fucking Christ.
"Yeah, Izuku. Yeah. Fuck," he says, just like every other time Izuku has asked to do anything when they're like this.
Despite the desperation in his words, he goes back in to press a few more tender, lingering kisses into Izuku's mouth before he lays back and finally tugs his boxers off. The cold air hitting the heated, sensitive skin of his cock makes him shiver a bit.
Katsuki had never fingered himself until Izuku taught him how good it could be. He's tried on his own a few times since, chasing that high, but once he knew what it felt like to have Izuku's thick, scarred fingers working him to putty from the inside, lying in that same bed but alone was never enough for him.
Luckily, the angle it takes to finger someone else is less of a strain on Izuku's wrists.
With the eagerness he always carries when they do something for the first time, Izuku has three shiny-slick fingers pressing into him in record time. The stretch isn't new, but the idea that it's building up to something else entirely is, and it's heightening everything tenfold, leaving him with his eyes shut tight and his hands fisted the sheets.
"Just— Fuck, just do it already!" he grits out, opening his eyes to glare at Izuku. He's been so hard for so long, and he thinks he might explode if he doesn't get fucked right now.
Izuku blinks—startles, almost—pulling his hazy eyes from where his fingers slip in and out of Katsuki's hole, petting at his insides with so much care he could cry, to look Katsuki in the face. "Oh! A-Are you sure? I want to make sure you're ready, and—"
"Izuku. If you don't take your stupid fingers out of me and put your stupid dick in me right now, I will blow your stupid face off."
Izuku goes bright red—as if he wasn't already. "Yeah, okay," he says, rushing to follow orders. Katsuki's victorious smirk is probably undermined by the gasp he lets out when Izuku's fingers leave him and all of a sudden he's empty.
He groans quietly when he feels the blunt head of Izuku's cock rest against him without any real pressure. He reaches down to squeeze once at his own cock in an attempt to take off some pressure. Izuku leans over him to plant a gentle kiss on his lips. "I'm gonna start now. Okay?"
"If you ask me that one more time," Katsuki murmurs not unkindly, pressing their foreheads together, "I'll kill you."
Izuku smiles big. Katsuki's so busy being blinded by it that it catches him off guard when the pressure builds and breaks and suddenly there's something in him.
It's overwhelming, feels like so much more than it looks like it should, and it's good. It's very, very good. He's vaguely aware that Izuku's mumbling something sweet, that he's making some sort of noise, one that would probably embarrass him any other time, but that's not nearly as important as Izuku's cock slowly bullying its way into him. It's like being fingered on steroids.
He's sure that it has to be almost in when Izuku nudges their noses together and says, voice drawn tight, "Halfway t-there, Kacchan."
A groan punches its way out of him involuntarily. Izuku has a perfectly normal dick, not some sort of monster cock, but that's not how it feels right now. "Fuck, babe."
Izuku stops, pulls their faces apart.
Katsuki pants, "The fuck are you doing?"
"I— You— I—" Izuku's eyes are big and his hips twitch ever so slightly as if he's straining to stay still and he's still halfway inside Katsuki. "You said, or, uh, you called me, um…"
What the hell is he—?
Oh.
Oh, shit.
He didn't even hear it come out of his own mouth. Fuck. Katsuki might need a new identity after this. He'll have to cut off his fingertips. He hopes he won't have to break his nose. (Who's he kidding, he'll totally have to break his nose.)
"K-Kacchan?" He's pink down to his chest.
Katsuki throws his arms over his face. "Shut up, shut up, shut up and die," he says, muffled.
When his arms are lifted away, Izuku's looking down at him, his face a cross between smiling and frowning. "Why? And don't cover your face. I like seeing it."
Katsuki just glares. He can feel his face burning.
Izuku huffs lightly, looking deeply endeared. "Kacchan, you don't have to be embarrassed. I think it's sweet."
"It's stupid."
"It's sweet. I like it. And maybe it turns me on a little." He's biting down on a grin, now. "Besides, embarrassed Kacchan is cute."
"I am not fucking cute!" Katsuki exclaims, and suddenly he's thrown back to their first time. "You— Just— Shut up and fuck me already!"
Izuku's eyes go a little hazy like he'd forgotten where they were and what they were doing. "Okay, Kacchan," he says, kissing him again.
As soon as Izuku starts moving again, Katsuki forgets all about his embarrassment because there's no more room for it in his head. Izuku keeps going like that for what feels like forever, pushing so slowly it's almost painful, until he's bottomed out, muscles tense and breathing hard.
Katsuki lets him sit there for thirty seconds undisturbed. Then, "Are you planning on moving this decade?"
"Kacchan," Izuku groans. "Give me a break. I'm trying not to come on the spot, here."
"Sounds like a personal problem." He wiggles his hips a little just to be an asshole, and Izuku gasps.
"Okay, okay, I'll move, just, ah… This isn't gonna t-take very long."
Katsuki would've come a million years ago if he had a hand on his cock during any of it. He chooses not to divulge that information. "Izuku. Do I look like I care."
Izuku just smiles sheepishly, way too blushy-shy for someone balls deep in another human being, before he sets a rhythm. Or, tries to, anyway. It's stuttering and tense, but Katsuki can't find it in himself to care when it's faster than the glacial pace from earlier and it feels like so indescribably much. Time feels like glue, so he has no idea how long it takes for Izuku to speed up, to reach down and start stroking Katsuki in time with his thrusts, but he knows he loses it.
"Ah— F-Fuck, 'zuku, fuck fuck fuck…"
"Kacchan," Izuku mumbles against his lips, "Kacchan, feels—ah!—feels so good when you t-tense like that. Please, please, I'm so close, Kacchan, please—"
"Come on, babe, you can l-let go. You can do it, Izuku, c'mon."
Izuku's thrusts grow erratic in a way Katsuki recognizes from months of hand and blow jobs as meaning The Edge. The hand on his cock tightens its grip, so tight it almost hurts, but it doesn't, just sits on that line, pushing him there so fast and so hard he thinks he might die.
"Yes, Kacchan, yesyesyes, so good, thank you, love you, thank you—"
And Katsuki's too busy flying right off the edge to catch the end of that sentence.
He might black out for a few seconds because the next thing he knows, Izuku has settled next to him, panting hard and kissing gently up the bridge of his nose.
Once his soul has returned to his body, Katsuki realizes what just happened to him. "Izuku."
"Hmm?" he hums back sleepily.
"Did you just say you love me?"
That wakes him up. "Wuh huh?!"
Katsuki snickers. "You totally said you love me."
All the blood has drained from Izuku's face. "No. No, no, nooo!"
The snickering turns to laughter. "With your dick in my ass!"
"You don't get it, Kacchan! I had a plan! I had a whole plan, and now it's ruined!"
"Better hope no one ever asks for a story about that 'cause I ain't helping you come up with a lie."
Izuku's head thumps heavily on Katsuki's sternum. "You suck."
"Hell yeah, I do," he says, smirking.
Izuku lets out a long, loud groan. "Kacchan."
"Okay, okay, fine. I'll cut you some slack. Or whatever."
"Y'know…" Izuku starts with slight trepidation in his voice. "You never said you love me back."
"And what if I had a plan, huh?"
Izuku gasps. "Did you?"
"Nah," he says, voice laced with laughter. Not one set in stone, anyway, he thinks. He gets a punch in the bicep for that one. "Zuku. Look at me."
Izuku does.
"I love you." Saying it out loud feels like filling his veins with helium.
Izuku blinks rapidly and buries his face back in Katsuki's chest. Katsuki doesn't say anything about the wetness he feels there. "I love you, too," Izuku mumbles.
He rests his nose in Izuku's hair and plants a soft kiss there. Normally, he is much quicker to clean up after sex, but he can't bring himself to cut this short. It's nice. Really nice.
They lie there like that for an indeterminable length of time, just basking in the sunshine warmth they've created for themselves, Katsuki twirling his fingers in the short curls at the nape of Izuku's neck, until Izuku breaks the silence.
"Kacchan?"
"Yeah?"
"…Can we do the magic grow things now?"
Katsuki shoves him off the bed.