“Plus Ultra Pleasure Services,” a chipper woman’s voice said over the phone.
“Uh.” Izuku chewed on his thumb nail, speaking around it as one foot tapped on the floor. “Hi?”
“Hi there, sweetie,” the woman said kindly, a soothing smile in her voice. “How can I help you tonight? Are you looking for someone in particular?”
“N-no, I mean. I don’t know exactly… How this works.”
Oh god, why had he taken Inasa's overly-exuberant advice on this? What about this was normal?
“Now don’t you worry about that,” the woman said, bright and chirpy. “You just tell me what you like and I’ll find them for you, okay?”
“A man,” Izuku said in a rush of breath. “Mean. I mean, er, aggressive.” He hiccuped a nervous laugh. “Aggressive. N-not. Mean, hah.”
“Oh, honey,” the operator said, sounding a little too full of glee. “I’ve got just the man for you. I’ll transfer you. Good luck.”
“Good luck?” Izuku said, his eyes wide, sitting ramrod straight on the couch, his nerves on blast already. “Wait, what –“
The phone began to ring and Izuku considered hanging up. This was outrageous. He was miles too awkward to have phone sex with anybody. What did you even do? He should have Googled phone sex etiquette beforehand.
“What,” someone answered, already aggravated.
Izuku startled, his eyes going wide.
“Um, h-hello? Is this – I don’t know who this is.”
“No shit, buddy,” the guy said, and he had a punchy, rugged voice like a guy who would shove you face first into the dirt and fuck you right into the ground. “You’re the one who called me, so why don’t you tell me what to call you.”
“I mean – you want my name?” Izuku said, drumming his fingers on his thigh.
“Didn’t say that,” he said, a low simmer edging under Izuku’s skin. “Whaddaya want me to call you when I make you cum for me?”
“Oh my god.”
“Ain’t callin’ you God,” the man said with a short huff of breath that might have been amusement.
“Ah, um.” Izuku’s mind scattered in every direction for a name. His gaze snagged on the photo of himself and All Might on the wall.
“Toshi,” he said quickly. “It’s Toshi.”
“Toshi?” the guy said with a harsh, incredulous laugh. “Okay, smart guy. You sittin’ down?”
“Yes? You don’t fuckin’ know? Sit the fuck down, lean back, and spread your legs for me.”
That gravel voice raked over Izuku’s skin, leaving goosebumps as he instantly did as he was told. Slouching back in to the couch, he propped his feet wide apart upon the coffee table and spread his legs.
“’Kay,” Izuku said, already a little breathy.
“You sound like I could rip you apart, y’know,” the guy said, a threatening smile in his voice that told Izuku he just might have a shot at it. “You little? Doesn’t matter. Could fuck you up against the wall easy.”
“Yeah?” Izuku said, his shoulders relaxing as his blood began to hum.
“Think I’d say it if it wasn’t true?” he snapped. “Callin’ me a liar? I’ll impale you on my cock ‘til you feel it in your throat.”
Izuku physically startled, electricity sparking down his spine, his thighs flooding with heat.
“I’d let you,” he found himself saying as his lids fell closed. He wondered what this guy looked like. He sounded thick and built and practically bursting with cocky assurance.
“You’d let me?” he said, barking a short laugh, that smile back in his voice. “You got a lot to learn, don’t you? Get your pants to your knees.”
“What?” Izuku nearly squeaked, his eyes popping open again.
“Calm the fuck down, nerd,” the man said, his voice dropping to a quieter rumble. “Get your dick out for me. I wanna hear you touch yourself. Bet you make some ridiculous fuckin’ noises. You’re the type, aren’t you? T'bite down on your pillow even when you’re alone ‘cause you just can’t shut up over how good it feels.”
Izuku’s blush could probably be heard a mile away, the thumb of his free hand hooked in the waist band of his ratty pajama pants.
“Thought so,” the guy said bluntly. “Now, don’t make me tell you twice. Get your hand around that nice fat cock and let me make you feel good.”
Izuku’s chest tightened, his breathing going shallow as he tentatively slipped his hand into his pants. This was too surreal, this couldn’t be right, this –
“Y’know, you interrupted my workout,” the guy said, his voice a deep thrum coursing through Izuku’s veins. “I’m covered in sweat.”
Izuku sucked in a quiet breath, his chin canted, face towards the ceiling as he wrapped his hand around his hardening dick and stroked it loose and easy.
“Can’t even get a shower ‘cause of you. I’d have to push you back on my lifting bench and fuck you right there, knees up to your ears. Think you can do that for me, Toshi? You good for that? I’d be drippin’ all over you. You’d be a pathetic, dirty mess.”
“Oh,” Izuku said with a hiccup of breath, smoothing his calloused thumb over the crown of his cock, his heart a drum in his ears. “I’m – I’m very flexible.”
A short hum from the other end, a shuffle and a soft huff as it sounded like the guy was sitting down, settling in.
“Who gives a shit? I’d make you flexible. Make those muscles cry, just like your ass when I opened you up. Bet you open like a fuckin’ book, don’t you, nerd?”
“Not lately,” Izuku said, his voice taut as his vivid mind composed lurid paintings of a big, hard man with a merciless scowl fucking the hurt and relief into him like a punishment. “Would for you, though.”
“You make it sound like you have a choice,” the guy said with a husky laugh that sped Izuku’s hand, tightened his grip and his gritted teeth. “I’d barely waste my time stretching your greedy ass. You sound like you need a little burn, don’t you, Toshi?”
Izuku’s shuddering breath was the only reply as he wedged the phone between his ear and shoulder, frantically tugging his pajamas down to properly free his cock.
“Say it,” the guy rasped into the phone, his words like a hammer through Izuku’s chest cavity. “You want me to make you burn.”
“Oh my god, I do.”
“Get your legs hooked over my shoulders as I pound that shameless ass of yours,” the guy said with a quick scoff of humor. “Shit, the noises you’re already making. How the fuck you think you’d be able to handle my big dick, huh? D’ya think you’d cry for me? I’d lick that shit up – I fuckin’ love it when they cry.”
Izuku swallowed hard, tongue trailing his parted lips as he ran his palm over the slick head of his cock and used it to lube the aching length of it. His skin burned with the rising heat of that roughened voice.
“I –“ Izuku whimpered once, high and sweet as he slunk further down the couch and worked his cock quicker. “I’m, ah, kind of a crybaby.”
“That’s fuckin’ adorable,” the guy said, his laugh coarse like rough hands dragging over Izuku’s humming body. “I like that. Alright crybaby, listen to me. Listening?”
Izuku keened a little, nodding enthusiastically as he snuck his hand lower to palm his tightening balls.
“Listening?” the guy practically growled. “Answer me when I’m talkin’ you or you’ll be more than cryin’.”
“I’m listening, I’m listening,” Izuku rambled off quickly, his hand stilling almost on instinct, like he wasn’t allowed to touch until this stranger told him otherwise.
“Shove your fingers in your mouth.”
Izuku’s face burned like a brand.
“Did I stutter? Put those fingers in your mouth and push them back until I hear you choke.”
A thrill flashed through Izuku like a match to flame and, at once he was sucking on three scarred fingers, sloppily wetting them, his free hand fisting around his cock like a lifeline.
“Deeper,” said the mesmerizing tone in his ear.
With a guttural moan muffled by his hand, Izuku thrust his fingers back and gagged, panicking for a split second before he inhaled hard through his nose.
“Again,” the voice crooned, dark as a devil on his shoulder, “Fuck your mouth for me, crybaby – my dick’s rock hard for it, y’know. You’d get your throat around it real good, wouldn’t you? Mmhmm, just like that. Fuck, you sound wet. You touchin’ yourself?”
Knowing better than to not answer, Izuku murmured a yes around the fingers stuffed in his mouth.
“Who I wouldn’t kill to see you work those sloppy fingers in your ass until you came all over yourself,” the guy said, huskier, thicker.
“Oh shit,” Izuku said as he yanked his fingers from his mouth. “Wait – wait, god, okay, speakerphone.”
Izuku practically threw the phone aside and smashed at the speaker button with trembling fingers. He spread his legs further, obscene, as he dipped his dripping fingers into his tight, aching hole and cried out from the shock that jolted through him.
“You’ve gone and fuckin’ done it, haven’t you?” the guy said, his words a little fumbled. “You are a desperate one, hm? Cum all over yourself for me, crybaby. Make it good and I’ll tell you what name to scream next time.”
Izuku plunged two fingers in deep, his hand like lightning over his cock, his body coiled, a firework ready to burst. He felt a hot, damp streak of tears paint a line down the corner of his shut eyes and wetly sniffled once, his shallow, quick breathes interrupted briefly.
“Shit, you’re really cryin’ for me, aren’t you?” The guy sounded a little wrecked, a little disbelieving. He audibly swallowed and cleared his throat. “Fuck, you’re hot. C’mon, crybaby, cum for me. Gimme somethin’ to think about when I’m in bed tonight with my dick in hand. Make me think of you.”
Izuku’s shout was like a punch in the gut as he set off in a blaze of sparks and color, splashing all over his hand, his stomach, everywhere. The assault kept coming, choking gasps and strangling cries from his torn throat as he shuddered into his fist, his body alight for the first time in he couldn’t remember when.
Aftershocks quaking his body, his lungs shrieking for air as he sucked in short, sharp breaths, Izuku didn’t have the strength to open his eyes, clean himself up - nothing. He just laid there, prone and entirely shocked that a person could cum that hard just on their own. He was twenty and hadn’t had a fucking clue.
“Oiy,” said the guy on the phone, his voice filling the room with a tinny backdrop that just wasn’t the same as when he was in Izuku’s ear. Maybe next time, headphones. “You alive? Don’t fall asleep on me, shitty Toshi.”
“Um.” Izuku gulped, didn’t have the energy to reach for his phone. “I’m alive.”
“You’re somethin’, anyway.”
Izuku couldn’t tell by that tone whether the intent was compliment or insult.
“Well… Thanks?” Izuku said, a little breathless laugh trailing off as he stared up at the ceiling with a loose grin. He hadn’t felt this relax in – a long time.
“What a nerd. With a name like Toshi, I could smell it a mile away,” the guy said. “Well, whatever. If you wanna talk again, ask for Baku.”
A jangle of nerves rattled in Izuku’s chest, his body stiffening as he shot a look at the phone.
“Baku, as in spirit or –“
“That’s so weird,” Izuku said in a dazed, his mouth running off in his post-orgasm haze. Obviously this was just a nickname for whomever was on the other line, and Izuku knew Kacchan was a big time hero near their hometown some three hours train ride away, but –
“What’s fuckin’ weird? Hah, smartass?”
“N-nothing,” Izuku said, startling and finally looking down and realizing what a pathetic mess he was. “Baku is, uh, a good name. I like it. A lot.”
“Like I care. Talk to you later, crybaby.”
Hearing the nickname had Izuku’s heart jumping into his throat, instantly thrown back to the minutes previous, and the way Baku had sounded like he might have been enjoying himself, too.
Well, that’s what they were paid for.
“I’ll – I will. Talk to you. Later.”
There was a pause, just a beat of silence.
With that, Baku hung up.
Izuku stared at the phone for a long time.
What the hell was his life?
For the record: Izuku uses the name 'Toshi' out of All Might's name, 'Toshinori', which would mean his name is 'bright/intelligent' - which is why Bakugou still manages to call him 'nerd', as if Izuku has purposely picked a fake name that emphasizes how smart he is.
“What do you look like?”
“Like the guy of your dreams."
“That would be dangerous.”
Hi, everyone! Thank you for receiving this fic so well! I hope that you stick with me to enjoy what's to come!
Mild warning: I mean, if you're reading this, then IDK what to tell you, there's gonna be a good amount of dirty talk. But if you're uncomfortable with the use of the word 'slut' in dirty talk, then this isn't the chapter for you.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
“And once again, the area of Hosu –“
Katsuki leaned back dramatically from the attached kitchen, shirtless, still holding a massive knife, eyes narrowed as he inspected the large television screen at the opposite end of the room. With his free hand, he quickly nipped the remote from his back pocket and cranked the volume.
“-safe, thanks to the local bright, young hero, Dauntless.”
The hairs of Katsuki’s arms rose in tandem, a chill skating down his spine as his fingers went white knuckled on his knife. Images of a face too familiar from his past flashed across the screen - Dauntless in mid-battle, lofting rooftops and sending villains flying literal miles into the distance with a single smash. Half of his mask was torn, one strange costume ear ripped away to reveal large green eyes, freckled faced face, sharp jaw, and – of all the fucking things – a smile.
The shitty little liar. No Quirk, his ass.
Eight years didn’t mean shit. Katsuki was glad he didn’t have to look into those familiar pleading eyes anymore and feel that strange – that whatever feeling he’d felt back then. Obviously, he’d been played.
A crack resounded through the room and Katsuki stared dismally at the crumbled remote in his palm. With a sigh, he tossed the useless plastic in the trash, walked over and shut off the television with a little too much force.
Shoulders bunched and tense, Katsuki released a long, slow breath as he approached the stove. Jaw stiff, Katsuki’s knife flew across a mountain of vegetables with an expert hand.
Eat, sleep, wake up and win. Repeat.
The wok was screaming hot when Katsuki threw in the garlic-pungent marinated pork and watched it curl and brown under the burning flame. He needed to get at least one huge meal today. This was his day off, and a day off meant recharging his body. It also meant cooking massive quantities of food for the coming days.
His second cellphone rang in his pocket, a distinct tone that had nothing to do with one job and everything to do with the one that funded his All Might collection in the spare bedroom.
Annoyed from the get-go at having his meal prep interrupted, Katsuki scowled and pressed a single button on the Bluetooth device neatly tucked at his ear.
“You better be worth it,” he said, deep and ominous.
“Um,” said the smooth, low voice in his ear. “I-I hope so? Is this – this is Baku, isn’t it?”
Katsuki’s eyes widened for a heartbeat, the smooth, practiced motions with which he tossed the spicy pork briefly fumbling.
“Obviously. The fuck is this?” he said, already knowing the answer.
Toshi hadn’t called in nine, ten days. Not since the first time. Katsuki had assumed one of three things had happened to him. One, he’d chickened out. Two, he’d been busy. Or three, he hadn’t appreciated Katsuki’s services.
The last was, frankly, impossible as it was ludicrous and Katsuki had refused to linger on such a notion. Not long, anyway.
“Oh, I’m –” A pause, then, “Toshi.”
Katsuki could hear the wheels turning in this guy’s head. He really was an open book, and a terrible liar, at that. The way the truth poured out of him, whether it was what Katsuki wanted to hear or not, whether it was submissive or whatever-the-fuck, was new. And hot.
Katsuki didn’t get a lot of hot anybodies on the other end of the line.
“You probably don’t remember me,” Toshi said with a self-deprecating laugh that made Katsuki want to shove a ball-gag into his mouth. “Er, I mean! Obviously, why would you? You probably have – a lot? Not a lot? I don’t – how does this work? Do you have like, a quota? Is there commission?”
“You lookin’ for a job or to fuck, Crybaby?” Katsuki said, an unconscious grin tugging at his mouth as he lifted his cutting board and cascaded a rainbow of vegetables into the sizzling wok.
“You remember me,” he said, a little breathless.
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, buddy,” Katsuki said. Holding the long handle of the wok and flicking his wrist, he tossed the ingredients with ease, his lips faintly curved as he watched the colors fly. “Where’re you? Tell me.”
“I’m on the couch again,” Toshi said quickly, his words always seeming to rush from him like he had a hundred things to say at once. “I’m – uh, I have my feet up on the coffee table and my – well, my –“
“You got your legs spread for me already, huh?” Katsuki, his teeth flashing in a predatory smile. “You’re one of them secret sluts, aren’tcha?”
“I’m a – a what?” Toshi’s voice hiked up a notch. His reactions were already fucking delicious.
“Secret slut, y’know?” Katsuki said, his words dropping down a decibel in reply to Toshi’s nerves. “Ready for me before I even told you to be. Think that makes you good or presumptuous, hm? What if I didn’t want you like that, huh?”
“I would, I mean I’d do whatever you wanted me to do.”
Toshi sounded soft and hard all at once, jittery and still so well-spoken. Maybe they’d have to work on rendering him speechless.
“Headphones today?” Katsuki murmured as he killed the heat of the stove and set aside the large wok of mouth-watering stir-fry.
“What – oh, you remember that too.” Katsuki could hear the blush, the way Toshi’s voice thickened with embarrassment. “Well, yeah. I mean. It was, er, harder to do it before.”
“Aren’t you so fuckin’ dutiful,” Katsuki said with a harsh laugh as he approached the sink to wash his hands. “So, be honest with me, Crybaby. You touch yourself thinkin’ of me this week?”
A sharp inhale.
Shit, it was too easy to hear the honesty in his voice. He wasn’t lying.
“You imagine yourself bouncin’ on my cock until your body fuckin’ burned with it?”
“Something like that,” Toshi said, his breath a short hiccup. He was already touching himself.
“Something like that?” Kasuki said, his voice a threatening rumble as he dried his hands on a towel and wandered into his living room, hands on his hips. “The fuck’s that mean? I tell you what to think about, y’know?”
“Maybe my imagination is bigger than yours,” Toshi said, swallowing audibly.
Katsuki gaped at nothing for a moment, sight unseeing.
“You’re a little shit, aren’t you?” Katsuki said, teeth clenching as he stomped to his own couch and dropped himself back against the plush cushions. He propped his feet upon his own low table, legs spread wide. “Someone’s never taught you how to behave, have they? Need your ass fucked within an inch of your life, don’t you? Bend you right over that table of yours, ass up and shameless.”
Something about the way the name rolled off of Toshi’s tongue was familiar, like they’d known each other forever. Katsuki’s dick twitched in his sweats, the reaction only fueling Katsuki’s increasing simmer of indignity.
“Don’t think I’d let you have my cock today for all this attitude you think you can get away with,” Katsuki said, drawling his words slowly, thoughtfully as he considered the table before him. He licked his lips as his skin hummed with interest.
“But I –“ Toshi bit back his words, his breath coming in soft huffs through his nose.
Katsuki’s laugh was quick and merciless as he slumped back a little further into the couch.
“Pathetic, aren’tcha, Crybaby? Mmm, you definitely gotta cry for me now.”
“I’m – I won’t, I –“
“Oh, you won’t?” Katsuki said with a bark of humor as he let his eyes fall shut. “You’re cute. Get on the fucking table. Now.”
“O-on the –”
“You a fuckin’ parrot, repeating me? Get on the table or I hang up on you. Strip, and crawl up on your hands and knees.”
“Say yes,” Katsuki said, his voice taut.
“Yes,” Toshi said on a shuddering breath. “Anything.”
Katsuki didn’t fully realize he’d been palming his crotch through his pants until the sound of clothes rustling and dropping to the floor had his cock pulsing insistently against his hand for attention. That was new, too.
Just who the hell was Crybaby to dare do this to him?
“I’m – okay, I’m ready,” came that gentle voice, quivering.
“Wish I could see that ass right now,” Katsuki found himself saying, blind eyes staring at the empty space before him, envisioning the unclear outline of Toshi on his table. “Tell me what you look like.”
“Me?” Toshi said, a little choked off.
“The fuck you think I’m talkin’ to?” Katsuki said with a snarl. “Lemme see you and I’ll let you see me.”
“Oh. Oh.” A hard swallow on the other line. “I’m uh, kinda short –“
“Muscular. I’m really, uh, yeah I’m – god, I can’t do this,” Toshi said, a little scoff of a laugh coming through.
“Shy?” Katsuki said, his smile spreading as he thoughtlessly dug his hand into his sweats and fisted is cock in a firm, still hold. “You’re on the fuckin’ table like I’m gonna eat you out for dinner and you’re too shy to tell me what you look like? Shit, I’d smack that ass red enough to make you sob right now.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Crybaby?” Katsuki’s breathing went shallow, fast, as he kept his hand painfully still around the base of his cock. He squeezed once when Toshi whimpered, hissing when his dick pulsed back in needy reply. “When I ask you a question, you fuckin’ answer. I won’t remind you a third time. I said, you’d like it if I spanked your tight, little ass ‘til I could see your tears fall to the table. Right?”
“So much,” was Toshi’s choked-off answer. The way his speech stuttered telling Katsuki he was jacking himself slow to his words. Katsuki could barely restrain himself from fucking right into his own hand.
What the hell was it about this guy?
“Shit,” Katsuki said tightly. “Wanna fuck you into tomorrow, y’know that? Couldn’t though. Not when you’re all spread out for me, waiting to apologize for all that backtalk. I’d let you have my fingers, though.”
“Anything,” was all Toshi said.
He sounded far away, distant gasps of breath as he undoubtedly worked himself over on his hands and knees. Alone, in the middle of his living room.
“You really are a good boy, aren’t you?” Katsuki said slowly, his tongue thick as the dick in his hand. “Too bad I gotta do this. I’m gonna love it, at least. Lubing my fingers up ‘til I’m dripping, slidin' just one finger in you. Can you feel that, Crybaby? You remember what it feels like to have someone else inside you?”
“They’re –” Toshi gulped for air, his phone picking up the faint sound of a slick hand suctioning over his dick in rapid-fire. “They’re not you.”
“Holy –“ Katsuki’s eyes shot open wide, his body shuddering with the words alone. His fingers clamped too brutally around his cock, a shocking amount of precum dripping down over his knuckles as he held himself still and prone.
“Watch that mouth of yours,” Katsuki gritted out with a scowl. “M’gonna fuck you with just that finger. Long and slow, in and out, watch as your ass twitches and closes around it, a shameless little slut for more. That sound good, Crybaby? You desperate enough to cum from just one finger?”
“Fuck me, Baku, please,” Toshi rasped into the phone, his voice cracked and broken. He sniffled and swallowed wetly, his breathing puffing in damp pants.
A gasp ripped from Katsuki’s throat as his entire body tensed and coiled, a rocket just lit and ready to blast. The sound of Toshi’s tears streaming was unquestionable, and the ring of fingers Katsuki kept around the bottom of his cock clenched to fight off an almost instantaneous orgasm.
Never. This had never happened.
Dumb assholes blubbered pathetically all over their phone calls day in and out and it did nothing for him. There was something about Crybaby – the way he fought it, those barbs of pride and intelligence that poked at Katsuki’s inflated ego even as he was being called on to wreck him. This person – this person was different.
“Fuck you,” Katsuki said, teeth clenched, jaw aching with the effort not to cum. “Take what I give you and mess up that table. Clean it up later and think of a way to apologize to me. Next time you can even choke on my cock, swallow me down like a good boy.”
A soft, high keening rang through the phone and Katsuki didn’t bother to bite back his snarl of hunger.
“Cum for me, Crybaby,” Katsuki murmured low, coaxing, a purr to wrap around Toshi like his hands would have. Katsuki’s own dick wept hot and sticky over his hand, begging for release. “Lemme hear you.”
A long, drawn sob wracked through the line and Katsuki could only groan along with it, head tipped back to gape at the ceiling as he let go of his cock and simply came on the spot like an avalanche burying him deep. Tremors shook through his core, dislodging every thought, shattering sanity, until there was nothing but the pathetic, panting cries of a weakened mystery bastard on the phone.
Dazed and more than a little horrified with himself, Katsuki brought his boneless hand up from his pants and gawked at the mess.
“What the fuck,” he mumbled aloud, a little in awe.
“Y-yeah,” Toshi said, voice muffled.
Katsuki wondered where Crybaby was, how he laid, what he looked like.
What do you look like?
“What do you look like?” Toshi said quietly. Not tentative, just curious and exhausted.
“Like the guy of your dreams,” Katsuki drawled, his tongue loose and lazy, but his brain still remembering what he was supposed to tell these guys. He frowned as he stood and stripped naked in his living room, using his pants to wipe off his hand.
“That would be dangerous,” was the only reply, followed by a short laugh.
Katsuki’s eyes narrowed as he paused, dirty clothes balled in his hands.
“I feel like I know you already,” Toshi said, his voice dry with brittle humor. “Bet you get that a lot. Something to do with sex and the hormones it releases into your system.”
“Something like that,” Katsuki said, his brow knotted as he wandered to his bedroom and dropped his laundry into a half-full basket. He couldn’t tell Crybaby that he’d gotten the same sense off of a stranger.
There was a beat of silence.
“Can I call you again?”
“It’s your money,” Katsuki said, his tone level as he flopped back naked onto his bed and gazed at the drab, off-white ceiling.
“I’m – I mean, is there a best time to call you?”
“Wednesday, Sunday,” Katsuki said shortly. “You’ve called me in the middle of the day both times. You don’t work?”
“I have –“ Another pause. Just what was Crybaby trying to hide in these moments where he faltered? First with his name, that he really didn’t need to hide, and now this. “A stressful, irregular job.”
Katsuki barked a harsh laugh.
“Preachin’ to the choir, buddy.”
“What, this job?”
“Well, I got shit to do,” Katsuki said, his palm mapping lazily across his chest. “And you’ve got shit to clean.”
That laugh was so strangely familiar – melodic, pleasant, welcoming. The fucker.
“Yeah, guess I do. Well. Bye, Baku.”
“Make ya cry later, nerd,” Katsuki said, tapping the Bluetooth device at his ear once.
“What the fuck,” Katsuki whispered into the empty room.
Let the depravity continue.
“If I hadn’t gotten you on the other end the first time, I doubt I’d have called again.”
“You’re embarrassing as fuck.”
One of my favorite things to say about Deku: LET HIM REST. So I did.
“Allow me to carry you over the threshold!”
“No!” Izuku said, already laughing as he fumbled with the lock of his door, his hands weak from the overnight battle which had stretched into the day.
Inasa snatched the keys and opened it himself. With a wide smile he opened the door for Izuku to walk in first.
“What would I do without you?” Izuku said with a chuckle as he limped inside and allowed his friend to shut the door behind him.
“I wouldn’t even go as far as imagining that,” Inasa said with a shudder. He perked up, looking around the clean, but cluttered apartment. “I’ll make you some tea, tend to your wounds –“
“I really don’t need that,” Izuku said, placing a steadying hand on Inasa’s massive arm. He aimed a weak, tight-lipped smile up – and further up. “Thank you, though. I just need sleep. My body will figure out the rest.”
“Well, let me order you some food and –“
“No food, just sleep.”
“Well, let me help you into your pajamas. Your body must be –“
“No pajamas. No clothes. No food. Just sleep.”
Inasa frowned down at him, their gazes holding. Stubborn on stubborn.
“Then I’m calling you in an hour to make sure –“
“I will be sleeping in an hour and I’m not answering any calls for, like, a year.”
“You’re the worst friend to yourself.”
Izuku snorted and shook his head, squeezing Inasa’s bicep lightly.
“Alright, I get it. I’ll call you when I wake up. Give you the full report.”
“There’s our noble hero. Maybe I’ll just sleep on the couch until you –“
“Go!” Izuku said, laughing again as he shoved at the solid rock wall of Inasa’s chest, urging him toward the door. “I’ll be fine. You need your strength too, don’t you. Same battle as me, right?
Inasa scooted out the door and turned with a pout.
“Yeah, but –“
“I’ll see you at the agency soon,” Izuku said as he smiled and ignored the wave of dizziness that swirled through his skull. He leaned against the door, hand gripping the knob for dear life so that he might not tip over and fall asleep right there. “Tell Iida I’ll be fine. I don’t want him at my door, either.”
“Understood,” Inasa said with a sharp nod. “Well –“
“Goodnight,” Izuku said with a smile as he shut the door in Inasa’s face.
Bless that big guy’s heart.
Izuku dragged himself into the bedroom and tossed his cell phone onto the rumpled covers. Toeing off his shoes, half-rolling his socks off to the toes and kicking each foot in the general direction of the laundry hamper, Izuku felt his gaze magnetized to his phone. He lingered on it, considering.
This would be their fifth phone call together in four weeks. Every time was different. And, well, successively more impassioned. And messy.
But today, with the daylight filtering through the bedroom window, and a completed battle waged through the night leaving Izuku running on zero sleep in over twenty-four hours. Well.
He was going to do something incredibly stupid, wasn’t he?
“Who cares?” Izuku said to himself as he grabbed his phone and scrolled for the phone number saved simply as Baku.
The phone nearly rang out before a familiar chipper voice answered.
“Plus Ultra Pleasure Services! How may I help you?”
“H-hey. It’s um, it’s Toshi.”
“Oh, honey,” the operator said. “I’m sorry. I think Baku is still sleeping. You’re calling awfully early in the day, aren’t you?”
“I – yeah. I just. Had a hard night,” Izuku said with a weak laugh. “Not that it matters, of course. I’m sorry for bothering y-“
“Just one second, cutie,” she said, typing sounding in the background. “You know what? From what I’ve heard, you and Baku have a good thing going.”
“You heard that?” Izuku said, his heart floating. “He said that?”
“Well, you know Baku. He said it, but he didn’t.”
Izuku couldn’t help but smile.
“I think I do know.”
“And so, I’m thinking –” The operators voice dropped to a silly conspiratorial whisper. “Why don’t I just connect you his personal phone and you give him a nice wake up call?”
Izuku’s eyes bugged out.
“I-I don’t – don’t think that’s a g-good idea.”
“He’ll thank me later.”
“Wait, no –“
The phone was already ringing.
Izuku realized his hands were trembling with nerves. Maybe he should hang up. This wasn’t proper at all. This was so –
“Hah?” A gravelly voice, cracked through with sleep, trailed off to a yawn. “Who’s ‘at?”
Oh no, he sounded so sexy.
The usual tense, machine gun quality to Baku’s voice was a slow, lazy drawl. Rough like his hands would be, raspy enough to scrape over Izuku’s skin.
“Hi,” was all Izuku could manage, a little breathless. He sat on the edge of his bed.
There was a long moment of silence. Izuku briefly wondered if Baku had hung up. But he could hear slow, even breathing on the other end.
“Crybaby?” Baku said quietly, his voice still thick and deep with sleep.
The fluffy whisper of duvets and pillows shuffling on the end of the line filled Izuku’s mind with Baku, whatever he looked like, wrapped in messy cocoon of lush blankets and messy morning hair. Izuku’s aching shoulders relaxed for the first time in over a day. He fell back against his bed with a sigh and let his sore eyes fall closed.
“Your operator connected me,” Izuku said, equally hushed. As if this was some secret conversation they should be having under the cover of a blanket fort. “I told her not to.”
“This isn’t a dream,” Baku said, not a question, though still almost one.
“You dream about me?” Izuku said, lips curving, his heartbeat quickening but his muscles, his limbs, his blood slowing to a calm, warm, push and pull.
“How could I?” Baku said, his tongue still dragging a little, like he didn’t much care for waking up entirely. Like he might have his eyes closed too, imagining they were in the same bed, sharing the same pillow. “Dunno what you look like.”
“Mmm,” Izuku said. “Well, right now, I look like shit. I’m tired and dirty –“
“The wrong dirty. And I just –“
Izuku wet his lips, pressed them firmly together, the fingertips of his free hand dragging through the crown of his hair.
“What?” Baku said, a strong, sturdy guiding hand at the small of Izuku’s back, easing him forward.
“I just wanted to hear your voice.”
Baku went silent.
Izuku swallowed down the butterflies that threatened his throat.
“I guess it’s probably science or something. Conditioning. Your voice relaxes me now. And I just want to sleep, but I know I won’t be able to. I know I’ll just lay awake –“
“And think of everything you should have been able to change today,” Baku said lowly.
Izuku breathed a soft laugh through his nose.
“Can’t tell if you have a stressful job or if you’re just a nervous wreck,” Baku murmured, humor threading through his words.
“A lot of the first, a little of the second,” Izuku said with a sigh, feeling his body sink back into the bed.
“Short, nerdy, crybaby wreck.”
Izuku hummed in agreement, lips faintly curved.
“Not to mention a job that keeps me away from regular life like it’s a disease. I’m a real catch, I know. Hence, well, you.”
“That so?” Baku sounded lazy, stretched out and relaxed, maybe even smiling. Deep, liquid heat curled low in Izuku’s belly.
“I mean, I didn’t actually… Search you out. My friend, he gave me a card after he found out I hadn’t gotten laid in nearly a year.”
“Sounds normal to me,” Baku said.
“Guess I got a stressful job, too. Anyway, you don’t seem like the kinda guy who walks around lookin’ for a one-night stand.”
Izuku’s laugh was heavy, breathless with exhaustion.
“It’s like you know me.”
“You talk a guy down to his knees enough, you get to knowing what makes him tick.”
Izuku felt his cheeks burn, his dick twitching with vague interest in his pants. His hand squeezed tightly on the phone at his ear.
“That, uh, that happen with all your customers?”
“Fuck no,” Baku said with a short scoff. “You’re just –“
Izuku held his breath, waiting for the sentence to find an end. It never did.
“What am I, Baku?” Izuku said softly, his free hand lazily trailing down the hard lines of his stomach, playing low at his waistband.
“Tired,” Baku said flatly, “and dirty as fuck, apparently. Go run a bath.”
Izuku’s eyes popped open. He stared at the ceiling, his hand pausing right over his crotch.
“I said –“ Baku took a slow breath. “Go into the bathroom and get a hot bath going.”
“I’m – wha – okay?”
Izuku stood on wobbly legs, frowning as he dragging himself to the bathroom and ran the hot water on blast. He wanted to burn the grime off until his skin was pink, and then have Baku run his hands all over it.
“Need a sports massage or something,” Izuku mumbled, eyelids weighed down as he promptly sat on the toilet set and slumped back. “Or just someone to punch my muscles in the non-violent way.”
“Someone been punchin’ you the other way?” Baku said, his voice tight. “The fuck you doin’ with yourself, Crybaby?
Izuku mouthed the word fuck at the ceiling and laughed hesitantly. The room was filling with steam and he couldn’t breathe with the way Baku’s heated words crackled with menace.
“Nothing, just rambling. I’m tired.”
“How’s that bath?”
“One third of the way there.”
“Nerdy fuckin’ answer.”
“What kind of answer were you expecting?”
“Go back to the bedroom now.”
“When the fuck did I ever say it was okay to question me?”
Izuku’s skin buzzed, a simmer riding his blood up his neck and leaving his face flushed.
“Okay,” Izuku said quietly, wandering back to the bedroom. “Now?”
A shiver skated down Izuku’s spine, his toes curling into the carpet.
“’Kay. I’m gonna, uh, speakerphone.”
Izuku tossed the phone on the bed and stripped from his shirt. He groaned as he lifted his arms above his head, the burn coursing through his tendons and back all too familiar, but still unwelcome. As he glanced down to work his fly and shuck off his jeans, he eyed the bruises that painted his skin like sunset inching towards nightfall. Their colors had deepened in the last hour since he’d changed from his uniform at the agency.
Hissing, Izuku dropped his boxers and heaved a sigh, his body ringing like a punch to the ear, keen pain radiating from his ribs, his neck, his lower back.
“Done,” he said, a little breathless.
“Let’s go back to the bathroom,” Baku said, the steel in his voice carrying no room for discussion.
This was nice. Functioning on automatic, shutting down the anxiety, the hyper-vigilance, the looking around every corner expecting the worst.
Here, it was only him and Baku. That voice that melted him to the bone, brought him to his bruised knees, dripped from his heart like honey. Being with Baku was like sitting beside a roaring fire on a cold night in the aimless depths of the forest. Warmth and comfort at the right distance, and a scorching burn upon contact.
Izuku never minded a burn or two.
“It’s full,” Izuku said, turning off the bath. “I guess I’ll go and –“
“Shut up. Get in the bath.”
“Okay, but –“
“Make me tell you twice and you’ll be hurting a lot more than how you sound right now.”
“You wouldn’t,” Izuku said with a fond smile, even though with Baku he could never really tell.
“Okay, okay.” Izuku set the phone on the toilet seat and dipped his toe into the tub. It was near scalding. That’s what he’d wanted.
With care, he slipped in, hissing when the water burned at his errant grazes and cuts. Closing his eyes, Izuku slinked down to the bottom. Tipped his head back until his entire head and face went under, held his breath, and waited.
The water was white noise in his ears, a comforting whoosh like a mother’s heartbeat when a child laid their four year-old ear against their mama’s chest after a tantrum or a long, hard cry. Felt like coddling arms and soft, loving hands around his entire body. A lover’s embrace when one hadn’t seen them in so long.
Izuku came up for air to the sound of Baku’s voice.
“Crybaby? Hey. Hey. Toshi, what the fuck? Are you –“
“I’m here,” Izuku said, voice slurred with exhaustion.
“Don’t fall asleep on me, dickhead.”
Izuku chuckled and shut his eyes, let the bath encompass him, Baku fill him.
“This is nice.”
“Me calling you a dickhead is nice?”
“I’ll take it.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“What would you call yourself, then, hah?”
“I don’t know,” Izuku said softly. He inhaled through his nose and held the breathe, waited until his lungs burned, released. “If I hadn’t gotten you on the other end the first time, I doubt I’d have called again.”
“You’re embarrassing as fuck.”
“There’s just something about you,” Izuku said, his words slowing, the gaps between widening.
“Wash your hair,” Baku said. “If you fall asleep I can’t fuckin’ save your ass.”
“My hero,” Izuku said with a short laugh that echoed across the tile. He sat up, water sloshing carelessly over the side, and began to shampoo himself up.
“I like that,” Baku said in a different tone. Lethal, deep, predatory. Izuku knew that voice. It turned his knees to jelly and his dick stiff in seconds. “Do that again next time.”
“Why not now?” Izuku said, his voice husky. “I –“
“You’re stubborn as fuck, aren’t you?”
“I’ve heard it now and again,” Izuku said with a smile as he tilted back to rinse his hair.
“Well, listen up, Crybaby. You’re takin’ this bath and then you’re gonna sleep. Hear?”
“Don’t start that with me, I’m fucking heartless.”
“Finish your bath.”
Izuku did as he was told. He lay until the water was luke warm, him and Baku barely exchanging words. On some level it was strange to be on the phone with him as if he were idly chatting with a lover or a friend. On the other, this moment felt so bone-deep natural that the minutes flowed through his fingers without edge or awkward fit.
Vigorously toweling his hair off with one hand, holding his phone in the other, Izuku made a naked beeline for his bed and flopped down atop, face first.
Still on speakerphone, Baku’s voice came through right beside his ear.
“Mmm.” Izuku’s voice was muffled into the blankets, his body floating from the soak, his muscles loose and relaxed. The words spilled off his tongue without worry. “Wish you were here to fuck me.”
“Nah,” Baku said, contained, almost distant with restraint. Was he really holding himself back from taking advantage right now? “You’d fall asleep halfway, anyway. Pathetic.”
“You want me,” Izuku said, grinning stupidly into the blanket, half drunk on exhaustion.
“I don’t even know what you look like.”
Izuku snorted a laugh, closed his eyes, and drifted.
“Relax. Think of me instead.”
“That would be dangerous.”
“That’s the second time you’ve said that to me.”
Hi, hey, hello, Sinners! I know, we've all been missing Crybaby. Me too. I'm happy to bring this to you, in which we get to see outside the world of the phone calls a little bit. More of that to follow in upcoming chapters, too.
For those of you who inquired: No, Inasa isn't into his best friend, Midoriya. He's just the most loyal and enthusiastic of all the embodiments of golden retriever humans, and I love him dearly for that.
Other than that, please enjoy our dirty boys being shameless as ever!
“You put him to bed?”
“Shut up, I don’t know!” Katsuki said with a snarl as he stomped into the elevator and jammed at the numbers. He frowned at his expression in the silver metal doors as they closed. “Maybe. I guess.”
Ashido gaped up at him from his side.
“You put him to fucking bed. After I made a point of waking your ass up with the one and only person you’ve ever mentioned positively since you started up with me eleven months ago.”
There’d been something about that breathless little greeting, Crybaby’s ‘hi’, which had washed over Katsuki like it was something he could hear every morning. For a moment, face buried in the pillows that only smelled of himself, he swore that if he’d detected another, distant scent. He’d kept his eyes closed for as long as he could, savoring that voice, as if Crybaby were someone he knew aside from the depraved words that normally passed between their lips.
“He was tired,” Katsuki said, taking long strides out of dinging elevator, as if he’d escape the demon at his heels any faster. Unfortunately, Ashido matched his gait with a narrowed look.
“He was horny and tired. There’s a difference. Next time, you keep him on the line double, Baku. Mama need that cash.”
“You’re the worst boss,” Katsuki muttered, mercilessly shouldering Ashido aside, right into the wall as he rounded the corner and made for the door of their specific office.
“Good morning!” Mirio said, merging his head through the door with a bright smile. “It’s donut day in here!”
“I stand corrected,” Katsuki said flatly, smushing his palm onto Mirio’s face and shoving him back through the paneling. “You’re the worst boss.”
“Did you check your mail?” Mirio said as Katsuki and Ashido filtered into the room and headed toward the kitchen area.
“I just walked the fuck in, didn’t I?” Katsuki said, lips curled back as he flung open the small fridge and unearthed the makings for a protein shake. He cast a glance toward Mirio, noted Amajiki peeking around his shoulder. “Hey.”
“Morning,” Amajiki said with a little wave.
“Well, what’s so important you’re damn near up my ass before I’ve even eaten?” Katsuki said, peeling and dropping a banana into a blender, along with a loose handful of chia seeds, heavy vanilla yogurt, protein powder, and an assortment of other shit he’d learned to like back in his UA days of muscle building.
“The special spread coming up in My Hero Magazine,” Mirio said, his grin blinding enough to give Katsuki a headache.
“And?” Katsuki said, clasping the lid atop the blender, his brow arched as he eyed Mirio.
“And we are –“
Katsuki pressed down the blend button, the entire kitchen going up like an obnoxious car engine. With a sharp grin a mile wide, Katsuki just cocked his head, watching Mirio’s mouth move, stutter, stop, and frown.
“Sorry,” Katsuki said, still smiling like the devil. “What was that?”
He really wasn’t a morning person.
Mirio aimed a pointed look at him.
“You, me, and Tamaki have been invited to join the My Hero Magazine special edition, celebrating the top ten heroes under twenty-five.”
Katsuki’s brows shot up in interest, his head lowered as he poured his drink.
“Oh yeah? Good.”
He deserved it, after all. How could he not?
“The rest of the lineup is in the email, but –“
“Wait,” Katsuki said, plastic protein shake cup half-way to his mouth. His heart clattered in his chest.
Who else is on that list?
Like hell he’d let himself ask. Like hell he’d bring that name into his workplace, let alone his mouth, his mind, after all this time.
And anyway, he knew. Katsuki knew.
Deku’s name would be on that fucking list.
Struggling through the day was like walking down the street with a blind drunk Kirishima and Kaminari holding onto each ankle as he dragged them along. He’d know – it had happened. But Katsuki did make it to the end, relatively unscathed, and mostly distracted by patrolling, and a pile of mundane paperwork that no one fucking bothered to tell him about when he’d signed up to be a hero.
But now that he was home, stripped of his uniform and prying eyes and nonsense busywork, he could only sit in the center of his bed and stare at his laptop like it was a criminal deserved to be locked up.
“Pathetic,” Katsuki said to himself, a mental slap in the face. He aggressively clicked at his computer, opening up the email in question which had plagued him for the last ten hours.
“Blah blah blah,” Katsuki mumbled as he scrolled through the message, only pausing as he reached the bottom of the invite, and the list. He ignored every name but for one.
Because he was alone, Katsuki allowed himself to groan and fall back onto the bed, to frown at the ceiling.
Eight years. They’d last seen each other at thirteen. It shouldn’t mean a goddamn thing that they meet now. Their history was just that – history.
So why did this sense of foreboding cloak him with such a weight?
Because Katsuki knew what terms they’d left on. And he was the only one who knew why.
Well, there was no use lingering over that shit.
Katsuki had a bone to pick with Midoriya fucking Izuku.
What had he been doing hiding his Quirk? And if he hadn’t been hiding it, where had it come from?
Deku could evade all he wanted – and Katsuki just knew the pipsqueak would, hero or not – but Katsuki would get some answers.
Fuck, he needed a distraction. His body was too beat up from the day to head downstairs to the apartment building’s gym, he didn’t want to socialize enough to go drink with friends, and – hell, he didn’t want to leave his bedroom at all. Katsuki supposed he could go on the clock to pass some time, but tonight wasn’t one of the evenings he knew Crybaby would call. And talking to anyone else felt… distasteful, right now.
The low humor in Crybaby’s voice, paired with the soft, easy syllables of his speech had been like a caress from head to toe.
Katsuki wanted to hear that again. So badly. Fuck if he didn’t enjoy that strange, awkward nerd and the breathy gasps he made when he came, tears no doubt streaking down his face.
Humming deep at the back of his throat, Katsuki’s thumb skimmed the pale fuzz tracing down from his belly button, disappearing into the waistband of his sweats. The memory of the things he’d had Crybaby do for him in the past six or seven weeks pulling and pushing waves of warmth through his limbs, sinking him further into the bed.
Made him cum bent over his kitchen table. Spread out on the floor. In the middle of the night, sitting on his balcony with his feet spread and propped up on the railing. Every time had felt different and new, and every time Katsuki had been forced to rut against a pillow like some desperate freak while he talked Crybaby through every ministration.
After that first time, Katsuki had refused to let himself cum over the mysterious green nerd with a sex voice like pliable, broken-in leather with soft silk on the other side. His job wasn’t to get his rocks off – nor did his duty entail wondering too long and hard over the voice on the other end. That was meant to be his customer’s job, their obsession.
Not that Katsuki was obsessed or anything.
Biting back the heated urge to delve into his pants, Katsuki growled and rolled over onto his stomach, stifling his obnoxious body.
He refused to obsess.
Katsuki grabbed his phone and sent Ashido a text.
Do you know any green people?
Green? I mean there was this lizard guy I dated once. You remember him. He was French~
So the only green people you know of are reptilian?
I’m sorry, are you somehow under the impression that there’s like a Rainbow Mutants Anonymous group out there or something?
I WAS JUST FUCKING WONDERING YOU PIECE OF SHIT.
Is this work related?
If it was work related would I be texting you about it?
I don’t know! The last time you texted me was three weeks ago at 2am asking me if I knew of any underground fight clubs because you were bored!
You were fucking useless with that one TOO.
DO YOU STILL WANT TO KNOW ABOUT THE GREEN PEOPLE OR WHAT?
I STILL WANT TO KNOW.
Well. The answer is I don’t know. We’ve got a database at the agency. Why don’t you just look there?
Pissed off that Ashido had thought of it and Katsuki hadn’t, he cursed under his breath and chucked his phone across the room.
It wasn’t until the next morning that he received the night’s previous text.
YOU’RE WELCOME, ASSHOLE ♡
Katsuki spent his free day doing laundry, prepping meals for the upcoming days, and, of course, talking on the phone. Talking, meaning, verbally obliterating pathetic men into messes while he tried not to yawn through the ordeal.
It was good money. Easy, too. Ashido had pushed him into her budding side company, but when he'd quickly realized that it funded his second bedroom full of All Might paraphernalia, that had been the deciding factor.
Once Katsuki had found his niche, where his abilities excelled, it hadn't taken long for him to rise to the top of most requested male.
He was, essentially, a more sexually confident version of himself through the phone. Baku definitely got laid more than his counterpart, and Katsuki was totally fine with that. Sex had never been at the top of his list, even as a teen, bursting with hormones. There had simply never been anyone who had caught his attention long enough. Anyone who had been worth his time.
If there had been anyone who'd done that, it had been Deku. He'd been the only one interesting enough, ridiculous enough, intelligent enough, and understanding enough of Katsuki's moods to keep him coming back to their friendship. And then, one day, Katsuki had felt a twinge of something in his chest which he'd been absolutely sure was fucking not friendship.
He'd lashed out.
And then Deku had been gone.
Well, that had been forever ago. That stupid magazine was bringing up this old bullshit. Katsuki never thought about that anymore.
When his work phone rang, Katsuki heaved a sigh and stepped out to his balcony, breathing in the evening autumn air to center himself before he went into the rigmarole for the fifth time today.
"Yeah, what?” He said, after tapping the Bluetooth at his ear.
Katsuki inhaled sharply through his nose, straightening up to his full height on instinct, chest puffed out like he was standing before this man with that voice.
“You get your shit together?”
“Eh? Oh, uh, yeah. Thank you. For the other day, I mean.”
“Yeah, well, you were pathetic as fuck. What else was I gonna do?”
There was a soft huff of a laugh on the other end.
“I don’t know – what anyone else would have done? Hang up.”
“You sound like the kinda guy who’s shit at takin’ care of yourself, so –”
Katsuki cut himself off with a shrug that Crybaby couldn’t see.
“You really are my hero,” Crybaby said, a little breathless, like he was in awe of some good-for-nothing pervert on the other end that Katsuki could have been if he’d been any other guy.
All the same, the words dove straight to Katsuki’s crotch, just like everything Crybaby said these days. Warmth pooled in Katsuku’s center, lapping softly at his nerves.
“You –“ Katsuki swallowed, staring out at the pink and tangerine sunset with his fingers white-knuckled around the balcony railing. “You’ve got some low standards, Crybaby.”
Crybaby’s laugh was bigger, fuller this time, and Katsuki could feel his own lips curving in response.
“I think I passed low standards when I started regularly calling a sex hotline for companionship.”
“You got friends, nerd?” Katsuki found himself asking. More and more, he allowed himself to fall into conversation with this person. Why did he give a shit? Why not just do his job like he did with everyone else?
He’d had a handful of clients phone-stalk him with crushes. Some of them were even generally pleasant people who just happened to be lonely or busy, much like Crybaby. But none of them – not a single one, came close to this person. Or how his soft greeting from the other end of the line made his skin spark in anticipation.
That wasn’t the answer Katsuki had expected. At the same time, he wasn’t entirely surprised. Crybaby seemed…
He seemed sweet. Likeable and shit.
“Then what the fuck are you doing here?”
“Well,” Crybaby said, sounding amused. “I don’t want to have sex with my friends. Do you?”
“Oh, hell no. My friends are freaks.”
“And we aren’t?”
“We definitely aren’t. Compared to them.”
“Are you considering us – the two people who have kind of, sort of, made friends in between explicit, paid phone calls – normal?”
“I ain’t your buddy, buddy,” Katsuki said quickly, scrambled for some level of remaining professionalism.
What was wrong with him?
“I – you’re right. You’re right.” Crybaby inhaled, exhaled. “Sorry.”
“I told you forever ago to stop sayin’ that shit.”
“Well, I don’t care. I’m sorry, alright? I know we’re not friends.” Crybaby paused, and when Katsuki didn’t reply, quickly said, “I think I’m gonna go –“
“The fuck you just say, Crybaby?” Katsuki snapped, his voice going steely to guard the fragile rattling in his chest. “I didn’t say you could go anywhere. Get that tight little ass to your bed and strip for me.”
“Yes.” By the immediate footsteps Katsuki could hear, Crybaby made a beeline for his bedroom. There was pause. “Fast or slow?”
Crybaby’s question dropped to something husky that rubbed across Katsuki’s skin like crushed velvet.
“Do you want me to strip for you slow… or fast?”
“Fuck.” Katsuki pushed himself back from the balcony railing and spun into his house, hands fisting in his hair. “Slow. No, fast. Get on the bed, I need you on the bed.”
“I’m going, I’m going,” Crybaby said, sounding frantic, his voice muffled halfway through as he peeled from his shirt. “I love when you sound like that.”
“Like what?” Katsuki said between clenched teeth, doing a full u-turn as he realized he’d been heading for his own bedroom. He would not do this, dammit! Some little nerd with a voice like angelic sin wasn’t going to force his hand near his dick.
“Like you want to eat me alive,” came the breathy reply. “Baku, I’m on the bed. Can I touch myself?”
“Yeah.” Katsuki said, an octave lower, as he stood helplessly in the hallway, torn between the bedroom and elsewhere. He dropped his forehead to the wall, knocking it once, twice, and leaving it there to rest as he let his eyes fall closed. “You’re fuckin’ gorgeous like that, aren’t you, Crybaby? All spread out for me, needy and fuckable and ready to wrap your legs around me like a bossy little bottom, never lettin’ my cock too far away from that slutty hole.”
“Baku.” His name was like a prayer on Crybaby’s lips, drifting on a sigh. “I-I wish you could see me. I wish you knew how hard you make me. How messy.”
“Stroke yourself slowly, idiot,” Katsuku ground out, brow pressed harder against the wall, eyes clamped shut. “Make it last. I wanna hear you shake.”
“Okay.” A wobbly exhale. “Okay. Slow. I wish these were your hands. I bet they’re big.”
“Big enough,” Katsuki said, biting back a groan. “Big enough to hold you down as I fucked into you slow, takin’ my time to drive each inch into you like I had nowhere t’be but there.”
“Holy –” Crybaby trailed off to a high keen at the back of his throat. “I – Baku –“
Katsuki found himself growling low, a noise in return of Crybaby’s, reaching through the phone for him.
“I hurt for you. Shit, I ache. I need you inside me.”
Palming down on his dick in a fierce attempt to tame the weeping length in his shorts, Katsuki slammed his free hand against the wall, fisted and hard.
“You sonofa – bet you’re so fuckin’ pretty right now, aren’tcha, Crybaby? You liftin’ your hips off the bed for me? You gonna work that hole for me? Wish my fingers were there to stretch you open ‘til you screamed my name and begged for my cock?”
“Yes – yes.” Crybaby’s voice hiccupped, the way it did when he’d altogether forgotten to touch himself slowly. “Yes, Baku, yes, come fuck me. Come see me.”
“I wanna,” Katsuki said before he could stifle the truth. His hand was mindlessly grinding down against his straining erection, his hips rutting toward a hand that still refused to relieve him of the pulsing desire. “You don’t know how much I wanna.”
Crybaby hummed, a gravelly, beautiful purr that wound its way around Katuski’s chest and squeezed gently, persuasively.
“Come into my bed, Baku.” Each word curled tighter around Katsuki’s self-control. “Lemme ride that dick like you’ve never seen before. Bet I can make you forget anyone who came before me.”
“Already have,” Katsuki said tightly, jaw taut, one hand spread across the wall to keep him upright as the other one dove into his boxers and gripped his dick in a loose hold.
“Bet you’re handsome,” Crybaby murmured. He sounded lost, panting short and fast, the faint sound of his hand working quick and slick over his cock. “Bet you’re handsome as hell.”
“M’exactly how you imagine,” Katsuki said, turning his head, his cheek smashed unceremoniously against the corridor as he jacked himself in hurried, rushed flicks of wrist, totally lost, utterly laid to waste by this single voice without a face in sight. “Wanna watch you cum. Wanna see you fall apart for me, Crybaby. Wanna watch those tears fall.”
“Baku.” A wet gasp then, like a sob held back, the kind when Crybaby was too full to hold back any longer. “Baku!”
“Shit, I’m gonna –“ Katsuki hissed, his toes curling into the hardwood, his core seizing up. “Cum with me, gorgeous.”
A wail burst through like a man gasping for air, struggling from drowning. Crybaby’s shameless moans wracked through Katsuki’s body as he shot off into his boxers with a force that buckled his knees, set him sliding down to the floor, cheek dragging down the wall as he dropped to kneel. Lips parted, lungs stuttering, Katsuki gaped at nothing, saw nothing.
There was only Crybaby, whimpering as he shuddered through the final grips of his noisy orgasm.
They both fell silent for some lengthy seconds, Katsuki in blind shock, Crybaby mmm-ing in obvious sedation.
“Nice,” was all Crybaby finally said, his voice smiling.
“Fuck off,” Katsuki slurred.
The hoarse, fucked-out chuckle shouldn’t have been as sexy as it was.
“Thanks. I needed this.”
“You’re the one payin’ me,” Katsuki said, wincing as he pulled his hand from his pants and wiped his hand on the thigh of his baggy shorts.
“The fuck you got to be so stressed about?” Katsuki’s loose tongue drawled before he could collect himself properly.
What in the hell was wrong with him? No, it wasn’t his fault. Crybaby was to blame, for being so – so –
“I found out recently that I have to meet someone important soon and I’m a little – a lot – freaking out over it.”
If Katsuki hadn’t already been on the floor, he would have had to sit down. His heart lurched in his chest.
“What – you too?”
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing. Nevermind. You don’t wanna see them?”
“I…” Crybaby sighed. “I want to see them very badly.”
“So what’s the fuckin’ problem?” Katsuki asked, blatantly ignoring the fact that he should be asking himself the same question about the magazine shoot. “You a wimp or what?”
“Yeah, well, you’re the type who clearly likes to make shit more complicated than it is.”
Crybaby sputtered a laugh, his voice playful.
“Excuse me, but I don’t pay you to point out my obviously accurate personality deficiencies.”
“You’re a fuckin’ riot,” Katsuki said blandly, turning to sit and rest his back against the corridor. “Relax. Think of me instead.”
“That would be dangerous.”
“That’s the second time you’ve said that to me.”
There was a pause.
“I’ve got to get some rest,” Crybaby said, sounding odd. “Work tomorrow.”
“Whatever,” Katsuki said, already missing the sound of Crybaby’s laughter in his ear. “Talk to you whenever.”
As always, he was the first to hang up.
Katsuki sat in the hallway, a disgusting mess, wondering just who was the first of them to forget the other in favor of getting on with their day.
What would they be had Izuku been on the same hero path as Kacchan, right by his side, in the same school, living the same life parallel to him?
What would they have been if Izuku had never been Deku?
Hi everyone! First and foremost, all of my thanks as always for the support you bring time and again. Your comments make me laugh, smile, and cherish them. Your exuberance is infectious and makes me want to write every damn day. Second, with the holidays this past month, writing's been a struggle when it hasn't been for commissions or Secret Santas, but we are back in business! You can now expect the usual update of Crybaby, Blood Moon, and Quiet Rapture to return to your lives very quickly. Starting here! Please enjoy and freak out with me!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Izuku read the email for what must have been the thirtieth time in the past week. He was not unaccustomed to seeing Ground Zero’s name placed beside Dauntless’ in new articles or magazines, but this list was a long ice pick hammering itself into the base of Izuku’s skull every time he read it.
- Lemillion, Mirio Togata
- Paladin, Todoroki Shouto
- Froppy, Asui Tsuyu
- Sandman, Shinsou Hitoshi
- Maria, Shiozaki Ibara
- Nejire-chan, Hado Nejire
- Ground Zero, Bakugou Katsuki
- Dauntless, Midoriya Izuku
- Suneater, Amajiki Tamaki
- Gale, Yaorashi Inasa
Maybe he could call in sick.
Of course he couldn’t call in sick. He hadn’t had a sick day in practically his entire life. Hospital days, plenty. But that was different.
Bakugou Katsuki. The name showered Izuku in memories, some warm and encompassing, others hot and stinging. Izuku remembered scrappy smiles of missing teeth, sharp elbows and scabby knees. Small hands wiping away his tears. Larger hands pushing him against chain link fences, that same smile turned sharp and venomous.
Had it simply been Izuku’s Quirkless existence which had wedged the wall between them? Izuku had never thought so – not entirely. Kacchan had always known who Izuku was, and had remained by his side regardless. True, he’d begun to barbs early on, but that was the society in which they lived. That was the nature of the world. Even Izuku’s mother hadn’t believed in him, insofar as becoming a hero.
There’d been more than Izuku’s inherent weakness and his overly hopeful disposition that had rubbed Kacchan wrong. Izuku knew, because the aggression had only surfaced come age twelve and thirteen, right before Izuku had moved away. Maybe their meeting would reconnect them, and Izuku could make efforts to secret his way back into Kacchan’s life. Maybe not.
What would they be had Izuku been on the same hero path as Kacchan, right by his side, in the same school, living the same life parallel to him?
What would they have been if Izuku had never been Deku?
The name stuck with him. A deep sense of self-identification tied with it, anchored down in the core of who he’d been as a boy, and now as a man. No one else would ever know – but to Izuku, he’d always be Deku. He’d always be Kacchan’s Deku.
A familiar niggle and itch of anxiety squirmed underneath Izuku’s skin. He fidgeted against it, instinctively reaching into the darkness for his phone on the couch, cast in the dim blue glow of the television. It was late. He should sleep. Because –
Izuku dialed anyway.
Baku’s voice comforted him, roused him, singed away the frayed nerves and left him burnt and smoothed out, scarring over the layers of anxiety that broke through the skin.
The last time they’d spoken, it had finally occurred to him that Baku must have chosen his name and demeanor from the famous Ground Zero. The choice probably garnered him a lot of attention.
People pretended to be heroes all the time. For pornography, in commercials, on fake online accounts, on the street. Izuku was likely just one of many to fall for a talented cosplay. He hadn’t had a conversation with Kacchan in eight years, but he imagined it might play out something like this. If they were friends, anyway.
Which they were not.
“Yeah, what?” said a familiar abrupt voice.
Izuku’s shoulders instantly unknotted, his head falling back against the couch.
“Hi,” he said softly, not shy or tentative, simply relaxed.
“You again,” Baku said, sounding not displeased or pleased. “It’s late for you to be calling.”
“Okay, Mom,” Izuku said, his lips faintly curved as he allowed his eyes to close.
“Could be your Daddy if that’s what you’re lookin’ for,” Baku said, a rasp to his voice.
Something leapt in Izuku’s chest and settled jittery in his stomach.
“Nah,” he said, his voice betraying himself with a wobble. “I keep my daddy issues firmly out of my kink zone. Thanks, though.”
“We’ll come back to that sometime,” was the low reply.
Izuku paused and swallowed hard.
“Um. How are you?”
“Hard the minute I heard your voice,” Baku said instantly, his words bringing Izuku to a quick, stiff peak. “Been thinkin’ about you. Been thinkin’ how much I need you on your knees again – hell, no, wait. Laid flat on the cold, hard floor, while I fuck into you. Put my hand on your back to hold you down, giving your dick nowhere to go and no way to touch anything but the floor.”
“Holy –“ Izuku swallowed down his words, glancing down to marvel at his own body’s reaction. “I’m so hard right now. What the – how do you do this to me? What are you?”
“You got toys?” Baku said by way of reply, his words like sparks skipping across Izuku’s skin.
“T-toys? Ah…” Izuku chewed on his bottom lip, feeling his face burn.
“You gettin’ shy now, huh, Crybaby? How big, hmmm?” Baku’s voice turned to whiskey, golden and luscious and burning all the way down. “How often you fuck yourself on something big when I’m not around, huh? How slutty you get when I’m not talkin’ you up to it?”
“I’m – I’m –“ He was short circuiting was what he was. He was going to fucking break and nothing had even happened yet. “I’m not like that! I mean I have, uh, some things but I don’t –“
“That’s what I thought,” Baku said, the sound of his sharp smile evident. “Now go to your room.”
A shiver scattered down Izuku’s body with the wording of the command.
“Yes,” he said on a breath, already on his feet, ignoring the television still turned on in favor of rushing to his bed.
“You’re pathetically desperate, aren’tcha, Crybaby?” Baku said, his deviant delight cutting and clear.
“I’m –“ Izuku swallowed hard as he fell to his knees and reached for the box beneath his bed. “Look who’s talking.”
A thick silence prevailed as Izuku set the box upon the bed and opened it.
Baku’s voice came through husky and restrained, like he was holding back a scream.
“Take your fucking clothes off. Now.”
“Yes,” Izuku whispered, the phone already falling from his hand. He tugged at his confines until he was free and kneeling upon his knees on the bed. He picked up the phone, his own bright smile the first true one of the stressful day. “I’m here.”
“What’re you so happy about?” Baku snapped. “Fuck. Ridiculous. Tell me what you got.”
“What I –“
“Your toys. I gotta spell it out? I thought you were the smart guy here. Toshi.”
The name rubbed Izuku all the wrong ways now. He wasn’t that, he wasn’t even Izuku here. He was just –
“Don’t call me that anymore.”
“Never liked it anyway.”
“I’ve got a, uh, vibrator. And one of those little ones with the controller, and –“
“How big’s the vibrator?” Baku said, his voice quick and efficient, excepting a just as quick answer.
“What?” Izuku yelped, dropping said toy on the bed in horror. His face went up in flame. “I – I –“
“God you’re fucking adorable. I wanna eat you alive.”
“I’m sure I don’t taste very good,” Izuku said, his lips lax from the growing pull and sway of heat melting in waves through his limbs, his dick.
“I’d be the judge of that,” Baku said, his voice like a fist, encompassing Izuku’s body tight, hot, unbearably hot. “Now answer my question, my lil’ Crybaby. How – big – is it?”
“Five inches,” Izuku said, his breath hiccupping as he ran a hand over his hard cock. “No, six. I guess.”
“Good. Get your lube and lay back for me. I want you to open yourself up nice and slow. Did you hear slow, Crybaby? Get that tight ass wide and sloppy for the cock that’s comin’.”
Izuku couldn’t speak for the twin swells of embarrassment and lush, humid desire that washed over him. Hands shaking, he fumbled with the lube, soaking his fingers and the bedspread in the process. He leaned back against his pillows, his phone caught in the crook of his jaw and shoulder.
“Talk to me,” Baku said, the words raking down Izuku’s nerves.
“I’m – I’m touching myself. God, okay, Baku, I’m –“ Izuku hissed as he went right for two fingers, his pain threshold paired with his excitement leaving impatient jitters in his hand. Faster, more, now. “I’m two fingers deep and – ah – so wet for you.”
“Get yourself good and stretched before the next one.” Baku’s words sunk into Izuku, pushed him further into the bed, laid thick and heavy on atop him. “Take your time. You gotta suffer for me, don’tcha, Crybaby? Let’s see those pretty tears by the end, hmmm?”
Izuku could only whimper an agreement, his head nodding vigorously as he circled his hole with two slick fingers, teasing it before he dove in again, pulled back out, dove in and out, his thumb sneaking over to catch on the rim of his ass, trailing shivers through his legs.
“Fuck,” Baku said, his voice hoarse, a rasp of stubble grating across Izuku’s spread inner thighs, calloused hands scraping over his twitching stomach, messy from his leaking cock. “I can hear how wet you are. That sloppy fuckin’ noise is obscene, y’know? Slutty as hell. You slutty for me? You’d do anything for me, wouldn’t ya?”
“Anything,” Izuku said, breath huffing out with the effort it took not to fuck himself senseless. He had to wait, hold back, repress. “Anything for you.”
A moment of silence as Izuku worked himself open, his fingers buried to the hilt until he added the third. His keening grew higher, more intense between his clenched teeth.
“Impatient little shit,” Baku snapped, his words gone breathless and shallow beneath the sounds coming from the back of Izuku’s throat. “Get that dick, get that vibrator and slowly work it in. You touchin’ your dick?”
“You didn’t, ohfuck, you – you didn’t tell me to,” Izuku said, words tumbling like scrabble pieces, unreadable, unfathomable at this point. More than anything, he just wanted Baku shoving his knees up to his ears and fucking him blind.
“Crybaby’s learning, huh?” The razor sharp smile had returned to his voice, and the heft of his presence filled Izuku’s cock thick and heavy. “Ain’t that cute. Now shove that dick in your ass until it’s too much to take.”
“Yes,” Izuku said quickly, sitting up only to thoroughly slick up the vibrator. Glancing down, he briefly noted how flushed his body was, the pink blush of exertion coursing over his thighs, his cock, stomach, chest, probably his neck and face. He was so hot.
He laid back once more, pressing the blunt end to his hole, his head tilted against his cellphone still, though it had begun to slide against the sheen of sweat at his temple and shoulder.
“I’m gonna, I’m gonna,” Izuku said, lifting his hips, his lips parted and panting as he slowly began the devastating slide. “Baku, I’m not gonna last long. Need you, I nee-“
“Fuck,” Baku bit off, acerbic and almost angry. “Fuck, you’re unbelievable. You piss me off. Listen to yourself, listen to how you sound for me, like you know me, like I’m there and –“
“I-I told you have a good imagination,” Izuku said with a huff of ragged laughter, his mouth curving, teeth biting down on his bottom lip as he spread his legs further. His hips swayed from side to side, taking in the length, the feel, the unforgiving surge of pleasure that sapped at his energy and left his thighs quivering.
“What I wouldn’t give to pound you through the fucking floor,” Baku said, and it didn’t sound like an act. Didn’t sound like anything but the truth.
Zings of pleasure, light lightning, like storms, rocked Izuku to the bone, his cock crying out for attention. His stomach was soaked with pools of dripping cum, his hand slippery and grappling hard with the vibrator as the final inches filled him deep and full and unbearable.
“Can I turn it on?” Izuku said, practically begging, ragged and desperate with it. “Can I touch myself? Baku, please.” He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, but the tears of overwhelming bliss couldn’t be dammed. “Please, Baku.”
”Cryin’ already?” Baku said, but he sounded as shaken as Izuku, as lost and feral and hungry. “Fuck, if I could lick ‘em up. Bet you do taste good, Crybaby. Bet you do. Now, turn it on.”
Izuku couldn’t have flicked the switch faster. His body tensed against the almost violent wracking pleasure that snapped through him, and the wail that rose from him as his back arched from the bed was obscene, pornographic. He couldn’t stop it, though, nor could he stop the tears that crept from the corners of his eyes to run toward sweaty temples, or the way his hand rushed over his cock in the sudden fray of desperation.
“Oh no, oh no, oh no.”
Izuku cried and moaned, whimpered and gasped as he worked himself over, the vibrator’s buzz floating his consciousness near off the bed.
“Crybaby, I –“
“Call me Deku,” Izuku said, high voice so taut, a grenade with the pin pulled as he went utterly still.
At the sound of his name, Izuku shot off with a force that knocked the air from his lungs, the sound from his tongue. Shockwaves rippled through his core, out to his limbs, left his very fingers and toes tingling and useless as he fumbled to quiet the vibrator and lay there in a damp, sticky heap.
Drifting in and out of the wake of destruction, Izuku swallowed hard and cleared his throat, searching for his voice.
“Baku, that was –“
Izuku blinked and picked up his phone, staring at the screen.
“Shit,” he said, frowning and drowsy. “I must have hung up on him.”
Oh well. At least now he’d be able to sleep.
Tomorrow was a big day.
In case you were wondering about Todoroki's name - no, there is zero connotation to Voltron, nor did it even occur to me. I simply wanted a name that harks back to the Fantasy AU of him being a Prince/Knight etc.
Definition of paladin
1 : a trusted military leader (as for a medieval prince)
2 : a leading champion of a cause
Chapter 6: Interlude
Just a tiny treat before I post the next chapter within the next couple of days. Enjoy!
Mina frowned as she noted Bakugou's phone calling. Shouldn't he be with that Toshi guy right now? She answered on the third ring.
"Bakugou?" Mina sat up straighter, frowning. "Bakugou, what's going -"
"I'VE BEEN FUCKING HIM ALL THIS TIME, MINA. I'VE BEEN FUCKING HIM."
"I..." Mina ran her hand through her hair, ignoring the beeping sound on her phone as some client called. They could wait or fuck off. "I mean. You fuck... a lot of people? Can you breathe right now? Are you, like, conscious that you're screaming?"
"Fuck." The sounds of Bakugou pacing his apartment were evident in the stomping she heard from the other line, and she wasn't unfamiliar with the sound of the fist that pounded against a wall either. "FUCK ME. No. Fuck him. Both of us. Did that. Shit. Shit. Mina. SHIT."
"Bakugou, calm your ass down! Sit, sit on the floor. Sit down right now!"
"HOW CAN I SIT WHEN I'VE BEEN FUCKING MY CHILDHOOD FRIEND FOR THE LAST TEN WEEKS?"
Mina paused, held the phone out to look at it like it would give her some semblance of answer. Carefully, she brought the phone back to her ear. Her voice was slow, curious.
"You had friends?"
"THAT'S WHAT YOU WANT TO KNOW, JUGS FOR BRAINS?"
"I mean. This is news to me." She grinned, leaning back in her chair as she propped her feet upon her desk, crossed at the ankles. Twirling a curl around her finger, she relaxed for what would undoubtedly be a juicy piece of Bakugou’s constantly masked past. The guy had always been a locked safe. “So, who exactly are we talking about?”
“De – Toshi.” Bakugou sounded so out of character, nearer to panic than she’d heard in years.
Mina’s smile only grew, her cheeks aching.
“Wait, Toshi? The little mouse guy?”
“He’s hardly a –“ Bakugou paused his mumbling, coming back sharper. “Yeah, so? I can’t believe this shit. Out of all the people in the fucking city. And he’s not even that green!”
Mina snorted a laugh.
“Nevermind. I just – fuck.”
“So, what’s the big deal?” Mina said, pursing her lips, her brow furrowing as she reclined further to gaze at the ceiling. “Does he know it’s you?”
“Then who cares? Sure, it might be a little awkward for you, but he’s good business, isn’t he? And he’s the one you said wasn’t so bad, right? I guess that makes some sense now. But seriously, who gives a shit? No one’s harmed, everybody gets off, we get paid, and life continues on.”
“It’s not that simple,” Bakugou said tightly, clearly gritting his teeth. Mina could picture his jaw twitching.
“Enlighten me, senpai.”
“Fuck you, raccoon eyes.”
“Yeah, I mean, we tried that in high school. You were very clearly gay.”
“I’M GOING TO RIP YOUR –“
“As entertaining as this conversation has been,” Mina said, raising her voice above Bakugou’s indignant screeches, “I’m gonna go ahead and tell you to chill out, get some sleep, enjoy all the attention you’re going to be lavished with at the photoshoot tomorrow, and continue as ever with Mr Mouse.”
A moment of silence passed between them that had Mina frowning before Bakugou spoke, rough and low.
“He won’t be calling back after tomorrow.”
“What, why –“
Mina groaned and tossed the phone to her lap, rolling her eyes at the ceiling.
And people thought she was dramatic.
How long could Katsuki go without speaking, without giving himself away?
What would upset Deku more? Finding out who Baku was, or believing Katsuki didn’t want to speak to him?
This scene will be split into their two POVs, or else it would have been a 10/11k chapter and I'm not about that life. Enjoy our disaster gays!
Katsuki had been faced with more traumatizing experiences than this.
He just couldn’t think of any at the moment.
Heavy duffel bag of his uniform slung over his shoulder, Katsuki stepped off the elevator. Immediately, he was assaulted by some assistant with a clipboard who checked him in while using too many obnoxious honorifics, and led him to the studio.
As he slunk through the doorway with a scowl, his first thought was that the place was gigantic. The room wasn’t a room, but nearly an entire floor of the high rise, all grey concrete floors and walls. An expansive photo area was set up on the nearest end of the room, where a gaggle of people set up a white backdrop, ring lights, the works. On the far end stretched an L-shaped, black leather sectional couch, two long tables of food and drinks, and a curtained-off space which Katsuki assumed was the dressing area. Three makeup tables lined with light bulbs offended everything inside Katsuki – he’d be giving that a wide berth.
He hated this shit.
All the same, it was an inevitable part of being a well-advertised Pro Hero.
Didn’t mean Katsuki had to like it.
The second thing he thought as he sauntered in, snarling at another assistant who dared attempt to take his bag from him, was that Deku hadn’t yet arrived. Good. That would give him a chance to – to what?
Act like he hadn’t slept a wink? Appear like he didn’t care? Like he wasn’t on pins and needles over the mere idea of standing face to face with him?
You don’t wanna see them?
I want to see them very badly.
Stupid Deku. He would be sorely disappointed.
Although, he’d been the one to ask to be called Deku in a situation like theirs. Now what the hell had that meant?
Katsuki released a shaky breath and made a beeline for the table of water bottles.
“Explodo Boy,” came a slow drawl from his side.
Katsuki rounded on Shinsou with his teeth bared.
“Why? Why are you here, of all people? For fuck’s sake.”
Shinsou’s smirk remained firmly fixed as he placed a palm on the table and leaned his hip against it.
“I’ve missed you too. You look good. Get your hair cut or just singe it off in an explosion?”
“When was the last time you got your hair cut?” Bakugou snapped as he twisted the top off a water bottle and envisioned it as his old classmate’s neck. “The first world war?”
Shinsou pursed his lips, his brows bowing as he ran his hands through his tall mane of hair.
“I’ll have you know that there are blogs out there dedicated to this coif.”
“There’s blogs dedicated to shit, too, but it ain’t something to brag about.”
“Now, why would you know about blogs like that?”
“I swear I will fuckin’ –“
“I’m going to stop this garbage fire before it begins,” Todoroki said, sidling up beside Katsuki to drop an icy hand upon his shoulder.
Katsuki rolled his eyes and shrugged him off.
“Like I ever need you to –“
“Heroes,” Tsuyu said, coming out of fucking nowhere, her short ass peeking out from around Shinsou to stare at the three of them with a no nonsense expression. “If any fires have to be put out, icebergs melted, or humans woken up from an unnatural sleep, you’re going to answer to me. Kero.”
“Y-yes,” they all answered in unison, remaining silent until Tsuyu nodded solemnly and wandered away.
Katsuki instantly winced at the familiar voice and started to walk in the opposite direction, which happened to look like he was walking into Shinsou’s arms for comfort.
“Are we going to hug now, because –“
“Bakugou!” Mirio said, directly behind him now as he slung an arm around his shoulder and pulled him in close to his side for a devastatingly uncomfortable cuddle. “You made it!”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Katsuki snapped, struggling for freedom and failing. “Stop acting like you never see me, you fuckin’ creep. Shinsou –“ Katsuki reached out a hand in desperation, looking for leverage to escape. “Come on, man.”
Shinsou held up both hands in surrender and grinned.
“I wouldn’t dare get in between the love of an underling and his boss.”
“See,” Mirio said, ruffling Katsuki’s hair. “He understands. I love this guy. Best hero I’ve got.”
“Uh,” Amajiki’s timid voice came from an angle Katsuki couldn’t see. “Maybe you should let Bakugou go now. He – his hands are smoking.”
“EVERYONE STOP CROWDING ME!”
Katsuki flailed from Mirio’s hold and turned in a circle with a feral snarl, his fists vibrating with restrained flame.
“Why are we torturing me today? Fuck, go after Amajiki. He’s the easy target.”
“H-hey!” Amajiki said, folded his arms with a pout.
“You have better reactions,” Mirio said simply. He placed his hands on his hips and looked around. “Are we all here, yet? Seems like we’re missing –“
“Midoriya and Inasa,” Todoroki said, reaching across the table for a slice of cucumber. He picked up another and shoved it in front of Shinsou’s face, who took it with an eye-roll and ate it. “They’ll probably arrive together.”
“I miss them,” Shinsou said with a sigh. “They’re never in town.”
“How are you friends with them?” Katsuki said, his face scrunched in distaste as he took a long drink from his water bottle.
“They’ve worked at Iida’s family agency for the last four years,” Todoroki said mildly. “He introduced us right out of graduation. You’ve never met them?”
“Yeah, of course, because I’m obviously Iida’s best fucking friend,” Katsuki said, glowering as he crushed the water bottle in his hand and sent the remaining water spurting forth like a volcano.
The water froze to ice, midair, and Todoroki sighed and set it on the table.
“They’re nice people. Which means you’ll hate them.”
“I’M A NICE PERSON.”
“With a muzzle on,” Todoroki said.
“Nah,” Shinsou said thoughtfully. “That was awful.”
“Bakugou is a very good worker,” Mirio said, beaming. “I’m very proud of his services as a hero.”
“And as a person?” Shinsou said with raised brows, snickering.
Mirio blinked, his smile cracking.
“He’s a very good worker!”
A round of laughter rose up as Katsuki cursed them all out in colorful fashion when the door at the far end of the room slammed shut with a resounding boom.
Katsuki’s heart flat-lined.
Muffled conversation and sound stuck like cotton in his ears, far from his lethargic, slumping reality. Seconds dragged out, painful as the ice that ran sharp and sluggish through Katsuki’s veins as he slowly peered over his shoulder with a face set in mild horror.
A giant of a man strode into the room, beaming down at another man, dwarfed in the shadow of his shoulder. That stocky build, the wide, muscular shoulders through the clinging white t-shirt, narrow hips and faded grey sweat pants – hell, the red hightops were all so fucking familiar.
The television didn’t do him justice, and he was still a good fifty feet away.
Katsuki’s chest ached.
Inasa said something in a low voice, the deep timber meeting Katsuki and the group all the same. And Deku’s following laughter –
That was the laugh he’d heard over the phone countless times. The laugh which had managed to make even him smile in the privacy of his home.
“Izuku!” Shinsou’s lanky legs ate up the ground as he reached Deku before anyone else could, his arms outstretched as lofted Deku up in a hug and swung him around. “You asshole - where have you been?”
“Put me down!” Deku shouted, his nose wrinkled with a loud laugh, his cheeks rosy as he dropped back to his feet and grinned up at Shinsou. “It’s been too long. Are you taller? It’s the hair, isn’t it?”
“The hair is definitely taller,” Shinsou said, reaching out to tug on Deku’s. “What’s this about, though? You chopped it off. Everyone loved your crazy curls.”
Deku must have gotten his hair cut in the past few days. Within the week in which they’d received their emails regarding the photo shoot. The undercut was a close shave, with the mop of hair atop his head trimmed and styled so the curls still fluffed up at his crown, and tapered down to fall over one of his eyebrows. He looked, well, devastatingly handsome.
“Yeah,” Deku said, casting a look to the ground which Katsuki recognized as his self-conscious streak, still present, even after eight years. How much had Deku changed? “I guess I thought it was time for something new.”
“You look good,” Todoroki said, strolling up with a small, warm smile.
“So do you!” Deku said, taking him in for a close hug.
“Where are my hugs?” Inasa boomed, scooping Shinsou in one arm and Todoroki in the other for a double bear hug of terrifying proportions. “Did I just hear some bones crack? You two need more exercise!”
Their whimpers of assent were enough to convince Katsuki that he never wanted to be hugged by that guy. Ever.
Chuckling, Deku turned to survey the room.
Instantly, he stilled, eyes wide and liquid with roiling expression.
Katsuki didn’t move. Couldn’t.
They hadn’t been in the same room in eight years. He couldn’t remember what their last words were, their final encounter, nothing. A slew of memories with no end, blurred from start to finish, all of them surrounding one face. This face.
Deku had spoken so softly from across the room that Katsuki felt his name more than heard it. His heart thundered anew, a hot blood pounding in his veins once more.
He hadn’t heard that name in a long, long time.
Katsuki swallowed hard, mute.
The moment he opened he opened his mouth, this would be over. Of this, he had no doubt. And then what? This was no place to talk, to explain, to panic. Deku would undoubtedly want to do all three.
So, Katsuki did the only thing he could.
Casting a lingering look Deku’s way, he turned and quietly said to Mirio, Gonna get changed.
Without looking back, he firmly hiked his duffel over his shoulder and lumbered to the curtained area, disappearing behind.
Katsuki dropped to his knees and sucked in a sharp, shuddering breath, sweaty hands raking over his face.
“You fucking loser,” Katsuki mumbled to himself, promptly unzipping his duffel with jerky, quick movements and standing to strip. “What’s wrong with you? You’re a goddamn hero. Get your shit toge-“
The curtain whipped open and Katsuki snapped his attention up, gawking, shirtless with his pants around his ankles, standing there in his boxers.
Inasa glowered down at him, an ominous shadow over his eyes.
“We need to talk.”
“HAAAH? Now? Fuck off, Baldy!”
Ignoring him, Inasa promptly jerked the curtain shut and stood there, looming, arms as big as Katsuki’s waist folded over his chest.
“Wanna get set on fire, buddy?” Katsuki said, his hands springing into flame. “’Cause today’s your lucky day.”
“I’m not here to fight with you,” Inasa said, his stern demeanor unnerving in comparison to the overgrown golden retriever from five minutes ago. Obnoxious sonofa –“I’m here to warn you.”
“Eh?” Katsuki rolled his eyes as he turned and unearthed his uniform from his bag. He shrugged into it, his back to Inasa, his expression sober. “What for? You’re wasting my time.”
“You know Izuku and I went to Shiketsu together.”
“I hate history lessons,” Katsuki said, yanking up his pants as he turned to glare sparks. “That it? You’re boring, and so is your second rate school.”
“SECOND RATE?” Inasa thundered, his chest puffing out as he leaned in. “There’s nothing second rate about us! We’re more –“
“GET OUT OF MY FUCKING ROOM, YOU TESTOSTERONE-PUMPED GORILLA.”
“THIS ISN’T A ROOM, IT’S A CURTAINED AREA AND –“
Snatching Inasa’s collar with a smoking hand, Katsuki yanked the six and a half foot giant’s face close to his own, his teeth bared.
“What – do – you – want?”
“I saw what you did to him back then,” Inasa said, his eyes dark and hard, unflinching while the burnt fabric of his shirt stank acrid between them.
Katsuki’s heavy breath stilled. He blinked.
“What’re you talking about?” he snapped.
“First Year,” Inasa said, his jaw tight. “That boy was a nervous wreck. Jumped at his own shadow, apologized for every damn thing, barely had a handle on his own Quirk. I know you did that. And I know I’m the only one that knows.”
A chill ran down Katsuki’s spine. He physically shrugged it off, releasing Inasa with a shove. Turning, he crouched to unearth his arm bands from his bag and began to slip on the taut fabric.
“That’s none of my business. He shoulda been stronger.”
“From what I gather, he considered you his best friend. You should have been strong for him. That’s what friendship is about.”
“Well, then I guess we weren’t that close, now were we?” Katsuki said, sneering over his shoulder.
“Izuku seems to think you were,” Inasa said carefully, his voice deep and full of meaning, his gaze sad. Who was this guy? What was he to Deku? “He’s been looking forward to this since he found out. He wouldn’t tell me so, but I can see it. Don’t… don’t mess this up for him. You have a second chance, don’t you, Ground Zero? To start from the bottom and work your way up to his level.”
“His level?” Katsuki said with a scoff, aggressively shoving his feet into boots. “I may have been a dick to him, but he’s the liar who didn’t tell me he had a Quirk in the first place. He tell you that? Some fuckin’ friendship.”
“That’s something between the two of you.”
Katsuki whirled, his eyes hot.
“If it’s between us then why are you walking in on me half-naked?”
Inasa scanned Katsuki from head to toe.
“Well, you’re not half-naked now.”
Smoke may or may not have shot from Katsuki’s ears.
“GET THE FUCK OUT!”
Inasa turned, hand pausing on the curtain.
“Be careful. I have no doubt he’s stronger than you, but I can also tell you have weapons which no one else has to use against him.”
You don’t wanna see them?
I want to see them very badly.
Katsuki’s stomach dropped.
“You’re full of shit. Get out.”
Alone once more, Katsuki briefly slapped his hands against his cheeks and finished getting dressed.
Apparently, Deku had a guard dog these days.
Taking a centering breath, Katsuki emerged from the changing area, noting several people had dressed in their uniforms right in the middle of the goddamn room. Deku was far at the other end, chatting with the vine-headed chick who Katsuki gave a respectful distance after the time in Third Year when she’d picked him up with her forsaken hair and slammed him through a concrete wall. That loss still smarted.
All the same, Deku must have been on alert because he stopped mid-word and snapped his attention past the half a dozen people littering the line of sight between them.
Katsuki held Deku’s gaze, unreadable from this distance.
Someone touched his arm lightly.
“Um, excuse me, Mr. Ground Zero,” said a timid voice. Katsuki peered down at a chameleon looking woman, messy purple hair up in a bun, her scaly skin swiftly shifting and shimmering colors as she spoke and fluttered her hands like a nervous bird. “I – I’ll be your makeup artist today? I was hoping I could –“
“I don’t do makeup,” Katsuki said simply, looking her dead in the eye, silently daring her to argue.
“I – I’m sorry. I heard that you – you don’t use, uh, you don’t paint your eyes around your mask?” she said, her long lizard tail flicking with apparent anxiety. Her violet eyes went wet, as if she were about to cry any second.
Katsuki heaved a sigh.
“Yeah, so? I don’t need you to do that. I’ve been applying my own shit for over five years.”
“B-but we have this special greasepaint that –“
“Greasepaint?” Katsuki snorted a laugh, his eyebrows rising as he loomed over her. “You know that shit’s flammable, right?”
The makeup artist’s eyes flicked to the side, refusing to meet his gaze.
“Is it? I –“
“And you know I make things blow up for a living, right?”
The woman’s scales flared up in waves of deep purple and blue, embarrassed.
“Don’t worry,” Katsuki said with a sigh. He placed his hands upon his hips and titled to one side, leaning until she was forced to meet his eyes. He grinned. “I don’t need your help to make me hotter than anyone here.”
Before she could reply, he picked up his duffel again and made a beeline for one of the makeup tables. Unearthing a small pot of waterproof, flame retardant black face paint, he placed it on the tabletop and took out a slender eyeliner brush. Propping both elbows upon the counter, he leaned in, face illuminated by a dozen light bulbs, and set about painting the area around his eyes, the water line of lashes, then filling his entire eyelid, up to his eyebrow. His hand was steady, precise.
Lost in the soothing routine, Katsuki’s guard fell.
That soft, smooth voice was warm, liquid morphine shot through Katsuki’s veins. His knees went weak, his body reacting out of habit. Holding his breath, Katsuki dragged his attention from his own visage in the mirror, looking up at the reflection, over his shoulder.
Deku was fucking gorgeous. How could he not have said that over the phone? Not green. Gorgeous.
Katsuki grunted in reply, shifting to line his second eye.
“I’m – it’s nice to see you. I-I guess it was inevitable,” Deku said, laughing that soft, nervous thing that made Katsuki want to make him cry. “Doing what we do. I mean, I’m three hours away by train so I guess we wouldn’t have much reason to meet, but after all these years in the same business I suppose it was – sorry, I’m rambling. And you’re busy. With the thing. I never expected you wear – well, it makes sense. The mask does look better with your eyes like that. You look good. God. Feel free to interrupt me at any point because I feel like I’m thirteen all over again.”
The longest, most awkward sixty seconds of his life passed while Katsuki finished his second eye. Deku didn’t move, didn’t speak, his face growing pinker as if he were holding his breath.
How long could Katsuki go without speaking, without giving himself away?
What would upset Deku more? Finding out who Baku was, or believing Katsuki didn’t want to speak to him?
“You should go,” Katsuki said, low and slow, meeting Deku’s eyes in the mirror. “Everyone’s getting ready. Don’t embarrass yourself by being late.”
In the span of a heartbeat, Deku’s eyes grew to the size of saucers. His lips parted, pupils to pinpricks, as dark green depths scattered across Katsuki’s features.
Katsuki’s heartbeat was wailing siren in his pinched chest.
“No,” Deku said, a hushed rasp. “There’s – there’s no wa-“
“Don’t be stupid,” Katsuki said, his voice strained and tamed down for the sake of everyone milling around the room. “Not right now, anyway. Go. Deku.”
Deku’s adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, his skin pale as he took a step forward, his panicked gaze fixed on Katsuki’s guarded one. His whisper was harsh and fierce.
“Go? How can I? How can I when –“
“You can because that’s what we’re fucking here for. So stop cryin’ about it and get your shit together. Whaddaya think this is, Deku, social hour?”
Deku’s jaw worked, chewing like he was biting down on a rebuttal, his eyes shining and damp, his mouth a thin line.
“How dare you hold this over my head for however long you have been.”
Katsuki slammed his brush upon the table with a reverberating crack as he whirled around. Nearly toe to toe, sparks flying, Katsuki vaguely registered that Deku hadn’t grown an inch since childhood. His head barely skimmed Katsuki’s eyeline.
“Who d’you think I am, stupid Deku?” Katsuki cocked his head and hunched enough to bring their noses nearer. Deku smelled fresh and clean and pure. “I didn’t know shit ‘til your ass up and ruined it. Last night.”
The infuriated color of Deku’s face drained.
“K-Kacchan, I –“
“Alright heroes!” Some lanky asshole wearing sunglasses indoors said, clapping obnoxiously for attention. “Everyone finish up with your costume and makeup! We’ll be doing group photos first, followed by just the men, then the women, then individual portraits. Lunch will follow, then heroes will be called in for interviews. Let’s get started in fifteen, shall we?”
Enthusiastic recognition echoed through the studio, but Katsuki and Deku remained silent, unmoving, watchful.
Deku had less freckles than when they’d been kids.
Without a word, Katsuki passed by, careful they not touch.
He needed space. Needed to breathe.
He should have called in sick.
“You know him,” Shinsou said simply, falling into step as they headed toward the vast white backdrop.
“So, you acted like you didn’t and that’s suspicious.”
“I didn’t act like I didn’t. No one asked if I did and it wasn’t important.”
“It looked important.”
“What’re you, my mother?” Katsuki snapped, bumping Shinsou’s shoulder hard enough to send him sidestepping into the distance. Unfortunately, he reappeared in seconds.
“I’d like to think I’m less smack-first, ask-questions-later than your mother.”
“Ha-ha,” Katsuki said blandly. He couldn’t even argue.
“He’s never mentioned you,” Shinsou said casually, slowing as they approached the white flooring.
Katsuki clenched his teeth and tossed his duffel in a corner, rummaging through for his gauntlets and gloves.
“Shut up and put these on me,” Katsuki said, holding out his arms in the way they had in the days of UA.
Lips faintly curved, Shinsou held out one of the clunky gloves and put his weight into it to shove it onto Katsuki’s hand.
“I’m usually pretty good at this, you know,” Shinsou said, shoving the second glove on.
“What, this?” Katsuki said, clenching and unclenching his gloved hand before his face. “It doesn’t take a fucking talent. S’just easier this way.”
“Not that, you cinderbrain,” Shinsou said with a sigh. He hefted up on the gauntlets and held it out for Katsuki to slip in his hand. “Figuring out what you’re so skillfully avoiding. You never avoid anything, except emotional –“
Shinsou paused, holding the second gauntlet, his eyes narrowed on Katsuki.
“What?” Katsuki snapped, fire rising in his belly. “For fuck’s sake, just give me that. I’ll do it my-“
“You care about him,” Shinsou said. “Somehow. At some point.”
“HAH?” Katsuki yanked the gauntlet from Shinsou’s hands and set it on the floor, hole facing up, so he could stick his hand in. “You’re so full of shit, I wonder which end you sit on the can with.”
“What’s happening?” Todoroki said, wandering up to them, thumbs hooked in his utility belt.
“Bakugou knows Izuku,” Shinsou said simply. “And they have a thing.”
Todoroki frowned, looking between them.
“A thing? What’s a thing?”
“Your innocence is touching,” Shinsou said.
“THERE IS NO THING.”
“My my!” Katsuki whipped around to glower at Nejire. She was as obnoxious as they came. She asked more questions than Shinsou did, and was fifty times perkier than anyone in this forsaken room. She smiled brightly, her cropped blue bob framing her exuberant expression. “Isn’t it nice to see everyone so full of life this morning? I love it! Are you a morning person too, Bakugou?”
“I don’t even know you,” Katsuki muttered, promptly walking away from the conversation before it could begin. He stomped onto the white flooring, standing beneath the harsh lights. He puffed out his chest, his voice carrying like a sonic boom. “WHEN ARE WE GETTING STARTED?”
After a second of shock, the entire room kicked into gear. The remaining nine heroes found their way to the photo shoot area, Deku standing as far from Katsuki as possible. However, when Katsuki flicked a look over, he caught that bright green stare held fast upon his profile. His heart flipped in his chest.
“This is all wrong,” the photographer said, still wearing those fucking sunglasses. What a loser. “So many of you are awfully bulky. Let’s even everyone out.”
Inasa went dead center, towering over everyone. The next tallest fell at either side, Mirio and Shinsou, followed by Amajiki beside the former and Todoroki, the latter. Standing directly before Inasa was Katsuki. The ominous, stormy presence at Katsuki’s back did not go unnoticed, nor did Katsuki give a shit about it. The placement of Ibara, then Nejire to his right did not affect him either.
Only when Deku was stood beside him, with Tsuyu at the end, did his entire body go on alert and a scowl screw up his face.
“Okay, heroes,” the photographer said. “Everyone relax while we work the lighting and take some test photos.”
Almost instantly, the rapid click of his camera began, seemingly at random as assistants wandered around them, adjusting shit that Katsuki never could and never wanted to understand.
Deku’s extremely faint whisper wafted to Katsuki’s ear. A shiver skimmed over Katsuki’s skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake.
Tilting his head to the side was Katsuki’s only reply. Deku’s shoulder pressed against his, and when his breath ghosted over the skin of Katsuki’s throat, every slutty sigh and whimper to have swept from Deku’s mouth to Katsuki’s ear ran like wildfire through his body.
“Are you… disappointed… that he is me?”
Katsuki looked at him sharply, watched Deku’s pupils swell as their eyes met, held.
“Don’t be stupid,” Katsuki said quietly. His gaze flicked up, over Deku’s shoulder, where Shinsou had his arms folded across his chest, peering at both of them with a smug smirk. He flicked a look back to Deku’s eyes, lingering. Cameras clicked in their periphery. Deku smelled like freshly cut grass.
“What does that mean?”
Abrupt clapping jolted Katsuki from Deku Tunnel Vision, both of them snapping their attention back to the photographer, who barked orders like he was the asshole who saved people on a daily basis.
The next hour stretched out in different poses with different groups of people, and while it wasn’t Katsuki’s favorite thing to do, he’d long grown used to standing with fans or for newspaper photos. As a young teen, barely graduated, he’d raged against this shit. Acted like he was better than that.
Of course, he quickly realized he was just as obligated to the public as they were to him. Unless he wanted to live in a sleeping bag like Aizawa, the photo shoots and posing were a necessary part of the job.
Posing left him plenty of time to think, though. About Deku – about all the things Baku had said to Crybaby. The way Deku sounded when he touched himself, how obedient and sexy and smart and sassy he came through a simple series of phone calls. How much they seemed to mesh as adults – strangers – as they had when they were best friends, mucking through creeks with mud on their cheeks and talking about their futures.
When they broke for lunch, Katsuki searched out Deku in the cluster of heroes, catching his attention with a single stare.
Just what was Deku thinking in all of this? His shock had been palpable. And then, his question. Why ask?
Deku took a step forward and Katsuki’s lungs constricted, his breathing shallow, his uniform too tight around his body.
The moment broke when Inasa approached Deku, grinning from ear to ear as he said something.
“Food,” Todoroki said, tapping Katsuki on the shoulder. “Are you coming with us?”
Deku peeked around Inasa’s wide girth and Katsuki turned away. This wasn’t the place.
“Sure,” he said. “Let’s get out of here.”
God, he just wanted to talk to Kacchan. Baku. Both of them. One of them would make this better, wouldn’t they? But they were the same damn person!
Hello! Sorry this took some time to post. There valentine's exchanges and vacation and a million other things. ANYWAY, ON WE TREK.
If you want to listen to/follow my Spotify soundtrack for Crybaby, here is the link.
If you want to listen to/follow my Spotify soundtrack for all things BkDk, nine hours' worth, here is the link. I feel like if you put it on shuffle, even if not everything is to your taste, you will probably find a couple hours of BkDk inspo.
That aside, feel free to message me at atomicblonde.tumblr.com!
Thank you for ALL of your amazing, heartfelt comments. You guys really brighten my every day and night with your words. Thank you so much!
Izuku thanked the heavens that no mind-reader Quirks were around, because the level of internal screaming emanating from his skull was Present Mic-performing-death-metal levels of horror.
The screaming had started the moment they’d locked eyes from across the room and crescendoed into infinity for the remainder of the photo shoot.
Kacchan looked good. More than good. Devastating. Sharp eyes like chipped glass and cheekbones just as cut, dramatic. All softness had chiseled away to reveal hard angles, arms like merciless mountain ranges, that sneering mouth slashed in a show of stunning white teeth and jagged canines. He was the hero that the public gave a wide berth of fear and awe.
Of course, Izuku had seen him dozens of times in the news, in articles, and so forth.
There was nothing like Kacchan in flesh and blood, with eyes of the same color. Every hero in the room commanded their own presence, their own level of respect. There were only two, in Izuku’s mind, whose gravity was akin to their own planet, their own solar system. Lemillion and Ground Zero.
“It’s been too long!” said a familiar golden voice as a firm, friendly hand clapped Izuku’s back. “Let’s have lunch together.”
Eyes lingering on Kacchan’s retreating form, shoulder to shoulder with Todoroki as they bickered at each other, Izuku dragged his gaze away to aim a small smile Mirio’s way.
“That sounds great. You always brighten peoples’ day.”
“Coming from you, I’ll take that as a compliment,” Mirio said brightly as he slung an arm over Izuku’s shoulder and led him toward the double doors.
Frowning, Izuku glanced back.
“Aren’t Amajiki and Nejire coming with?”
“Nope,” Mirio said with a cheerful air that niggled at Izuku’s years of honed instinct. “Let’s go down to the cafeteria. They don’t trust us to leave the building in our uniforms during break. I suppose that such a large group of heroes would make quite a scene.”
“I’ll never get used to that,” Izuku said with a half-hearted laugh as he rubbed his bad arm with one hand in a self-soothing motion. “The mobs.”
“Part of the job,” Mirio said, as if it were nothing. Conversation fell comfortably silent as he punched the elevator button with his thumb and they waited for some time for the doors to ding open.
Mind already entwined in the moment Izuku’s and Kacchan’s eyes had held as they’d stood beside each other in front of the camera, Izuku’s blank expression blindly stared at the closing doors, unseeing of his own reflection.
So close. They’d been so close. He’d smelled like woodsmoke and clean, simple soap. His eyes were still unreadable as they ever had been, aggression masking all else.
Kacchan was Baku. Kacchan was the man who had brought him to his knees, literally and figuratively. The man who had unraveled him, knotted him up, all with that unbidden mouth and quick tongue.
Of course it had been him. Izuku had only been in love with person in all of his life. It made sense that the one faceless voice who got through to him, relaxed him and made him laugh and turned him on, was the one person who’d grasped his interest as a fledgling teen and child.
Through thick and thin, everything had always been Kacchan.
“You don’t seem like yourself today,” Mirio said, as the elevator traveled two dozen floors down. His dark eyes were warm and maybe filled with some sparkle of humor Izuku couldn’t place. “I know we haven’t seen each other in some time, but you can talk to me, you know.”
“W-what?” Izuku whipped around to look at Mirio with an owlish gaze and a wobbly smile. “What do you mean? I’m – no, I mean – I’m normal. I’m fine. I’m great. Today is great, just great.”
“Oh, well that is great then,” Mirio said with a grin, not skipping a beat. The doors opened for them and he strode out with his usual confident barrel chest and head held high.
Izuku followed, head slightly bowed, instinctively walking a step behind, half-hidden behind one of Mirio’s muscular arms. The idea of the entering a cafeteria full of people he didn’t know, while they all knew him, was miles more daunting than facing a murderous villain.
The massive room had been divided neatly in half. Cramped onto one side were countless dark-suited men and women, intently staring at each other and their own food. They spoke in low tones and murmurs. On the other side of the room, needing not nearly the amount of space given, was the photography crew and ten measly heroes, spread out among four separate tables.
“This seems a little…” Izuku trailed off, puzzled and displeased by the sight.
Mirio hummed in agreement, hands upon his hips.
“Shall we?” he said simply.
Faces determined, they approached the unbearably congested half of the cafeteria and began to make their rounds at the tables, welcoming them to the other half of the room. Some people took more convincing as others, but when assured it would be no disrespect and it was actually more uncomfortable for the heroes to be segregated to this level, businesspeople began to filter and flow around the tables of heroes to sit in their own empty spaces.
With the cafeteria a steady, pleasant jumble of conversation and clinking utensils, Izuku smiled up at Mirio, feeling lighter than he had since he’d first walked into the building.
“Well,” Shinsou’s voice came from behind them, and Izuku spun to see him grinning with his arms folded, hip cocked. “You managed to find everyone a seat except for yourselves. Come on, we’ve got two free chairs. Grabbed you some food while you were busy do-gooding too.”
“Wonderful!” Mirio said, brushing past a frozen Izuku as he worked his way towards the table.
Looking on in growing horror, Izuku’s knees shook as he stared at the back of Kacchan’s head.
Baku. Kacchan. Baku. Crap.
What did Kacchan think of all this? Izuku thought as he forced his feet forward. He was keeping his cards close, and even his answer to Izuku’s unbelievably brave question had left mystery in its wake.
Are you disappointed that he is me?
Don't be stupid.
Was he angry?
Was he… happy?
How could Izuku find out in any way but asking?
Well, he couldn’t do it here. If he could find it in himself to do it at all.
Blessedly, the only free seats were those directly across from Kacchan, rather than beside. Izuku had endured enough proximity to Kacchan while rushing through every lustful, dripping word exchanged between them over the past weeks winding its way through Izuku’s body.
Regretting his relief instantly, Izuku sat down before his food and found himself pinned in a boiling red stare. Caught in the syrupy heat between them, Izuku could only look back with widened eyes, a hot lump in his throat as he fumbled with his chopsticks. Conversation ping-ponged easily around the table while Izuku decidedly looked down with a furrowed brow and concentrated on his meal.
“You two know each other, right?” Shinsou’s voice cut in and Izuku jumped in his seat, his knees knocking the underside of the table.
Face burning, Izuku choked on some rice and looked around the table with watery eyes, lingering on Shinsou’s wide smirk and lazy, tired gaze.
“Um.” Izuku coughed again, wiping his mouth carefully with his napkin and pausing to take a drink.
“So?” Kacchan said from across the table, arms folded as he slouched back into his chair. “Literally all of us know each other, hair for brains. Your detective work is fucking uncanny. Join the police instead.”
“We do,” Izuku said quietly, flicking a look between the color rising on Kacchan’s high cheekbones, to Shinsou, then Todoroki. “Know each other. It was a long time ago, though. I wouldn’t say we actually, uh –“
“If you’re lookin’ for drama,” Kacchan said, unwavering on Shinsou’s smug expression. “Turn on a TV. Or get a life. Let’s face it, the former would be easier.”
“Even I’m curious now,” Todoroki said, his expression neutral, but his attention boring into Izuku look a drill. “Where did you meet – a convention?”
Kacchan and Izuku shared a look. A shrug was all the answer Izuku received.
“We were childhood friends,” Izuku said, picking at his food now. His skin hummed with Kacchan’s presence. All he wanted to do was pull him into a darkened corner and ravage –
No, not ravage! Talk. Talk to him.
Everyone at the table went still.
“You two?” Mirio said, to Izuku’s surprise. “That’s –” His face broke into an ear-to-ear smile. “That’s so sweet - how cute! What was young Bakugou like?”
“This is fucking gold,” Shinsou said, leaning on in his elbows with an unholy light in his eyes. “Was he a crybaby? I bet he was.”
The world dropped from beneath Izuku’s feet, his face utterly aflame, right to his toes.
“I –” He stood up then, looking everywhere but Kacchan. “I need to use the restr- please excuse me.”
Izuku was already turning away and rushing out of the cafeteria, fire at his heels. He couldn’t breathe.
God, he just wanted to talk to Kacchan. Baku. Both of them. One of them would make this better, wouldn’t they? But they were the same damn person!
Overwhelmed and sucking in sharp, shallow breaths with it, Izuku stumbled into the bathroom and dropped his hands on either side of the sink. He turned on the faucet, splashing icy water onto his sizzling face, ruining that silly makeup the lady had forced on him.
He stared into the swirling sink, face dripping onto the silver faucet as he forced himself to follow the circling path of water, calming his frantic heart.
He could never face Kacchan again, could he? Not really. Not the way they were now. Maybe they’d had a chance before – before this mess. But no longer. Izuku had been the one to ruin it all with that very first phone call. He’d had a bad feeling about jumping into something sordid like that in the first place. He should have known better, he should –
The bathroom door shut, and Izuku whirled, eyes huge.
“Whaddayou want, Deku?” Kacchan said, stomping towards him, long legs devouring the space between them. Gaze fierce on Izuku, Kacchan slapped off the faucet and stood before him, glowering. “Let’s just get this bullshit over with. You want this or not? You wanna forget about this or what?”
Hearing his voice, the two of them alone, was still heady, dizzying. The reaction to Kacchan’s voice was instinctive from so many phone calls. Izuku felt his limbs go hot and heavy, even as his mushy brain scrambled to understand.
“I – I – wait, what? What? I don’t – are you –“
“I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing either, you stupid shit!” Kacchan loomed in, snarl revealing his sharp canines. Izuku went lightheaded with his nearness. “I’m just – I don’t do the whole fucking dance, alright? You tell me. What do you want?”
“Are –“ Izuku searched Kacchan’s face, deep crimson eyes, furrowed brow, the pink in his cheeks. Izuku’s heart hammered. “Are you saying I have a choice?”
Kacchan went still, his mouth sobering up, his gaze dropping briefly.
“You want a choice?”
For someone who claimed they didn’t dance, Izuku felt like he was being spun until he couldn’t tell the direction he was meant to go. Just who was leading this series of steps?
“Do you?” Izuku said, straightening his shoulders, finding his full height, his chin tilted to meet Kacchan’s unwavering stare. He could feel Kacchan’s soft breath upon his lips, the radiating heat from his body so close, that low, enrapturing voice reflecting off the tile walls to surrounded Izuku from every angle.
“We barely know each other anymore,” Kacchan said gruffly, leaning in, his eyelids heavy, lashes glinting pale gold.
Izuku swallowed, watching Kacchan’s mouth.
“I’d – I’d say we have a pretty good starting base for getting to know each other again.”
“Shut up now,” Kacchan said softly, his eyes falling shut.
“’Kay,” Izuku said on an exhale, lips parting to welcome the gentle press of Kacchan’s tongue between. A river of shivers wracked and flowed through Izuku as he opened up and found his mouth filled, tasted, savored in a slow, deep, searching kiss that found no finish line.
Hot hands skimmed his arms, a rough palm firmly cupping his nape, the other pressing insistently at the small of his back, bumping their hips together, hard utility belt to belt. Melting into Kacchan’s hold, Izuku hummed into Kacchan’s mouth and relented in his arms, fell into the kiss, giving everything. The need from his thirteen year old self, from the man he was over the phone, from the childhood friend grown up and standing before him. They all submitted to this one man.
As if sensing the change, a low rumble sounded deep in Kacchan’s chest as he gripped Izuku’s ass in both hands and spun, propping him upon the counter. Izuku barely had time for a questioning voice before lips and teeth were tearing at his own, tongue plunging forth, licking him out, swallowing every helpless moan as Izuku threw his arms around Kacchan’s neck and held on through the onslaught.
“Someone’s – ah –“ Izuku tilted his chin to free his mouth, his chest heaving as Kacchan sucked hard at the spot beneath Izuku’s jaw. “Someone’s gonna s-see us. Ka – mmmwait no!”
Izuku gripped Kacchan’s shoulders and pushed, meeting absolute resistance. Kacchan paused his ministrations, but only to smear his damp, swollen mouth to Izuku’s ear. His voice was husky and burnt out.
“Y’know how many times I imagined fuckin’ you up for real, Crybaby?”
The blood rushed from Izuku’s head straight to his dick, bringing a whimper and soft, high keen to the back of his throat as he mindlessly rutted against Kacchan’s hard stomach, his thighs wrapping around Kacchan’s waist.
“D-don’t do that,” Izuku said breathlessly, still grinding against Kacchan like an animal in heat. “I can’t when you do that voice.”
“That so?” Kacchan said, mouth still at Izuku’s ear, his hands kneading Izuku’s ass, encouraging Izuku’s hips to roll forward against him.
“Kacchan,” Izuku said, helpless and lost with it “Please.”
“We – god – we can’t. Right now.”
Kacchan paused, his face buried in Izuku’s neck.
“The fuck’re we doin’, Deku?” he asked in a voice wrecked, so much like the one on the other end of the phone, but so much hotter up close, so much more unbelievable.
“Dunno,” Izuku said weakly, scrambling to collect scattered thoughts. “Is this okay?”
Kacchan’s hands slid up to grip Izuku’s waist, and for a moment Izuku’s stomach dropped at the thought that Kacchan might pull away and come to his senses.
“Don’t see why not,” Kacchan said, taking a step back to dislodge from the vee of Izuku’s thighs. His eyes were darker, deeper than blood as he met Izuku’s hazy, dazed gaze. “This is fuckin’ weird, though.”
Izuku blinked, then laughed, sudden and bright, grinning as he scrubbed his hands over his face and dropped them to his lap to smile at Kacchan.
“Yeah, it’s a little fucking weird.”
“Well.” Kacchan looked around, running a hand through his hair – shorter now than when they were kids, a little more controlled, but still explosive. “We should – y’know.”
“Yeah. Finish eating.”
“No way! I can’t go back to that table, Kacchan.”
“What?” Kacchan scowled and folded his arms. “Why?”
“Everyone will know!”
“Wh –“ Kacchan eyed Izuku from head to toe, causing a blush to rise up anew. “Nevermind. Yeah. We should just go up and get ready for interviews.”
With a deep sigh, Izuku dropped from the counter top, to his feet. Straightening his uniform with a thousand times practice, Izuku turned and fixed his hair a little in the mirror.
“I like it,” Kacchan said.
“Your hair like that.”
“Oh?” Izuku said, his cheeks coloring as he met Kacchan’s discerning gaze in the mirror. “I’m still getting used to it. The sides of my head are cold. But it’s better, right? More professional?”
“I don’t know about professional. Just better. You’ve had the same haircut since you were fuckin’ four.”
“Fair enough,” Izuku said with a faint smile as he turned from the mirror and surveyed Kacchan one last time. His heart fluttered. “So what happens now?”
“With – with us.” Izuku glanced at his feet, back to Kacchan’s scrunched eyebrows. “You know.”
Kacchan stared at him a little too long, too hard.
“I don’t know,” he said finally. “Let’s just get this day done. I’m fuckin’ over it already.”
“Right,” Izuku said, approaching Kacchan slowly, floating and falling at the same time inside. “Let’s just finish today.”
Kacchan’s lingered for a moment and, before Izuku could say a word, gripped Izuku’s chin and pulled him in for a quick, firm kiss.
He pulled away a couple inches, eyes narrowed on Izuku’s wide ones.
“Yeah,” Kacchan said with a nod. “Definitely fuckin’ weird.”
Izuku couldn’t help but laugh.
Side by side, giving each other the space of another person between them, they headed to the elevators, riding them silently to the top. Every time Izuku glanced over, Kacchan was already staring.
Feeling his cheeks warm, Izuku looked away. In the warped, silver reflection of the doors, he could see Kacchan still watching.
“What?” Izuku finally said, bundling his courage.
“We both ended up heroes,” Kacchan said, his tone indecipherable. “Like we’d said when we were kids.”
“Yeah, well, you had a much higher probability of achieving that goal than I.”
“Did I, really?” Kacchan said, low and even. “You never told me about your Quirk. Why?”
Izuku’s chest constricted. Only Inasa knew the truth.
“Were you seriously some super-rare late bloomer, or did you think you had to hide your Quirk because you were already so strong?” Kacchan said, his voice quivering with what Izuku knew was a self-control he’d never previously exhibited as a young person. “Did you already think you were better than me?”
Izuku turned, eyes pleading.
“Kacchan, that’s not –“
The doors dinged apart and, upon finding people milling the hallway, Izuku snapped his mouth shut.
The air around Kacchan different now, he strode past and toward the room with Izuku on his heels.
“It’s seriously not what you think,” Izuku said, tongue tripping in his attempt to right the situation sans outing himself in public. “I can explain it all later and –“
“Oh, Mr Ground Zero!” said a woman with a friendly smile and two rows of shark teeth as she burst from the studio doors before them. She clasped her hands together, looking up at his grim expression, unflinching. “Are you finished early? And Mr Dauntless, you too?”
“I –“ Izuku looked to Kacchan, who hadn’t replied. “Yes, we’re finished. Do you need us?”
“You’re just two I was looking to find,” the woman said. Her skin looked a little tight, with a sheen of shimmering grey when she shifted under the harsh fluorescent light. “You two may simply call me Fukami. I’m a writer with My Hero Magazine and I’ll be interviewing you both this afternoon.”
“Ms Fukami,” Izuku said, looking between her endless shark smile and Kacchan’s slouching with his arms folded. “You mean the two of us separately, right?”
Ms Fukami raised her sharp black eyebrows.
“Hah?” Kacchan’s voice was loud in the hallway. “What’re you talkin’ about, lady? Why together? We aren’t from the same agency. We don’t even know each other.”
“Oh?” Ms Fukami said, her smile widening. Izuku realized she had no pupils – black eyes, through and through. “That’s not what my research has shown. And the fact that neither of you want to bring that up makes me smell blood in the water.”
“Lady, you’re nuts,” Kacchan said, smiling with that vicious battle grin of his.
Ms Fukami inclined her head.
“You two have five minutes to grab something to drink and meet me down the hall, second door on the right. I’ll see you both momentarily. Thank you!”
Turning on a sharp, black stiletto heel, Ms Fukami strutted down the corridor.
Kacchan and Izuku looked at each other.
“Why do they care so much?” Izuku said, frowning. There really wasn’t much to speak of, as far as their childhood went. It had been very normal, utterly average. Minus a few selective discrepancies that would never see the light of day.
“Dunno, but it’ll bore the fuck outta ‘em.”
“I guess so. You want tea? I’ll get it.”
“I can get my own tea, stupid Deku,” Kacchan said.
Before Izuku had time for his hopes to fall more than they already had, Kacchan bopped his fist lightly atop Izuku’s head.
“I hate interviews,” he muttered, heading into the studio for a drink. “Let’s end this shit show.”
Minutes later, they were sneaking furtive glances toward each other as they were smushed shoulder to shoulder on a love seat couch, both of them clutching cups of tea like life lines.
“So,” Ms Fukami said with that wide, predatory smile of hers. “Let’s talk about you two, individually.”
The usual questions followed – ones Izuku had answered a hundred times by rote memorization. He’d been well-versed in appropriate interview etiquette, and kept to practiced script. He was grateful to note even Kacchan answered calmly, though a bit concise in his replies. He’d slumped back in the couch, hooking one arm over the back of it as he calmly sipped tea and went through the line of questions he’d also likely encountered ad naseum.
With black eyes scanning some notes Ms Fukami had been referencing through the interview, she spoke casually without looking up.
“You two grew up on the same street.”
“Yeah,” Kacchan said, surprising Izuku in his addressing the question first. “As we did with a couple hundred other people.”
“Same preschool class,” Ms Fukami rattled off, meeting Kacchan’s eyes with her abysmal ones, “same elementary school class, middle school class.”
“Yup,” Kacchan said simply, giving away nothing.
“And this,” Ms Fukami said, holding up a printed photo that Izuku immediately recognized as one from grammar school.
Kacchan’s grin was missing its two front teeth, and Izuku’s weren’t much better. They both held up a gaudy, gold plastic award for winning a series of paired relay races. They were still strapped together by the ankle from the three-legged race.
Izuku, notably smaller and slimmer, was covered in dirt from head to toe, his face meagerly wiped off, and the excess mud smeared across the hem of Kacchan’s shirt, where he’d picked it up to roughly clean Izuku’s face.
At age seven, everyone had already known Izuku was Quirkless, an outcast, pathetic and weak to boot. While Kacchan had teased him for it, the bullying hadn’t begun yet. Back then, Kacchan had been the only one to really stick by him. He’d said, bein’ Quirkless ain’t a disease I’m gonna catch, and had left it at that for a good many years.
“That was a fun day,” Izuku said, much more to Kacchan than to the interviewer.
“You fell face first into the dirt and I dragged you across the finish line,” Kacchan said blandly. He plucked the photo from Ms Fukami’s long black nails, her eyes going wide for a brief moment before she smiled that murderous smile and reclined in her chair, legs crossed.
“We won, didn’t we?” Izuku said, leaning into Kacchan’s space to inspect the photo with him. “That’s what you wanted.”
“Hey, you loved winning just as much as I did. You were just so used to losing that you accepted it too easily.”
“Maybe,” Izuku said, flicking a look to Kacchan and flashing a quick smile.
“What was Mr Bakugou like as a child, Mr Midoriya?” said Ms Fukami, her voice distant to Izuku’s ears as he made a concentrated effort not to get lost in the eyes that held him hot and intense.
“Uh.” Izuku blinked and sat back, hands folded upon his lap as he address Ms Fukami. “He was strong. A leader. Brave. I admired him very much. I can’t remember a time in my life in which I haven’t admired him.”
“And when he found out you were Quirkless?”
Izuku mulled that over, careful not to look at Kacchan, who had gone silent and still beside him.
“As children,” Izuku said, specifically avoiding their early teen years.
He’d known he was in love with Kacchan from twelve, and by thirteen completely lost. Those were the worst years for both of them. Following puberty, something had snapped in Kacchan, and the cruelty had escalated. Izuku had moved before things could grow worse – now, he wished he’d hadn’t.
Perhaps if his mother had not moved them to more affordable accommodations three hours in the opposite direction, Kacchan would have seen who Izuku could be with One For All. Perhaps they could have been friends. Or better yet, partners.
“Uh, as children, we didn’t let that get between our friendship.”
Leave it at that, Ms Fukami. Leave it.
“Is that true, Mr Bakugou?” she said, turning that piercing gaze Kacchan’s way. “It never bothered you that Mr Midoriya was Quirkless for the majority of your friendship?”
“Midoriya was a good kid. Bigger dreamer than anyone I’d ever met, and that pissed me off more than anything. But looking back on it as an adult, he wasn’t bad to have around. There were worse people to be friends with than the nice little nerd next door. We lived close. It made sense.”
But Izuku knew that the proximity never mattered. Several kids on the block lived close to them, and Kacchan never befriended them. Izuku’s heart warmed, curled up and settled.
“And then Mr Midoriya moved. Did you two keep in contact?”
Izuku flashed to their last encounter. It had already taken some effort to convince Kacchan to meet with him out of school. They didn’t talk that much in middle school unless it was through Kacchan and his goons’ heckling.
He’d told Kacchan how he’d felt. Kacchan had, of course, laughed in his face.
Good riddance to a Quirkless loser. Who’d like you like that?
“No,” Kacchan said, a little too sharply. “Pen pals ain’t my thing. We both had better shit to do. UA, Shiketsu, training.”
“And my Quirk emerged late,” Izuku said, his words a rush as he looked between Kacchan and Ms Fukami. “I was just barely accepted into Shiketsu.”
“And graduated top of your class,” Ms Fukami said with smile that might have been affectionate, but was nearly impossible to tell. “The both of you. Two best friends, torn apart as teens, both running the same paths in life, now coming back together at the height of your careers. It’s quite a heartwarming story, don’t you think?”
Izuku was fairly certain that neither of them felt that way. At all.
In tandem, they said, in monotone, absolutely, and, uh huh.
“One final question, if you don’t mind,” Ms Fukami said, not giving them any choice whatsoever. She leaned, almost secretively. “Who do you two think is the number one hero of our time?”
Once more, in tandem, they both answered:
The Crybaby Situation was more than just a desperate, groping kiss in the bathroom or two dozen steamy phone calls with a distance of three hours and eight years between them.
HI EVERYONE! I'm sorry, this past month has been a riot. Your comments on the past chapter HAVE MADE MY LIFE. I am SO thankful for every single one of you. Genuinely.
In other news, please check out this hoooooly fucking HOT rendition of a phone sex scene from this fic, by redxmedicine on Twitter. Y'ALL, GO AND LOOK.
Deku never fucking called. Some hero.
Not that Katsuki had made any effort to call in the past weeks, either.
What had he been thinking, anyway? Barging into the bathroom like that, acting like he had some semblance of control over the situation. Acting like he hadn’t been drowning in Crybaby’s tears weeks ago.
Deku had reacted to him like a livewire, sparks flying unbidden, eyes like a thunderstorm, cheeks and lips drenched in pink. He’d been so hot and wet and welcome and fucking reactive to every errant touch, down to the sound of Katsuki’s voice.
Scowling, Katsuki adjusted the obnoxiously growing interest in his sweatpants and glanced around the kitchen for his hat. Grumbling to himself, he yanked the black beanie onto his head, snatched up his keys from the hook on the wall, and slammed the door on his way out.
Stepping out into the brisk autumn air, Katsuki glared at the sun and slipped on his sunglasses, zipping up his leather jacket as he stomped down the street. A man two times his size gave him a wide berth.
What had Katsuki been thinking?
After all that time, after everything between them which they hadn’t realized had been between them until holed up in that bathroom, their voices echoing off tile, reflecting back at them everything said and unsaid – it had been overwhelming.
Crybaby stripped Katsuki down to his barest animal. Deku had always done something similar.
But as with everything revolving around Deku, it was complicated.
Katsuki didn’t like complicated. Didn’t entertain it, address it, or let himself get involved with it.
But this was Deku.
This was every time Katsuki had physically shoved Deku away throughout their childhood because he didn’t understand or recognize or accept the shitstorm going on inside him every time that blinding smile aimed his way.
This was the way Katsuki had smashed that teenage confession into the ground because he’d been so wrapped up in his best friend, so enamored, so far gone for him that it terrified him down to his shaking knees when Deku had looked up at him with big, honest eyes and a face full of summer freckles.
This was going through high school and hearing about Deku’s exploits and victories on the other end of the city, like some mythical hero rising through the ranks, mocking him for every time he’d called Deku stupid or weak or hopeless.
This was graduating at the top of his class and hearing Deku had done the same. The bitterness and confused which had followed. The fucking fury of knowing Deku must also know about him but never sought him out.
This was running parallel to Deku for the entirety of their lives, knowing he could never expect Deku to actually seek him out because it was all Katsuki’s fucking fault.
The Crybaby Situation was more than just a desperate, groping kiss in the bathroom or two dozen steamy phone calls with a distance of three hours and eight years between them.
Jolted from his stormy sulk by the buzzing in his pocket, Katsuki unearthed his phone and rolled his eyes at the caller.
“Yeah?” he said, weaving between the growing crowd.
Kirishima’s crumbling voice wailed over the phone.
“You had a best friend before me? Why didn’t you tell me!”
“HAH?” Katsuki was already getting a headache. “The fuck’re you talkin’ about?”
“The magazine article,” Kirishima said, sounding morose. “Why don’t you ever look at me like that?”
Katsuki screeched to a halt, numb to the bumping shoulders that jostled him in the middle of sidewalk. His heart paused.
“What? Like how? Who?”
“What do you mean who?” The crisp rustle of paper pages turning sounded frantically in the background. “You and Dauntless! There’s an entire exclusive two page spread on you two in here. We never got a photoshoot together.”
Blaring red alarms colored Katsuki’s vision, a cacophony in his ears.
“You’re not even in my agency, hair for brains,” Katsuki said hollowly, his heart a stick of dynamite winding down to the quick. He forced his feet to move, quicker, quicker, his jittering vision searching out a newsstand. “Anyway, it’s no news we’re friends. No one gives a shit.”
“Yeah,” Kirishima said with a sigh. “This article is seriously serious? You two grew up together?”
“WHY IS THIS SUCH A FUCKING THING FOR EVERYONE?” Several people yelped and veered out of Katsuki’s way. “Why is there an article about it? Are you seriously serious right now? What the fuck does it even say – nevermind.”
Katsuki shoved some cash at the man working at a small stand and tore My Hero Magazine from the shelving, the cover photo some grand, highly edited bullshit of the top ten. With the phone wedged between his ear and shoulder, Kirishima’s voice going muffled and distant in Katsuki’s distraction, he flipped rapidly through the pages.
The first few pages of the article were the usual shit, lauding each of them for their achievements, group photos, the same old bullshit.
Katsuki nearly dropped the magazine to his feet. His face burned, his chest aflame as he scoured the incriminating photo plastered as an entire magazine page.
Him and Deku from the shoulders up, full uniform, Deku’s hood down, Katsuki’s mask on. Everyone had been edited out around them, pure white illuminating their backdrop.
Deku looked up into Katsuki’s eyes, lashes long and thick and dark, mouth a soft, sober pout. Katsuki chin was angled down with a faint frown, his eyes a deep, unusually dark crimson. The black of his eyelids, around his eyes, only set off the sharp, searching stare he drilled into Deku in return. The photo was charged, crackling with intensity, an energy that sizzled off the page.
The practice photos, the ones Katsuki had barely noticed clicking away in the distance. This had been the first time they’d really looked at each other in eight fucking years.
On the opposite page, in bold, it simply said, Wonder Duo Reunited!
The burn of a blush swept from his face, searing down his neck, his chest as he streaked through the article, eyes wide behind his sunglasses.
The child prodigy and late bloomer, now neck and neck in popularity… a secret childhood friendship, never before divulged to the public… in the same room together after eight years… the tension between them was palpable, and though they spoke favorably of their childhood together, neither hero divulged enough to paint a clear picture of how they had drifted apart…
Will the public be privy to a lifelong rivalry rekindled? Or are there deeper hidden depths to Japan’s two favorite budding heroes?
Katsuki jolted, snapping the magazine shut.
“I’ll call you back,” he mumbled, hanging up on Kirishima’s protests.
Katsuki opened the magazine again, stared. Closed it. Opened it again.
Katsuki knew his profession and public better than to think this wasn’t going to blow up into something cosmically obnoxious. He could see the gossip magazines in his mind’s eye already.
And the worst part was – whatever they said, they wouldn’t be far from wrong.
Parting the pages once more, Katsuki lingered over the photo, stock still in the center of the sidewalk.
When his phone vibrated anew, Katsuki shoved the magazine beneath his armpit and eyed the screen. His stomach dropped.
“Hey,” he said low, swallowing hard.
“Did you see it?” Deku said, his voice tight.
It was strange to hear him over the phone again, so familiar, his body so attuned to rising to the particular sway of Deku’s speech.
“Course I did.”
“We should probably talk. About, you know.”
“Yeah. Things. Can you… I know it’s far. Can you come here?”
“When?” Katsuki asked, as if it mattered. He’d go anywhere, anytime.
“Now?” Deku said, sounding small.
Katsuki exhaled, long and uneven.
“I’m on my way.”
The three hour train ride felt like seven. Thoughts racing in time with the wheels rumbling beneath, Katsuki pressed his temple to the window and aimed a narrow stare at the passing city scene.
With the ease of a child hero turned scar-riddled, bloodied pro, Katsuki stomped down on his scattered thoughts like a boot grinding a would-be forest fire into the dirt. Mind still and stoic, his heart smoking up and clogging his chest and lungs, Katsuki refused to think of what was to come or how he should react. He’d figure that shit out upon arrival.
Unfamiliar with the area, Katsuki frowned as he stepped out of the station, glancing around with a hunched back and a scowl. When he pulled out his phone to send a complaint to Deku for an address, it was already there. Dutiful little shit.
As he neared his destination, Katsuki’s shoulders grew stiffer, his heart thumping in time with his quickening gait. Agitation prickled at him, slivers beneath the skin he couldn’t yank free. The closer he got, the more his thoughts unraveled and tangled him up.
Just what was he doing here? Why had Deku wanted him to come all this way, and why had Katsuki rushed to the call like it was part of his job? What needed to be said face to face that couldn’t be said from the familiar protection of a phone call? After all, phone calls were what they did. Or, had done.
Standing at the correct apartment building – one deep in the center of the bustling city, and a literal skyscraper – Katsuki glowered at the glass doors for a full minute before shoving his way through.
What was this shitty hesitance?
Fuck that, fuck this, and fuck Deku in particular.
Katsuki’s face burned as he took the excruciating elevator ride toward the top. The hallway was silent as he strode across clean carpeting. The place felt like a hotel, and just as sterile.
Feeling out of place and on edge, Katsuki grit his teeth and knocked on the correct door, hard.
The door whipped open before Katsuki could finish and he caught himself from stumbling right into Deku’s frame.
“Hi,” Deku said, looking up at him with those evergreen, ever honest eyes. A blush bloomed at the apples of his cheeks and the carefully cut curls atop his head from two weeks previous were mussed and ruffled without guile or style, the shaved sides grown out to a soft, velvet moss fuzz.
Katsuki wanted to touch it. Stroke it, yank it.
“You wanna do this in the hallway or you gonna let me in?” Katsuki said, scanning Deku to his bare feet. No one should look that tempting in a bland t-shirt and baggy gym shorts. Either that, or Katsuki was losing his fucking mind.
“Um.” Deku’s face joined the color of his cheeks as he stepped back and held open the door. “Yeah. I mean, no! Come in. This is weird. Sorry I just said that out loud – and that.”
“Still an embarrassment, I see,” Katsuki said as he brushed past him, careful not to touch. “Some things never change.”
“Dunno about that,” Deku said from behind him, possibly a mumble to himself as he shut and locked the door.
Biting back a comment, Katsuki surreptitiously scanned what he could see of the open plan apartment as he took his time removing his leather jacket and shoes.
The apartment was neat, but not overly clean. A pair of dirty socks lay atop a pair of sneakers, a coat slung over the back of an armchair, an array of unopened mail on the small table beside the door. A large window encompassed the far wall, framing the vast cityscape. The couches, chairs, and tables all looked like refurbished pieces, well-worn and welcoming in deep, homey forest colors and natural wood.
“Do you want some tea?” Deku said, hovering too close and ripping at a thumbnail. “Coffee?”
“Why’m I here, C- Deku?” Katsuki said with a narrowed look as he rose to his full height, hands placed upon his hips as he considered the man before him and tried not to remember how Deku’s gaze had gone glazed and submissive the moment Katsuki had whispered in his ear.
Deku wrapped his arms around himself, scarred hands gripping his elbows as he met Katsuki’s stare.
“Let’s sit,” was all he said, turning to fully lead the way into the main area of the living room.
With a sigh, he dropped to the long, faded chocolate leather couch and grabbed a crocheted pillow to cradle in his lap. Legs curled beneath him, he leaned back against the arm rest and watched as Katsuki flopped back without fanfare, knees akimbo, hands loosely laced atop his lap.
Resting his cheek against the plush sofa, Katsuki met Deku’s quiet gaze.
“So? You called me all the way over here for this? What did ya need to say t’me that you couldn’t say on the phone?”
Deku blinked, pink rising up his freckled throat.
“The phone isn’t – it doesn’t – that would be weird. Don’t you think?”
“Weird seems to be our theme recently,” Katsuki said flatly. Briefly, he flicked his attention to the coffee table, which looked to be a lacquered trunk of a tree. The offending magazine lay there, an eyesore. “Stupid fuckin’ article, though, right? Full’a bullshit.”
“Bullshit or not,” Deku said, his thick lashes lowered to where he fiddled with the decorative cushion,” And a lot of it’s not, let’s be honest – people are going to talk. The public is going to talk.”
Deku looked up, a lock of curls heavy over one eyebrow.
“And if the public talks, so does the news. News means reporters, reporters mean goodbye to whatever privacy we have, goodbye to whatever this is or – or was, g-“
“HAH? Hold up, dumbass,” Katsuki said, sitting up now and shifting to face Deku’s despondent demeanor. “What’re you – fuck, you think too much. I –“
“I’m thinking a pretty reasonable amount right now, Kacchan,” Deku said, eyes growing hot as he too sat straighter, leaning forward now, intent. “That photo. I don’t know how they got that, but we look like –“
“What, Crybaby?” Katsuki said, tilting toward Deku, mirroring his intensity. His dropped his tone, gaze narrowed as he watched Deku flinch with the change. “What do we look like? What d’you care what fanfic gets written about us when you’ve probably done worse over the phone when you’re gaggin’ for me?”
Deku’s eyelids went heavy, the dark hairs scattering his arms rising, his skin noticeably prickling as he swallowed hard and looked down, away.
“That’s not – I’m concerned about your privacy. M-mine, too. Not about the rumors that fly. There’ll always be rumors. With – with this spotlight, our careers are not just going to take a jump – people are going to associate me with you and vice versa. We’ll be tied together. The Wonder Duo? We’ve barely been in the same city as each other in years, let alone worked together. There’s no duo about us.”
Taut silence stretched between them, Deku looking down, Katsuki thinking hard as he stared even harder.
“That just means people will talk about me twice as much,” Katsuki said with a shrug, and waited until Deku tentatively looked up. Katsuki grinned. “They can associate you with me all they want. Fact is, anyone who mentions you is gonna mention me, too, and that’s more publicity toward becoming number one.”
Deku expression dropped and went drab, his voice unimpressed.
“You do realize that the same goes for me, right? Any time someone mentions you, I’ll come up.”
Katsuki scoffed and gestured vaguely to Deku’s everything – without looking at his everything because fuck, this was not the time.
“Yeah, but you’re – you’re you. I’m Ground Zero. I’ll overshadow you in conversation any day.”
With an eye roll, Deku settled back against the armrest and stretched out his legs. Stocky as he was, his feet barely reached Katsuki. Several pale, sizeable wedges of scar tissue crisscrossed the thick thighs and calves.
Katsuki’s mouth watered.
“Like you said,” Deku’s voice cut through Katsuki’s thoughts. “Some things never change. You’re still underestimating me.”
Katsuki snorted, his smile sharp and cutting.
“What, ‘cause your Quirk is so much better than mine, Mr Late Bloomer? I’ve had about ten years more experience with mine, buddy. You’re underestimating me.”
“I’d say I’ve been doing pretty well to catch up with you,” Deku said evenly, a stubborn set to his jaw, his chin jutted forth.
But Katsuki knew what Deku sounded like when he melted for him, and the knowledge kept him from rising to Deku’s unspoken challenge.
“You told me you’d explain that,” Katsuki said, eyeing Deku up and down. He had a small slice of his ear missing, in the upper curve of cartilage. “Whatever that is supposed to mean.”
Deku’s countenance immediately withered, his shoulders curving in on themselves as he chewed the inside of his cheek and looked anywhere but across the couch.
“That’s – if I tell you, then you have to tell me something in return.”
“Deal,” Katsuki said instantly. What the hell did he have to hide?
Deku pulled his knees up to his chin, resting it atop as he encircled his arms around his legs and considered Katsuki with an unreadable expression.
“Kacchan.” He wet his lips, distracting Katsuki for a split second. “What I’m going to tell you… No one in this world knows.”
Katsuki snapped his attention back to Deku’s guarded eyes, his heart making a timid leap.
“No one,” Deku said, his tone grave, gaze dark. “But you probably know me better than anybody, and vice versa –“
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, you little –“
“Do you want me to trust you or not?” Deku snapped, and that was a new and exciting reaction that simmered Katsuki’s blood.
“What the fuck did you do, Deku?” Katsuki said, face scrunched, head cocked. “You know I ain’t a fuckin’ gossip.”
“I didn’t do anything!” Deku said, eyes wide, his expression boyish and innocent and devastatingly sweet all at once. “He did it – All Might did it!”
“What – he –“
“Gave it to me,” Deku blurted out. He clamped his mouth shut then, his cheeks colored as he flicked a look away, as if suspicious of prying ears, and then started to scoot down the couch to lean in too close. He smelled like fresh shower soap and warm musk. He met Katsuki’s gaping expression. “He – he passed his Quirk on to me. It’s a, um, long story, but it’s not just my Quirk. It evolves through the generations, gets stronger, more broad, and – and All Might thought I could be the next symbol of hope and, you know, perseverance, or – or something like that.”
Overwhelmed and absorbing this information all at once, Katsuki went silent and still, watching Deku’s face for any sign of dishonesty, malice, whatever. Of course, there wasn’t. There never had been with him. It was why Katsuki had been especially hurt when he’d thought Deku had been hiding a Quirk from him all their lives.
Still, this was unbelievable at best.
“Bullshit,” Katsuki said, folding his arms across his chest with a scowl. “All Might would never have picked your scrawny ass.”
“He would and he did,” Deku said, that obstinate chin raising once more, begging for a punch. “He saw the potential in me that I always knew was there. One that you had never given the time of day.”
“Why should I have?” Katsuki said, arching a haughty brow as he peered down his nose at Deku. “All you ever talked about were your dreams, but when did I ever see you train? Or pick up some weights, or wake up at five in the fucking morning to jog alongside me? When did I ever see you do anything but moon over All Might through a fuckin’ computer screen and collect memorabilia? You were full of shit, Deku. So yeah, I wasn’t about to give your half-assed dreams the time of day.”
“Is that why you turned down my confession?” Deku fired back, a harsh ricochet that blindsided Katsuki and struck him with a blow to the ribcage. “Because I wasn’t worth your time? Because we both sure as hell know now that it wasn’t because you were straight.”
Katsuki’s face went alight, his hackles rising, his shoulders stiffening.
“That? Why are we talking about that all of a sudden? You –“
“Information for information,” Deku said, a glint of that steel backbone he’d grown shining in his eyes. It looked good on him up close, the confidence, the strength. “Or did UA not give intel courses?”
“Sure got a smartass mouth on you these days,” Katsuki said, skirting the topic.
“Someone recently said they liked that about me,” Deku said, appraising Katsuki with the faint quirk of lips. His face was close, too damn close. “Or had you said I had dirty mouth? Maybe both. All of those phone calls blur together, don’t they, Baku?”
Katsuki’s mouth instantly pooled with saliva and he swallowed it quickly, fighting back the languid pull that dripped hot and syrupy down his gut to pool between his legs.
“Uh,” he said.
Shit shit shit.
This wasn’t meant to happen! Katsuki had always been the one in control. That was his fucking job. People called, he bossed them into submission. This – this was unfair. With the way Deku was inching towards him, one large, warm hand settling on his knee, those bedroom eyes peering up at him without guile, suddenly heedless of embarrassment.
Sure, he’d come to find that Crybaby had been fucking shameless once he’d gotten into it. But this was Deku. This was face to freckled face, dammit.
“What’s changed?” Deku said softly, his mouth in a soft pink pout, his eyebrows bowed as he slid his hand up Katsuki’s thigh. “Between then and now? You want me now, don’t you? I’ve been thinking about it a lot. When I’d confessed to you. What you’d said. How you’d escalated in pushing me around. And how you came after me in the bathroom like – like –“
Deku chewed on his bottom lip for a second and Katsuki remained frozen in place, entranced by the lilt of his voice, the flow of passion and feeling that no one else spoke with these days. Only Deku ever had.
“You weren’t interested in me back when I thought you might have been, but you are now, and I can barely fathom it. What changed?”
“Nothing,” Katsuki said, the word escaping, betraying him before he could bite it off.
Deku stared, expression blank, green eyes foggy.
“I don’t – I don’t get it. Nothing has changed? You’re still not interested in me? Then what –“
“Nothing changed because the way I feel about you now is the way I felt about you then,” Katsuki said between gritted teeth, his cheeks aflame. “Got it, shithead? I ain’t sayin’ it again.”
Deku’s lips parted, the hitch of his breath audible in the thick silence between them. Frantic, his wide eyes searched Katsuki’s burning features, looking for whatever was important to a guy like him.
“For fuck’s sake, stop staring,” Katsuki snapped, aggressively scraping his fingers through his hair and bowing his head. “Regardless how I felt at the time, if you thought for one second my fourteen year old ass was gonna sweep you off your feet, then –“
“Kacchan,” Deku said, a little breathless.
He looked up.
Deku cupped Katsuki’s jaw in calloused hands and brought their mouths together with a sweet little sigh. Katsuki had heard the sound a dozen times over the phone. There was nothing like feeling it hum from Deku’s tongue as he slipped it into Katsuki’s mouth like a gift.
A deep thrum of emotion welled up in Katsuki’s throat as he groaned against Deku’s mouth and yanked at his compact body, urging those powerful thighs over his own, straddling his lap so Katsuki could chain his arms around Deku’s waist and keep him close. Deku’s body went pliant and giving against him, a whimper of hunger joining with a nip to Katsuki’s bottom lip.
Relief swelled through Katsuki’s frame, lapped at his hard shoulders until they slumped, encouraged him to sink back into the sofa that smelled of forest and Deku.
Deku’s hands snuck between them, clever fingers catching the hem of Katsuki’s shirt and slipping beneath to run along the ridges of his stomach. Katsuki grunted, his skin prickling where it tickled too much, and swallowed up Deku’s smile with a sweep of tongue and a deep, sinking kiss.
When they both came up for air, forehead pressed to forehead, Katsuki’s arms never breaking their hold upon Deku’s waist, Deku’s cracked, husky voice was a wet dream come to life.
“Mmm,” was his only reply.
Deku’s mouth skimmed Katsuki’s temple, his jaw, and paused at the sensitive shell of his ear.
“Will you fuck me for real?”
Katsuki’s eyes shot open.
This was nothing Izuku had ever known.
As always, thank you SO much for your encouragement and kindness. The past couple of weeks have been rough and your words mean the world to me. I'm so lucky I get to reach out to you all through my work. HERE, HAVE SOME SMUT.
When Izuku didn’t look at him, it was so much easier. With his lips nestled at Kacchan’s ear, their heartbeats rushing toward each other in tandem, the words flowed as if they were simply on the phone, exchanging soft, panting encouragements like they’d done a dozen times.
When Izuku wasn’t looking at Kacchan, he could say what he’d say when laid out across his bed, alone.
“Will you fuck me for real?”
Following a sharp inhale, the hands at Izuku’s waist stilled.
“Wanna cry for me?”
Thick, heady heat descended the length of Izuku’s body, melting, suffocating, the air too humid to choke down. Riding the surreal, dreamy high of this moment, Izuku ducked his head and placed a kiss upon Kacchan’s earlobe.
Like a beast released from its cage, Kacchan’s fingers fisted at the nape of Izuku’s neck, yanked him in place with a ragged, relieved groan that cut off only when their lips crushed together. Izuku’s startled yelp was swallowed whole, teeth scraping, clumsy and wild in Kacchan’s frenzied attempt to devour.
A strong arm banded around Izuku’s waist, clinging close, Izuku’s hands crushed between their chests, his palms flat against Kacchan’s hard wall of muscle. A sharp tug at Izuku’s hair shocked down his spine, frayed his nerves with twin lances of pleasure and pain. His moan was muffled against Kacchan’s delving tongue, forcing his mouth wider, their kiss backsliding into sloppy, unbidden licks and bites and smearing lips.
“Me?” Izuku found himself murmuring against Kacchan’s assault, both hot hands now busy kneading Izuku’s ass, grinding it down on Kacchan’s lap and the insistent erection rubbing up to meet each movement. “Y’want me?”
“Fuck.” In a volatile jerk of motion, Kacchan pushed Izuku back, fisted the collar of his t-shirt and tugged them nose to nose. Kacchan’s eyelids were heavy, crimson eyes eclipsed by black moon pupils. “It’s a damn inconvenience, y’know that, Crybaby? Be better off if I didn’t wanna tear you the fuck apart.”
Was this how Kacchan looked on the other end of the line when they spoke? Had Izuku always had this effect? The very idea was intoxicating, powerful.
“Did you touch yourself when I touched myself?” Izuku said, his fingers creeping along the hem of Kacchan’s shirt. He leaned in, their noses brushing, his lips a damp caress. “Did you cum when I cried?”
“Shit,” Kacchan choked out, his hold loosening on Izuku’s collar, dropping to stroke up Izuku’s thick thighs. He accepted Izuku’s slow, succulent kisses with a low hum, and this time when they parted, and Kacchan spoke against the column of Izuku’s throat, that voice dripped with familiar sin. “Maybe. What’s this confidence, hah? You should be down here where you belong.”
A large palm settled atop Izuku’s hair and firmly eased him lower.
“Oh,” Izuku said, swallowing hard as he slipped between Kacchan’s parted knees, peering up with wide, hazy eyes. He licked his lower lip and watched Kacchan’s breath hitch, his chest jumping. “I – yeah, okay. Okay.”
“So filthy for me,” Kacchan said, a thrilling, looming presence above Izuku. Lifting his hips, he watched with hooded eyes as Izuku scooted Kacchan’s sweatpants and boxers down his thighs just enough to free his cock.
Despite the accumulated hours spent exchanging debaucheries, Izuku’s face flushed, his gaze lowering, unable to meet the raw, ravenous desire in Kacchan’s expression. This was his best friend, after all – well, was once.
“Um,” Izuku said, scooting closer on his knees, both palms skimming up Kacchan’s thighs, the fingers of one hand wrapping around Kacchan’s firm cock. He watched Kacchan’s lashes flutter, his jaw working as he bit down on a faint moan. “I haven’t done this in a while. In real life, anyway.”
“Fuck,” Kacchan said, voice hoarse as ran a hand through Izuku’s hair. Their eyes locked, and Izuku’s own cock pressed insistently against his shorts. “Lemme see those tears, Crybaby.”
Izuku’s face couldn’t burn any brighter. Soon he’d be up in flames. Dropping his gaze to the impressive cock in hand, he brought his damp lips to the leaking head and swallowed him down in a long, slow descent.
Baku’s dick – Kacchan’s dick. No. That was too much for his thought process to handle. Luckily for him, all complex brain function promptly sparked out at the first restrained, bitten back moan eking from Kacchan’s clenched teeth.
Looking up from below thick lashes, Izuku slicked the flat of his tongue up the underside of Kacchan’s length. A jolt shocked through his core, a streaking current as Izuku caught Kacchan’s heavy gaze, their attention held fast as Izuku popped his mouth off Kacchan’s cock with a sinfully wet slurp and slid back down for another thick mouthful.
Kacchan’s sharp inhale kicked Izuku’s heartbeat into overdrive as he worked to bob his head, one fist taut around the base of Kacchan’s pulsing length, his other hand gripping Kacchan’s bare thigh. Stiff fingers bunched in Izuku’s hair tightened, guided, pushed, and Izuku coughed, gagged on Kacchan’s cock, the hand at Kacchan’s thigh bunching, nails cutting crescents into the soft skin there.
The tears triggered, Izuku’s vision hazing over with the familiar damp as he worked his mouth enthusiastically over Kacchan’s dick, leaving a spit-wet mess.
“Fuck,” Kacchan said suddenly, pulling Izuku off his cock and tucking it away quickly. “I can’t – when you look like – gonna make me cu- dammit.”
Kacchan lurched to stand, taking Izuku’s hand and bringing to his feet.
Frowning with a swollen, stretched mouth, Izuku cocked his head.
“What’s wrong? Did I –“
“I need you now.” Kacchan bit off, expression fierce and hard.
Izuku could only gasp as Kacchan reached around, grabbed him by the back of the thighs, and lofted him right into his arms. Eyes huge, legs wrapping around Kacchan’s waist on instinct, Izuku held on for the ride.
“God, this can’t be real,” Izuku mumbled against Kacchan’s throat, his heart raging against his ribs as Kacchan stumbled down the short hall. “This isn’t – no, not that room!”
Face buried in the crook of Kacchan’s neck, Izuku felt Kacchan’s body still as he wordlessly surveyed the scene before him.
“Uh,” Izuku said, voice muffled. “I – I guess if anyone wouldn’t be surprised by this, it’d be you.”
“You haven’t changed,” was all Kacchan said as he backed out of the All Might memorabilia room, hands clutched firmly on Izuku’s ass as he made a beeline for the actual bedroom. “Fuckin’ nerd.”
Heaving a relieved sigh, Izuku banded his arms tighter around Kacchan’s neck and inhaled deep. He smelled so familiar, like every shared memory left behind, and some to come.
And then every thought toppled as they fell to the bed without ceremony, a medley of straining muscles as they yanked at each other’s clothes, mapped out bare expanses of new territory. Claiming kisses, fierce, fiery brands that left Izuku gasping for air among the heady plumes of smoke and lust that clung to the walls.
Blinking blearily at the ceiling he’d stared at so many times when he’d cum to this man’s voice was dizzying, unbelievable.
“This isn’t real,” Izuku said, low and slurred, his mouth a weak mess from Kacchan’s hungry assault.
Kacchan whipped his head up from where he’d been teasing Izuku’s nipples to stiff peaks, his eyes narrowed. His high, haughty cheekbones were rosy, his lips a tantalizing, bruised pink, his hair an explosion of gold. His gaze consumed Izuku whole.
“Idiot. It finally is.”
Heart swelling in his throat, Izuku swallowed hard, legs coming up to wrap around Kacchan’s naked waist, suddenly testing and tentative. When Kacchan’s lids fell shut with a faint groan, Izuku’s nerves scattered and shivered.
Arms flung above his head, eyes and smile dreamy, Izuku peered up at Kacchan and rolled his hips, slow and liquid, watching the subtle play of pleasure paint across Kacchan’s features. Slick, purposeful friction grew between them, Kacchan meeting Izuku’s easy thrusts with stronger ones of his own, that hot, damp forehead dropping to Izuku’s as they mindlessly rutted with increasing urgency.
Frustration and impatience sweltering from Kacchan’s every pore, hard hands scraped up Izuku’s arms, their palms flush, their fingers fisted. Lips crashing together, the shift from savor to savagery tasted like copper and salty sweat, and Izuku wanted to lick it off every unforgiving plain of Kacchan’s body.
But he was pinned, flooded with feeling, swept up in the violent tide of Kacchan’s body working against his, their cocks caught between their sticky stomachs, full and ready to spill.
“Did you – ah.” Izuku hissed as teeth sunk into the ridge of his shoulder and started to suck. “D-did you hope it was me?”
“What?” Kacchan snapped, his grip switching, long fingers of one hand cuffing Izuku’s wrists, the other dragging down his arm, the divots of his ribcage, kneading the delicate skin of his hip, and finding firm purchase on the curve of Izuku’s ass. “’Course not.”
Izuku’s stomach lurched, his brows bowing with instant disappointment as Kacchan leaned in, lips at his throat.
“Who’d ever think I could hope for this? Stop talking.”
“You like it when I talk,” Izuku said, humming with the flutter of fulfillment in his chest.
“’S the other way around,” Kacchan said, but Izuku could hear the smile in his cracked voice as he scraped his teeth over Izuku’s heart.
Izuku’s world blurred into a watercolor of red and gold streaks and splashes. Eyes and lips like blood, cocks full and flushed between them when Kacchan laid him out like a landscape. Gilded sunset streaking across the bed, swimming in bronze, ashen shards of surprisingly soft hair sticking out between Izuku’s fingers as he fisted Kacchan’s spikes. The way those fireside eyes painted over Izuku’s face, tracing Izuku’s mouth as he cried out with the slick push and pull of added fingers sliding toward his molten core.
This was nothing Izuku had ever known. Kacchan’s normally sharp tongue was far from selfish in their long, lush kisses. Hands that brought buildings to their knees made his own simply shudder and shake with the way those fingers unfurled him slow, then quicker.
And his voice – his voice. Hovering at his ear, smoke-rough and soft, like heaven dragged through hot coals.
“Always wanted to know what you’d sound like with my cock in you, Crybaby. Long before I knew about that pretty face a’yours.” Kacchan was three fingers deep, and whatever the hell he did hit Izuku like a lightning strike, driving his hips off the bed with an electric gasp and a sizzle of ozone snapping in the air. Still, Kacchan’s mouth nuzzled at Izuku’s blushing ear. “And your pathetic little noises. Fuck, they’re so much better when you’re under me. How you gonna manage this dick, hah?”
With a whimper, high and taut at the back of Izuku’s throat, Izuku clutched his arms around Kacchan’s neck and mindlessly thrust himself down onto those clever fingers. Sopping, shameless noises filled the room.
“Fuck me, fuck me,” he chanted, mindless in the world of red and gold behind his eyelids. “Fuck me.”
Abandoned in a writhing mess for the longest handful of seconds in his life, Izuku worked his cock over with one calloused hand, his gaze heavy and laden with lust when Kacchan returned with the condom wrapper between perfect white teeth.
“Oh no you don’t,” Kacchan said, words muffled by the foil in his mouth. He smacked Izuku’s hand away. “Got too used to that, didn'tcha? Can’t blame ya. I’m good at what –“
“Shut that handsome mouth and fuck me like a good boy,” Izuku blurted out in a rush, burning with a desire that threatened to fry them both.
The wrapper dropped from Kacchan’s lips, his eyes growing wide, his face catching flame as he fell wordless. His cock twitched and bounced at even higher attention.
Oh. They’d have to explore that later.
But now – now, Kacchan finally managed to fumble with the condom, fling Izuku’s legs apart, and sink into him with one long, firm stroke. The fill fucked the breath right out of them both, twin gasps cutting through the tension that welled up thick and sticky in between them.
With eyes damp and foggy, Izuku gawked at the ceiling, lips spread wide in a soundless sob, hands flinging up to fist the sheets. His chest heaved with the first thrust and it was instantly too much, so much – the following sharp, wet slaps of hips and thighs and ass streaking tears down the corners of Deku’s eyes, soaking the curls at his temples.
His dazed gaze found Kacchan’s, found his face open with awe, mouth parted in wonder as he scooted forward, folding Izuku, propping Izuku’s knees over his wide, muscular shoulders.
They moved in tandem then, hard and fast, relentless. The setting sun blazed across the bed. The walls were melting. Kacchan looked lost, dizzied as he struck a maddening pace, his brow beaded and shimmering, his bottom lip swollen from biting down on it.
Izuku’s cheeks flooded as he sobbed through the excruciatingly sudden orgasm. Throat burning with an unbidden cry that hiccuped with each stutter of hips, Izuku shuddered violently, his spend shooting too far between them, streaking across his chest. Kacchan’s face scrunched, eyes screwed shut as he sucked in a sharp, bright keen and collapsed his forehead upon Izuku’s shoulder. His thighs quivered through his release, his long, lazy moan tapering off with the weight of exhaustion.
Wincing, Izuku spread his legs and let them fall back to the bed. Hissed when Kacchan shifted his ass just enough to pull out.
Drifting, eyes shut, face cooling with faded tears, Izuku floated, limbs weightless.
“Unreal,” he found himself saying with a sleepy drawl.
“Mmm,” was Kacchan’s only reply.
Izuku’s lips quirked.
“Can’t say I expected this when I called you over.”
“Then you’re stupid,” Kacchan said, heavy but welcome atop Izuku’s frame. He turned his face, nose nestling in Izuku’s curls. His heartbeat knocked against Izuku's chest, asking for entry to an unlocked door.
“I’ve heard that once or twice. Mainly from you.”
“Some things never change.”
“And some things do.”
Kacchan went silent long enough for Izuku to imagine he’d fallen asleep.
“People’re gonna think we’re a thing now,” Kacchan said. “’Cause of the article.”
Aren’t we a thing?
Holding his tongue, Izuku carefully chose his words.
“You’ve had worse rumors surround you.”
“Don’t tell me you read them gossip mags,” Kacchan said with a sigh as he rolled and starfished out beside Izuku, his arm lounging across Izuku’s sticky stomach.
“I’m not worried,” Izuku said, clearly worried.
They were basically celebrities. And with their relationship – or whatever this was – extremely, painfully new, added in with the ravenous public eye and the drama-starved media…
They were charging into a breeding ground of difficulties.
“If you’re not worried, I’m not worried,” Kacchan said easily, clearly humoring him.
“This might be the first time we’ve agreed on anything,” Izuku said, lips pressed tightly together to mute a laugh as he lolled his head to the side to admire Kacchan’s tempered profile.
“Nah,” Kacchan said, craning his arms above his head in a spine-arching stretch and a relieved sigh. No one got to see him this relaxed. Heck, Izuku couldn’t remember ever seeing him this at ease.
Izuku’s lips curved, a curl of warmth nesting comfortably in his chest.
“This is really real, huh?”
Raising an eyebrow, Kacchan finally looked Izuku’s way. The fire in his eyes had mellowed in these brief minutes at each others’ side, and Izuku found his cheeks warming under their unusually quiet scrutiny.
“Sure as hell hope so.”
So that’s how it was. Deku had a hero’s will of steel, after all. Katsuki supposed he shouldn’t be surprised anymore.
Hi, everyone - long time no see! As always, I've been avidly keeping up with your comments and taking GREAT joy in your enjoyment of this fic. All of you readers are so important to me and I truly appreciate you. Please feel free to message me on Tumblr at 'atomicblonde' - I'm always will to chat it up with you! I've also recently released my LalaZee's Guide To Smut, link provided.
In addition, you may or may not have noticed - my 13 chapter cap has been eliminated. There's just more than I want from this story to feel at peace with it. There's more I want to convey. So, that's that!
Anyway, please enjoy our boys as they learn about each other anew!
“Was this the best idea?” Katsuki said between his teeth as he lingered back beside Mirio, his eyes trained on Deku’s stupidly perky ass.
Deku’s long, white gauntlet gloves illustrated with great vigor whatever he was saying, and Mina’s replying smile was a mile wide. Despite the impending autumn, the day was abnormally hot, and Katsuki had been staring at the back of Deku long enough to catch the sweat damp shimmer at the back of Deku’s freckled nape.
A chorus of clicks and snaps sounded from Katsuki’s right, signaling another bunch of giggling girls taking their photo.
Brow arched, Katsuki trained his expression as best he could – which was, frankly, horrific in itself – and glanced toward the tittering teens. One of the students gasped, went red, and spun around to face her friends.
“Think of it this way, buddy,” Mirio said cheerfully. He slung a hefty arm over Katsuki’s shoulder and aimed a winning smile toward the bundle of now nervous girls as they passed. “Either you hide from the article and cause ten times more suspicion, or you walk around like it’s no big deal. Nothing to hide, nothing to see, right?”
“You’re heavy,” Katsuki said, elbowing Mirio in the ribs without checking his force.
“You’re lucky Midoriya agreed to this,” Mirio said, sidestepping with the weight of Katsuki’s strength. “He has a better eye for publicity than you.”
“The public fuckin’ loves me,” Katsuki snapped, glowering at the sturdy, square line of Deku’s jaw as he looked to the side, still chatting away.
He wanted to suck a dark mark right there, just below the ear. Savor the flavor of Deku’s salty sweat, hear that hiccup of pleasure hike up Deku’s throat, revel in the way Deku clung to Katsuki like there was only one person in this world.
Yeah, the public adored him. But no amount of single-minded hero worship from his fans could add up to a second of time in which Deku looked at him like there was nothing and no one else.
They’d been fucking for ten days and Katsuki was already addicted.
Since their first encounter, they had only been able to meet two other times, but the three hour train rides there and back had felt like nothing, even beneath the weight of work exhaustion. The minute Deku would open the door for Katsuki with that familiar smile of years gone and years to come, the tension in his muscles would melt, the day’s fury furrowed in his heart dispersed.
Deku’s powerful legs tangled in ugly plaid sheets, his soft snore of which Katsuki had no prior memory, the fogged-over moss of sleep in Deku’s slow to blink eyes in the morning light. New experiences entwined with the old, knitting something thick and warm in Katsuki’s chest.
What the hell was wrong with him? This fucking crybaby was making him soft.
“I’m proud of how well you’ve been handling this,” Mirio said, low enough that no passerby would hear. “When we were inexperienced UA students, we imagine the only problems we encounter to be those of a villainous nature, don’t you think? Then we step out into the world and there’s all this,” Mirio gestured with big, thick hand to the high rise buildings, the errant staring crowds, and held up mobile phones aimed at the team, “and we realize there’s so much more. An image to create and keep, eyes everywhere, pass codes for apartment buildings and too many locks on the door, secret phone numbers, and even more secret dates.”
Katsuki bristled, increasing his pace until he was nearly on Deku’s heels.
“Your dad talks give me the fuckin’ creeps. You’re two years older than me, button eyes. Whaddayou know about dates, anyway? You and a tenta-boy have been attached at the ass since forever.”
Mirio grinned, unaffected as ever.
“I know what it looks like when you look at him.”
Katsuki flicked a guarded gaze Mirio’s way, then back to Deku’s shoulders. Beneath the uniform, they were ungodly freckled from the sun. Hundreds.
“Don’t know and don’t care what you mean,” Katsuki said, stiff and staccato.
“Alright,” Mirio replied easily. “Let’s find us some baddies.”
Was this what it was like to ‘think with your dick’?
Because watching Deku work was unexpectedly distracting.
As a gay man, it wasn’t as if Katsuki had never noticed the fit of a hero’s uniform, or a regular gym-goer or two. But the interest had been fleeting, and when Katsuki was at work, he was at work. He hadn’t busted his ass his entire life to reach this point for nothing.
But Deku. Deku.
His quickstep movements, thick legs especially powerful when revved up with electric current snapping with each movement. The reactive flex of muscle beneath deep green uniform, the crackle and spark in his eyes, set on the mission, reluctant to kill but understanding its necessity under certain circumstances.
Deku was a powerhouse of energy, never slowed or stopped or deterred. He truly lived up to the name Dauntless.
Of course, none of Katsuki’s attentions hindered his ability in battle. He may have lingered a second too long on the mask that covered Deku’s mouth and nose, the way a drop of sweat clung to the edge before sliding down the unnatural metallic angles.
He may have willed back the current of bright energy that zinged down his spine when he recalled the way Deku had rode him just the other night, his own back flat out on the cold kitchen tile, watching the sweat race down the dips and curves of Deku’s clavicle, chest, and stomach as his eager cock bounced in time with the increasing tempo of their hips.
Katsuki had cum so hard his wide eyes went sightless, the black fading in, then fading out to the image of a red-faced Crybaby, teeth clamped down on his bottom lip, face tilted to the ceiling as he rocked through his release.
Just what the hell was it about him that hooked Katsuki before he’d even known Deku’s identity?
From that first conversation there’d been something. A spark, a flicker of flint to stone, the smoke that signaled to Katsuki a hidden flame. Sure, Crybaby had been there to be dominated, to have someone take control of his life for that short span of a conversation so he could let go. But he’d been intelligent, too. Quick to reply, sharp while still totally giving, utterly receptive to whatever Baku had offered.
Eight years ago, Katsuki had been familiar with –and had begrudgingly fallen for – a boy who’d been all soft edges and dreams, with stars in his eyes for no one but Katsuki.
The man fighting beside him today no longer reflected the stars – he was one. And Katsuki had spent more than a few days and nights reading the news and wondering if Dauntless’ star was growing bigger than his own.
“That was fun!” Deku strolled up beside Katsuki as a police van screamed down the street, away from the scene of their battle. His mouth guard remained on, and Katsuki couldn’t imagine how hellishly hot it was in there. He could also hear the smile in Deku’s voice, trace the faint crinkles splayed from the corners of his eyes. “I’d always imagined what it would be like fight with you.”
“Who wouldn’t?” Katsuki let his shoulders slump, arms hanging at his sides with the growing weight of his gauntlets. He swiped his tongue across his top teeth as he eyed the crowd of bystanders, tasted blood. “Where’s Pinky?”
Deku jerked a thumb in the direction of the emergency vehicles evacuating the clogged street.
“She hopped one of the cars to give our statement back at the station.”
“Copy that,” Katsuki said absently, hands on his hips as he cracked the small of his back and looked around. “Where’s that smiling idiot?”
The humor in Deku’s voice shined.
Katsuki rolled his eyes.
“Fine. Let’s you and me head back. First shift’s nearly up, anyway.”
“Your agency has showers?” Deku said, falling into step with Katsuki and giving a hearty wave to some screeching fans.
Katsuki grunted his assent, attention lingering on Deku’s profile, wondering why he didn’t bring his mask down and flash that famous megawatt smile he’d become known for as much as All Might.
The midday point of the sun had passed, but the heat lingered, the layer of clinging sweat beneath Katsuki’s clothes giving him pause for how the hell Deku was handling the full jumpsuit and mask.
“Gonna pass out from this heat or what?” Katsuki said, noting the wan sap of blood from Deku’s skin, his freckles growing stark. “At least gimme some warnin’ so you don’t embarrass us both by faintin’ in public.”
“I’m fine,” Deku said, voice faint.
Katsuki slid a lingering look toward Deku’s face as they walked. They each limped their way down the pavement, fresh bruises and bumps coming to life from a usual run of the mill villain. That was normal. Deku’s silence was not.
Neither of them exchanged words on the short walk back to the agency. Katsuki remained tight lipped for propriety’s sake. He didn’t like people sniffing around him for scraps of conversation, of personal life, when he was out on the job.
Why Deku kept his mouth shut, Katsuki couldn’t figure. Maybe he was always this silent after battle.
Words of concern hovered on Katsuki’s lips, but the feel of them was still so foreign he could only mull them around his mouth with distaste.
In the elevator, Katsuki reclined back against the wall and took a hard look at Deku’s mostly masked face.
“You can take that thing off now. You’re the in the fuckin’ building already.”
“Uh.” Deku flicked a jittery look Katsuki’s way. “I’ll wait ‘til I’m near a sink or something.”
With a narrow look, Katsuki lurched to a straighter posture and closed in on Deku’s personal space, their faces close as Katsuki met Deku’s wide eyes.
“I knew somethin’ was off. What’s goin’ on in there, dumbass?”
The doors dinged and Deku was the first to slip out, Katsuki following hot on his trail. They skipped the office entryway and headed for the locker rooms doors, slipping in without a sound.
The not knowing drove splinters under Katsuki’s skin. Deku’s silence was unnatural, and he realized he didn’t yet know this Deku will enough to address it. He might know what Deku looked like naked and writhing beneath him, but he didn’t know what to do with a Deku who carried something Katsuki couldn’t see.
“Alright,” Katsuki snapped, spinning on Deku the minute they stepped between the rows of echoing lockers. His own gauntlets clattered to the floor as he released them at their feet. “The fuck is this?”
Mouth guard gripped in his quickfire hold, Katsuki yanked at the same time Deku yelped, Wait!
A flood of blood splattered atop Deku’s feet, soaked through the collar of his uniform and fanned out as Katsuki boggled. Deku’s white-gloved hand smacked to his mouth, pressing hard, his palm smearing in deep red.
“Hold on, hold on,” Katsuki muttered, one hand firmly cupping Deku’s jaw, the other hovering at Deku’s wrist, unsure. “You’re hurt – since when? The hell, stupid Deku, you’re bleeding all the fuck over yourself! Bite your tongue? Lose a tooth? Spit it out and not more goddamn blood!’
“Bip my wip,” Deku said, muffled, his eyebrows bowed and pathetic. “Is fime.”
“You bit your lip in the battle?” Katsuki said, forehead scrunched, thoughts flitting between smacking Deku upside the head and dealing with his injury. “Gotta be deep with all that blood you were storin’ in your mask.”
Deku nodded vehemently, his eyes an unreal mountain green, dark and vivid against his pallid cheeks and sunshine freckles.
“Coulda at least said something,” Katsuki mumbled, looking around for something to staunch the blood until he could grab the first aid kit in the office.
Deku’s apologetic gaze spoke as much as he would have over the phone. Katsuki rolled his eyes as he released Deku from his hold and dug through his utility belt for the super absorbent handkerchiefs he kept for wiping the nitroglycerine from his hands.
“Keep this on it.” Katsuki lightly shoved at Deku’s muscled shoulder, encouraging him to sit on the center aisle bench. “Wait here. Don’t do anymore stupid shit.”
When he returned, the cloth Deku pressed to his lip looked less soaked than Deku’s glove or clothes.
With a hefty sigh, Katsuki straddled the bench and Deku followed suit so they could face each other.
“Show,” Katsuki said, clipped and firm. Deku obeyed instantly, and though the action was simple, sent a warm tug in Katsuki’s gut. “Looks like shit.”
“What!” Deku winced at his mouth movement and slapped the kerchief back to his upper lip.
“You bit clean through, dumbfuck,” Katsuki said casually as he set the extremely large first aid box between them and began to rummage through. “Gonna need a stitch or two.”
To that, Deku did not reply, and it was cause enough to Katsuki to peer up from his work, his voice dropping a decibel.
“You gonna cry for me, baby?”
That brought color back to Deku’s cheeks.
“N-no,” he murmured softly. “You do what you have to.”
Katsuki’s ears perked with interest. So that’s how it was. Deku had a hero’s will of steel, after all. Katsuki supposed he shouldn’t be surprised anymore.
“We got that numbing shit,” Katsuki said, digging around once more. “The spray.”
“It’s fine,” Deku said, still holding the cloth firmly to his lip as he spoke a little clearer as the blood flow clotted.
“Yeah okay, tough guy.” Katsuki’s smirk was instinctively snarky as he set his concentration upon the curved needle and thread.
“Like you wouldn’t do the same,” Deku said, a warmth in his tone that Katsuki realized he’d missed since Deku had promptly shut his mouth back on the street. When had Katsuki grown so accustomed to that voice, its affect on him? Since Crybaby?
“Shut up and lemme clean this mess.”
Deku remained dutifully silent and stoic throughout the entire ordeal. He never questioned Katsuki’s skills in stitching, or jerked away from his touch and the pain it instilled. Sinking into the depth of silence that coddled them in the echoing locker room, Katsuki swore the air changed. Swore the weight of Deku’s gaze upon his face as Katsuki focused on his work grew heavier, more intimate.
“Done,” Katsuki said with a faint exhale through his nose. Gaze lowered, he cleaned up bloodied gauze, the used hook stitch, and so forth, dropping it into a plastic bag he’d brought with and tied it off. “Get ice on that before you leave. S’probably gonna leave a mark, though. Your fans gonna cum over that scar. Creepy fetishes left and right, man.”
Katsuki looked up, his grin forming on automatic.
“Creepy fetishes? Nah. I just cater to ‘em.”
“I meant are you going to cum over this?” Deku’s voice barely carried, half from the minimal way he moved his slightly swollen, no doubt painful, lips. Half from the heavy-lidded look he aimed across the short space between them. “When it’s all healed.”
Katsuki’s stomach leapt, his mouth going dry as their gazes locked.
“Literally or figuratively?”
Deku’s lips quirked and he hissed, hand coming up but not touching his mouth as he shoulders subtly shook.
“Don’t make me laugh, asshole.”
“Who’s an asshole?” Katsuki grinned wide despite the thunder pumping through his blood. His hands fisted upon his thighs to keep from touching. “I just did you a favor.”
Deku hummed in agreement, nodding as he leaned forward, their noses near brushing.
“You’re right. Thank you. My hero.”
Katsuki’s head swam, his uniform too hot, too tight. What the fuck was this?
“What’re you –“ Katsuki swallowed, tilting back just as Deku’s lips brushed his jaw. “You’re all fucked up, Deku. You need’ta lie down and get some pain meds in you.”
“Yes, but.” Deku reached between them and with a little more carelessness than Katsuki was used to seeing from him, toppled the closed first aid kit off the bench and scooted closer, closer until Deku’s thighs spread and propped atop Katsuki’s thighs, the very heat of Deku’s crotch through his uniform radiating between the vee of Katsuki’s legs. “But I want to thank you properly, first.”
“Idiot,” Katsuki said between gritted teeth as Deku slung his arms around Katsuki’s neck and hefted himself firmly atop Katsuki’s lap, nose nuzzling the sensitive shell of his ear. “D’you know where we are?”
“Mina told me something today,” Deku whispered in Katsuki’s burning ear.
“HAH?” Katsuki’s grimaced, his fingers searching out the zipper at the nape of Deku’s neck and sliding it down, down toward the curve of his ass. “Why we talkin’ about her?”
Clever hips rolled against Katsuki’s, grinding, coaxing Katsuki’s cock to life.
“She said that, well – I knew who she was the second I heard her voice, you know?”
“Oh,” Katsuki said hollowly, barely listening now, his palms trailing the little hills of Deku’s spine, the wide expanse of skin bared by the open uniform.
“Mmm,” Deku burrowed his forehead against the joint of shoulder and jaw. “And she told me you haven’t signed in to work in over a week.”
Katsuki’s eyes shot open, his heart clattering against his ribcage, threatening freedom.
“Oh. That’s – shut up – I’ve been busy.”
Deku’s hands trailed over Katsuki’s shoulders, leaving bright sparks in their wake, skimmed down between them to finger at the button of Katsuki’s uniform pants. Their lips didn’t touch – couldn’t – but Deku’s breath against Katsuki’s was hot and inviting as their foreheads bumped.
“So get busy.”
Without a single fucking clue just who was leading this encounter, Katsuki dove in, grappling at Deku’s jumpsuit, ripping the bloodstained garment down his chest, arms, wrists, until it pooled at his waist to reveal a hard, scarred pecs heaving just for him. Deku’s fingers laced at Katsuki’s nape as he dipped his head back, face toward the ugly fluorescent lights while Katsuki devoured the freckled, sun-kissed plains of Deku’s body. His teeth cut eclipses into the skin, sucking the flesh to deep purple moons while Deku hung on with soft, reedy sounds.
“Kacchan.” Deku slumped forward, his cheek against Katsuki’s. “Kacchan, fuck me, please. Fix me up so good.”
Katsuki’s eyes bugged, his dick threatening the seam of his pants and the underside of Deku’s thick, insistent ass.
“Fuck, Crybaby, I wanna, but we don’t have –“
“Wait, wait,” Deku mumbled at Katsuki’s temple. “I – hold on t’me, put your arms around my waist.”
“Wha- shit, Deku!” Katsuki held on tight as Deku suddenly lurched back, reaching toward the floor for the first aid box. He flicked it open, sent appliances scattering across the floor as he dug through with one hand and clouded eyes.
“Got it,” Deku said, triumphant, his lips a faint twitch followed by a quick wince. His abs strained and contracted as he sat himself solidly atop Katsuki’s hardon once more. “Here.”
Brain half way to fried, Katsuki blinked down at the small container in his hand. He flicked an eyebrow, looking between the Vaseline and Deku.
Deku nodded, writhing down on Katsuki’s dick in a slow, wrecking rhythm.
“Fff –“ Katsuki bit down on the beast clawing in his chest. “’Kay. S’your ass, not mine.”
The rush that followed was a whirl of grappling hands and fumbling fingers, the determined set of Deku’s jaw as he dropped to his knees, unclipped Katsuki’s utility belt, and worked his fly open, eyes locked on Katsuki’s, looming above.
Katsuki nearly swallowed his tongue when Deku lightly pursed his injured lips and pressed them to the head of Katsuki’s cock. He could feel the blood throughout his body pulse and thicken in reply.
“G-” Katsuki raked a hand down his face, his words audibly wavering. “Get up here.”
Barely a breath passed between them before Katsuki whirled Deku around, the slam of Deku’s solid body against empty lockers skating a thrill straight to Katsuki’s stiff, impatient erection.
“Spread,” Katsuki snapped, headspace heating to molten red steel as he ripped Deku’s uniform and boxers down past his beefy thighs, hand soundly smacking the inside of one to part them wider. “Good.”
An indecent moan raked from Deku’s throat as he lightly thumped his forehead and fists against the dull grey metal and arched his back, presenting the outrageous curve of his ass in all its glory.
“Fuck, Crybaby.” Katsuki’s mouth smeared along the sweat-damp rise and fall of strong shoulders, his body fitting against Deku’s smaller form, his dick slotted nicely between the firm cheeks of Deku’s backside. His body worked in a mindless rut, one hand fisted around the Vaseline container, the other taking Deku’s cock in hand, stroking and squeezing slow and easy. “You’ve always been this slutty for me, haven’t ya? Since the first time you gave up this sweet little ass for me, hah?”
“Yesss.” Deku jut back further against Katsuki’s dick, lifting his hips in an obvious attempt to catch the head of Katsuki’s swollen crown on his hole. “Yes, yours. C’mon, Katsuki, come on.”
“Okay okay okay,” Katsuki muttered, flipping the cap off the container to who knew where and dipping a finger in, coating it thick. One palm clamped onto the nape of Deku’s neck, kept his cheek pressed fast against the lockers, as he dipped a middle finger in.
The resounding cry shook Katsuki to the core, left him scrambling for a sliver of sanity as he opened Deku up further and faster, rushing toward that which they both craved like rabid, writhing animals.
It was with no shame from either of them that Katsuki braced himself behind Deku, spread those ass-cheeks wide and obscene, and guided his cock in with a slow, torturous stroke. Every sinking inch tangled their moans thicker, Katsuki’s mouth wet with salivation as he watched Deku stretch and take it, his tight, hot hole flexing around him, desperate to milk him hard.
Katsuki’s fist buried into the metal locker with a cacophonous crunch, a crater beside Deku’s unflinching face as Katsuki bottomed out deep. All Deku did was reach up and bind his calloused fingers around Katsuki’s wrist and murmur, go go go.
A blur of hips, of blood still splattered and drying on the floor, of copper and salt in the heady air, of skin cracking against skin like a whip, of Katsuki biting down on Deku’s shoulder as they both came in tandem gasps. Deku’s cum striped across the lockers as he tipped back into Katsuki’s hold, Katsuki’s cock sliding out, a dripping mess slopping down Deku’s thighs to mingle with his blood on the tile.
Blindly, Katsuki reached back, found the bench as he sat down with a thud, Deku still on his lap as before, only facing outward, his head reclined against Katsuki’s slick shoulder. Katsuki’s brow pressed to Deku’s opposite shoulder, his arms loosely wrapped around Deku’s thick waist, their fingers entwined upon Deku’s shivering thigh. With every heave of Katsuki’s breathing, Deku’s body shifted in time.
“Someone’s gonna find us,” Deku said dreamily, a smile in his voice.
Katsuki muffled a yawn into Deku’s skin.
“You say this now. Shit, man.”
Deku hummed, utterly unapologetic. He held up his hand, inspected their tangled fingers.
“My hands are bigger than yours.”
“Fuck off, runt,” Katsuki managed, wincing as he moved to sit straighter and unceremoniously shoving Deku off his lap.
Deku stood with a sigh, inspecting the entire area with a disparaging expression.
“Well, this is gross.”
“That was all you, Crybaby.”
Uniform still pooled at his feet, perky ass red with Katsuki’s fingertips, Deku shot a look over his shoulder, and down at Katsuki. His mouth did not smile, his upper lip too angry and red as it was. But Katsuki could see it in Deku’s gaze, hear it in the timbre of his words.
“Well, I had to thank you properly, didn’t I? My hero.”
Katsuki’s face grew hot.
“Let’s clean up, you lil’ shit.”
Hours and hours later, when Deku was packing his things in Katsuki’s bedroom to catch the final night train back to Hosu, Katsuki stared hard at Deku’s stitches in the dim, warm lighting.
“You get hurt, you’re supposed to tell your team, y’know.”
Deku’s hands stuttered as he packed, his attention unnecessarily focused on stuffing wrinkled clothes into his bag.
“It wasn’t so bad.”
“Bad enough that you needed stitches. Dumbass. Visit a clinic. I’m sure glasses-for-brains has some place on speed dial back at your agency.”
“Iida?” Deku said, turning his head then and huffing a soft laugh through his nose as he shook his head. “I don’t know about that. I think I’d like this scar.”
Katsuki’s eyes narrowed as he watched Deku efficiently zip his pack.
“Why?” Deku parroted, looking up with a small, sweet frown and eyes too innocent for a hero’s life. “Because you stitched it for me. You took care of me.”
Katsuki’s chest clenched, hurt.
“You say shit like that way too easily.”
Deku cocked his head, considered Katsuki from the foot of the bed.
“I think I’m okay with that. Are you?”
“Yeah,” Katsuki said, voice like gravel, unable to look at Deku’s light for too long. “I am.”
Was this the ideal situation? No. Was this the worst thing that could have happened? Not by a long shot.
Aand we are back in business! I apologize for the hiatus, but I was trying to balance my two long fics, and since Crybaby is vastly shorter, I wanted it to last a little longer. ANYWAY. I hope you enjoy some more romcom feelgood shenanigans! I love all of you!
Izuku rolled onto his back, collapsing in a heap, arms spread wide as he sucked in a shaky breath, released. Kacchan’s short huffs sounded from the speaker phone beside his ear, a comforting warmth that expanded behind Izuku’s ribs.
“I’m –” Deku swallowed, licked his chapped lips. “I’m so glad I don’t have to pay you for that anymore.”
“Cheap-ass motherfucker,” Kacchan drawled, slurred and weighted with sleep. “Was your plan the entire time, hah?”
“Mmm.” Izuku scrunched his face as he grappled for his lost boxers and used them to wipe his stomach down. He threw them into the abyss – nowhere he cared about right now, anyway. “Caught me. Devious, aren’t I?”
“Ain’t got a devious bone in yer body.” A shuffle, then Kacchan’s voice murmured all muffled and soft, likely almost face-down in the pillow. He liked to sleep like a man shot in the back.
“There’s an innuendo about boning somewhere there,” Izuku said with a vast, gaping yawn. “I’ll find it later.”
“Spare me. You’re shit at bein’ funny.”
“We can’t all be Shinsou,” Izuku said as he slipped beneath his rumpled blankets, flopped back once more and let his eyes fall shut. His bad arm, the one scarred and burned and torn to high hell, smarted something fierce after today. It didn’t matter how many mixed martial arts and defensive maneuvering classes a hero took – sometimes you just didn’t roll with a fall the right way.
“That’s your benchmark for humor?” Kacchan mumbled, snorting a lazy laugh. “If he’s so funny why don’t you marry him?”
“You say that, but we did go on a date once,” Izuku said, lips curving at the memory. What a disaster he’d been – not Shinsou, Izuku. Newly graduated, utterly clueless, and wandering the welcoming party the Tenya Agency had thrown for Iida, their new inheritor, and both Inasa and Izuku. Shinsou had been one of the first people to stroll up to him with that lazy smile and a secret stash full of snark. He’d relaxed Izuku’s aimless stuttering – made him laugh. “Or was it two? Can’t remember.”
Suddenly, Kacchan didn’t sound like he was snuggling a pillow at all.
“What?” Izuku’s next yawn cracked his jaw. “So sleepy. You off work tomorrow?”
“You two dated?”
“I – who?” Izuku rolled, tucking a pillow against his stomach and another between his knees. “Hey, Kacchan?”
“I’m gonna strangle him with his –“
“Wanna go on a date with me?”
“Kacchan, why the yelling?” Izuku whined, nuzzling his pillow-person and wondering just how much coaxing it would take to get Kacchan into the little spoon position. So far he’d remained unsuccessful in his secret endeavor.
“Why you wanna go on a date?” Kacchan said slowly, no longer sounding the least bit sleepy. “We ain’t seventeen.”
“Twenty-somethings go on dates, too,” Izuku said, his chuckle deep with impending slumber. “Besides. Haven’t seen you in two weeks. Not since you stitched me up.”
The stitches were long since gone – a thin, pink scar cut in its wake. Izuku liked to think it added at least a year to his baby face.
“Yeah, but us?”
“We’ll go to that – what’s the place over by me. Exclusive.” So tired. And his arm hurt so bad. Izuku really didn’t want to deal with physical therapy and desk work again. “You know. Heroes only, have to scan our license upon entry and whatn-“
“Yeah, yeah, I know the damn place already. You don’t think that would look highly fuckin’ suspicious?”
“Old friends can meet for dinner, too,” Izuku said, smiling now, his cheeks aching. “The twenty-something ones, even.”
“Who the fuck taught you to talk back like this?” Kacchan heaved a sigh and, by the sound of it, thumped back against his mattress once more. “Fourteen year-old Deku is dead.”
“You hated him anyway,” Izuku said mildly, knowing well enough that he only teased with half-truths. “Come on, brave Ground Zero. Go on a date with me. If not, I could always find somebody else to –“
“If you say his name I will –“
“Shinsou is probably fr-“
“HE’S NOT FREE AND YOU KNOW IT. HE’S DATING THAT ENDEAVOR KNOCK OFF –“
“Somewhere out there, Todoroki’s ears are burning.”
“That’s literally what one of them does, you smart-ass little shit. Fine. Fine. I’ll go on a goddamn date with you if it’s sooo important.”
“It is,” Izuku said, his lips pursing to frown as he rolled to muse at the shadowed ceiling.
Why was it so important? A date was a date. It wasn’t like they hadn’t eaten together inside one or the other’s apartment. It wasn’t like they didn’t talk on the phone every couple of days.
But since the first time they’d, well, put their bodies where their mouths had been over the phone, they’d only seen each other four or five times.
Was it too fast to request a date? Was Izuku being too greedy, selfish? He was almost certainly doing the opposite of laying low with their relationship – or whatever this was. Undefined sexy times.
“Did you just mutter undefined sexy times?” Kacchan gritted out. “What the actual hellfire is goin’ on in that brain right now? Ain’t you supposed to be happy I said yes? Where’s my thank you?”
Izuku sputtered a laugh.
“Do you make all of your dating prospects thank you for the blessing that is your presence?”
“Only the ones who don’t appreciate me enough.”
Izuku’s lips curved as he rolled his eyes in the dark. Something about being able to trade banter with the almighty Bakugou Katsuki felt both surreal and a dream come true. Everything he could have wanted as a teenager, when he’d known there’d been no chance for it.
Why was it so easy now? Even Kacchan – curmudgeon and respected-from-a-safe-distance idol – seemed to fall into place with Izuku. And that – that was exciting and terrifying and utterly new, shaky ground.
So maybe the date was to see if their connection spanned past sex appeal and intense magnetism, past working relatively well together as heroes, past the base they’d created through dozens of phone calls. Maybe the date was so important because Izuku wanted to find out who and what they were to each other when they weren’t being heroes or rolling in the dark.
“You there, Crybaby?”
“Drifting,” Izuku managed, the drugging weight of dreams descending. “Talk to me.”
“Talk to you? I –“
“Just… talk to me, Kacchan.”
Silence. A sigh.
“Today was shitty. Shitty and good, I guess. You know how it is. Save some, but not all. Lucky I got to them before the firefighters did or else it would have been over. Got a lot of families out, y’know? And a dog. Bet your wuss ass saves cats ‘n dogs all day, don’t it? Give up tryin’ t’beat me at the number one spot and become a vet, for fuck’s sake. Suit you better. Anyway. I been workin’ with our tech crew over a prototype suit. For walkin’ through and battlin’ fires, not makin’ ‘em. Dunno if you read it in your past nerd escapades or whatever, but turns out my skin is pretty damn flame retardant and…”
“Kacchan!” Smiling and breathless, Izuku whipped the front door open. Eyeing Kacchan’s grumpy expression appreciatively, Izuku’s smile widened as he casually leaned in, one hand at the nape of Kacchan’s neck, and kissed him square and full on the mouth. “You look handsome.”
Before Kacchan could reply, Izuku released and turned, rushing back into the apartment.
“Come in, come in! Sorry I’m late, I –“
Now was probably not the time to mention he’d been on the phone with Shinsou, looking for fashion advice. They’d settled on a short-sleeved, solid black button up and casual jeans. According to Shinsou, Izuku looked shocking and sexy in black. Was that a thing? Izuku was pretty positive that sexy was the last adjective ever stuck to him in his life, but he wasn’t about to turn down advice.
Said shirt remained unbuttoned, his solid, compact body displayed as he rushed to the bedroom and dove into a large laundry bin of clean, folded clothes. He was digging for socks when two hands slipped around his hips and held him firm, the long, hard ridge of an unexpected erection wedging along the crease of Izuku’s ass.
“When’d you start wearin’ black,” was what Kacchan rasped in his hear as he leaned forward, the wide span of his chest contoured with Izuku’s muscled back and shoulders. Fingers dug into the delicate wings of Izuku’s hip bones and pulled him back against Kacchan’s interested cock.
Delighted and laughing with it, Izuku stood tall and brought his arms up and back, fingers lacing at Kacchan’s nape. Izuku hummed, allowed his eyes to fall shut and his chin tilt aside as Kacchan buried his face, his nose, in the crook of his shoulder to inhale. They swayed from side to side for a while, lost in the lazy rise of heat and humidity between them.
“Mmm, Kacchan.” Filled with something bright and red and gold, glowing from the inside out, Izuku leaned heavily into his man, his hands sliding down to fit over Kacchan’s on his hips. “We should go.”
“Who says we gotta go?”
And of course Kacchan’s voice was convincing as hell – was a Pavlovian reaction that Izuku would fall to his knees for and delight in obeying.
But that wasn’t the reason they’d met today. It wasn’t why Kacchan looked edible in a fitted green Henley and those weirdly fashionable baggy black pants he seemed to own a dozen pairs of. The scuffed black army boots always made it.
“I say.” Chuckling, Izuku turned in Kacchan’s embrace and threw his arms loosely around those big, strong shoulders. His grin was wide and loose, and he felt just a little drunk on this person, this friend, this lover with the eyes like hot coals, hands like lust, and a heart like trust.
Kacchan’s face twisted in clear displeasure, his palms cupping and gripping Izuku’s ass tightly, lifting him to his toes so Izuku had to yelp and cling on tighter.
“And when’d you get so fuckin’ bossy?”
“Somewhere between First Year and now, I’d say.”
Izuku nipped at Kacchan’s ear, soaking up the short grunt of pleasure before he wiggled from that tempting hold. Giggling as he scooted out of Kacchan’s grip on the belt loop of his jeans and ignoring the curses he left behind, Izuku sat himself on the bed and finally put on his socks.
“How are you?” Izuku asked as he stood up and glanced down to button his shirt.
“Hah?” Kacchan shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets, doing nothing but watching Izuku fumble with his tiny buttons. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
Izuku peered up slowly, a curve of lips creeping across his face, eyes knowing and pleased as he’d finally begun to properly translate his lover’s speech.
“You’re saying you’re good because you’re here with me?”
Kacchan’s eyes widened, his cheeks flushing high and fast as curled his top lip and stalked from the room.
“Did I fuckin’ say that? Just get your damn shoes on and let’s eat. I’m starving ‘cause of you.”
Giddy with the knowledge that he was going on a real life date with the crush of literally his entire life, Izuku was quick to follow orders this time. They were out the door in five minutes flat, Kacchan pausing to double check Izuku’s door was locked behind them before they left.
They took a taxi to the restaurant, idly discussing a mutually interesting case from the news as the sunset blinded them through one window. Kacchan’s dusky hair shot through with light was less a halo and more a burning star.
The place to where they were headed wasn’t necessarily fancy, but it was indeed exclusive and small, catering only to heroes who weren’t appreciative of fans coming up for photos while they were chewing on a bloody steak. The lighting was low, the bar was long and the stools generously cushioned for a long stay, chat, and drink.
Needless to say, they didn’t even have to flash their licenses to be recognized and allowed in by the bouncer.
“This is weird, right?” Izuku said, unable to bite back the smile he tossed over his shoulder, eyes shining on Kacchan as they followed a waitress between tables. “Us.”
“What’s weird about it?” Kacchan muttered, skulking along behind him, eyes scanning the room much in the same way a detective would. “It’s fucking dinner. You do it every day.”
Undeterred and cheerful with it, Izuku rolled his eyes and thanked their waitress as they were seated at an intimately small, square table.
“I’m starving.” Izuku scanned the menu with hungry eyes.
“You still eat like the world’s gonna end,” Kacchan mumbled, head lowered as he scanned the options. His stubby lashes caught the dim lightning, old burnished gold.
This was surreal. Izuku had been the one to suggest it, but now that they were here, it didn’t feel real.
They ordered soon after, Kacchan ordering them beers when Izuku had simply shrugged and thought: Why the hell not?
“You like livin’ around here?” Kacchan asked, faintly waving a hand, his bent and broken and healed fingers still oddly graceful. His mouth was set stern, his head a cocked as he watched for Izuku’s reply. “Workin’ at Glasses’ agency and shit.”
Charmed by the basic nature of the question, but Kacchan actually trying here, Izuku folded his elbows upon the table and leaned a little, keeping his voice relatively mellow. The bubbling excitement of simply chatting face to face about the mundane instead of a rushed after-work fuck and a takeout while nursing the day’s bruises and cracked ribs was… Exhilarating.
“Of course! I get to see my best friend every day, I’m surrounded by friends, I live my dream day in and out.”
“Weird how we never met after all this time,” Kacchan said, chin resting upon his fist as he considered Izuku with that watchful, guard dog expression. “You ever avoid me?”
Izuku felt his face burn, his gaze dropping to his beer where he took a long drink, gathering his thoughts.
“I guess,” Izuku replied carefully, setting his beer down and tracing a fingertip through the frosty condensation. “I was sure you didn’t want to see me, anyway. Didn’t you ever avoid me, too?”
“Tsch. I ain’t no coward.” Kacchan scowled and looked off to the side, his cheeks faintly flushed.
Izuku’s eyebrows climbed toward his hairline, his mouth quirking.
“Uh huh. Okay. And you? Do you like what you’re doing? With the, uh, well, Mina’s business and all.” Izuku wasn’t embarrassed about Kacchan’s profession – it was how they’d met, after all – but he wasn’t about to go blabbing the details in the middle of a restaurant. “We both know you’re good at it, so that’s not really in question.”
“Like it?” Kacchan crumpled his face. “What kinda question is that? It’s a job. A side job. I ain’t even gonna do it no more.”
“What?” Izuku frowned, then aimed a wobbly a semi-familiar small-time hero passing by. When he spoke again, it was at a whisper as Kacchan stared at him with searing eyes. “Why? Mina told me you’re her highest grossing employee.”
“Why’re you two talkin’ about my –“ Kacchan held up both hands and he shook his head. “No, y’know what? No. I don’t wanna know what you two creeps talk about. That I’m a fuckin’ coward over. Anyway, why d’you care if I quit? It’s better that way.”
“Why is it better? Because of me? I don’t care that you do… that. It’s just a job. And I know the last thing you’re interested in is complicated yourself with –“
“With someone else like I did with you?” Kacchan rolled his eyes and drank deep from his beer before he slammed it on the table. “Now we both know it can happen. I didn’t know who the hell you were at the time, y’know? I just knew you were –“
Izuku felt his face heat when Kacchan torched him with a slow, contemplative look.
“Something. You don’t worry that could happen again?”
Izuku blinked at him owlishly.
“What? No. You’re not that kind of person.”
“You barely know me these days,” Kacchan mumbled, looking down into the mouth of his beer before he took another lingering sip.
“We know each other plenty.” Izuku pouted in thought, struggling to read the mingling emotion on Kacchan’s face. “Are you… Kacchan, are you jealous that I’m not jealous?”
Kacchan’s eyes bugged, his face riding up red as he snarled.
“What the fuck d’you –“
“What a surprise.” Izuku whipped around in his seat to gawk at Shinsou and Todoroki’s approach. Shinsou wore a pale grey blazer and periwinkle t-shirt with jeans, looking effortless weird and cool at the same time, while Todoroki lurked behind him with a sagging air of displeasure to his frame. “Our two favorite heroes. On a date or are we pretending it’s not?”
“Shinsou.” Izuku didn’t look back to Kacchan, but he could feel the heat of his rising fury against his back. His shoulders hunched, his gaze flipping between Shinsou’s lazy grin and over his shoulder. “What. What’re you –“
He couldn’t let Kacchan know that he’d told anyone about the date – let alone Shinsou. Nor could he let on that clearly Shinsou was dragging his begrudging boyfriend along to watch over the two of them like a nosy old woman.
“What a surprise,” Izuku said between a clenched smile. “What are –“
“The fuck you two want?” Kacchan glared daggers at them both. “Go away.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Shinsou waved him off with an unconcerned look. “Waitress! We’ll sit at the table beside these gentlemen, please.”
“Oh my god,” Todoroki and Kacchan said in tandem.
“This is –“ Frazzled, Izuku watched in mild horror as Todoroki and Shinsou were seated just four feet away from them. “Why. We’re just having a normal din-“
“I FOUND A PARKING SPACE!” Inasa’s unmistakable voice boomed across the restaurant, where he stood at the entrance waving excitedly at everyone. With unnatural grace, he wove through the tables. “Hello, everyone! Don’t order without me!”
“Inasa?” Izuku’s voice cracked as he found himself swept up in a whirlwind hug. “Why are you with –“
“How could you not tell me about this date?” Inasa said fiercely in his ear, holding in him a lengthy and overly intimate embrace, as he was wont to do. “I’m heartbroken! You’re killing your best friend, Izuku. I’m withering away inside! And with this man who hurt you? I won’t rest until your delicate heart is protected.”
Izuku ducked out from the hug, his face red.
A resounding bang on Izuku’s table had the silverware clinking. He whirled to watch Kacchan digging fork prongs down through the linen cloth and into the surface of the table with a face like the apocalypse.
“What – the – fuck – are these people doing here.”
“I-I don’t know! I –“ Izuku sunk into his chair and zoomed in on Shinsou’s smug expression. He leaned across the gap between the tables with a hissing whisper. “What the heck are you doing? This is the last time I ask you for advice with anything!”
“Relax,” Shinsou murmured in reply, dipping dramatically over to meet Izuku’s frantic expression. The thunder of Inasa’s voice as he greeted Todoroki and casually threatened Kacchan drowned out their conversation. “I’m doing you a favor. Instead of an eventual, slow, soul-destroyingly Izuku-paced attempt to convince Bakugou you two should openly date, I’m helping you make it known between your mutual friends that this a thing and now he won’t have a choice in the matter. After this, you two just are.”
“It’s saving you both time and heartache with one of the most stubborn people I’ve ever known.”
“It’s… not the worst thing you’ve done.”
“Oiy!” A swift kick to the shins from under the table had Izuku yelping back to his table. Kacchan’s entire frame radiated heat waves, his gaze burning into Izuku with untold fury. “Are you two on a fuckin’ date or are we? He got his chance.”
“I –“ Shinsou perked up, a slender hand on his chest as a slow smirk crept across his face. “Oh, is that what this about? I love it. Jealousy looks good on you, Kacchan.”
Todoroki looked up sharply from where he’d been playing a game on his phone and clearly wishing he were invisible.
“Oh no,” was all he said.
Kacchan flung himself out of his chair in half a second.
“Woah! Who started the party without us?” A familiar female voice from dark nights alone chimed in on approach.
Kacchan and Shinsou froze and looked over, both sets of eyes large – Kacchan’s hand fisted in Shinsou’s hair, another gripped at his lapel, and Shinsou’s palm smashed across the center of Kacchan’s face.
“Who ordered the fuckin’ circus?” Kacchan asked as he untangled himself from Shinsou’s lanky limbs and reached out to fend off Kirishima from an enthusiastic hug. “What are any of you doing here? Answers, now, or I tear your throats out and make myself a belt.”
Todoroki groaned and placed his forehead on the table.
“I just want to eat.”
“Um.” A very strained waitress offered a tight smile as she regarded the gaggle surrounding Izuku in his chair. “May I please seat you? And allow me to remind you we have a strict rule against battle in the restaurant.”
“No esophageal belts,” Shinsou sing-songed as he took his spot with a flourish. “Sorry, Bakugou.”
“Fuck off,” Kacchan muttered without much heat as he dropped down into his seat and balefully stared at Izuku. He looked like the five year-old who’d been told he couldn’t come out to play when they were kids.
Flabbergasted and floored by the entire situation, Izuku offered a soft curve of lips and kind eyes.
“Seat us on this side,” Mina said definitively as she took a chair at the table beside Izuku and Kacchan’s. “Oh! And Kiri, this is Midoriya. I guess you haven’t met him yet. Midoriya, this is –“
“I’m Bakugou's best friend,” Kirishima said, all smiles and bright sunshine voice. “Hi! I’m excited to finally meet you. When Mina told me –“
“When I told him we were meeting Shinsou, Todoroki, and Inasa for lunch,” Mina interjected quickly, “Kiri had said how he’d wished we could all hang out sometime since you’ve been… in Bakugou’s company recently.”
“Oh.” Izuku blinked up at Kirishima and genuinely beamed. A close friend of Kacchan. Now that was a relief. Knowing Kacchan had found a friend over the years with whom he could genuinely confide in on some level was heartening. “Hi! It’s wonderful to meet a friend of Kacchan’s.”
“Kacchan?” Kirishima murmured, flicking a look to Kacchan.
“Shut your fuckin’ trap,” Kacchan muttered, sulking back into his seat with arms folded. “S’a childhood nickname is all.”
“That’s so cute, though!” Kirishima said, laughing boisterously as he took a seat across from Mina, just four feet from Kacchan’s side. “Midoriya, do you have stories about baby Bakugou? I can’t imagine him small. He wasn’t just born screaming at everyone?”
“He probably was.” Izuku smiled adoringly across the table, where Kacchan rolled his eyes and averted his gaze. “I’ve got plenty of stories, but I’m sure Kacchan wouldn’t be so agreeable to –“
The waitress arrived with their meals and took the orders of the five other sudden guests to this date. As they rattled out their choices, Kacchan attacked his spicy curry with an expression like murder.
“Hey,” Izuku murmured, reaching a hand across the table, fingertips just resting on the back of Kacchan’s hand for his attention. Those red eyes seared into his. “This is fine. There’ll be more opportunities. And hey, maybe it’s a good thing.”
“There is nothing good about this,” Kacchan said flatly, his voice low, secretive. “I just want you, Crybaby.”
Izuku’s cheeks flooded with warmth, a coiling snap and sizzle in his belly.
“You have me. Let’s just enjoy the fact that our friends seem as fond of us as we are of each other.”
“Gross,” Kacchan said, continuing to eat. But his shoulders sagged, and the humming tension in his frame mellowed.
“Hey!” Mina said, too loud for the mellow, moody restaurant. “I don’t want to yell across the tables to talk to you guys. Let’s shove them all together.”
“It would be fine if we didn’t,” Todoroki said quietly at the same time Kacchan said, “No.”
Unfortunately, they were outnumbered by four devil-may-care heroes who stood up and sandwiched Izuku and Kacchan’s table in the center. With Shinsou on side and Mina on the other, Inasa at the head of the table, and Kacchan between Todoroki and Kirishima, Izuku distinctly felt a part of a large family dinner.
A far cry from an intimate dinner date. Even more distant from the memories of muted meals growing up with just his mother.
Was this the ideal situation? No. Was this the worst thing that could have happened? Not by a long shot.
Twenty minutes later, everyone was eating. Passing food across the table, stealing bites – even Kacchan griped for tastes once he realized everyone’s plate was up for grabs. Mina yelled over the table regardless of her previous announcement that she didn’t want to, Todoroki subtly smiled whenever Shinsou flirted with him beneath the din of chatter, and Kirishima relentless picked Izuku’s brain over the history of his best friend.
Somewhere in the eye of the storm, Izuku found Kacchan’s eyes from across the table. Kacchan was on his third beer now, and while he wasn’t drunk, his looked pleasantly at ease within the crowd. Izuku wasn’t sure how long they looked at each other, but when Kacchan lips eventually quirked into a quick, crooked flash of perfect teeth and deviant smile, Izuku’s entire heart flipped onto the table between them.
“S-some date, huh?” Izuku managed as he scrambled to scoop up his guts and admiration and fears from his plate and shovel them back inside.
Kacchan raised his eyebrows, and from beneath the table, a booted foot tapped the top of Izuku’s shoe.
“Kacchan?” Deku said, voice soft and comforting and stable in world bent on teaching Katsuki and everyone else how to distrust and run. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Katsuki croaked.
Listen, we all know that I am the asshole in this relationship. Please just take 3.5k of pure porn as my penance, and maybe shoot me a comment if you're into that kinky shit. And thank you to everyone who has continued to support this fic, even as I have been an neglectful partner to you!
More time, Katsuki thought. He wanted more time tonight.
Time with Deku alone, to lay him out on the bed and watch him unravel and weep beneath him until he was nothing but a mass of nerves and begging.
The evening with their friends hadn’t been nearly as shitty as Katsuki had anticipated when they’d first started to flood in like the fucking apocalypse to Katsuki’s little idyllic world. The liquor had flowed as freely as the conversation, and at some point in the night, Deku had made it his mission to sneak his clever fucking foot right up Katsuki’s thigh beneath the table cloth and work his cock into a pulsing erection that distracted him for the entire last hour of dinner.
Who the fuck used their feet like that? While it wasn’t the first time he’d encountered the kink - Katsuki encountered all walks of life in his former job - Katsuki had never actually experienced a foot on his dick. Again, Baku had always been the one with the sex life.
Apparently Deku’s imagination spanned further than Katsuki could have comprehended, because those socked toes had fit tight and snug along the length of his cock as they worked him through the very thin sweatpants he’d then instantly regretted wearing. And when Katsuki had begun to feel his cheeks burn with the effort not to catch Deku by the collar from across the table, hurl him across the surface, and mount him like a fucking beast, Deku would firmly press the heel of his foot to the base of Katsuki’s hot erection and wait out the ferocity in Katsuki’s expression from across everyone’s dinner.
All night, they watched each other carefully. No one seemed to notice the way Deku’s eyes changed from evergreen to evening shadow when lust took hold. No one seemed to notice the way Deku’s neck flushed high from that stark black button-up that highlighted his creamy, freckled face and arms so delectably. And absolutely no one noticed the way Deku’s lips always and did plump and darken with blood any time his arousal swelled.
The ride home in the back of a taxi was a long an aching one. They both stared out opposite windows, Katsuki’s temple pressed to the blessedly cool glass while Deku’s burning fingertips traced the topography of muscle and veins across Katsuki’s hand.
Wasn’t Katsuki the hero who set the city alight? Since when was he the man on fire?
“Be careful, Crybaby,” Katsuki rumbled low, an impending storm on the horizon. “Almost home.”
The only reply was Deku’s sharp intake of breath through his nose. He, too, knew. The time was coming.
Taught, aching silence stretched between them in the long elevator ride toward the stars, Deku’s high rise apartment as close to heaven as any man would reach, unless they knew the spot between Deku’s thighs that was altogether something more. When Deku approached his door to undo three locks, Katsuki keep close to his back - too close, breathing along the prickling hair at the nape of Deku’s neck, one steadying hand skimming beneath his shirt to grip at a hot-skinned hip.
Deku fumbled at the final lock and swore, Katsuki peering over his shoulder to watch those clever, scarred hands shake.
“Worried?” Katsuki murmured, his mouth brushing Deku’s red ear. “Thinking about just what the fuck I’m gonna do to you after you teased me all damn night without an end in sight? You should be worried, Crybaby. ‘Cause I’m real fuckin’ ready to give you what I got.”
A smirk curled at Katsuki’s lips as he caught the soft little eke at the back of Deku’s throat just before he shoved at the door and rushed inside, instantly bending to fuck with his sneakers. Cocking his head at the sight of that tight ass raised high for him, Katsuki firmly shut the door behind him and closed the distance between them, hands firmly gripping Deku’s hips.
Deku stilled, only one shoe off. As if embarrassed or overwhelmed, Deku remained bent over, both hands rising to cover his face as he mumbled something unintelligible into his palms. Grinning an already half-hard, Katsuki ground his cock against the considerable swell of Deku’s ass for his own pleasure alone. It wasn’t enough, but it was a start. And Deku’s endless game of footsie beneath the table had given Katsuki plenty of time to plan ways to make Deku pay.
“Wha’d’ya think I’m gonna do to you after what you did to me tonight, hah ?” Katsuki drawled, a little drunk from the alcohol and even moreso from the way he knew Deku didn’t dare move until Katsuki ordered him otherwise.
“I don’t -” Deku sounded fucked-raw already, the tremor in his tone usually reserved for the times Katsuki was already pumping into his needy hole with a precision that had Deku’s thighs uncontrollably quivering. Deku swallowed hard, face still masked in his hands. “I d-don’t know. Can I - what can I do?”
“Do?” Katsuki lurched forward, his frame dwarfing and crowding Deku’s as he reached around with both hands and unzipped Deku’s jeans, his fingers pointedly ignoring the cock filling with interest in Deku’s too-tight underwear. Some distant park of Katsuki reminded him to ask Deku just wear the hell he bought such sinful men’s underwear, sculpted right to his ass and fitted all lurid around Deku’s lengthy erection every time Katsuki undressed him. “Don’t do anything. Don’t touch yourself, don’t touch me. Just like I wasn’t allowed. Sound fair, Crybaby?”
The wind seemed to knock out of Deku as he exhaled roughly, his hands dropping to his knees, face still obediently down, ass still up. With Katsuki’s chest pressed to Deku’s heaving back, Katsuki roughly grabbed Deku’s stubborn little chin and yanked, just enough so Katsuki could lean to the side and catch Deku’s expression.
Deku’s eyes locked on his own, huge and wet and so fucking black that Katsuki inwardly startled at their midnight intensity. Re-piecing the parts of him that cracked and crumbled beneath the sheer weight of want for this man, Katsuki only smirked, superior, despite every part of him that wanted to drive Deku into the floor with his cock right now .
“Say yes,” Katsuki rasped, fingertips digging into the flesh of Deku’s jaw. “Yes, Kacchan.”
“Yes, Kacchan,” Deku whispered, almost a hiss, just a hint of hot breath escaping his lips.
“Cute,” Katsuki bit off, holding Deku’s gaze for a beat too long before he released his hold and stood. Deku didn’t move, and that coiled something hot and tight and dangerous in his chest, something bigger than both of them, something Katsuki didn’t dare address lest it strike out and sink its teeth into him forever.
Head spinning, his cheeks flushed hot as he felt his cock rise and fill thick and ready, Katsuki scoot the hem of Deku’s shirt up his scarred back, palms appreciatively trailing back down his waist, his hips, easing Deku’s unzipped jeans away, where they caught on those thick thighs. Katsuki allowed himself time to admire Deku’s full, rounded ass in those tight little briefs of cherry red, his hands smoothing over muscle, thumbs trailing the undercurve of Deku’s ass peeking out from the bottom of the black stitching.
“Step out of these,” Katsuki said, voice dropping to something slow and lazy and deep, a phone voice that had somehow cultivated for Deku alone over the course of their anonymous phone calls. Not a dominating voice of disinterest and power like he’d had for hundreds of nameless idiots, but a voice thick with desire and unyielding in its demand that Deku reciprocate.
When Deku didn’t respond, Katsuki smacked a full palm across one of Deku’s asscheeks and took a step back, his cock high and prominent in his sweats. Deku’s little gasp of surprise
“Oiy, Crybaby. You don’t get to fly that far yet.”
“Y-yes!” Deku stood suddenly, seeming to wobble from the headrush as he did.
“Woah there.” Katsuki slipped both arms around Deku for support, his hands finding the line of Deku’s buttoned shirt. His pressed his lips into the soft skin behind Deku’s ear. “Stay.”
“But I need -”
“The fuck did I just say?”
Deku whimpered and leaned back into Katsuki’s frame, chin tilted, head pillowed back against Katsuki’s shoulder. Katsuki hummed in allowance and began to pop the buttons of Deku’s shirt, one by one, taking his sweet damn, fingertips brushing against each new peek of revealed flesh. By the time he spread open the shirt, Deku’s chest was shifting quick with each breath, his hips arching forward as if hoping for Katsuki’s hands.
“Like hell,” Katsuki murmured, encouraging the shirt over Deku’s shoulders and down his arms until it whispered at their feet. Deku didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands, and so they ended up fisted at his sides, clenching and unclenching as Katsuki worked Deku’s jeans over his thighs and lower, shucking Deku’s remaining shoe and helping him step out from the pants and socks.
For a moment, Katsuki moved to stand from his crouch. Instead, he settled to his knees, mouth skimming the line where fiery red briefs met ass and thigh, tongue flicking out to taste the secret, salt-damp skin there. Deku’s high, dreamy noise sounded like a siren call in Katsuki’s ears and Deku swayed softly, side to side, Katsuki’s hands firmly embedded in the meat of Deku’s thighs.
“Kacchan,” Deku slurred softly. “What’re you -”
Katsuki bit the back of Deku’s thigh and savored the yelp yielding into a moan as he sucked into the bite, bringing to life a moon-shaped bruise that he worked over with increasing suction until Deku’s cries edged on bright, gasping pain.
And then Katsuki kissed him everywhere. Down each thigh, the prickled sweat at the back of each knee, shapely calves of steel that quivered beneath his lips, open-mouthed kisses at the small of his back and lower, where Katsuki slowly crept the band of Deku’s briefs down past his ass. He supped from Deku’s skin and plaintive sounds, sated himself on his taste and the way he leaned into Katsuki with the trust that he’d hold him up.
When Katsuki palmed Deku’s ass with both hands and dipped both thumbs in to spread his cheeks wide and vulnerable, pressing his tongue inside to taste and curl and wet, Deku’s soft, whimpering symphony became a vibrant chorus of begging and shaking and want .
“Please.” Deku inhaled a ragged breath, his thighs shaking as Katsuki thrust into his ass with a sloppy, wet tongue and unholy sounds. “Fuck, ohfuck, please - please, Kacch- ah! I need, I need you to - god!”
In reply, Katsuki sucked on his thumb to wet it and thrust it into Deku’s pink, clenching hole, the rest of his fingers reaching forward to cup Deku’s balls and lightly tug.
“Need me to what?” Katsuki gritted out, coarse and husky as he shallow-fucked Deku’s ass in one unfulfilling finger, all the while rolling and playing with Deku’s balls. They were sticky and slick from the cum weeping from his swollen, red cock, a sight that had Katsuki’s mouth watering and his own erection pulsing to the beat of his hammering heart.
He wanted to see Deku’s face, wanted to witness him break apart as he slowly eased his cock into Deku’s ass, to watch the way Deku’s blushing, pink hole stretched for him, accommodated only him, swallowed him up until they were two halves of a whole, joined.
That dangerous creature in Kacchan’s heart, both violently greedy and needy in whiplash turns, shifted in his chest, and Kacchan gritted his teeth against it. Instead, he concentrated on the way Deku was rocking back into his hand, fucking himself helplessly on that one thumb, his hands clutched in his own hair, thighs shaking from the effort to keep standing.
“Aren’t you just the perfect, shameless little slut for me, hah, Crybaby?” Katsuki crooned, inwardly horrified at the way his voice shook despite himself. He gazed up, peeking around Deku’s hip to catch his wrecked profile. “What d’you want? Tell me.”
Deku choked back a sob, inhaling sharp and wet as he wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand.
“Just fuck me! Fuckme, fuckmeplease.”
“Fuck,” Katsuki bit off, standing then and spinning Deku in his arms, banding him in a tight hold as he took Deku’s mouth with a needy groan of his own, licking past Deku’s lips in search of deep, dark heat and the familiar flavor of his forever lover. Deku melted into his fierce embrace, wreaking havoc on Katsuki’s control as he rolled that naked, beautiful body against Katsuki’s fully clothed one.
Fucking into Deku’s mouth, fingertips burying bruises into the supple flesh of Deku’s ass, Katsuki kicked out of his boots and walked them away from the doorway. This was a dance they both knew, side-stepping down the hall without releasing their grasp on each other, Deku biting at Katsuki’s upper lip then licking the sting away when Katsuki hissed against the pain.
“I hate this,” Deku snapped, sounding not like himself, more angry than frantic as he ripped his mouth from Katsuki’s and proceeded to yank and tear at Katsuki’s clothes. Katsuki shocked himself and maybe them both by laughing, breathless and raspy as he held his arms up for Deku to shuck his shirt. When he emerged from the top, his hair frizzing in all directions from static, it was to Deku’s puzzled expression breaking into a wide, delighted smile. “You’re laughing at me.”
“Nah,” was the only thing Katsuki could manage in the wake of realizing he’d been fighting a dangerous thing to which he would have almost inevitably lost anyway. Loving Deku felt like an endless, repeating tune plucked by the rhythm of his heart, unending and without clear beginning.
Blessedly naked by the time they tumbled into Deku’s bed, Katsuki took a moment to straddle Deku’s thighs and take him in, eyes the color of new bruises in the shadowed room, cheeks chapped from dried tears, lips swollen, chest flushed, cock dripping onto his pale, freckled stomach.
“Kacchan?” Deku said, voice soft and comforting and stable in world bent on teaching Katsuki and everyone else how to distrust and run. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Katsuki croaked, scooting away only to get what he needed from the bedside drawer.
Baku was the one with all the words. But he wasn’t here tonight, and so Katsuki could only mumble, yeah , a second time as he shoved a pillow beneath Deku’s hips before he lubed up his fingers.
“Shhh.” Katsuki murmured comforts and coercions as he filled Deku with two fingers from the start, his attention flicking fast between the way he Deku’s body sucked him in so greedily, and Deku’s face scrunched up in abject pleasure, his arms flung back to fist at the sheets. “Shhh, good, now another - that’s it. That beautiful cock must be hurtin’ real fuckin’ bad, haaah, Crybaby?”
Deku whimpered and writhed down onto Katsuki’s hand in reply, a spark of white teeth biting down on the blood red of his lower lip as he nodded his head vigorously. His erection pulsed and bobbed against his stomach, a slow and steady dribble of precum painting his taut torso. Neither he nor Katsuki had yet to touch it and Katsuki almost felt bad for him.
Not bad enough that he didn’t want to watch Deku shoot off just from getting fucked into the next existence, however.
“Don’t see no cryin’, though,” Katsuki crooned, his voice cracking with the heat he failed to bank as he slipped his fingers from Deku’s hole and lined up the crown of his cock with that stunningly stretched ass. “‘Fraid I can’t stop ‘til you’re sobbin’ so pretty like you do, okay?”
Firmly gripping the back of one of Deku’s sweaty thighs and pushing it up to Deku’s heaving chest, Katsuki grit his teeth and thrust past that first ungodly tight ring of muscle, hissing against the sudden shock of a cry from Deku as his eyes flew open to meet Katsuki’s hungry gaze. A dam seemed to burst from those dewy lower lashes, the instant spill-over of tears while Deku’s noises went mute despite his gaping mouth was enough to send Katsuki so near the edge that he bottomed out and stopped dead, the muscles in his arms bulging as his sweat-slick hands slid up to grip the back of Deku’s knees and wait.
Katsuki watched in shock as his beaded sweat dripped and adorned Deku’s neck and chest, glistening but not distracting from the milky pearls starting to flood Deku’s belly button and stomach. And then the shock mounted into horror when he realized it wasn’t sweat at all, but his own fucking tears and his own blurry vision that met Deku’s in the dark.
“Fuck.” Katsuki rocked into Deku once, watched the way Deku’s eyes grew larger, more frantic as he scrabbled for purchase in the sheets, nails raking at the pillow as he Katsuki moved again, pulling entirely out and back in, a smooth, easy rhythm that tortured them both and Katsuki fought back the hiking swell of emotion flooding his throat. “Goddammit, what the fuck.”
“K-Kataaah!” Deku tore off into a sob, tears staining down the corners of his cheeks to soak into his temples. “Sto- I can’t - I, ahgod, oh shit, no, I can’t - it’s too much, I -”
With his knees up to his chest and Katsuki rocking into him with growing purpose, fervor snapping with each wet slap of hips, Deku couldn’t fuck back into him, couldn’t move away or closer, couldn’t do a damn thing except grab his own ankles and hold them in place as Katsuki pummeled him with an increasing urgency that burned at his eyes and throat. The scent of their rising heat clung to the air, a damp musk that Katsuki inhaled hard as he bared his teeth and drove into Deku harder, faster, fiercer.
Words were lost in the ragged, damp breaths for which Katsuki struggled, his cheeks hot and wet with fuck knew what, Deku beneath him and utterly blind as he gawked at the ceiling, tears flowing, each thrust punching an almost pained wail out of him that only ramped up Katsuki’s fervor. Stripped of sense or the most basica fucking decency, there was only the sound of their slapping skin and their mingled cries and the way Deku suddenly looked at him, shock and understanding dawning all at once when he realized Katsuki was goddamn crying -
Deku’s orgasm seemed to physically rip through him from around Katsuki’s cock, right through his quaking, clenching limbs, and up his throat in a scream that might have been Katsuki’s name or a curse. The vision of Deku cumming over himself in hot streaks that hit his own chin tore straight through Katsuki like a scream, flaring through him with brutal explosivity as he dug his fingers into the meat of Deku’s sweat-dripping thighs and clung on as he came.
They collapsed into each other still shrieking for air, their hearts and lungs loud and greedy for air and blood and a break from whatever they’d just done to each other. Katsuki couldn’t tell if this had been a murder or a rebirth, but it had been visceral and painful and stunningly sharp in ways he’d never known a single thing could be.
Katsuki only became vaguely aware of the existence of his aching body - and that he did, in fact, still own a body - when Deku shifted from beneath him, one palm planted firmly in the center of Katsuki’s face in order to push until Katsuki regained enough consciousness to groan and roll away. He splayed out wide, one leg and arm over Deku’s cooling, sticky body as he looked for the will to open his eyes. He didn’t find it.
“That was,” Deku said, pausing to loudly lick his undoubtedly dry mouth and lips. “That was new.”
“Hah?” Katsuki yawned, raised his arms above his head in a feline stretch that popped at his shoulder blades and spine.
“Dunno.” Deku’s voice had dropped to the decibel he used when he was mumbling to himself, and Katsuki only listened with half an ear. “Maybe doesn’t matter. It was really good, amazing, can't feel my feet, but he was - hmmm.”
“Brain’s almost as loud as yer mouth,” Katsuki slurred, his own flat-lined brain debating on how much energy he had to expend to bathe. “Shut up now.”
“Just when I was starting to think you were getting charming.”
Katsuki snorted and barked a laugh.
“That’ll be the day. Y'get what y'get, stupid Deku.”
“And what do I get?” Deku said quietly, a familiar hand finding Katsuki’s frayed hair, fingertips lightly scratching at his scalp in a way that made Katsuki hum and forget his mouth.
Katsuki barely noticed the silence, but he did hear one word that had him battling back dreams before he dropped off.
“Jus’ gimme more time,” Katsuki mumbled, lips loose and lax, and then he was gone.