Chapter Text
“Sure, you can defile my dad’s beach house.”
That’s what really seals the deal and Katsuki’s fate.
Izuku looks entirely too pleased with himself when he takes the keys to the Todoroki family beach house, with all the intent in the world to do exactly what Shoto said. Defile it, with all manner of weird and debauched ritual.
“I don’t care what weird shit you get up to as long as I don’t have to clean up after,” he said, and then the keys were in Izuku’s hands while a thousand and one scenarios flew through his head—but only one that he really wanted to try.
“Do you remember that thing we talked about?” He asks over take-out, shared on a rooftop overlooking the city skyline. It’s night time, stars winking overhead.
“Refresh my memory, nerd.” Kacchan says through a mouthful of noodles. God, he looks so hot like that.
“You know…” Izuku prompts, suddenly feeling shy. It’s a bit hard, confessing his desires, even though he knows Kacchan shares a mutual enjoyment of what he was about to propose. “The thing. Weekend getaway; you, me and the squad. We’d cook and order out and you’d get nice and r—“
“Okay!” Kacchan stops him, jaw clenched. The tips of his ears have gone pink. “The walls have ears, you know. Why’re you bringin’ this shit up?”
“Because! Shoto lent me the keys to his beach house and—“
“Icyhot is not a part of this fuckin’ fantasy, Deku—“
“Well he’s not gonna be there, Kacchan, he just gave me the keys.”
An entire weekend to themselves at a nice house with a stretch of private beach. There was no love in Izuku’s heart for Todoroki Enji; but he couldn’t help but feel a bit grateful that he snapped up such a nice piece of property with all that money he’s got—money Shoto is all too happy to spend.
He’s already planning it in his head. Private beach—they could fuck on the beach. Their activities could extend far beyond just the house—a party on the surf, cooking over a fire. Kacchan reclining on a lawn chair in nothing but a pair of sunglasses and those trunks that hang just a little too low on his hips. It would work out for him in this case, with his belly round and full. Not so full it was obstructive—not yet. Someone comes up and offers him something off the grill—he doesn’t refuse it, he can’t, not in this fantasy. It’d be hot if I could try and last a whole weekend, no holds barred, Kacchan had once told him, despite Izuku’s own protests, Kacchan you’d be so sick by the end—it gets him laughed at. That’s why it’s a challenge, nerd.
A very, very sexy challenge.
It occurs to Izuku that maybe wanting to watch his boyfriend eat until he was swollen and sick was bad, and gross. He doesn’t like seeing him sick and in pain, not usually—just sometimes, well… sometimes. Sometimes it’s hot! When he’s into it too—
“I can fuckin’ hear your brain,” Katsuki cracks open his Gatorade and takes a massive gulp. “Fine. Text the Extras and tell them. We’ll pick a weekend after work.”
The fateful weekend arrives with the sound of tires rolling up a gravel drive, excited voices lingering just outside the door, heavy footfalls on wood. The porch was frankly gorgeous and offered a glorious view of the beach. A wrap-around affair with a large section in front and back, complete with grill and a brick fire pit sunken into the ground.
“Kacchan, they’re here!”
Izuku made sure they arrived before everyone else. Kacchan got first pick of the rooms—the master was his choice, of course—and Izuku wanted the explore. He wanted to know every inch of the beach house before they got down to the defilement process.
Kacchan appears in the hallway. The sunset turns his blonde hair gold, spilling in from the massive floor-to-ceiling windows that line the spacious living room. He was dressed simply—skull tee with a button-down over top, unbuttoned of course, and shorts. Izuku was similarly dressed, sans button-down. He did have on a pair of leggings beneath his shorts, though.
Outside, tittering on the front porch, stands ‘the squad’, a collection of their shared friends. Kirishima and Ashido, holding hands. Sero and Kaminari, without Shinsou, and Yaoyorozu. Everyone stops speaking when the door opens, and both Izuku and Kacchan step out.
“Hey everyone! Thank you all for coming—“
“Wouldn’t wanna miss this, believe me,” Kaminari butts in.
“Yeah,” Sero nods, “this is gonna be awesome.”
Beside him, Katsuki rolls his eyes.
“Right—“ Izuku says, “—well, I wanna establish some ground rules before we get started, okay?”
Everyone nods.
He turns to Katsuki. “What’s the safeword, Kacchan?”
His boyfriend huffs. “Red.”
“Remember to keep your ears open for it!” Izuku says, “but also don’t be afraid to call it yourself if you need to.”
More nodding.
“As for the rules—no stuffing after ten PM unless previously discussed. Everything else can be spontaneous. And if he’s taking a nap, unless you know when he went to sleep, please don’t wake him.”
Kirishima raises his hand.
“Yes?”
“S’that it? Is the spontaneous stuff limited to just feeding him or can we fuck too?”
“Do whatever you want to me,” Kacchan suddenly says, cheeks burning red. “Just don’t get cocky.”
Then Sero, quietly; “You expect us not to get cocky after a statement like that?”
Izuku steps back into the conversation before a fight could break out; “okay! If that’s everything, then please come in! Todoroki gave us free reign of the place, so feel free to explore!”
“Stay out of the master bedroom, Extras!” Katsuki barks as everyone begins to file in, “that’s for me and Deku!”
“Aye-aye captain!” Kaminari salutes, sticking out his tongue cheekily.
Once the Extras are in, Katsuki turns to shut the door and feels a hand on his arm. “Bakugou?”
He looks down at the perfectly manicured pale hand, then up to the regal face of Princess Ponytail. “What?” He grunts, not bothering with the lock.
“I was wondering if I could have a word? In private.”
“Sure, whatever.”
He leads her to the sunroom, all glass walls and soft seats, a bookshelf crammed full of books no-one's gonna read. “What?”
“You know I appreciate the invitation, and I think this will be an interesting experience for all of us—but why me? Why not Kyouka? I know you two are close—”
Katsuki sucks his teeth with a sharp tck. When the Extras were having this discussion the first time, when all of this came to light accidentally years ago, Jirou had told him she loved him, just not like that. “Earjacks didn’t wanna come. She ain’t into shit like this n’I respect that. I asked you because—you know, when I—”
“Oh! Yes, of course!” She smiles, so genuine it was nearly as blinding as Izuku’s. “Well, um—I guess…” she fidgets, suddenly nervous. “Well, since we can—would you—?”
Katsuki quirks a brow. What is she getting at? “Spit it out, Princess.”
She’s always had a problem with confidence, that much he knows. Half-and-Half used to ramble about it sometimes, I wish she understood she’s much more capable than she allows herself to be.
“Could we—” she stumbles over her words again, until finally she looks him right in the eyes, nerves steeled, and says; “kiss me.”
Before he can, she stops him. “Wait, no—I want to kiss you.”
And then he’s thrown into a wall.
The only wall in the room that isn’t all windows, next to the door. Yaoyorozu’s hand fisted in his collar, another sliding down his torso, feeling his chest, his belly. Their lips meet and she kisses him till his head starts to spin, breathless and he remembers this is the girl who brought her bigass California King bed to school and managed to squish it into their tiny dorm rooms.
“Can I fuck you?” She asks breathlessly between kisses, “I’d really like to fuck you, Bakugou.”
“Do whatever you want to me,” he tells her, the same thing he said outside. Do whatever you want to me. His cheeks burn, he’s red all the way down to his damn neck. He’s so fucking embarrassed. He’s thought about this for years—big hands, small hands, mouths and eyes and tongues that found its inception in the singular eating contest he took part in when he was twenty-two after Sero made the mistake of saying out of all the challenges I think you could beat, this isn’t one of them.
Ha.
It wasn’t Izuku that woke him to that sudden desire but Eijirou when they were walking back to the car and Katsuki realized he wasn’t going to make it—Spikey slung one arm over his shoulder to help and pressed a hand against his belly to soothe. Something inside of Katsuki turned molten and he’d blushed all the way up to his ears, he couldn’t help it, and that had made everything worse.
Get’chur hands off me, Shitty Hair! he remembers snapping, and then he missed them when they were gone.
Yaoyorozu pushes him to the floor. He’s already so wet, watching her tug down her frilly white shorts. She’s got on pink panties that match with the lacy pink bra under her shirt, top buttons undone and while he’s distracted with staring she gets down on the floor and ruts her pussy against his throbbing t-cock.
“F-fuck—!”
“You’re bigger than I thought you’d be,” she says. “You’re so pretty like this, you know? Beneath other people.”
“Fuck y-you—”
“Oh no, Bakugou,” she bends to kiss him and he gets a face-full of tits. “That’s my job.”
She gets a few bounces in before he manages to pull himself together and not go down without a fight, pushing himself off the floor. Shoves his head in her chest and starts to lap between her cleavage, the way he does with Izuku during bulking season. Fuck, I love his tits.
Everything leads back to Izuku, he supposes.
“Oh my god, a sunroom! This place just keeps—oh my god.”
Two heads snap to the door to see Mina standing in the doorway. She stares, and then steps fully into the room. The door shuts behind her.
“Didn’t know we were starting already,” she says, crossing her arms. She had on jean shorts and a bikini top, a pair of sunglasses perched on her head, just shy of her horns.
“He said I could, you’re just too slow,” Princess Ponytail says in response. She continues to grind their cunts together, lewd squelching filling the room. Katsuki groans, shifting his hips against Yaoyorozu’s. He doesn’t give a fuck about an audience.
“Can I have him when you’re done?” Asks Raccoon Eyes, as if he isn’t even here. It makes him throb unexpectedly—that he’s being spoken of. That all he’s worth is his use. Isn’t that what a hero is? Something to be used?
“He has a mouth.”
“Oh! I didn’t even think about that!”
Yaoyorozu turns back to him. “Would you be alright with that, Bakugou? Would you like Ashido to ride your face?”
How long could he last like that, cut off from air while he drowns in her cunt? Katsuki’s head is spinning. “Fuck—fuck yeah, get over here—”
Mina strips. Shorts, top, underwear. Katsuki is laid down between them like a virgin sacrifice before Mina climbs on top. “Tap my leg if you need air, alright Blasty?”
He rolls his eyes. “Just put your fucking cunt on my face already.”
The girls coo over him after it’s over and he has to fight his way out of their collective grasp. They can cuddle each other into a late nap for all he cared. If he was going to sleep, it was going to be in that massive featherbed that took up half the master.
The sun is a thin sliver of orange light that barely crests the horizon when he emerges from the sunroom. The lights, which were left off due to all the natural lighting from the windows, are being turned on one-by-one.
“Oh, there you are Kacchan!” Izuku smiles warmly. His eyes roam Katsuki, taking in his sex-skewed hair and rumpled clothes. “Having fun already?”
“Got side-tracked s’all.”
“I’m glad you’re having fun,” Izuku grins, before holding something out to him. “Here, eat this.”
It’s a piece of cake on a paper plate, chocolate with cherry filling. The cherries ooze, syrupy.
Katsuki wrinkles his nose. “Before dinner?”
“C’mon Kacchan, you know the rules.”
Right, the rules. The rules he literally helped write; that this is a challenge and he can’t refuse.
Katsuki takes the plate and starts wolfing down the slice. The icing is a little too sweet, the vanilla a little overpowering; but he could power through. The cherries were good, syrup spilling over his lips and down his chin. Without a napkin, Katsuki swipes at the sweet pink liquid and sucks it back off his fingers.
Fucked out, sticky and gross. “I think I need a shower,” he says, handing the empty plate back to Izuku.
“Sure! Dinner is in thirty!”
Clean and dry post-shower, Katsuki makes his way to the dining room for dinner.
It’s another large room, with tatami floors and a high ceiling. The exterior walls are all made of glass, giving the room’s occupants a view of the moonlit beach. The table was traditional, long and low with pillows for seating, piling high with food of all kinds. Noodles and rice dishes, steaming broth, pork katsudon and greasy octopus balls. He can smell the spices. His stomach, despite the generous slice of cake earlier, practically sits up and begs like a dog.
“Kacchan!” Izuku cries, “come sit next to me!”
“That’s not fair!" Sero pouts, “you get to see him literally everyday, you’re practically married! Quit hoggin’ him!”
“Shut up, Tape-Face,” Katsuki says, sliding into the setting next to Izuku. The little nerd beams, happy to have gotten his way.
When everyone has taken their seats, Izuku fills Katsuki’s plate. He gets a sample of everything, including the alcohol, though he quickly switches to water. He doesn’t want to get sick tonight.
He clears his first plate and quickly starts on the second while everyone else was too busy talking, picking away at their food while they played catch-up.
“Oh man, I thought we were never gonna catch that guy. Bakugou, you remember the guy who could camouflage himself like a cuttlefish?” Eijirou elbows him, prodding him on the side.
Katsuki rolls his eyes, “the Cuttleboner?” He asks, swallowing his current mouthful, “yeah, I remember that weirdo.”
“Ohmigosh, I remember that guy! His quirk was so cool!” Izuku shrieks, quickly taking control of the conversation with his nerdy ramble. “It wasn’t just camouflage the way we normally think of it, he could perfectly replicate a surface’s texture as well, similar to a real cuttlefish. Additionally they found that he was able to produce a toxin in his musculature that—”
Katsuki turns his attention back to his food, letting the conversation turn to background noise. Second down, onto the third.
“Oof, I don’t think I can eat anymore. Finish this for me, Blasty?” That’s the only warning he gets before Mina scrapes her plate onto his.
“Actually, he can have mine too,” Spark Plug hands over his plate, still half-full.
He winds up with half the table’s scraps, while they went on talking and drinking. It isn’t until he starts slowing down that Eijirou leans back over to pull up his shirt and whistle, “damn, you’re looking pretty full.”
The soft cotton of his shirt is starting to pull taut over his belly, rounding out just beneath his ribs. Eijirou’s hand is warm against his stomach, following the arc as it tapers down between his hip bones. “Oh, lemme get that for you—must be sore.”
Deftly, the button on his shorts is undone and Katsuki lets out a very undignified moan of relief. The whole table laughs. “Go on man,” Eijirou jeers, “eat up, you’ve got more room now.”
“Kacchan looks very pretty like that,” Izuku says from his other side, “do you want me to feed you?”
Katsuki hiccups, reaching for his water. He’s gotten to the point where he isn’t just full, he was starting to ache, not just the skin but the organ underneath feeling tight whenever he moved, or breathed. Water downed, both hands on his stomach for a moment. “No, I’m good…”
“Poor thing,” Izuku coos. He plucks something off Katsuki’s plate—a piece of pork katsudon—and holds it up to his lips. “Let me help you.”
Not wanting to disappoint—and wanting to see how far he could push himself—Katsuki opens his mouth and allows Izuku to feed him, piece-by-piece, until his plate is empty. Once finished he leans back, propped on one arm while the other palmed his swollen stomach. He thinks he looks a little pregnant, honestly. Not nine months, no-where near it—but certainly some stage of pregnancy.
“He looks so cuuuute!” Mina cries.
“Poor baby,” Sero’s voice suddenly whispers, breath hot against his ear. Legs bracket him on either side, long fingers stroking his belly, still covered by his shirt. He made a point of jerking it back down the second Eijirou released him. “Let’s see the damage, shall we?”
The fabric slides across his belly, hyper-sensitive from the stretch. Jeers and coos rise up from his audience.
“If this is what you can do sober I wonder what I can do to you after a good blunt,” Sero murmurs, pressing kisses to the back of his neck. The fingers on his stomach go lower, into his shorts. Sero laughs when he finds him already wet, shoving two fingers up his cunt. “Holy shit! Sucked me right up you greedy freak!”
Katsuki groans, rocking back on Sero’s fingers. He can hear Izuku breathing somewhere closeby, that little freak loves to watch, solo or not. He hears someone else—Sparky or Spikey, or maybe both—Oh, come here, sweetheart. The girls are giggling.
“Fuckin’—” Katsuki grunts, trying to rut against Sero’s fingers, “—gimme another.”
“Like gettin’ stuffed in every hole, huh? Slut.”
“Careful,” Katsuki says, breath coming in pants as Sero adds a third finger, thumb working lazily at his clit. “I’ll throw up all over you.”
“Kinky,” he grins, “you know I like it wet and messy, baby.”
“You’re a fuckin’ freak.”
“Look who's talking.” Katsuki’s head falls back, ah-ah, and Sero kisses him again against his temple and cheek, “call me Hanta when you cum, baby, I wanna hear you.”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck—Hanta—fuck!” His pussy clenches while Sero continues to stroke him through it, pushing through the overstim and then he’s literally bending Katsuki over right there on the tatami, yanking down his shorts and underwear for the glistening pussy beneath. “Fuck, man, you’re soaked.”
He feels the head of a cock rubbing against him, pushing in so slow it has Katsuki barking, “I’m not some fucking virgin, put it in already!”
Hanta’s rubbing circles on his lower back, cheek pressed to the cool floor, “don’t rush this baby, this isn’t just about you.”
He can hear Izuku moaning somewhere in the background, the liquid squelch of lube and the slap of skin-on-skin. Katsuki keeps his eyes closed and follows those familiar cries, oh god oh god oh god and Hanta bottoms out with a moan of his own, one hand on Katsuki’s hip for support.
The first thrust is sharp, both of Katsuki’s hands scrambling to brace himself against the floor as Hanta starts fast and ramps up faster, one hand dipping down to give his own dick a decent reach-around.
“Gimme another, baby,” Hanta croons over him, “don’t be shy, cum on my cock—”
Katsuki feels the muscles of his stomach clench, painful around his too-full stomach in a way that sends another shot of pleasure between his legs and he gasps, squirting as he spasms around Hanta while the other man cries out above him, something like holy shit! at the edge of laughter. His cock leaves Katsuki suddenly and he whimpers at the sudden empty feeling, even when he was already so full before he feels cum hit his back in a hot spray.
He crumples. Everything starts to sound a bit like it’s underwater.
“Here, I’ve got towels!”
“Awesome. Mina, did you bring that lavender shit you put in your bath?”
“My bath salts? Yeah. What are y—oh! I’ll go run one, sit tight!”
There are hands on him, manipulating him to sit upright. Something rough wipes against his back a few times before pressure is applied. He’s brought to his feet, stubbornly trying to walk on his own as he’s led out of the dining room and through the living room, ushering into one of the bedrooms he had dismissed earlier as ‘not worthy’. The air is damp and warm, smelling of lavender. It makes him sleepy.
When he’s placed in the water it gets even worse. Eyelids drooping, fighting to stay coherent, the whole nine yards. It’s so warm and relaxing.
“You can sleep,” someone says, carding their fingers through his hair, “let us take care of you.”
So he does.
Katsuki wakes to hands on his belly.
He’s wearing fresh clothes and swaddled in a quilt, propped against some pillows. The TV is on low in the background, playing some reality show crap. All the windows are dark. The person rubbing his belly has long fingers and dark hair.
“Hey there Sunshine.” Sero grins, “have a nice nap?”
“‘time s’it?” He slurs, stretching.
“‘Bout time you got a watch,” Sero says, “it’s like—nine-ish? I’ll have to check.”
“Damn…” Katsuki mumbles as he stretches again, arms over his head, legs out like a cat. His legs have been thrown over Sero’s lap. He hunkers back down into the quilt. “S’past my bedtime.”
“Really?” Eijirou’s voice appears from behind them, somewhere beyond the couch. “We were actually just thinking you could use a top-up for the night.”
Well, he did agree that he was free until ten, so Katsuki pushes himself up into a sitting position with a beleaguered groan and glances over the back of the couch to see what awaits him.
Izuku and Eijirou, standing in the kitchen. Open-concept house. Izuku is carrying a pitcher in both hands, one on the handle and one on the bottom. “We made you a shake!”
Katsuki sighs. “Bring it here.”
Are they gonna pour it down his throat? Fuck that’s really hot—
Izuku rounds the couch with Eijirou in-tow, who takes a seat on one of the other plush chairs to watch.
Katsuki pushes the blanket off of his legs, swung them over the edge of the couch. “Tap my leg if you need me to stop,” Izuku says, standing between his spread knees.
He fits his mouth to the lip of the pitcher and Izuku tips it back and starts to pour.
It’s cold, down his throat and chills his belly. He gulps down mouthful after mouthful of the vanilla slurry until his chest starts to hurt and he has to tap Izuku on the thigh three times.
Izuku stops immediately. “Are you okay?”
Katsuki licks his lips and wipes his mouth. “I’m good…” There’s about half of the pitcher left. His fingers feel cold—he’s cold all the way to his socked feet. His stomach grumbles, unhappy with the sudden influx of liquid and he knows he’s going to need to work fast if he wants to get the rest of the milkshake down. “Just needed a break. Give it here.”
The pitcher is brought back to his mouth and he starts to swallow again. The waistband of the sweats he was wearing begins to get tight and he starts to tug at them—the string was knotted, the waist won’t stretch unless it’s untied.
“Here man—” instant relief. He moans through a mouthful of cold vanilla and he hears someone shifting around further into the room with a hushed, oh my god…
The pitcher is suddenly taken away and someone else’s thumb is skating across his lower lip. He stares up at Izuku, dazed. “Um—”
“Good job, Kacchan,” he coos, pressing a kiss to Katsuki’s milky lips.
Katsuki hiccups, before a burp rolls up his throat. “Ugh, fuck…”
“You did amazing, man,” Sero praises from beside him, and he’s sure Eijirou adds something too, but he’s not really paying much attention anymore. He’s sinking back into that float-y headspace he was in before, stomach aching even though he felt good, because he’s being good. He’s the fucking best, and he just keeps proving it.
Familiar, rough hands took hold of one of his arms, and then a hand at his back to help him off the couch. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”
“S’past your bedtime, man,” Sero teases, “remember?”
Oh, right. It was nine—or around that. Way past his bedtime.
Izuku slides his arm around his shoulders. His warm hands rub at Katsuki’s bloated stomach as they make their way, slowly, down the hallway. They reach the master and Izuku lays him down with gusto, sweetly tucking him in. Katsuki feels full and heavy and tired, stomach sore and wrung out.
“Is it everything you wanted, Kacchan?” Izuku asks, rubbing careful circles on his aching belly.
Katsuki looks up at him, blearily, while his own fingers explored the curve of his belly. His skin was smooth, taut with everything he managed to cram inside. Didn’t have to use the safeword once. It fills him with a kind of euphoria he hasn’t felt since he won that eating contest. “Fuck yeah.”
A kiss to his temple. “Good.”