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Izuku slams the door open, storming into the locker room.
“What the hell was that back there?!”
Katsuki pushes his mask off his face. The black paint around his eyes is smudged with sweat, streaked in the corner of his lash line where he swiped it with the back of his hand. He doesn’t answer Izuku, doesn’t even look at him, and Izuku feels a muscle in his jaw tick as he grinds his teeth together, enamel set to crack with the force.
“Kacchan.”
Katsuki’s eyes flick up from his gauntlets, sending Izuku a quick, disinterested look before returning to his equipment. It's brief, but it burrows under Izuku's skin and enrages him further. It was Katsuki’s reckless behavior today that cost them their win, and it’s the sheer disregard for him and the knowledge that Katsuki is doing this on purpose that exacerbates his annoyance.
He sucks in a sharp breath and wipes the grime from the corner of his mouth. His skin is caked in blood and plaster, his own tears soon to join. Sweat is cooling on his back, and the fabric of his suit keeps catching on drying scrapes and cuts.
All in all, he’s extremely uncomfortable in his skin right now, and he only has Katsuki to blame for said discomfort. Katsuki who is virtually unharmed. A bit sweaty, dirty from his own explosions, but otherwise unharmed. Katsuki who put his own team in jeopardy with an amateur move he might have made back in first year that Izuku can’t explain for the fucking life of him.
"Guys…" Izuku hears, breaking the intense stare he's pinned Katsuki with. When he looks around, he spots Denki and Kyouka on a bench by the stalls. Momo is standing next to them with her hands laced at her front. "Maybe we should come back to this when you two settle down from the fight," she says tentatively, and Izuku takes another deep breath, guilt washing over him. It's unbelievable how quickly Katsuki can get under his skin these days, turning him mean and ugly before he can think.
"R-Right," he says shakily, attempting to thread a hand through his hair but pausing when he realizes it's matted with sweat and he still has his gloves on. "I'll—"
"There's nothing to address," Katsuki grumbles, cutting Izuku off as he pulls his shirt overhead.
Izuku snaps his head back to him, fixing him with an angry look. "Like hell there's nothing."
"I don't have time to nitpick at shit that you—"
Izuku scoffs loudly, stepping forward. "Nitpick?" he grits. "You stepped out of line—"
"You didn't spare me a fucking glance back there. So much for working as a team, dumbass." Katsuki slams his duffel down on the bench and sidles around it.
"Please. Do enlighten me on what working as a team entails, Kacchan." Izuku takes another step forward, close enough to reach out a hand and fist him by the collar if he wanted to. And god, does he want to. It scares him, really, what side of him Katsuki is capable of bringing out. "Did you hit your head while you were blasting your way through that building on your own?" he seethes, teeth aching the harder he clenches his jaw.
"It's not my problem if you can't keep up, Deku."
Izuku's temper flares, the degrading emphasis on his name making him snap. In an instant, electricity paints the room green and Izuku surges forward. Katsuki's spine collides with his locker, the metal rattling as he roughly pushes his forearm into the base of his neck.
Katsuki smirks, sharp enough to cut deep as he leans in. "If this is the strength you put into your punches back there, no wonder we fucking lost."
Izuku can feel his heart thudding angrily against his ribs, out of control in a way he never experiences on the field even amped up on adrenaline. This is a different type of emotion, one that makes him want to sink his teeth into Katsuki's bottom lip and rip that smirk clean off. He digs his arm in harder instead, only growing more frustrated when Katsuki's face doesn't falter, showing no signs he's affected by Izuku. And Izuku is totally losing it again.
He doesn't fucking understand.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registers his name being called. He wonders why someone hasn’t pulled him back yet, which is the way these scenes typically escalate—not that he thinks that’s how they should.
Katsuki’s eyes glint, a smile sliced across his face with too-sharp teeth that Izuku wants to see bloodied. He wants to see his lips peeled back in a quivering grimace that he caused. “Careful with your quirk there, Mr. One For All,” he drawls in an infuriating whisper. “You’re getting all worked up over nothing.”
Izuku’s arm falters, vision suddenly filled with the green light of the power he didn’t realize he’d activated. His stomach sinks.
“Midoriya!”
The energy drains from him and so does the solid weight of his quirk in his bones. Izuku releases Katsuki and turns around, meeting Shouta’s fiery gaze, his hair standing up on end with the activation of Erasure. His cheeks heat in shame, further intensified by the amused and somewhat horrified looks of his peers in the back.
“M-Mr. Aizawa…”
“Nice going, Deku,” Katsuki murmurs hotly in his ear as he shoulders past him to continue packing his duffel. Izuku’s chest stutters, fists curling at his sides as he strains to keep a hold of himself in spite of Katsuki’s taunting.
“Tell me why I have to break up a fight between you two every time you’re in the same room these days,” Shouta says sternly, his hair falling back into place. “I swear, I didn’t think it could get any worse than first year.”
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Aizawa—”
“I don’t want to hear it, Midoriya. I know how sorry you are, which is why I don’t understand why this keeps happening.”
Izuku doesn’t either.
“You’re third years,” he continues, voice growing more agitated. “This type of behavior should have ceased by now—it had ceased, so whatever the hell is going on between you two that is causing this needs to be fixed immediately. You’re future pro heroes. Don’t jeopardize your careers by making me suspend your asses.”
The icy trickle of Shouta’s threat runs the length of Izuku’s spine, down to his fingertips as it cools the hot flush of anger on his skin. “I-It won’t happen again, sir.”
Katsuki scoffs as he yanks his zipper closed in his aggressive fashion. With his back turned to their teacher, he’s free to send Izuku a goading look.
“We’ll see,” he taunts in his ear when he walks by, and Izuku resists the urge to pin him to the wall face first.
What Shouta said lingers in Izuku’s mind for the rest of the week. His rough dynamic with Katsuki had ceased their first year at UA. By the end of their second year, they could call each other close friends again, and Izuku had never been happier. Now halfway through their third year, it felt like things were heading right back to square one.
Izuku can’t pinpoint when or why. It was slow to develop, he realizes. Over the course of the past few months, Katsuki’s taunting turned a bit more aggressive, and Izuku started to react to it physically. This anger towards Katsuki isn’t new exactly. He felt it frequently back in middle school, but how he’s responding to it now certainly is. A hot swell in his chest, a dark sludge in his joints, a burning at the tips of his fingers that makes him want to sink them into Katsuki’s flesh and tear him apart. Like it can’t be sated without violence. Izuku is terrified of himself these days, but Katsuki doesn’t seem to be—if anything, he eggs him on like he wants Izuku to lose it, and that notion only adds fuel to fire. Izuku feels like he’s losing every time Katsuki gets him angry, but he feels like the only way he can win is with his anger.
Team exercises lead to the disasters like the one addressed in the locker room. And exercises where they’re pitted against one another result in total chaos and destruction. These days, they can hardly be in the same room with each other before a classmate or teacher has to step in to break up an altercation.
By the end of the week, Izuku is determined to find a solution to both his uncharacteristically short fuse and whatever the hell Katsuki’s issue is with him.
“Though I don’t exactly know what to do because talking stuff out never works,” he tells Ochako, sitting with his legs tucked under him in the common room. His classmates are sprinkled throughout the room, chatting pleasantly with the night off.
“Punching him in the locker room doesn’t work either,” she muses. “Though maybe sparring might?”
Izuku’s eyebrows fly up. Punch? “I never—is that the rumor that’s been going around?”
“Is it all that far off?”
Izuku’s cheeks heat. “I pinned him with my quirk.”
“You’re kinda scary, Midoriya,” Denki says, popping his head into the conversation from behind the couch. “In a badass, freak of nature, marshmallow-bunny-monster kind of way.”
Izuku shifts with his nerves. He knows Denki is only messing around, maybe even complimenting him, but he really hates that side of him.
“It’s always the quiet ones,” Denki tuts as he walks off, and Ochako laughs.
“I…” Izuku looks away, ends up catching Katsuki’s eyes as he enters the room. “I…gotta go.”
“Wait what?”
“Rain check,” he says curtly, side-eyeing Katsuki and the look he’s sending him. Fuck, he’s in trouble if even this is enough to set him on edge.
A hand grabs his arm a moment after he turns around. It's large and callused and too hot on his skin, but Izuku shivers. "What, you running away already, nerd?"
Slowly Izuku turns around, his jaw set. He catches the looks on his classmates' faces, all of them waiting with bated breath for a fight to break out. He inhales deeply, lets his eyes fall shut. "We're not doing this right now, Kacchan," he says firmly.
“Yeah? And what exactly would that be?” Katsuki says, face neutral in that infuriating way he seems to know will get under Izuku’s skin.
Izuku turns around without answering, takes a step forward, and is stopped when Katsuki doesn’t relinquish the hold on his arm. He turns around slowly, heartbeat quickening. “Back off, Kacchan."
Katsuki huffs out a contemptuous laugh, leaning forward as his fingers tighten, growing hotter against his skin. "You gonna make me?"
And truly what the hell is he trying to do?
Izuku takes a step forward, pushing Katsuki's arm into his chest. He only has a few inches on Izuku, a height difference that isn't very noticeable until they're close like this and Izuku has to tilt his head up ever so slightly. He blinks, watches Katsuki's mouth, then the glint in his eyes. "You want me to make you?" he challenges, and their classmates all take a step back. Denki presses his fist to his mouth and makes a choked, gleeful sound.
Katsuki’s mouth splits into a full, manic grin. He doesn’t say anything, but the look he’s giving him is filled with condescension. I’d like to see you try.
Izuku makes an angry sound, pushing forward so their chests almost meet and Katsuki doesn’t budge. The things he wants to do to him would certainly get him arrested under the right circumstances, and he knows he needs to heed his own words and back off. He takes a deep breath, thinks about his teacher’s warning and Ochako’s suggestion. When he opens his eyes, he rips his wrist from Katsuki’s hand and grabs his forearm, starts marching them towards the door.
“Where the hell do you think you’re taking me?” Katsuki snaps, ripping his arm back.
“Ground Beta.”
Izuku turns his head to catch Katsuki’s reaction. His eyes widen before his mouth sets into a thin line. “Fine,” he says lowly, pushing past Izuku. He flies off towards the grounds with his explosions, and Izuku grits his teeth to keep up.
He swings down the long path using Black Whip and the streetlamps, oscillating in a right-left fashion to avoid the burn of Katsuki’s quirk.
When they land, they’re both breathing heavier.
“You know what happened the last time we did this, right?” Katsuki warns in a rough voice, straightening his stance a few feet away from Izuku.
He looks around the area. Some of the buildings are still destroyed from training, and it’s nearing nine in the evening. Katsuki’s face is shimmering in the silvery moonlight, illuminated the same way he was all those years ago when they first fought their feelings out. Izuku’s heart speeds up, head going light with nervous anticipation.
“Mr. Aizawa told us to find a solution,” he says, canting his chin to mimic some semblance of the confidence that is slowly leaking out of him. “This worked for us last time.”
Katsuki cocks his head, arching a brow. “I was wrongfully carrying a burden as an emotionally inept wreck with a superiority complex back then. This is hardly the same situation.”
“You’re still emotionally inept,” Izuku says with an eye roll, and Katsuki stiffens.
“Quirks?” he bites out, widening his stance.
Izuku exhales, eyeing Katsuki’s supinated palms. “Fifteen percent max. No inflicting any serious injuries”—Katsuki scoffs—“and avoid damage to the grounds. What determines a winner?”
“I thought you just wanted to punch my lights out.”
“Believe me, Kacchan, I do.”
“Three second pin then.”
“Make it five.”
“Fine. Tap outs?”
Izuku hesitates, something stirring in his stomach at the image of Katsuki begging Izuku to stop and forcing more—“Yeah,” he answers, a tremor in his voice. “Th-That’s—yeah. Probably for the best.”
Katsuki’s eyes narrow, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. “You really wanna fuck me up, dontcha, you little shithead?”
Izuku swallows, feeling that irritation grow hot in his chest, scratchy and weighted behind his ribs as it drips into his veins and heats his skin.
“No tap outs," Katsuki states then, and Izuku's head shoots up. "S'not like I'm gonna need it anyway."
"Don't be so cocky, Kacchan," he says a bit breathlessly, settling into his own stance. "We both know I'm stronger than you these days."
"I had you on your knees at fifteen percent."
Izuku's breath hitches, a muscle in his jaw ticking with the urge to surge forward and make him eat his words. To bring Katsuki to his knees and prove him wrong. Sure, Katsuki frequently won back in their first year when Izuku could only use an eighth of his power, but he also had a considerably smaller skillset. These days, he can do significantly more damage at lower power levels. “Save the self-assurance for after I beat you,” he retorts, feeling the electricity of his quirk simmering violently at the back of his tongue, making his teeth ache with its potency.
Katsuki’s eyes darken, the smirk on his face growing sharper, more violently wild. It makes Izuku tense, fists growing rigid at his sides. “Time limit?”
“No. You ready?”
Katsuki’s lips curl into an angry sneer. “I was fucking ready back when you—”
Izuku kicks off the ground and shoots forward, nearly gets a hit on his jaw before Katsuki shoots a blast to the side and dodges. He skids to a stop and spins around. Katsuki is gone, which means—
“Keep your eyes on me, dumbass!” he shouts from above, palms glowing a vibrant orange and sparking viciously as he aims for Izuku’s head. Izuku knows the move well enough to know how to dodge. He rolls his eyes and uses Black Whip to pull himself into the air and gain height on Katsuki as the latter twists his torso to redirect the blast.
“We agreed to pull our punches, not lose any and all fight sense, Kacchan,” Izuku muses as Black Whip slinks around a light fixture on the opposite side of the street, pulling him out of the line of Katsuki’s fire.
“Figured I’d go easy on you,” he huffs, launching back up into the air and towards Izuku’s perch on a small terrace. “S’not like you're all that flashy at fifteen percent.”
And that irks Izuku more than it should. Any time his competence or ability is challenged—specifically by Katsuki—he loses his temper a bit quicker compared to any other insult he throws.
"That a favor for me," he grits, kicking off the railing, "or an excuse for you?" He aims a blast of air at Katsuki's middle, throwing his center just enough to open his side to one of Izuku's kicks. He isn't wearing the steel soles of his uniform boots, so he compensates by upping the power behind it. He nicks a rib with his toe, but he knew it was a weak shot going in.
Izuku lands on the ground and immediately flips back into a roll to dodge Katsuki's sparking fist. He recovers quickly but takes a step too far back and hits a railing, halting his movements long enough that Katsuki can fire a blast into his face. It knocks him sharply off balance, and he stumbles into the brick wall of a building. He grits his teeth as the burn licks up his cheek and flares hot around his eye, making it water. He presses a palm to the blistered skin and uses Black Whip with the other hand to tie off one of Katsuki's ankles and yank with five percent. It pulls him into the ground and roughly drags him towards Izuku's feet, tearing the fabric of his tank and scraping the newly exposed skin of his abdomen.
Izuku swipes at the raw skin on his cheek and grins a bit wickedly as Katsuki pushes up off the ground a few feet away from him.
"Look at you," Izuku taunts, a hot flash of anger pooling in his gut as a wisp of Black Whip tips Katsuki's chin. "Ass over heels for me."
Katsuki's hand flies out. He roughly snatches the green strand, twists it around his forearm, and rips Izuku forward. Izuku doesn't trip, but he stumbles into Katsuki's direct line of fire, opening him up for another blast. This one he directs at his chest, and Izuku wheezes loudly at the force in which the blow collides with his sternum and sears the breath in his lungs. It burns a hole in the front of his tee, the thin cotton providing no protection for his skin.
"Shit," Izuku gasps, stumbling backward with a hand around his middle. He knows Katsuki will take advantage of him in this state, so he blindly shoots a few threads of Black Whip into the smoke and realizes his mistake when he feels a rush of wind on his spine.
"Thought I told you to keep your eyes on me, shitty nerd," Katsuki's voice sounds from behind, words low and gravelly in his throat. Izuku opens his mouth to retort, but a blast hits him between his shoulder blades a second later. He grits his teeth against the urge to cry out, pathetically falling to his hands and knees. He knows he's in a vulnerable position, and though he's still dizzy with the pain, he kicks off the ground to gain some space from Katsuki. He doesn't reorient himself in time to catch his fall, landing gracelessly on his shoulder and tumbling a few feet. His momentum is stopped when his spine collides with a wall, and he coughs out a choked sound.
Through the smoke burning his eyes, Izuku searches his surroundings for Katsuki, feeling safe with his back covered by the building he's slumped against. His forehead is throbbing, a warmth trickling down his brow, and he vaguely recalls a stone whipping into his face in the explosion.
He blinks, and a fist soars into his line of sight, which he narrowly dodges as it collides with the stone behind him, bits of rock pelting his skin.
Before Katsuki withdraws his arm, Izuku gets both his hands around it, tugging Katsuki into him. He quickly secures an arm around his neck and gets him into a headlock, then roughly shoves the back of head down so his cheek smashes into the cement. Katsuki shoots off a misdirected explosion, one Izuku easily avoids as he slinks his leg over Katsuki’s waist and straddles his back. Katsuki shouts loudly in protest, uselessly arching his spine, and the satisfaction of his response trickles warmly in Izuku’s veins.
With his hands firmly securing Katsuki’s wrists away from his body, palms facing up off the ground, Izuku leans into his ear. “One,” he counts, a bit breathlessly. “Two—”
“You fucking—” Katsuki growls, a larger explosion going off that heats Izuku’s skin.
“Three…” he taunts, smile widening.
Katsuki makes a loud sound of indignation and abruptly whips his head into Izuku’s nose. Izuku’s hand flies up on instinct, releasing his palms and allowing him to direct a blast into the ground that knocks Izuku off his back.
Eyes watering profusely and blood rushing into his mouth, Izuku hastily throws himself into Katsuki’s side and wraps Black Whip around his middle. With Katsuki secured against his body, he throws a punch into his jaw and then another one when he doesn’t seem fazed.
“You’re getting sloppy, Deku,” he taunts, knocking his forehead against Izuku’s and fixing him with a sharp stare. “Loss on your mind?”
Black Whip unravels so Izuku can force him into a pin, but it’s a weak attempt on his part, anger fogging his brain. Katsuki quickly wiggles out of it, kicks his chest back and regains space between them.
When Izuku recollects himself, they’re a few feet apart and circling each other at an impasse. Katsuki’s chest is heaving, exposed and scuffed. Izuku sucks in his own sharp breath and swipes the back of his hand over his mouth, smearing the blood from his nose across his upper lip. Sweat stings his eyes and greys as it streaks down the grime on his cheeks. He hates that he looks worse off right now. He flexes his fingers at his sides, joints aching with the need to inflict pain.
They watch each other closely as they circle around the empty space, waiting for an opening.
Charging doesn’t work. Evasion won’t get him a win. The only way to beat Katsuki is to get him with the act of surprise—some type of feint or misdirect—but Katsuki is also aware of that, especially facing Izuku one-on-one. He’ll be expecting the unexpected. As of right now, Katsuki has the upper hand. They both know Izuku’s weakness is his emotions, and he feels stupid that they’re getting the better of him right now. That’s a mistake he'd make back in first year, not now.
Katsuki knows that too. “Something wrong, little Deku?” he taunts, and Izuku tries very hard to ignore the name. He knows what game Katsuki is playing, and it’s too easy to lose to it these days. “You’re looking a little worse for wear, and I’ve hardly broken a sweat.”
“Shut it,” Izuku snaps back through clenched teeth, eyes flicking wildly along Katsuki’s body. He’s tempted to rush forward and get his hands around his throat, silence him that way.
“Out of steam and insults?”
Izuku growls out before he can think, stalking forward. His judgment is clouded. He’s aware of that somewhere in the back of his mind. “I’m gonna ruin you.”
Katsuki grins. “Do try by all means. I’ve been waiting for a fuckin’ challenge all night.”
When Katsuki doesn’t widen the space between them, Izuku takes that as his cue to get a shot in. His kick doesn’t land, but he uses the momentum from the failed attempt and twists around behind Katsuki to throw a punch into the wind. The force of it knocks him off balance, and Izuku is free to roundhouse his side. He’s seething from the potential loss, and the anger drives more force behind the uppercut he lands and the next right hook on Katsuki’s jaw.
Katsuki grunts, the first real sound he’s made of pain, and it goes straight to Izuku’s head, increasing the confidence behind the next shot he makes. He doesn’t think it through, however, and Katsuki gets a hold on his arm. He flips him over his back, and Izuku lands with a groan of pain as the air is knocked from his lungs and his teeth rattle with the impact. He pushes himself up, but Katsuki climbs on top of him, securing his hands above his head and torso with his legs on either side of his waist. Izuku bucks his hips up with a low sound, and Katsuki leans forward with a wild grin.
Absolutely not about to lose to him, Izuku tears his hands out of Katsuki’s grip with all fifteen percent of his allowed power and thrusts his hips up. Katsuki somehow gets a tight hold around Izuku’s waist, so when he’s flipped over Izuku’s head, they tumble together.
He wraps an arm around Katsuki’s neck as the world spins. They land with Katsuki’s back pressed to Izuku’s chest, the latter’s arm secured tightly around his throat as Izuku heaves to catch his breath. He gets his legs around Katsuki’s waist, slips a hand into the top of his hair and tugs so his head falls to Izuku’s shoulder. Katsuki’s eyes wrench shut as he groans from the action, and Izuku’s stomach drops. His face flushes hot at the submissive response, and he curiously tugs his hair again.
“This isn’t a fucking pin,” Katsuki snarls behind clenched teeth, and Izuku roughly presses his nose to the shell of his ear.
“I just like you like this,” he answers lowly, pulling his hair to punctuate the statement, and Katsuki makes another sound in the back of his throat. “Feel free to get out of it any time,” he pants, tightening the arm around his throat so Katsuki is forced to lean farther back into his shoulder and expose the sweaty expanse of his neck with a choked sound.
After a few more tense moments of inaction, Katsuki finally shoots a large blast into the side of Izuku’s face and breaks free from the position, landing on top of Izuku.
God, Izuku wants to choke him like this, pull his hair until he cries. It’s this angry, feral urge in his bones that he can’t satiate, and it’s driving him insane. When he lifts his head, that urge gets the better of him, and he suddenly sinks his teeth into the juncture of Katsuki’s neck. The muscle tenses beneath salty, feverish skin before it gives way to the blunt edge of his enamel.
“Fuck, Deku!” Katsuki cries out. “What the fuck.”
Izuku pulls away and knocks his forehead into Katsuki's, breathing heavily. He scans the body above him, the tremor in Katsuki's arms, the tense flex of his abdomen, the way the fresh bite mark on his neck expands with each shaky inhale. Izuku can't bear to stay beneath him.
With little effort, he flips their positions and ties Katsuki's hands above his head with Black Whip.
"You're a fucking menace," he pants, his face wrenched up in some kind of discomfort, but there's an inkling of a smirk in the lines of his features that reveals some other emotion.
They stare at each other for a beat too long. "Five seconds is up."
"Yeah? You call this winning, Deku?" he taunts, leaning forward so their noses brush. "You've hardly done anything…"
Izuku's hand flies out, roughly gripping Katsuki's chin with an angry sound. "That a challenge, Kacchan?" he snarls.
"I don't think you could take it up if it were."
Izuku's grip tightens, his fingers digging into the corners of Katsuki's smile. His face is so fucking infuriating…
“You wanna find out?”
Katsuki laughs darkly. "Look at you. What would people say if they saw Hero Deku like this now?" He slides his knuckles across Izuku's flushed cheeks. "Anger looks good on you."
The comment suffice to distract him briefly, Katsuki shoots a couple blasts at the ground, and the force is enough to flip their positions again, his palms landing either side of Izuku's head.
Without much warning, Katsuki bites into his shoulder in retaliation, and something like a gravelly moan sounds in the back of Izuku's throat.
He feels the bruising edge of his incisors and the sharp pierce of his canines—and that pain quickly melts into a hot flush that drips like warm sugar through his veins. When Katsuki pulls away, he blows on the mark, makes him shiver as the saliva cools.
"Ka—"
Katsuki travels higher and sinks his teeth into the same spot Izuku left his mark.
His heart starts to race as his breath hitches in his throat, feeling the angry tension in his chest dissipate with the furious bite, and that…that is curious. No amount of punching or kicking could relieve that feeling, but this?
Another low sound bubbles up in his throat as Katsuki's tongue laps across his rabbiting pulse, soothing the bruised skin. He trails his mouth higher, bottom lip dragging across his skin and leaving it cold in its wake. When Izuku feels Katsuki's breath on his jaw, he anticipates more teeth. Instead, however, his warm mouth seals around the tender edge, just below his ear.
"Stupid fucking Deku always pissing me the fuck off," he murmurs into his skin. "You make me wanna burn you to fucking ash."
And fuck, Izuku wants to burn. His hips jerk up, heart thudding wildly against his ribs. He feels his head go light as he turns his face into Katsuki's mouth, and his lips brush his chin. Katsuki nips his nose when it touches his bottom lip, and Izuku shakily exhales.
"Burn me then," he breathes out.
Katsuki inhales sharply, grabs Izuku's chin with a hand as his knee jerks forward to settle between his legs. Izuku gasps when it brushes his dick, and only then does he realize how fucking hard he is. It's dizzying how much that gets under his skin, that Katsuki has that advantage over him.
Izuku cants his chin down and bites into the webbing between Katsuki's thumb and forefinger. His grip tightens in response, rough fingers digging into his cheeks and pressing into his clenched teeth. That only makes him bite down harder, and Katsuki's palm heats in retaliation, a few small sparks popping and stinging the thin skin below his eyes.
Katsuki rips his face forward, noses pressing together. "Gonna fucking ruin you."
Saliva gathers beneath Izuku's tongue and runs down the corners of his mouth. Katsuki roughly swipes at it with his thumb, shoves it past his lips and presses down on the back of his tongue. Izuku gags around dirt and salt and sweet glycerin and jesus fuck—there is something ridiculously exhilarating about swallowing the potentially lethal sweat, feeling it run hot down his throat. He grabs Katsuki's wrist and pulls it back, licks a long stripe up his palm and drags his teeth up his middle and ring finger, catching on calluses before his tongue slides across the blunt edges of his nails and he wraps his mouth around his fingers, sinks down until they hit the back of his throat.
Katsuki shoves them deeper, makes it hurt, makes Izuku's eyes sting as he suppresses his gag reflex. And instead he sucks. Swirls his tongue around the rough pads of Katsuki's fingers as spit gathers and spills from his lips, and it's obscene.
He pops off and heaves a ragged breath, pinning Katsuki with a frenzied stare that he matches with an equal, ferocious look which speaks volumes to the rage bubbling behind his clenched teeth, his eyes dark and almost murderous with intent. He leans in—slowly, rapaciously slow, and Izuku feels any higher sense of cognizance trickle out as a deliciously thick fog settles in, blinding and dangerous and rapturous.
"What. The fuck. Was that?" Katsuki utters in a low, threatening tone that scratches like a claw along the length of Izuku's spine, ripping his skin wide open, leaving him to bleed warm and wet into Katsuki's hands, and it satiates the itch he couldn't reach, if only temporarily. The one beneath skin and sinew and muscle fibers and aching bone. Izuku sucks in a sharp breath, his first real breath of the night, and it’s shared between them, in the small space where their mouths are hovering just a few inches apart.
Katsuki's hand, wet and slick with spit, comes down onto the side of Izuku's face, pressing his cheek into the pavement as a deep, guttural sound rips from his teeth, rattling his chest and jolting his heart into rhapsody.
Izuku gathers the spit beneath his tongue, tasting sweat and skin and the rough grit of dirt, and turns his head into Katsuki's palm, spits between his fingers so it hits the sharp ridge of his collarbone. Izuku reaches up with a shaking hand, presses his thumb into it, and smears it into the feverish flush of skin so it shimmers as a filthy mark.
And then his fingers skim lower, hooking on the torn edge of Katsuki's tank, and suddenly the clothing is a barrier keeping him from the warmth of his body. Green sparks fly and the fabric is torn in two, hanging limply from Katsuki's arms. When he shifts, it falls off him entirely.
He leans up, needs his mouth on him so badly it hurts, and sinks his teeth into flexed muscle somewhere near the flush of his chest and the rounded fullness of his pectoral.
Katsuki's chest expands in a sharp, startled inhale, and a shaky sound slips out. He drops to his forearm, ultimately bringing Izuku's face closer to his neck where the latter can wrap his mouth around the unmarked spaces there. Izuku latches onto that first bite, re-irritates the skin, sucks and laves his tongue to make sure it will last longer. He kisses and bites along the length of Katsuki’s neck, the vibrations in his throat tickling his lips as he gives him matching marks. A bite into the corner of his jaw, red blemishes and plum bruises made with his lips and teeth and tongue.
And when his teeth find the lobe of his ear, Katsuki groans.
It’s like an electric shock through Izuku’s body, one that makes his skin tingle and his heart lurch. He bites into his ear harder to stave off the ache in his chest, hand flying to the hair behind Katsuki’s ear. He uses his grip on it to yank his head to the side and expose his neck to further assault from his mouth. Izuku notes how quiet Katsuki’s grown then, and he loves it. Pliant in the rough grip of his hands, balancing on a shaky forearm above him as he mars his skin with his feelings. Izuku pops off with a loud, wet sound and observes his work with hooded eyes. The purples and pinks and angry reds, something tangible to show his mark of power over him. It’s intoxicating. He leans back in, pulling Katsuki’s face roughly against his lips so he can mouth at the sharp line of his jaw. When the muscle ticks, Izuku returns to that spot, lapping and nibbling and sucking, growing more frantic and messy as Katsuki’s jaw tenses and twitches in response.
“You make me so angry I can’t think straight,” Izuku rasps against his cheek, voice thick. His fingers, curled in flaxen strands, begin to shake.
Katsuki’s chest rumbles with a sound, and he can feel the vibrations against his lips. “The feeling’s fuckin’ mutual.”
Izuku licks up his cheek. When his tongue darts out, it hits the corner of his mouth.
Katsuki turns his head suddenly and clamps his teeth down on Izuku’s bottom lip. When he releases it, he licks into his mouth and swallows the moan Izuku can’t contain.
It's a mess of clashing tongues and teeth in an instant, panting around sinful sounds and searching deeper for more. Izuku grips Katsuki's back for stability, and when the latter kisses into his mouth just right, his nails sink deep into sweaty muscles. They ripple as he drags them down his back, wrecking the skin, and dots of blood bead along the harsh red lines. When his fingers slow across the dips on his waist, Katsuki shudders. He breaks off of Izuku's mouth with a loud gasp that thaws into a rich mewl he'll deny ever making.
"Shit, Kacchan…" he chokes, curiously repeating the action and watching as Katsuki bends into his hands. His arms are shaking where they're braced on either side of Izuku, and when he lightly traces the pads of his fingers along the puffy skin, Katsuki drops his head into Izuku's shoulder with a husky groan. Izuku bites into his cheek as his dick twitches in his pants, feeling tight and heavy and painfully untouched and altogether overstimulated. “You always this sensitive?”
Katsuki lifts his head, a bit of the fog lifting from his gaze as his brow pulls into a sneer. “Like hell I am.”
Just to hammer his point in, Izuku digs his nails back into that same spot, watching Katsuki shiver. And then Izuku rolls them so he can settle back on top of Katsuki’s hips.
"This just for me then?" he breathes, leaning in to kiss his mouth. "You like it when I'm a bit mean to you, Kacchan?"
Somewhere in the back of his gooey brain, Izuku is marveling at the two of them like this. Dumbfounded as his lips press against Katsuki’s, as he takes in his surprisingly soft skin, the way it contrasts with the tang of blood and sweat on his tongue and the sharp drag of enamel, the languid pass of his hot tongue. It’s dizzying. He breathes Katsuki in and sinks deeper into his mouth, forgetting that the whole purpose of this is to beat him. Distantly through the thick, indolent haze that has settled, he feels Katsuki’s hand slide into his hair, feels his fingers tighten and pull his head back, feels him guide Izuku’s mouth to his neck.
Izuku kisses beneath his jaw and licks down his throat, finds a spot on his collarbone that makes Katsuki purr and spends some time with his tongue there, tracing the sharp ridge before he goes lower to his chest. His tongue tastes like dirt and the sweetness of Katsuki’s skin and the earthy air of stone and iron. Like a fucking drug—pure, liberating ecstasy, dark and heady and blissful.
He seals his lips around a nipple, and the vibrations of Katsuki’s moan make his tongue tingle. Katsuki’s chest expands with each pass of his tongue over the raised skin. When Izuku pulls away, a band of saliva snaps and drips down his chest. Hands on his hips, Izuku goes lower, swirls his tongue around his navel and licks into the dips of his v-line, making his hips rut up into the flat press of his tongue, and Izuku moans. He lays his palm down on Katsuki’s pelvis despite how desirable that response is, keeping him pressed to the pavement as he collects all the spit and drool in his mouth and lets it dribble onto the bulge in the front of Katsuki’s pants.
“Fuck, Deku, you always this whorish?”
Izuku looks up at him with a sharp smile and dark, listless eyes. “Only for you.” He drops down and gets his mouth around Katsuki’s clothed dick, the action sudden enough to pull a strangled gasp from him. When he pulls away the material is a few shades darker, soaked with his saliva. Izuku passes his hand across it, and when he finds Katsuki’s eyes, he grinds down on it with the base of his palm. Katsuki’s head drops back with a shudder. “Kacchan…look at you. You gonna let me win so easily?” Izuku taunts as he gently traces the length of Katsuki’s dick with his thumb and forefinger. “Gonna let me make you cum like this? Hm?” he continues, swiping his thumb across the clothed tip with just enough pressure to make his thighs jerk.
Katsuki sits up with a sour look on his face. He fists the front of Izuku’s tattered shirt and pulls his face close, roughly kisses into his mouth and draws a few sounds from it. “I ain’t cummin’ from shit, dumbass.”
“Yeah?” Izuku slots his hand between them and grabs Katsuki’s dick through his pants, earning a sharp curse as his body sags forward into Izuku’s. “I don’t think you have all that much control over what happens to you, Kacchan…” he drawls, low and breathy in his ear. He nips at the lobe and slips his fingers into his waistband, finds his cock rock hard in his briefs. Katsuki mutters another curse as his hips jerk up into Izuku’s hand. It’s thrilling, this control over someone so powerful, so full of himself. He wants Katsuki crying beneath him, and he doesn’t give a fuck what that says about him anymore.
When his fingers brush against the damp spot in his briefs, Izuku smiles. “You called me whorish, but look at how wet you are from all this…”
“Fuck, you’re so full of yourself.”
Izuku pulls back and finds his eyes as he languidly strokes his dick. They’re dark and hooded and it’s so goddamn arousing, Izuku knows he doesn’t have any damn right to point out Katsuki’s current state. “So this isn’t for me?” He twists his wrist on the upstroke and delights in the way Katsuki’s eyes flutter shut for a moment, the subtle intake of breath and the tick in his jaw. “This isn’t because you’re fucking up into my hand like you’re gagging for it?”
“Shit, Deku,” he pants into his shoulder, wetting his skin. “When’d you go and get a mouth?”
“When’d you go and get so slutty?”
“F-Fuck, you’re so dead.”
“Yeah?” Izuku’s hand speeds up, garnering another sharp jerk of his hips. “What could you possibly do to me when you’re like this, Kacchan?”
Katsuki shoves into his chest, pushing Izuku back so he can return to his position on top. It knocks Izuku’s hand free from his pants, and Katsuki shoves a leg between his thighs. “Don’t fucking act like you’re in any position to talk, you goddamn shithead.” He hikes his knee up higher, nudges it harshly into Izuku’s dick, and Izuku bites down on his lip to suppress a moan, his head falling back. Katsuki immediately takes advantage of his exposed throat and latches his mouth onto the bruised skin. “All fucking smug until someone touches you, huh, Deku?”
Izuku squeezes his eyes shut as Katsuki’s fingers find the hem of his pants, and he tugs them down with his underwear. His cock springs free, ruddy and leaking against his stomach and betraying how fucking turned on he is. He shivers as Katsuki’s warm palm wraps around the base, goes still as his urge to fight fogs over and leaks out of him with the pleasant tingle that follows the stroke of his callused hand. He groans and bites down on his cheek, clamping his knees around Katsuki’s arm as a weak attempt at stopping him.
“You were giving me shit earlier, but fucking look at you—ready to take it up the ass the second I got my hand around you.” He tightens his grip and pulls Izuku’s bottom lip through his teeth. “So you gonna let me win this easily? Gonna let me make you cum like this?” he taunts, throwing Izuku’s words in his face. It’s enough to make him squirm out of Katsuki’s hold, cheeks growing hot.
“No,” Izuku grits.
“No?”
Before Katsuki can push further, Izuku slams his head into his chin and knocks him back. He settles between Katsuki’s spread legs and tugs his pants off, frees his cock, and seals his mouth around it.
It’s unexpected enough to catch Katsuki off guard, pulling a whiny groan from him as Izuku sinks lower. He squeezes his eyes shut as tears gather in his waterline, the head of Katsuki’s cock lodged in the back of his throat, heavy and hot.
“That all you got?” Katsuki rasps. He fists his hand in Izuku’s hair and forces him lower. Izuku chokes and moans around him, chin soaked in his drool. He shoots Katsuki a glare and licks up his length, keeping his tongue flat before swirling the tip around the dripping head. When that doesn’t garner the reaction he was hoping for, he sucks harder as he slides his mouth down and back up again, scraping his frenulum with the edge of his teeth. It makes Katsuki’s thighs shake ever so slightly, and so he repeats the motion a bit faster this time.
"Shit, Deku," he breathes, hips arching into Izuku's mouth and forcing his cock deeper into his throat with a raw burn. "Can't even take all of me?"
And it's true. Katsuki is unfairly massive, but that doesn't mean Izuku isn't up for the challenge. He closes his lips around him and relaxes his throat, focusing on sinking low enough to get his nose to touch Katsuki's pelvis. And when he accomplishes that feat, Katsuki thrusts up into him, the action ripping a wantonly gagged sound from Izuku's chest. He holds there as Katsuki fucks his throat.
"Been wanting to shut you up like this for so fucking long," he pants, the statement stuttered with his thrusts. Izuku tightens his grip on his thighs and resists the urge to cry out as tears soak his cheeks. He focuses on the sensation of his nails piercing Katsuki's skin, tries to dig deeper into the soft flesh with each sharp jerk of his hips.
And he wonders, who is winning here?
It's this thought that steels Izuku when he's out of breath and his throat has caught fire. He hollows out his cheeks and slides his hands up Katsuki’s waist, traces his fingers over the faint dips of each rib. When he reaches his chest, he passes his thumbs across his nipples and pinches.
And when Katsuki's hips lose their rhythm and his grip in Izuku's hair tightens, his scalp burning, Izuku doubles down, loses himself in how fucking hot it is to drive Katsuki to the edge.
His hips stutter, and Katsuki shoves a hand into Izuku’s face to push him off. He falls back on his heels with a wrecked gasp as Katsuki does the same, their chests heaving in sync. Izuku wipes his mouth with the back of his hand as he watches Katsuki grip his dick with a breathy curse, squeezing his eyes shut and throwing his head back. He looks like sin, dazed and fucked out as he tries to back away from that edge, and Izuku feels a warmth of satisfaction bloom in his stomach. This image—Bakugou Katsuki losing his shit and trying to keep it together because of him—is invigorating.
Izuku scoots forward to place his hand over the one Katsuki’s wrapped around his dick, soft enough to not set him off as he leans in to kiss his mouth. It’s languid and warm and a million times more intimate than before, and he uses this to his advantage. “It’s okay, Kacchan,” he purrs into his mouth, tongue sliding across the indents his teeth left on his bottom lip. He settles his hand over Katsuki’s and guides it in a languid stroke down his dick. “Let me help you…”
Katsuki groans into his mouth. “Not a fat fucking chance.”
And yet he still allows Izuku to pump him with their hands, allows him to guide him to his back, to settle on top of Katsuki and fuck him with his hand.
Katsuki’s head falls back—and holy fucking shit, he’s beautiful like this.
Thinking Katsuki is attractive isn’t a new thought, but this is on a whole other level with his cock in Izuku’s hand and the sweetest, unbidden sounds coming out of his mouth. Soft and quiet and nothing Izuku has ever heard before. He slides his hand across his chest, goes lower to feel the dips of his abdomen, and then back up to pass across a nipple. Katsuki hisses, his head rolling to the side like he’s trying to bury his face in his shoulder.
Izuku pinches his chin, kissing him as he picks up the pace of his hand.
Katsuki suddenly jerks, thighs clamping shut. “F-Fuck, get off,” he breathes, and his hands scramble on Izuku’s waist, grabbing at his hand as his hips jolt up.
Izuku doesn’t relent, instead leaning forward to find his mouth again. “That’s it, Kacchan…” he whispers, and Katsuki shakes his head and fires his quirk at Izuku’s hand. Izuku pulls away, sits back on his heels while straddling Katsuki’s thigh. He hasn’t cum yet—the bastard has a ridiculous amount of self-control—and so he takes him in. His skin is all flushed, dick redder than the blush on his cheeks. Chest heaving, sweat making his skin look slick and inviting in the moonlight as he throws an arm over his eyes and clenches his teeth.
Izuku slides down, kisses and bites at his thighs, leaves hickeys in every unmarked spot. He consciously avoids his dick with his mouth, then leaves one kiss at the base before he straightens back up. When he adjusts his hips, he hisses as his dick shifts across Katsuki’s thigh, sensitive to the barest of touch.
Katsuki looks up in response to Izuku grinding down on him, decides to tense the muscle and shove it up between his legs. Izuku moans, dropping forward where Katsuki can bury his hand in his hair and find the shell of his ear. “Take your fucking pants off,” he rasps.
Izuku obliges, letting them settle below his hips like Katsuki’s, too hasty to take them off completely. He settles back down on top of him with a small whimper, bare skin on skin now as he ruts into Katsuki’s thigh and buries his face in his neck.
It’s so eager and filthy and brainless, both of them getting off by rutting up against each other like desperate animals.
“This what you wanted?” Katsuki taunts, low and breathless and hot in his ear.
Izuku drops his head back as he assaults his throat. “Y-You started it…”
“Yeah?” He adjusts their positions so their hips are lined up. In one swift motion he thrusts up hard into Izuku’s cock with his own, draws a loud mewl from his lips. “You want me to finish it?”
Izuku stills, hands around Katsuki’s shoulders, sitting up in his lap now as he stares down at him. Would that be equal to conceding? Does it even matter at this point when they’re both fucked to oblivion? He sucks in a breath and kisses into Katsuki’s mouth. He doesn’t acquiesce out loud, but the increasingly frantic way they return to ravishing each other’s bodies is enough of an answer. Harder, wetter—teeth and tongues and nails, sweat and bruises and blood.
The sounds they make grow louder with each thrust, more broken and unrestrained.
“You’re gonna fucking cum for me, you little shit,” Katsuki orders with a gasp.
“Y-You—ah, sh-shit—you first.”
Izuku tries to reach for Katsuki’s cock between their flushed bodies, but he slaps his hand away with a hiss. He whimpers loudly as he rocks into him, knowing he’s too fucking close to fight it, and he briefly contemplates pushing off, but that would require willpower he doesn’t have, and it feels too fucking good to stop.
“K-Kacchan…” he begs, hoping that will be enough to make him stop, but Katsuki only seems to quicken his pace.
“Take it, Deku,” he whispers with his lips pressed to the shell of his ear. “No tap outs.”
Izuku shakes his head and claws into Katsuki’s shoulders.
“Stubborn piece of shit,” he growls, and suddenly Izuku’s back hits the pavement and Katsuki is looming over him. He looks just as fucked up as Izuku, hair tacked to reddened, sweaty skin, eyes dark, lips swollen. But the look he’s giving him is sharp and threatening enough to make Izuku whine. He feels Katsuki’s hand wrap around his cock, jerking it at an unforgiving pace that makes Izuku curl into himself. He’s shoved back to the ground with a hand on his shoulder.
“Kacchan—”
His hand picks up speed. Izuku cries out, hips bucking into the touch despite it being way too much stimulation, and he tries to get out of it with his quirk. It uselessly flickers and arcs across the ground, out of control because his mind is too far gone to get a grip on it. He moans loudly and squeezes his eyes shut, writhing a bit as the sensation gets to be too much and builds in his stomach, tightens his chest and makes his hands curl into fists.
“That’s it, baby,” Katsuki coaxes, voice still a throaty whisper that is altogether way too intoxicating, and Izuku feels his brain short circuit.
He knows he’s utterly fucked as he arches again, but he manages to get his hand around Katsuki too, messily jerking him off without any rhythm as his hands tremble. Katsuki curses, and his own grip around Izuku falters briefly.
“K-Kacchan,” he tries again, a bit incoherently, “y-you too—”
Katsuki hums, kissing and sucking and uttering praises under his breath about how good Izuku is doing for him, and that—that’s too much to handle. “What’s that?”
“Y-You—fuck!”
Izuku’s entire body goes rigid, and suddenly he’s shaking, crying out and cumming across Katsuki’s hand with a wrecked sob, and he fucking hates how good it feels. He knows he’s never gonna live this down. Distantly, somewhere beyond the white haze dulling his senses, he registers that his hand is still around Katsuki’s cock. He keeps it there, pumping his wrist with whatever strength he has left.
“C-Cum for me,” he pants a bit desperately, a pathetic whine following the plea. Because he won’t be able to handle it if Katsuki doesn’t. He squeezes him, leans up to kiss him as everything grows fuzzy. “Please, Kacchan…”
“Fuck, Deku,” Katsuki hisses, and Izuku feels him tremble when his weight collapses on top of him a moment later, cumming across his hand. “Fuck.”
Their chests heave, rising and falling rapidly out of sync as they quietly lie there for a minute, catching their breath while Izuku tries to process what the fuck they just did. His whole body is starting to ache. The wind blows, and he shivers as the sweat and tears cool on his skin.
“Heh,” Katsuki eventually snorts into his neck, and Izuku scoffs as he feels his mouth twist into a smirk against his skin. “You lost.”
Izuku rolls his eyes and shoves Katsuki off of him, staring up at the blackened sky. “I won with that pin,” he breathes. “Everything after was just…”
“For fun?” Katsuki chuckles. When Izuku looks at him, he’s got a wicked smile on his face, resting on his side with his head in his hand. He looks…happy.
Izuku’s cheeks heat. He looks back at the sky with his own smile.
Izuku blinks at the board and then looks at the clock, Hizashi’s voice slowly filtering back in. He realizes there’s only a few minutes left of class and he spent the entirety of it zoned out, staring at Katsuki’s back.
“Kacchan,” he says when class is dismissed. “I’m gonna need to borrow your notes.”
Katsuki looks over his shoulder, gives Izuku a once-over that makes his cheeks heat. “Yeah, sure, whatever,” he says dismissively, but there’s a glint in his eye, something almost teasing and all-knowing.
“Nah, what the hell?” he hears Denki shriek, then sees him flittering in his peripheral. Izuku turns to look at him with a sheepish smile. Ochako joins a moment later.
“I did not just see you two talk like normal people,” she says.
Izuku watches Katsuki gather his things in the corner of his eye, then rubs the back of his neck. He winces as his hand brushes over a few sore spots under the bandaids he haphazardly slapped on in a sleepy daze. “Uh, we worked things out last night…?”
Ochako’s eyes narrow, eyes flicking across his face and settling on his neck for a moment before looking back up at him. “So you…sparred?”
Izuku smiles, the flex of his cheek making the bite beneath the bandage on his chin sting. “Sure did.”
She he looks skeptical but doesn’t press. Denki runs off to harass his friends as Izuku swings his backpack over his shoulder, wincing because the strap chafes more bruises. The constant reminder makes him dizzy with shame and…a bit of a thrill. He watches Katsuki near the door, searching for any marks that might not be covered, then narrows in on the faint lines of teeth between the webbing of his thumb and forefinger. He feels his whole body heat with a flush.
“Uh, Deku?” Ochako laughs nervously, and he realizes he’s just been kinda standing there, staring.
“Sorry! Uh, you go grab a seat. I’ll catch up in a second.”
When Ochako leaves, Izuku sucks in a deep breath and walks over to Katsuki. He’s been hanging out by the door this whole time, tapping on his phone now that Eijirou and Mina have left his side. Like he’s waiting for someone.
“Kacchan?”
Katsuki's eyes flick up, that disinterested look back on his face that irritates Izuku. But he steps forward, settles a hand on his shoulder, heavy and hot like it was last night. Izuku swallows thickly, trying to meet his eyes as Katsuki leans into his ear. “You missed one,” he whispers, grazing his skin with his teeth.
Izuku’s heart drops to his stomach as Katsuki brushes his thumb across a spot on his neck.
When he looks back at him, getting the first real look at his face since last night, his eyes widen. The collar of his uniform is hardly doing anything to conceal the marks littering his neck. They’re faded, sure, but there all the same. “You didn’t—” he rasps, feeling hot as he sees his work in the light, and it’s…exhilarating. Izuku swallows, blatantly scanning Katsuki’s body as his gaze trails lower, picturing the ones he left on his chest—and lower to the ones between his thighs…
His stomach twists, his pulse rabbiting beneath his skin. “We’re doing that again,” he blurts, and Katsuki grins.
“Just let me know when you feel like losing.”
Izuku’s face falls, and he feels that anger rightfully return in his chest. “You’re insufferable.”
“Maybe,” Katsuki hums, taking a step forward into his space. He pinches Izuku’s chin and places a chaste kiss to his lips, catching him off guard so all Izuku can really do is stare up at him. “But I think you like it.”
