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Normally, Izuku liked it when his teachers assigned partners for school work. Izuku didn’t have any friends, so when partners weren’t assigned he had to sit awkwardly and wait to see which unlucky soul couldn’t partner up and got stuck with Izuku. It was much better when his teachers assigned them; it saved Izuku a lot of embarrassment.
Except when—
“And Midoriya…” Sensei boredly examines the class list as he decides who to sic the quirkless (for now!), friendless loser on. “You can pair with Bakugou.”
Laughter and jeers erupt from the class, and Izuku feels his heart sink. Kacchan, obviously, is not happy. Feet kicked up on his desk, he complains loudly about this turn of events.
“Sensei, come on!” His loud voice cuts through the chatter of the class. “Can’t we just pick partners?”
“No,” their teacher says flatly, before moving on. “Suoh, you can be with…”
Izuku carefully turns his head and meets Kacchan’s eye, flinching away from the vicious glare.
“I will only be giving you a small amount of time to work on this project during class, so you’re going to have to meet after school if you want to complete it properly,” Sensei says, blissfully unaware that he’s signing Izuku’s death warrant. Meet up after school? With Kacchan? Where would they go? Izuku doesn’t want to bring him home, his mother knows all about the bullying and that just sounds complicated. Would Kacchan let him go over to his house? It had been years since he’d been to the Bakugou’s. Or maybe they’d go to the library—
“Holy shit, stop fucking muttering,” a voice says right near his ear, and Izuku jumps a foot in the air.
“Wah-chan!” He yells, as Kacchan drags his chair over to sit on the other side of Izuku’s desk. The room is loud and bustling as others do the same.
“We can work at my house,” Kacchan continues. His arms are crossed and he’s not looking at Izuku. “Don’t be so fucking weird.”
“O-oh,” Izuku says. “Okay. Um, when do you want—?”
“Come over this weekend,” Kacchan says brusquely. “I want to get this over with.”
“R-right. Okay. So, um, Saturday? Is that—”
“Yeah, fine. Be there at noon.” Then he pulls out his phone and ignores Izuku. Everything back to normal.
On Saturday morning Izuku stands in front of the Bakugou’s front door and checks his watch. 11:57. That was probably fine. Not late, not overly early.
Izuku rings the doorbell. A few moments later it opens to reveal the spitting image of Kacchan.
“Izuku!” Mitsuki cries, an immediate difference from her son, who is never happy to see Izuku.
Izuku smiles. “Hi, Auntie,” he says. “I’m here to work on the class project with Kacchan.”
“Yes, of course!” She says amiably, before turning her head towards the staircase to yell upstairs. “Katsuki! Izuku is here! Get your ass downstairs!” Then she turns back to Izuku with a smile. “How’s your mom?”
Before Izuku can answer, Kacchan sticks his head over the railing on the second floor. He makes no move to come down, choosing to shout instead.
“C’mon. Let’s get this thing over with.”
Izuku shoots Mitsuki a smile and slowly makes his way upstairs. It feels a little like he’s walking into the lion’s den.
Only a little, though. The truth was Kacchan really hadn’t been that bad since the sludge villain attack, when Izuku had saved him. He’d mostly just ignored Izuku, which was a large improvement— and, since most of the class tended to follow his lead, that meant everyone else also tended to ignore him. Izuku can’t help but wonder if that’s Kacchan’s way of saying thanks.
Probably not.
Kacchan has been a lot different since then, though. Quieter. Izuku wonders if the attack had the same kind of effect on Kacchan as it had on Izuku, if he had nightmares too. Izuku knows how awful it had been; he remembers the feeling of suffocating, of losing hold of yourself, of feeling like he was going to die. How must it have felt for Kacchan to be helpless? For maybe the first time in his life, his quirk hadn’t helped him at all.
Izuku wishes he could talk to Kacchan about it, but he’s pretty sure Kacchan would quite literally murder him.
He heads up the stairs and into Kacchan’s room. It’s obviously different from the last time Izuku had been here, when they’d probably been around eight or so— but honestly not by that much. There’s still All Might merch on display, and Izuku greedily eyes some of the more expensive, limited edition stuff that he hadn’t been able to afford. Izuku is never really bothered by the fact that they don’t have a lot of money— at least, not until he gets up close and personal with the two foot tall replica All Might figurine from the Golden Era. Izuku hadn’t even bothered asking his mom for it, because he knew there was no way she could have afforded it, and she’d have just felt bad about it.
Kacchan notices him looking. “Don’t fucking touch it,” he says, but he doesn’t seem all that concerned, and he doesn’t tell Izuku to stop looking. Kacchan of all people would know how careful Izuku would be with anything All Might related.
Izuku takes another look around as Kacchan takes out their textbooks and some notebooks and throws them on the ground. His bed is made; there’s a basket of dirty laundry at the foot of it, and some weights in the corner. That must be why Kacchan’s arms have gotten so big lately. Er, not that he’s looking.
Okay, okay, he’s looking. He doesn’t really think he can be blamed for it.
Kacchan had been mean and cruel towards Izuku for as long as he could remember. The problem is that, in the last couple of years, Kacchan has gotten hot. Really hot. Less than stellar personality aside, Izuku can remember with great clarity the first time he’d woken up with wet sheets, and the memory of red eyes and a vicious mouth against him.
Izuku tries not to think about it, for a lot of reasons, but it hasn’t gone away. He can’t stop thinking about Kacchan like that. What is Izuku supposed to do? He has eyes. He sees Kacchan every day. He’s fifteen. He can’t help it. Normally it’s easy to ignore— especially when Kacchan bullied him.
Except Kacchan hasn’t been bullying him lately, and he’s only getting more attractive. Izuku had thought he’d had a handle on it, and that he was doing a great job of shoving it deep and suppressing it— except now he’s sitting on Kacchan’s bedroom floor and he’s wearing a tank top and Izuku can smell him and oh God, he needed to get this under control. His mother had had the Talk with him, of course, but amidst learning about safe sex and making sure all of Izuku’s many questions were answered (he made notes, of course), Inko had somehow failed to touch on what you were supposed to do when your ex-friend turned bully ended up growing into the hottest guy you’ve ever seen. Izuku wants to do things to him, he just isn’t entirely sure what those things are.
“Oi,” Kacchan snaps. “Stop zoning out. I want to finish this so we don’t have to fucking meet up again.”
The next two hours are absolute hell. It’s like for the first time, Kacchan had decided that Izuku wasn’t Izuku. There were no harsh comments or threats of violence. Kacchan didn’t try to blow Izuku up even once. They just sit on his bedroom floor and work on the project, like two normal people who had known each other for over a decade.
It’s torture.
Kacchan sits close to Izuku, and Izuku keeps finding himself distracted by trying to figure out what he smells like. It smells a little like fire, or something burning. From his quirk, maybe? He also has no qualms stealing Izuku’s notebook and correcting what he sees, or leaning over Izuku’s shoulder to see what he’s writing. Izuku doesn’t think the two of them had ever been this close, not in years— and at least not without Izuku being shoved into a locker, or something. Maybe Izuku shouldn’t be surprised; Kacchan was a perfectionist, and not a lot of people realized how smart he was and the amount of effort he put into his work. He wanted to be the best at everything, and if that meant playing nice (by Kacchan standards, at least) with Izuku for a few hours so they could work on a school project, then he’d do it.
They work like this for a while, with Kacchan looming over his shoulder smelling like a campfire and making Izuku’s life a living nightmare. But they’re making good progress on the project, and all in all things could be going a lot worse.
It’s nearly three-o-clock when Mitsuki shouts upstairs for Kacchan. He rolls his eyes and stands up, sticking his head out the door.
“ What?”
“Get down here!”
“Why?”
“I said get down here, brat!”
Kacchan clicks his tongue and sends Izuku a fierce glare. “Don’t fucking touch anything,” he says severely, before heading downstairs.
For a bit Izuku listens; he’s still finishing up on the part of the project he’d been working on. But when he’s done Kacchan still isn’t back, and there’s nothing else Izuku can do until Kacchan reads over what he’d done to make sure it’s up to his standards. He pulls out his phone, but there isn’t really much to keep him occupied, since he doesn’t have any friends to text. Eventually he stands up to stretch his legs, eyes taking in the room. When Kacchan still isn’t back, Izuku wanders back over to the shelf near the bed, looking at the All Might merchandise. There are some pictures on the wall, too, which surprises Izuku. There are pictures of Kacchan, of Kacchan and his parents, Kacchan and his friends. Izuku is shocked to see that he’s included on the wall, albeit in a class picture from last year.
It’s as he’s looking at the pictures that he takes a step to try and get a closer look, and he ends up knocking over the laundry basket. Izuku watches it fall in despair. Now what was he supposed to do? What would make Kacchan angrier— coming back and seeing this, or coming back and seeing Izuku’s hands all over his dirty laundry?
Kacchan still isn’t back though. If Izuku is quick about this, he doesn’t even need to know. He starts shoving Kacchan’s laundry back into the hamper, one eye on the door, counting down to his death if Kacchan finds him. One of the last pieces on the floor is a pair of Kacchan’s underwear— and for some reason, he stops. He has it in his hand, but he doesn’t put it back in the hamper. They’re red briefs with a black waistband.
What is he doing? What is he doing? Seriously, what the fuck is he doing?
Without thinking, as if some other force is controlling him, Izuku lifts Kacchan’s underwear and… smells it. The scent is strong and heady, and it makes Izuku’s stomach clench, makes his dick twitch in his pants, filled with a feeling he doesn’t quite understand.
The door behind him creaks open. Izuku drops the underwear in the basket quickly and spins around, sending a prayer to any deity that may be listening that Kacchan didn’t see him sniffing his fucking underwear.
Kacchan’s eyes are narrowed. “I thought I said not to touch anything.”
“Ah, sorry Kacchan,” he says nervously. He tugs at the hem of his shirt. Kacchan is still just looking at him.
Finally he moves into the room and sits back down. “Whatever,” he says. “Let me see what you wrote.”
Izuku breathes out a quiet breath of relief as he sits down beside him again, handing Kacchan his notebook. He’s safe. Kacchan must not have noticed.
Of course Katsuki fucking noticed.
He’s not, and has never been, a moron. And Izuku is not nearly as good at hiding things as he seems to think he is. But what was he supposed to say? The fuck are you supposed to do when you catch the quirkless kid you bullied sniffing your goddamn dirty laundry? It was much easier pretending he hadn’t noticed. He had no idea what else to do. He had no idea why Izuku had done that. He had no idea why he wasn’t more upset about it. He was fifteen and a shithead, only caring about becoming number one. Easier to ignore things he didn’t understand.
Except now Katsuki is eighteen, and he understands a lot more. He knows that there’s more to life than being number one now, just like he knows there’s more to Deku than being a quirkless kid he used to bully. Deku was— a friend, a partner, a hero. Deku was inextricable from Katsuki’s life. Deku was important to him.
Deku was a pervert.
Katsuki is eighteen and he knows what it means when you catch somebody sniffing your underwear, and he also knows why the thought of Izuku doing that makes Katsuki feel warm and excited as opposed to annoyed. The thought of Izuku wanting him makes Katsuki feel… good. Powerful. Desirable. And now they’re in third year, and the war is over, and Izuku and him are friends, now, in the oddly intense way that two people who keep trying to die for each other can be friends. Katsuki wants Izuku in every possible way there is to want a person, and Izuku wants him too. Katsuki isn’t an idiot, he knows the signs. Can see the way Deku looks at him, the ways he touches him, the furrow in his eyebrows whenever Kirishima or Kaminari hang off of Katsuki, like Izuku couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else’s hands on him.
But the bastard wouldn’t fucking do anything. Even when Katsuki asked him to spot him while he was working out with no shirt and leggings on, leggings that made his ass look great, thank you very fucking much. Even when Katsuki had stolen one of Kirishima’s shirts to try and make him jealous. Izuku had clenched his jaw so hard when he saw that that Katsuki had been worried he’d crush his teeth, but he didn’t do anything about it. No matter what Katsuki tried to do, it didn’t seem to matter. Izuku wouldn’t make a move.
So Katsuki decides that he’s going to have to bring out the big guns.
Izuku is stressed.
Izuku is stressed for a lot of reasons. Graduation is coming up; he and Shouto and Kacchan are still looking for an apartment to move into after school; he barely has enough time to do anything between his work study and his actual studies; oh, and Kacchan was trying to kill him.
Izuku can’t think of any other reason why Kacchan has been acting the way he has been, other than that he’s trying to stop Izuku’s heart. Like the other day, after they’d gotten into a fight with a villain and Kacchan had hurt his arm— in the showers after, he’d asked Izuku to help him shampoo his fucking hair. Izuku had gotten a headache from how hard he was not looking down. Also Kirishima was starting to get suspicious and a little hurt over how Izuku has been glaring at him recently (he knows he’s being unfair, but if he has to see Kacchan wearing his clothes one more goddamn time—).
Izuku is losing it. He isn’t fifteen and naive anymore; he’s older now, and he’s very deeply aware of the very long list of things he wants to do to Kacchan. But Kacchan is so important to him— the most important. Izuku could never bring himself to do anything that might ruin the relationship they’d built up over the years, even if he’s physically incapable of thinking of anything else when he jerks off. There were too many variables, too many things that could go wrong if Izuku told Kacchan how he felt. What if Kacchan didn’t feel the same? What if Kacchan did feel the same, but it didn’t work out anyway? What if they screwed it up, and Izuku lost him for good?
It wasn’t worth it. Nothing was worth the possibility of losing Kacchan from his life.
But then Kacchan does something that makes Izuku break.
He’s reading in the common area when a shadow falls over him and he looks up to see Kacchan. He’s wearing a pair of grey sweatpants hung low on his hips and a black tanktop that’s just a little too short, leaving a strip of stomach visible that is actively taking years off of Izuku’s life. “Hey,” Kacchan says gruffly, kicking the couch. “Let’s go study.”
And well, Izuku isn’t about to pass up spending quality time with Kacchan. He follows Kacchan upstairs to his room, babbling about the newest line of All Might merch that had just been released. Exams are coming up soon, so Izuku is happy to get the time to get studying help from Kacchan. Izuku does well in school, but Kacchan has always been smart.
They sit with their backs against Kacchan’s bed, textbooks spread out in front of them, and for almost an hour they study companionably; eventually, though, Kacchan checks his phone and clicks his tongue.
“I need to go help Shitty Hair with something,” he says. “I’ll be right back. Don’t fucking touch anything.”
Izuku smiles at the familiar words, remembering the last time he’d been in Kacchan’s room doing homework.
The last time he’d been in Kacchan’s room doing homework.
Izuku’s eyes cut to the laundry hamper.
No, no, no, what is he doing. Stop it, Izuku. Once was bad enough— Izuku had felt insanely guilty over what he’d done, even as he’d spent countless nights with a hand on his dick thinking about it. It was wrong. An invasion of privacy. He can’t do this kind of stuff anymore. He knows better.
God, why is Kacchan taking so long? What were he and Kirishima doing? No, actually, that was not a line of thought Izuku wanted to go down. But every minute that ticks by sees Izuku’s self control waning. Surely— surely if he’s quick, Kacchan won’t ever know. His bedroom door is closed, so Izuku will probably hear it open and have time to hide the evidence.
Surely it couldn’t hurt.
Izuku takes a peek into the hamper and almost bites through his lip. There’s a pair of underwear right on top, as if it had been put there just to test Izuku’s will power. These ones are orange with a black waistband. Apparently Kacchan likes colourful underwear.
Oh, fuck it.
Izuku grabs the underwear and brings them to his face, inhaling deeply. Maybe it’s because memory fades over time, but Kacchan’s scent smells stronger. It makes Izuku’s heart beat faster, makes his stomach clench, makes his dick swell in his pants as he thinks about Kacchan, sweaty and smelly… Izuku thinks about shoving his face in the crease of Kacchan’s crotch and licking the sweat there. His hand clenches tighter in the material.
Izuku had been wrong, as it turns out. There isn’t enough time to hide the evidence when the door opens.
Kacchan stands with his back against the door, surveying the scene in front of him. Izuku stands still, underwear still in his hands, as if Kacchan were the kind of predator who wouldn’t notice Izuku if he weren’t moving. Unfortunately for Izuku, Kacchan is not that type of predator. He was the type that played with his food.
Kacchan smiles, all teeth. Izuku tries to think about something to say, but there really isn’t much you can say when your oldest friend catches you sniffing his dirty underwear.
Again.
So instead they just stand there, looking. Not speaking. Izuku is literally still holding Kacchan’s underwear. Are these going to be his last moments? Is Kacchan going to accomplish what multiple villains have failed at over the years?
Kacchan takes a step closer. Someone please tell his mom he loves her.
Kacchan grins, which is way scarier than if he’d just yelled. He takes a few more steps closer until he’s right in front of Izuku. Then he says, “You haven’t changed, huh.”
“W-what?”
Kacchan reaches out and grabs his underwear out of Izuku’s hand. “I said,” he says, leaning around Izuku to put it back in the laundry. God, he smells good. “You haven’t changed. Can’t leave you alone with my laundry for one minute.”
Izuku wants to point out that it had been much longer than one minute, but then he clues into what Kacchan had said. Horror spreads through him.
“Wait, you— you knew? When we were at Aldera?”
“Do I look like an idiot to you? Of course I fucking knew.”
Oh, Izuku wishes he was dead. He wishes he was far away from here. He wishes he knew why Kacchan is looking at him like he’s a shark and Izuku is a bucket of chum. “But you never said anything!”
“What the fuck was I supposed to say to that?” Kacchan asks, which is a very good question. Izuku is about to apologize when he realizes something else.
“Hang on, did you… was this a set up?”
Kacchan shrugs. “You weren’t picking up any of my other hints.”
Izuku feels like his entire world has been flipped around. “What other hints?” He knows, though. He’d thought Kacchan had been trying to kill him, but he’d been wrong.
Kacchan had been trying to seduce him.
“You owe Shitty Hair an apology, by the way. He’s been beyond stressed that you hate him or something.”
Izuku gapes at him. “So— so you were wearing Kirishima’s clothes to make me jealous?”
“It worked, too,” Kacchan says smugly. Izuku can’t quite believe this.
“But— but why? Why didn’t you just tell me?”
Kacchan shrugs, but he has a glint in his eyes. “This was more fun,” he says. “I was trying to make you break.”
“What do you mean break?”
Kacchan leans close so he’s speaking right into Izuku’s ear. “Everyone thinks you’re such a goody-goody, but I know better. I wanted you to break, Deku. I was trying to get you to take what you wanted for once.”
Izuku takes a deep steadying breath that does not absolutely nothing to steady him. “What I want,” he says, licking his lips. Perhaps Kacchan can tell that he’s close to winning, because he leans even closer so that they’re chest to chest, and this time his lips brush the shell of Izuku’s ear.
“Don’t be a fucking coward, Izuku,” he says lowly. “Take what you want.”
The fragile string of self-control that Izuku has absolutely fucking snaps. This explicit permission feels like fire in his veins, and in one smooth movement he has Kacchan against the wall, kissing him like he wants to devour him. Because he does.
Kacchan kisses him back; he’s still got a few inches of height on Izuku, but he’s slumped so that they’re on the same level. Kacchan fists a hand in Izuku’s shirt, shoving him back until the back of his legs hit Kacchan’s bed. Kacchan keeps pushing until Izuku loses balance and falls back, and then he climbs swiftly on top of Izuku.
Fuck, he tastes good. His mouth opens easily under Izuku’s, tongue shoving forward against his in a way that makes it clear neither of them have any clue what they’re doing.
“You’re such a fucking perv,” Kacchan says in amusement. Izuku uses his strength to flip them, pushing Kacchan into the mattress. “Can’t believe it took you so long.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me?” Izuku bemoans.
“Told you,” Kacchan says. “Wanted to make you break.”
Izuku makes a noise that’s almost a growl in frustration. “Kacchan. Why do you have to be so difficult?”
Kacchan pulls him down to kiss him again, but then he pulls back to say, “You like me this way.”
And God, does he. He wouldn’t want Kacchan any other way.
Izuku pulls back and sits up. “Take off your clothes,” he orders; he doesn’t know if Kacchan is going to listen or if he’ll just scoff at Izuku’s attempt to be authoritative, but to his surprise Kacchan’s pupils expand and his mouth drops open and he moves almost immediately to undress himself. When he’s fully naked he lays back down and Izuku soaks him in greedily, eyeing him for so long that Kacchan starts to get embarrassed, a pretty red flush spreading down his chest.
“Fuck are you doing?” He says, shifting beneath Izuku’s gaze. “Do something. You get naked too.”
Izuku ignores him. He’s too enthralled by the stretch of Kacchan’s skin, the way he’s spread out like a meal for Izuku’s consumption. Izuku feels something like possessiveness rear its head in his chest. Kacchan is never going to wear Kirishima’s clothes ever again.
He leans down to press his lips to the scar on Kacchan’s shoulder, tongue tracing the slightly raised flesh; then he moves to kiss and lick and suck at the scar on Kacchan’s abdomen, before finally raising his lips to the one right over his heart. Kacchan takes a shaky breath that Izuku can feel to the depths of his soul.
“Izuku,” he says. It’s all he says, but Izuku can hear all that he means, all that he’s putting in those three syllables of his name. Izuku kisses right over his heart.
He strips off his shirt but he leaves his pants for now, swooping back down to get his mouth back on Kacchan’s skin. He kisses down his body until he gets to his dick, hard and leaking and so goddamn pretty, everything about Kacchan was so pretty— Izuku buries his nose in the crease of his thigh and finally deeply inhales the way he’s wanted to for years. Kacchan weaves a hand through his hair and grips.
“Shit, Izuku,” he says. “You’re so fucking weird.”
“You smell good,” Izuku says. He licks at the sweat that’s beading on Kacchan’s salty skin. “And you taste so good. I wanna eat you alive, Kacchan.”
“Holy shit,” Kacchan mutters. “Holy shit, holy shit.”
Izuku takes his time; licking at Kacchan’s skin, at his dick, nosing at the underside of his balls, tasting and smelling and learning Kacchan’s body. By the time Izuku gets to Kacchan’s hole he’s practically vibrating, muscles tense. He places both hands on Kacchan’s hips and flips him over onto his front.
“Fuck!” Kacchan shouts out, voice muffled in his sheets. Izuku is practically drooling at the sight of Kacchan’s ass in front of him, and he spreads his ass cheeks apart, pressing a thumb over Kacchan’s tight hole. Kacchan grunts out more incoherent noises, and Izuku physically has to lean down to press his mouth over it. The taste of Kacchan on his tongue is intoxicating, and Izuku moans in sheer contentment. He works his tongue inside of Kacchan’s hole, and the thought makes his head spin, makes his cock throb— he’s inside of Kacchan. He’s closer to Kacchan than anyone ever has been (or will be, if Izuku has his way).
Izuku eagerly catalogues each breathless sound that spills from Kacchan’s lips, each whimper and moan as Izuku eats him out. They’re the prettiest sounds he’s ever heard, all coming because of what Izuku was doing to him. Because Izuku was making him feel good.
He pulls back and wipes his mouth, but he isn’t done yet; he keeps one hand on Kacchan’s ass cheek to keep him open, and with his other he pushes his thumb inside Kacchan’s hole, down to the first knuckle. Kacchan’s hips jerk, and suddenly Izuku is overcome with an overwhelming desire to see his face, to see how he looks right now.
He rolls Kacchan back over. His face is flushed, eyes dark, mouth open and chest heaving as he looks up at Izuku. He’s the hottest thing Izuku has ever seen; the image is branded into his memory. He’s going to see it every time he closes his eyes.
“Kacchan,” he says hoarsely. “Can I fuck you?”
Kacchan somehow finds it in himself to scoff and roll his eyes. “I didn’t actually bring you up here to study, moron. Put your stupid dick in me.”
Izuku giggles. “You’re so romantic, Kacchan,” he teases.
“Coming from the pervert who sniffs my underwear. Lube’s in the drawer.”
Izuku nearly trips over himself in his haste to reach the side table. Kacchan laughs at him, and Izuku’s heart feels big enough to burst. This is happening. This is really happening, with the only person he’d ever wanted it to happen with.
“You’ll tell me if it hurts, yeah?”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
Izuku gives him a disapproving look. “Kacchan.”
Kacchan rolls his eyes. “ Yes, I’ll tell you, come on Deku.”
In all of Izuku’s fantasies, he’d been so focused on how much he wanted Kacchan that he hadn’t even considered what it might feel like for Kacchan to want him. For him to be desperate and writhing beneath Izuku, begging for him in his uniquely Kacchan way— Izuku feels like there’s fire in his veins as he brings his mouth back to Kacchan’s, a wet messy kiss still tinged with the taste of Kacchan.
“You’re so gross,” Kacchan says when they pull away, but then he drags Izuku back in for another kiss. Izuku works lube-covered fingers into Kacchan’s hole, and Kacchan grunts as he stretches over Izuku’s thick fingers, reaching deeper than his tongue would ever be able to. Another part of Kacchan that only Izuku has ever touched.
Izuku leans down to bite down harshly on Kacchan’s shoulder. He cries out and jerks his hips, fingers digging into Izuku’s shoulders hard enough to bruise as Izuku continues to open him up.
Izuku wants to be safe and meticulous, wants to be extra careful so that Kacchan feels nothing but pleasure— but he should have guessed that Kacchan wouldn’t agree with that plan, because after what Izuku feels is not long enough he’s tugging at Izuku’s wrist.
“I’m ready, m’ready, come on.”
“Are you sure? I—”
Kacchan makes a disgruntled noise and hooks his feet around Izuku’s calves, pulling him into him at the same time that Kacchan bites down hard on Izuku’s lower lip.
“I swear to God I’ll find someone else to fuck me if you don’t—”
The sound that rips from Izuku is almost inhuman. Kacchan really knows how to push his buttons. He pours what is probably too much lube on his dick, jerking himself off to make sure it’s spread out properly. Kacchan eyes his cock almost hungrily. Izuku feels like he’s about to explode.
The first push inside of Kacchan feels like literal heaven. Kacchan is so tight and hot, squeezing tight around Izuku’s dick, just as his legs squeeze around Izuku’s waist. Izuku lowers his head so it’s resting on Kacchan’s shoulder, taking deep steadying breaths as he fights to keep himself under control.
“Move,” Kacchan says, kicking at Izuku’s ass with the heel of his foot. “C’mon, Izuku, fucking move—”
Izuku groans. “You gotta give me a minute, Kacchan,” he says into his shoulder, lips brushing against his skin so he can taste the salty sweat with each word. “You have no idea how good you feel.”
Kacchan attempts a scoff. “‘Course I feel good,” he says. The grandness of his words is slightly undercut from the way he clings to Izuku, wrapped around him tightly, arms locked around his neck, legs hiked around his waist, ass sucking him in like he has no plans on ever letting Izuku get any farther from him than this. Izuku is suddenly struck by how much he loves him, by how far they’ve come; in his wildest dreams, he never could have even imagined having Kacchan like this.
Slowly, hesitantly, Izuku moves his hips, pulling slowly out of Kacchan before pushing back inside at the same steady pace. Kacchan moans, fingers coming up to weave in Izuku’s hair. If Izuku were capable of opening his eyes, he’s sure he’d see the face of God.
“More,” Kacchan says, tugging on Izuku’s hair. “More, Izuku, give me more, fuck—”
Izuku hesitantly speeds up his hips, fucking into Kacchan quicker but shallow; Kacchan yanks on his hair again.
“I know you can do better than that, shit nerd,” he says, and even though his words are harsh and taunting, his voice is hoarse and raspy and desperate. All because of Izuku. Izuku was making him feel like this.
Izuku fucks into Kacchan’s tight hole, deeper and harsher as he starts to lose himself to the feeling. Kacchan clings to him and moans and whimpers and hisses Izuku’s name as Izuku fucks him. They’re closer than they’ve ever been, wrapped up in each other. Izuku is overwhelmed by it.
“Kacchan— Kacchan, I love you.”
Kacchan groans. “Don’t say that during sex, moron.”
“But it’s true!”
Kacchan pulls Izuku’s face to him and kisses him, messy and frantic. “I hate you,” he says. Izuku laughs against his mouth.
“You don’t,” he says, and he’s never been so sure of it, with the two of them intertwined.
Kacchan bites down on Izuku’s jaw. “Touch me,” he says. Izuku doesn’t need to be told twice; he pulls back just enough that he can work a hand between them and grip Kacchan’s cock. It’s wet, leaking precum at a steady pace, and Izuku thinks that it fits perfectly in his hand. He moans when Izuku’s fingers wrap around him, burying his face in Izuku’s neck as he sobs at the stimulation.
Izuku feels when he comes, feels it spill over his fingers and onto Kacchan’s stomach, feels the way he shakes and whines and comes apart in Izuku’s arms. He tightens up, somehow, clenching down on Izuku’s dick, and that’s all it takes for Izuku to come too, cock pulsing as he shoots inside of Kacchan.
Kacchan doesn’t let him go, even when they both come down from their orgasms. Izuku rolls them over to the side so that he’s not crushing him, knocking his forehead against Kacchan’s as they lay together, limbs tangled, breaths mingling. Izuku feels so intensely safe and content, like this is where they were always meant to end up. Love and happiness settle over him.
“There’s fucking cum leaking out of my ass,” Kacchan says, effectively ruining the mood. Izuku giggles and presses kisses to his face.
“Can I say I love you now?”
“Saying it after sex is just as bad as saying it during sex,” Kacchan says sleepily. Izuku giggles again— he can’t help it. He just feels so happy.
“Stop fucking giggling, weirdo,” Kacchan says, but he doesn’t sound annoyed. He wraps his arms tighter around Izuku and pulls him in closer.
“I can’t help it,” Izuku says brightly. “I’m just so happy.”
Kacchan just snorts. “Whatever, nerd,” he says, but Izuku can hear the happiness in his voice, too. “Just stop sneaking into my room to sniff my fucking underwear. Just fuck me instead.”
Izuku blushes and hides his face. “I! Technically I never snuck into your room, I was invited each time!”
Kacchan chuckles, and Izuku feels lips brush across his cheek. “Hey,” he says quietly. “You can say it now, if you want.”
It takes Izuku a moment to realize what he means, and when he does he grins, immediately rolling over on top of Kacchan and pressing his lips to any stretch of skin he can reach. “I love you,” he says, and then he says it again, over and over. “I love you, I love you.”
Kacchan laughs and then pretends that he isn’t. “Fuck off, Izuku, you’re crushing me!”
“I love you, I love you—”
Kacchan digs his fingers into Izuku’s sides in an attempt to get him off, and the two of them keep up like this, fighting and laughing and kissing. Izuku buries his nose in Kacchan’s hair and inhales, and Kacchan calls him a pervert, and then the two of them start to wrestle, and then—
And then, and then, and then. A future of it, of the two of them, always moving forward. Izuku can’t wait to see what comes next.