Chapter Text
Izuku felt like he was drowning in his own tears. It was borderline pathetic the way his chest heaved softly in the darkness of his own room. He’s positive if his breakdown continues the way it has been he’ll have to find another Noah to build an arc or else everything in his path will go under.
The last time he felt so utterly betrayed was a few years ago fresh into his undergrad. He was hopeful for any new start that was given to him. He wanted things to be different from high school, and perhaps he was too naive and gullible of a person to recognize anything other than the best of people, but he truly believed things would be.
He was still a kid back then, practically infantile to how relationships and feelings worked, and in retrospect he recognizes how things went so wrong. He grew up believing he was plain and invisible, so when the cute boy in his Psych 101 class gave him a second glance, he easily mistook those butterflies in his stomach for want instead of socially awkward nerves.
Izuku looked at that boy like he hung the fucking moon. He’s sure if someone told him he did he would believe them too because who would lie about that? That’s what he had always believed. Who would lie when they could very easily just tell him the truth?
Things would always be easier if people just told the truth. He knows he’s a reasonable person after all, and anger isn’t exactly a response he’s known to enact.
Izuku thinks about how soft touches and sweet filth would churn his gut in a way that he believed to be desirable. How eyes would rake his body from head to toe in the comfort of their dorms but never out in the open. How it made him feel wanted, even if it was in secret. That’s all he seemed to really crave in the end. To feel wanted.
If he wasn’t wanted then he could have very easily flipped a switch. Izuku is not a mind reader, in fact he needs very explicit open communication to function like a normal human. It’s the only way he can write out his thoughts and psychoanalyze the situation in order to quell his overbearing anxieties. It makes him feel logical that way.
He just assumes that the people who he is supposed to trust the most in the world are honest with what comes out of their mouth. It’s very obvious to Izuku now that most people tend to shit where they eat.
“You’re so cute ‘Zuku I can’t believe I have you.”
It would have been so much easier to say, “Hey, you’re kinda hot, but commitment kind of makes me want to jump off a bridge, so maybe we should just be friends with benefits because you and I both know I’m too much of a selfish prick to not try to fuck you after.”
It probably wouldn’t have hurt as much. Hell, even a “I just don’t like you anymore” would have been way sexier in the long run. Izuku would have preferred the harsh reality to whatever the fuck that was. They gave him the wrong Matrix pill at birth and it shattered his trust in men forever. Unrequited feelings are not a turn on.
The tears after that incident had a lot more to do with the fact that Izuku had to admit to himself that he’s practically 5 years behind in relationship experience, because unfortunately while his classmates were experiencing the highs and lows of high school football, Izuku managed to make friends with the least horny of the band kids. As if watching Mean Girls will prepare a young man for the future.
And it’s all thanks to the fact that he didn’t take the plunge and utterly embarrass himself by being passed around the percussion kids in the supply closet after practice that he blames his current naivety.
Freshman year of college was a $12,000 lesson to not date men under 5’8 that have too many monitors and a light up keyboard. They all like lying and cheating in the end. Unlike Izuku who is 5’8 with only one monitor and a standard, boring keyboard. Izuku assumes that his senior year of college is another $12,000 lesson to not yearn for aggressive balls of testosterone through the car radio. He thinks it wasn’t worth the money. A refund please.
Unfortunately this time around things were different. Katsuki wasn’t some random guy he got to know in some class he didn’t care about. Katsuki was proactive in his attempts to talk to Izuku. Things were never forced. Things always felt genuine. Katsuki was always genuine.
He was sure he mulled it over enough in his brain over the year plus he’s been listening to the man. He never said anything he didn’t mean, always blunt and quick with his wit. Izuku liked that about him, and despite the abrasive attitude he found he craved that honesty. At one point he would have been sure he was going to need to be admitted for practically swooning at the filth that left his mouth, all too similar to the things people who antagonized him for years had said. The difference was so clear to Izuku though.
While the high school quarterback would corner him in the locker rooms with his friends in some weird, totally not gay at all, intimidation tactic that felt more he was some type of prey for a sexually repressed group of teenagers with a masculinity complex, Katsuki would totally bypass all of the shame of wanting to fuck a dude and just like do it. He would probably be called a whore either way, but at least when Katsuki would do it, it would be sexy and come with 100 percent less trauma.
That’s why when he heard the all too familiar gruff voice behind him he felt his heart sink straight to his stomach.
“I swear Bakugou, tell that weirdo to fuck off on air already. Mina won’t stop complaining to me in class about being harassed. “
Mina. He knows Mina.
“That's not gonna work, his whole fan base likes him to scream at them. If they’re so persistent calling everyday, the station has a policy on perma banning people.”
The station?
He recognizes that voice. It sounds far too similar to the host he likes to tune into some mornings when he needs the extra pick me up. He was never a morning person, but something about the electric personality shocked him into being one when he needed to be. Right now Izuku feels like he’s flatlining instead.
He didn’t know a Bakugo, but with how close the group had been behind him, he couldn’t help but lean into the nasty habit of eavesdropping. The topic of conversation hit too close to home, but also gossip is a guilty pleasure of his he’ll never be able to shake. Love Island UK is just too good.
Until now.
“Listen Dunceface, I’ve already decided to address it. These losers calling into Yueei have another thing coming for them if they think they can act however they want. Fuck, I wish we didn’t even have it as an option.”
What?
No, no, no, no-
This can’t be happening. Things were going so well.
The wave of shame and embarrassment that came next hit him immediately. He knew that voice, sweet and viscous like molasses. It held a tinge of annoyance to it that Izuku was used to after months of exposure, but in that moment everything was different.
Things were too specific to not be the people who he thought they were. Izuku’s situation was far too unique and he knows it. Not every young adult with a thing for professional douchebags contact radio hosts near constantly to vie for their affection. Looking back on it, he knows it’s creep behavior.
The conversation he was having with Todoroki was long forgotten, his mind managing to overthink and not function at the same time. He didn’t want to believe he was the one they were talking about. He didn’t want to believe Bakugou felt the way he did about the calls, the late night texts.
He didn’t want to believe people are liars, but that’s a lesson he learned the hard way once before.
He needed to leave and he needed to leave now if he was to not start ugly crying on the coffee shop floor. It was tempting, but Todoroki definitely doesn’t get paid enough to deal with the storm he has coming. Izuku thought he had the strength enough to not look at the group as he passed by in a hurry, but as it turns out he’s just as weak as he’s always been.
Despite the aggressively horny behavior he pulled around Katsuki, he thrived on the mystery of his appearance. He knew they were on equal footing and he could continue to hide behind the safety of the camera if Katsuki also stayed faceless, that’s why he never asked nor did he intend to until they met.
But, fuck, he wishes he never looked up. As much as he’d like to blame the distorted vision on his water sign placement, he knows it’s not true. Katsuki is, fuck, Katsuki is one of the most breathtaking people he had ever laid eyes on.
He’s big, so much bigger than he anticipated, and Izuku is certain that if he ran up into his arms like he wants to right now he would be swallowed up whole. He’s all biceps and thick legs and Izuku is swimming in his own sick fantasies hitting him at one of the most emotionally inappropriate times. Izuku can’t see his face well through stinging tears, but it looks sharp and piercing and his hands are thick like everything else about him and -
He has to leave now.
Todoroki texted him shortly after he rushed through the door like a man on a mission, but checking his phone is the last thing he wants to do at this very moment. In fact he would very much like to crawl in a hole and die.
Todoroki, bless his heart, is a very good friend and someone Izuku would jump in front of a bullet for, but he’s not the comforting type. More like the awkward head pats and “there there's" while he’d be a freckled mess collapsed arms length in front of him. If there was one person more emotionally constipated than Katsuki, it was Todoroki.
So he goes to the only person he knows he can unintelligibly spill his guts out to, Ochako.
Thankfully she’s just as unhinged if not more than he is in times of emotional distress, so she knows him the best.
“So you’re telling me you’ve been anonymously talking to some guy for a few months and you didn’t tell me?” She sounds like she’s in disbelief that he could not tell her something more than anything.
Izuku’s ears burn red as he tries to cover his face. His head is in her lap, soft and comforting, but he knows any wrong move and she can crush it like a grape. “In my defense it was embarrassing.”
“Sounds like simp behavior to me.” Low blow, but fair.
“Very funny. Maybe a little, but he was cool and I thought he was different. I didn’t really expect him to talk to me back. I guess he didn’t really want to, but at the time it was nice. I thought if I told anyone that it would be creepier and ruin what we had.”
“Izuku, my love, have you considered you’re just oblivious and kinda dumb sometimes?” She was stroking his hair thoughtfully despite the jab. Despite knowing that she's very right most of the time, women’s intuition and all that, right now his mind is all jumbled and he refuses to accept common sense.
She continues anyway, “I mean, you block him immediately after you hear them talking? I would assume you’d at least try to talk to him about it first to save you from being a hypocrite and all. There are no thoughts behind those pretty eyes are there?” Soft hands grip his face and force his head to look at her. Green eyes, still stinging from their previous overuse, meet the stern warmth of her gaze. The overwhelming urge to stare at anything else but her hits him.
“You said it yourself last time. I gave that jerk too many opportunities to lie to me... I just didn’t want the same thing to happen with Kaachan...” For someone who preaches open communication, he sure is a coward about it right now.
“You’re over compensating and twisting my words. I never liked that freak, but it seems to me you just don’t want to see yourself be happy. Try not self sabotaging things before they even happen.”
Being happy isn’t too much of a stretch. He’s been happy for a while now, comforted by the tension constantly being tested every time one of them teased a little too much. Thinking back, he can trace his happiness to when he found Ground Zero, previously just allowing the world to move around him. His proactive nature and confidence bloomed one day when he was reclined back in his Civic, window down to feel the humidity the afternoon held. Ground Zero’s voice vibrated against the bass of his car.
“You assholes always write on the discussion page on Facebook that I fucking cuss too much, and to that I say go fuck yourself. You’re fucking delusional if you think I do anything for anyone else. I’ll have you know bitches love me. Fuck you Shitty Hair I see you laughing back there. You know you’re a part of that demographic.”
He’s always so unapologetically himself. Izuku looked at him like a hero.
He hates how much sense she makes all the time, but unfortunately for her he’s not done being sad, so he’s elected to ignore her for the foreseeable future. Instead of arguing though, he smiles up at her. “I don’t pay you to psychoanalyze me.”
“You don’t pay me at all.”
(x)
The talk with Ochako went well, but it doesn’t quite stop him from wallowing in self pity for longer than necessary. He found himself craving the blonde more than anything. Katsuki was always the person he went to when he was mildly inconvenienced, both of them content with spilling silly little details about their lives to one another. Izuku’s heart being shattered into a million pieces felt more than a minor inconvenience, but that’s only more of a reason to want to throw himself in a call with Katsuki and cry and mumble until the other gets irritated enough to tell him to- shut the fuck up nerd, just talk slower.
Now that Izuku has a face to match the voice, he feels like he’s floating, completely numb to what to do. The condescending chuckles on the other line came from someone handsome and intimidating and perfect. Now it’s not hard to imagine large, rough hands holding his own.
Just as everything has always come full circle he’s moping pitifully in his car the next day like he did the first time he heard Katsuki, water bottle half downed in an attempt to rehydrate himself. The tears left his face red and puffy and he was clutching his limited edition All Might hydro flask like it’s the only thing that will save him from shriveling like a snail. Personally he feels like Katsuki is the gremlin little kid sadistically pouring salt on him in 90 degree heat.
As any true masochist would Izuku instinctively tunes into the radio in one last attempt to get the boy out of his head. He thinks it’s more like a form of torture to fuel his self deprecating haze and allow the sinking feeling in his stomach to settle even more. He wants the throbbing in his face to be justified and to hear Katsuki mercilessly, metaphorically shove his face in the dirt in front of tens of thousands of people. Perhaps he really does have problems he needs to work out later.
Maybe he should start paying Ochako?
He was fidgeting with the lid of the bottle in an attempt to calm his nerves when he heard his voice again. It came as such a shock he spilled a quarter of the water all over his lap and onto his phone.
Fuck, his phone.
“Welcome back to 97.6 FM losers. It’s Ground Zero after a long break ready to reintroduce you to good music...”
Izuku was so distracted by the slowness of his speech and the raspiness of his voice that he barely noticed the way his phone was self-destructing in his hand.
It took a moment to realize that Katsuki sounded like he had been crying. Izuku’s original analysis of him had been that Katsuki doesn’t get sad, which he found was mostly true. Katsuki just expressed his sadness in other ways, but this, this raw, vulnerable emotion was a rarity. It’s reminiscent of the first time he had called into the station. What a ridiculous notion because that would imply that there was hope for him.
“I’m gonna start ya'll off with something slow today.”
The pause on the radio was painfully long before a rough sigh could be heard.
“Actually, fuck, uh. I don’t normally do this, personal shit and all, but I don’t have any other way to fucking contact you because you’re a prick and blocked me, but Deku.... If you’re listening... You’re really fucking stupid.”
He’s not entirely sure what to make of this so far. “Is Kaachan sad or.... does he want to punch me in the face?” Both would be viable options, but Izuku is just trying to cope with what’s happening.
“Ugh, yeah actually fuck you, because that was you in the coffee shop right?” The statement seemed to release the floodgates and he had finally found his train of thought. “If you hadn’t ran away and blocked me I could be confessing my fucking love or whatever to you right now and we could be fucking on my couch binging all of the James Bond movies, but instead you managed to eavesdrop our conversation without letting me explain.
Seems like your nerdy ass is a trend setter and now everyone is callin in the station for a piece of this, which everyone else needs to fuck off by the way I’m not fucking interested unless you’re Deku. You weren’t... It wasn’t about you, and I’m... Fuck, I’m sorry.”
If you told Izuku he had kicked a puppy he would believe you. Mind you a rabid puppy, but now that his stomach had been sinking far longer than the titanic he’s surprised it’s for reasons that won’t smash his confidence into a million pieces and leave him with a detrimental amount of trust issues.
He had been so stupid and wait, holy shit did Katsuki actually say he loved him? Between the love confession and burning embarrassment from literally everything else that came out of his mouth live on air, tears started bubbling over for another reason.
God he’s so stupid and warm and in love with Kaachan that he can’t think of anything else except texting him and telling him he’s sorry for everything and then probably meeting him in person and dropping to his knees to grovel at his feet.
Anything else that comes out of his mouth is mute to Izuku’s ears because currently he’s fumbling his phone in a desperate attempt to turn it on and text Kaachan that everything is going to be okay and that he’s actually in love with him too, but the only screen that will show on his phone is black and void like his emo little heart and oh my god this is karma for being dumb.
He thinks he has rice at home to dump his phone into to save until he realizes that he literally never cooks real meals and the only good nutritional thing he was going to put in his mouth was whatever the hell Kaachan had planned for their date and probably his dick if they got that far and suddenly he’s sad again.
It isn’t until he’s made the trip to three separate phone repair shops that he realizes Kaachan was right and iPhones are the actual worst and it’s all thanks to his idiotic need for blue texts that’s keeping them apart. What kind of business is closed on a Thursday at 7:30 PM anyway? Izuku feels exhausted and defeated by the time he drives home because the events of the past few days have been so emotionally extreme that all he wants to do is pass out and rush to talk to Kaachan tomorrow.
In all of his hap hazardous panicking he managed to miss the later half of Kaachan’s show. He wishes he could talk to him again, but he also wishes he could have melted at the sound of his voice while he was driving fast and furious across town. Not everyone had the multitasking abilities of Vin Diesel unfortunately.
His limbs felt heavy while he trudged up to the stairs of his apartment and for once time stood still.
“Kaachan?”
(x)
Katsuki is a wreck. Like he’s resulted in laying on the floor of his apartment listening to fucking Neck Deep type of wreck. Like he’s some 13 year old girl with scene hair and too many studded belts crying over some love song type of fucking wreck. He only owns two studded belts, and he doesn’t wear them at the same time and he hasn’t listened to Neck Deep since his dog died when he was a preteen.
He opted to not text his therapist about his shitty problems to instead wallow.
He doesn’t know where everything went wrong, but he’s sulked and sulked for such a long time his head feels like it’s bursting at the seems and he really, really doesn’t want to go to fucking work right now.
He feels desperate to explain himself, to reach out, and it’s such a foreign feeling to him because he’s Bakugo Katsuki. He doesn’t explain anything he does to anyone ever, but fuck if Deku hasn’t turned his life upside down in the best of ways.
Any other person and he’d just say fuck it. Nothing is worth this shitty headache, but for some reason his cognitive brain that normally works pretty well at compartmentalizing emotions from logic thinks that actually Deku is worth it and he’s not even mad about it.
He hates his lack of attentiveness towards anyone that isn’t in his close circle, because then maybe he could remember the blur of green at the counter talking to what’s his name with the half and half hair. Missed such a precious opportunity to see the man that plagued his every waking moment.
His friends seem to pick up on his mood immediately upon entering work and he notices the way they all itch to reach out and just say something. They know him well enough to stay back until he comes to them. He refuses to accept how similar he is to a stray dog. In the past, the faint whispers about his attitude would have made him explode in anger, but he’s not the same guy he was back then.
Sero is the only one with enough of a death wish to approach him tentatively. He was doing some wire management, taping the underside of the desk when he saw Katsuki enter the booth.
“Yo, dude are you okay to work? You look like shit.”
Katsuki didn’t have the energy to glare at him, something that has never happened in his life. “I got it Sero, just make sure that light comes on and do your job.”
He didn’t miss the way Sero looked at Kirishima incredulously across the room. He wanted to bite back, tell them they’re being ridiculous and that he can take care of himself, but if he’s being honest, he can’t think about anything other than Deku right now.
God, his head was killing him, the throbbing under his brows only increasing when the on air light flashed.
“Welcome back to 97.6 FM losers. It’s Ground Zero after a long break ready to reintroduce you to good music...”
He’s pathetic and tired and aching to talk to the nerd. Fuck, the nerd. He can’t think about anything else, itching for that playful banter one more time.
“I’m gonna start y’all off with something slow today.”
Fuck something slow. He hates slow. He hates waiting and he hates feeling helpless. It’s a shot in the fucking dark, but he has to try.
“Actually, fuck, uh. I don’t normally do this, personal shit and all, but I don’t have any other way to fucking contact you because you’re a prick and blocked me, but Deku.... If you’re listening... You’re really fucking stupid.”
Maybe calling the person you want to speak to you again a prick isn’t exactly the way to go, but Katsuki has never really been good with his words.
“Ugh, yeah actually fuck you, because that was you in the coffee shop right?” That’s rhetorical. Of course it was Deku and curse his brain for not really looking. Also curse Deku for not stopping him there to scream at him. He could have explained everything immediately, saved them all the trouble and he could be wooing him with all of many, many talents right now.
“If you hadn’t ran away and blocked me I could be confessing my fucking love or whatever to you right now and we could be fucking on my couch binging all of the James Bond movies, but instead you managed to eavesdrop our conversation without letting me explain.
Seems like your nerdy ass is a trend setter and now everyone is callin in the station for a piece of this, which everyone else needs to fuck off by the way I’m not fucking interested unless you’re Deku. You weren’t... It wasn’t about you, and I’m... Fuck, I’m sorry.” He only allows himself one apology every other year, too prideful to ever genuinely mean it. It felt heavy on his tongue, foreign, but for the first time necessary. He’s not entirely sure what he’s apologizing for other than being a loud mouth, but it’s the first time he’s ever cared about actually being forgiven.
He couldn’t make it through his full set.
Legs were bouncing in his chair, allowing the nervous energy to shift his mood. When the fuck has he ever just laid down and taken it when bad things happen? If Deku never wants to speak to him, fine, but they’re going to meet before that ever happens. He’s going to make it really fucking clear how he feels whether Deku likes it or not.
He was in the middle of playing Heatwaves by Glass Animals before standing abruptly. The two behind the glass look like they were expecting this moment at any point, Kirishima already reaching for the headphones in Katsuki’s hands. He gives him a toothy smile before tilting his head towards the door. Sero was looking smug, still in his chair.
The first person he thinks of is Mina who is doubled over behind her desk wearing a similar expression that Katsuki had just an hour earlier. Her eyes are wide but hopeful when she sees him rush over.
“Bakugo, your set doesn’t end for another 45 minutes?”
“Fuck my set, do you remember that twerp’s Instagram username or anything about where he hung out?”
Her smile was sickening when she grabbed her phone with a quickness. “No can do. It looks like he still deactivated all of his accounts. He just always posted with his friends. Are we sleuthing?”
He forgot about that. Of course the nerd would be diligent enough to go so far. He was meticulous and normally he’d consider that endearing but right now he thinks it’s really fucking annoying.
“Fuck yeah we’re sleuthing. Do you remember his friends' usernames?” He can do friends, okay yeah. As long as he gets into contact with a human he can make it work. He’s... charming enough?
She thinks for a minute and he can see the cogs visibly turn in her head. He wouldn’t be surprised if there was smoke soon. “Oh yeah, there was this girl he was always tagged with, uh uravity? I think they were really good friends. Brown hair, super hot, angel face.”
His phone was out with Instagram open the moment she said her username, too ecstatic for a lead to sit still. “Yeah, yeah, fuck her later, is this it?”
The profile was private unfortunately, but that doesn’t stop him from staring intently at the icon, a soft blur of green in the corner visible. Mina squints as she tries to do the same and nods. “Yep the one and only. He mentioned her to me a couple times. Said her name was Ochako.”
Katsuki didn’t hear that last part. He was quick to DM her, suddenly nervous about sounding overtly stalkerish, but that didn’t last long because nervous and Katsuki are not words that go together very well. He has no shame on a bad day.
GroundZero: I’m a friend of Deku. Can you get me in contact with him?
He thinks a little too late that was a bit blunt but elects to ignore it.
GroundZero: Oh, I mean Izuku.
GroundZero: Please.
The last message was painful, but he’d endure anything to get a fucking DM back. He’s never been on the receiving end of shit like this before, always the one to ignore the hundreds of 40 year old virgins that want to pay him to jerk it to his feet. He’s not 40 and nor is he a virgin so he’s already a step above all of the rest. One minute, then two pass and he’s suddenly lacking all patience.
“WHY WON'T SHE RESPOND?” A vein is prominent against his forehead.
“It hasn’t even been five minutes.” He knows she’s enjoying this and it only makes him angrier.
“I even said please.”
A look of genuine shock crosses her face. “You?! Wow you must be really horny.”
No comment because, true, but also true love or some shit. “Please drink bleac-“
The Instagram ding was like a sweet release.
uravity: is this kaachan? :* just checking before i send a serial killer his info
He holds back from commenting on the nickname or from asking if he really talks about him. It’s childish, but it makes him blush if only a little.
GroundZero: Katsuki, yeah. I’ll only kill him platonically. I’m kind of in a hurry, he blocked me.
uravity: you and i both know nothing between you two is platonic. he caught me up already
uravity: you’re lucky i think he’s dumb in this situation.
Katsuki was about to cringe from the knowledge that she knows he’s in the dog house and ask her to pass on a message for him before the next message comes through. It takes a minute for him to process that it’s Deku’s address on his screen.
He only has the time to send a quick ‘thanks’ in return and give Mina a determined look before he’s booking it out the door and sliding in the driver's side of his car.
It was finally going to happen.
The sick reality that Deku lived not even five minutes from him crashed into him like a freight train. It was comical really. All this time and he jogs passed his fucking complex every weekend like clockwork. How many times has he seen him come out to his car or from his front balcony and not know it?
There were no cars in front of the complex but he knocked anyway. He’ll wait all day if he has to. Stubbornness is a trait that’s kicked him in the ass before.
He takes the time to clear his head and think about what he’s going to say. He’s been acting on instinct this whole time, only just now realizing how fucking weird this whole situation was. Katsuki wouldn’t change it for the world.
He was leaning against Deku’s front door for an hour, nerves only spiking the longer he was there. Katsuki wasn’t used to feeling nervous, he wasn’t used to worrying about what other people think about him, but God does that boy do things to him he‘s not used to.
The sky has turned a burnt orange at this point, his favorite color bleeding across the horizon. Golden hour covered him in a warmth that made everything feel hazy, like he was in a simulation or some shit. It was the only thing calming his anxieties.
“Kaachan?”
He sees green and thinks in that moment that he was wrong about orange being his favorite color all these years.
If there was a God, Katsuki is certain they made Deku to be the personification of sunshine. He was all soft freckles and sun kissed skin and eyes so big they took up most of his face. If there was one word he would use to describe Deku it would be soft. He looks like he had been struck stupid and Katsuki wouldn’t thinks he likes it that way.
The closer Deku got to his front door the more he realized how fucking tiny he was, and holy shit he’d be lying if that wasn’t doing something to him. Maybe it was a stroke to his ego or maybe it satiated some desire in him that made him want to pin him down and make him cry, Katsuki doesn’t know, all he knows is that he wants to monopolize this boy. The height difference made him strain upwards to stare wide eyed, blush reaching down to his neck. He was fit, muscular thighs and strong arms filling out his knit sweater well and Katsuki held himself back from groaning out loud at the sight because he really needs to check out his yoga credentials. He looked good, both in the sense that he embodies a hot high school history teacher that teenage girls are obsessed with, but also like how you would describe a puppy that learned a new trick.
Months of yearning, of having nothing to picture on the other end of the phone amassed to this very moment. He was so busy staring that he almost forgot to speak.
“Deku, we need to talk-“
“If you want to punch me, just do it-“
If the notion wasn’t so hilarious with the way his green eyes screwed shut, he’d consider it. Not the particular brand of physical contact he prefers, but he’d take anything to get his hands on him.
The blush darkening tan skin only spread further when Katsuki didn’t respond. He was so busy looking into his eyes or something gay like that, that he just let the nerd word vomit. He’s never really been good with doing that himself.
“Uh... Oh... Please ignore that... I was listening to your show and heard you confess and it was really embarrassing, but I realized my mistake and I was going to call you to tell you I’m sorry and that I’m in love with you but my phone got messed up and I went to fix it but all of the stores are closed and that was way too much talking because you’re looking at me like I’m insane but I really just like you and I was totally prepared to grovel at your feet but now that I said that out loud it totally sounds more insane for me to do.”
Katsuki had to reel himself in before he told him to actually grovel. Perhaps it’s his own sadistic nature appearing at such an inappropriate time or perhaps it’s that he’d get to have Deku low and clinging to him like he really wants. Regardless the reason, he kicks himself for hyper fixating on such a dumb part of that mini monologue.
The feelings being mutual wasn’t a surprise either, in fact he would have bet his life on it. One look and it’s obvious he wears his heart on his sleeve, but with a second it’s also obvious that mind of his needs a heavy adderall prescription to function normally.
“You broke your phone?” Smooth, Katsuki.
“That’s what you take out of that?”
“Good to know you’re fluent in back talk in person too.”
“Good to know you’re.... you’re....”
He knows that look, eyes half lidded, distracted. Normally he wouldn’t give a shit, but fuck if he doesn’t like the silent praise from this dwarf of a man.
“Before I let you continue checking me out,” Yes, keep blushing. Just like that. “Mind telling me why you ran away and blocked me, twerp?”
Eyes averted to look anywhere except for at him. Now he couldn’t have that.
“I’m sorry Kaachan... I thought you were stringing me along and secretly hated me and I just panicked...”
Katauki’s hands were twitching, holding themselves back from grabbing anything he could get a hold of and taking.
As he was talking Katsuki managed to prowl stealthy until he had Deku cornered, back against the door like a bunny ready to be eaten.
He said nothing, instead allowing the tension to build while Deku desperately tried to fill the silence with whispered words.
“I didn’t want to be hurt again. You’re the only person I didn’t want to hurt me like that.”
Their proximity seems to have finally caught up with him. They shared a heated gaze against Deku’s front door, electricity stinging the tips of their fingers.
He leaned in so that their faces were barely an inch apart.
“And what way did you want me to hurt you instead?”
A flash of lust ridden humiliation washed over Deku’s face. Katsuki lived for it. Which was great for him, as it meant he was eliciting the exact response he was hoping for. It was not, however, so great for Izuku, because it made Katsuki want to destroy him into next week.
“Come on you can use your words can’t you?”
Want floods his body, but he has to wait. He has to hear him say it.
It’s barely a whisper when it comes.
“Please, anything, I just want you.”
Katsuki kisses like he plays sports. Rough, messy, and not very often. They were all desperation and hands grasping at clothes and Katsuki wouldn’t want it any other way.
He can feel the clink of metal against his teeth, a fact that makes his head spin, and suddenly it’s taking him everything to not picture his sweet, little Deku on his knees, tongue flat against the underside of his cock.
He wraps his hands around Deku’s waist to press him to his body, hot and firm and so small in comparison to the way Katsuki shielded him from the rest of the world. Deku was melting against him, fingers threading through his hair as if to keep him there forever. As if Katsuki would ever want to leave.
God, he knew Deku would be loud, but this? The pitiful moans that he swallowed whole drove him up the wall, made him want to explode. He very well might if they don’t break for air soon, but he’s so drunk off of Deku’s taste, his smell, that he’d rather die on the spot.
And then Deku did something that made Katsuki want to scream. On his tiptoes, stretched to his limit, he used his muscles to jump up and get impossibly closer. Their body heat was scorching hot against the cool evening air. It was like a glass of water in a desert, leaving Katsuki a still starving man.
Deku broke away first, presumably to speak, but Katsuki kept his own mouth busy littering marks across his neck. Everyone will know who he belongs to by the time they’re done. Just how he likes it.
“K-Kaachan, we need-“ He bites his neck, dragging out more breathless moans.
“We need to get inside.” As if to emphasize his point, Deku tugs his hair painfully hard, but the sensation only manages to rile him up more. “Please.”
A hand snakes into Deku’s back pocket, grabbing a handful of ass before taking the keys and finding the lock. He can feel his voice reverberate in the way it does when he first wakes up in the morning, rough and deep. “You sound so pretty begging like this, like it’s what you’re meant to do.”
He doesn’t know what he’s saying at this point except that he can’t stop. Something about the way Deku marks his own neck with just as much fervor makes him unable to maintain what little filter he had. “Didn’t realize you were such a whore for it.” There was a whine, sweet like vanilla. “Wish I asked to meet you sooner, I would have given it to you.”
Katsuki is too heat drunk to maneuver around Deku’s apartment, and honestly any horizontal surface that he can press and grind into works just great for what he has in mind.
The kitchen table falls victim first, but he knows it won’t be the last if he has any say in their future.
For weeks he had been thinking how he was going to fuck Deku stupid, quell that overactive imagination he has. It seems his mouth hadn’t caught up just yet, but Katsuki lives for it.
“Off, I want this off.” The leather jacket he had suddenly felt too heavy over his back. He ripped off the offending material to slide his hands under the nerd’s sweater. He had him sat pretty on the table, thighs squeezing his waist like a vice. All he can think about is how smooth and hot Deku feels against him.
Green eyes are looking at him like a full course meal and it makes him preen. He notices the way he lingers on his biceps so he flexes subtly under the gaze. Deku grabs the hem of his tight, black shirt and tugs. “You have too many clothes on Kaachan, come on, please. Wanna feel you.”
Normally he would be kind and give into whatever demands this nerd spews at him, but today he’s feeling particularly cruel. “Running away from me like that and you think you call the shots, asshole?”
Deku’s hands are stopped by his much bigger ones only to be placed firmly on the table. “Be a dear and keep them there. You can do that can’t you? You can be a good boy for me right?” Condescension seeped out of his every word and the desperate expression on Deku’s face only managed to spur him on more.
He wants to go slow, take his time unraveling this boy, worshiping his every move, his every sound. But that’s for another time when they both aren’t shaking from anticipation to feel each other for the first time.
“Answer my fucking question.” The please is left unsaid, but he needs it more than he needs air.
“I’ll be good for you.” The way Deku is canting his body closer towards him, seeking any friction Katsuki will allow him, is scorching his skin.
Katsuki doesn’t bother with his own clothes, too busy pushing Deku to lay flat against the table and unbuttoning and yanking his pants off of his body. The image he was left with could have fueled him for years to come. Thick legs wrapped around his waist, cream sweater riding up his chest, curly hair sticking to his face flushed red with sweat and tears. His cock was twitching and hard against his abdomen, beads of precum pooling at the tip like it was crying. He looked practically devoured. Like a meal fit for a king, and boy did he ever feel like a king.
He wants to fuck him, feel him from the inside out like it’s his last mission on Earth, but they don’t have lube and Katsuki isn’t a fucking idiot. The size of his massive cock is about as big as his ego, and maybe spit is an okay temporary for the average guy, Katsuki isn’t average in anything. He could pull back, rummage around in Deku’s room and look for it, but he’s not willing or able to tear himself away from the wet heat under him.
They have plenty of time for Katsuki to split him in half later. He could make a game out of it, work him up slowly with his fingers, see how many times he could make him cum before he finally fucks him open, overstimulated and sobbing.
The look he gives Deku is merciless. “Fucking hard already, Deku?”
He knows he isn’t any better, but the way Deku moans at the sick tone of his voice makes it worth the hypocrisy.
Half broken cries of please and need it spill from his mouth as Katsuki slowly unbuttons his own pants. He pulls them down just enough to take his cock out, hissing from the sensation of it in his hand. He wants Deku to know how this is gonna go, how unbothered he is to not take off his own clothes and leave the smaller man in only his socks and sweater.
Deku’s eyes don’t leave his lower half, watching longingly as Katsuki uses his own hand to tease the head of his dick, twisting roughly around his own piercing. He wants to kiss him again, feel the hot metal in his mouth, know how it feels against him.
Hands are twitching at Deku’s sides and Katsuki brings one of his own to pink lips in anticipation. “Use your mouth for something useful and get it wet for me.”
The puppy dog eyes he gets in return only are wide and shining with hope. “Are you gonna fuck me now?”
There’s a brief pause before Katsuki smirks. “No.” Fingers press into a wet mouth before holding to let Deku whine and move his head around them like it’s his fucking civic duty.
When they’re just wet enough, shiny with spit and dripping down his hand, Katsuki has the bright idea to take both of their cocks in his grasp and press them together.
They groan in unison, momentarily distracted by how good it feels to finally be this close. Katsuki is sure he’d give up his first born son just to experience this one more time. He lets the drool collect in his mouth before he spits down onto the both of them.
Katsuki isn’t sure what compels him to lean forward and ghost his lips against Deku’s own bitten ones, but he does. “As much as I want to watch you fall apart on my cock, I don’t think you can take it. You’re going to have to settle for my hand today.”
That seemed to get Deku frantic, hips bucking up into Katsuki’s hold and creating such a delicious friction that had his head swimming in seconds. “Wait, no, please. I can take it. I can take it. Wait, Katsuki, let me try I wan-“
Before Deku can say another word, Katsuki is moving his hips, manhandling powerful thighs to bend at an unnatural angle, delighting in the way Deku is so pliable for him. Years as a yoga instructor did wonders, and it has Katsuki wondering what other positions he could fold him in. He presses one of his thighs against the side of Deku’s head with a silent order for him to hold it there. Like the good little helper he is, Deku does without complaint.
The stretch only seems to add more fire to Deku’s desperation, one hand holding his leg in place, the other joining Katsuki’s after he wets his own first.
It’s embarrassing how fast he feels himself fall, wasting no time to thrust his hips at a violent pace, watching as tears fall from Deku’s face. He loves him. Loves the way he shakes under his hold, sloppily kissing the fingers that found themselves caressing the side of his freckled head. Loves how erotic Deku is moaning around them, unable to keep his eyes off of Katsuki like he’s the only man on Earth.
“Fuck, Deku, look at you. You’re so good for me like this, look so precious gagging for it.”
Deku’s tongue lolling out of his mouth in a show, drool collecting at the end of it and onto his sweater. Katsuki doesn’t want to think about how much of a mess they’re making, only wants to feel the way they slide together deliciously.
“Thought of you like this, Kaachan.”
Oh?
“Thought of how you’d be.”
He was far too intrigued to sound condescending, instead whispering with breathless curiosity while he moved his hips slower to let the other breathe. “And how is that?”
Deku must have known what he was doing, batting his eyelashes and tightening his hand wrapped around them. “Thought you’d be mean like how you are on air. Thought - ah, fuck- you’d be rough, use your hands on me...” The way he softly grabbed the hand caressing his cheek to travel lower, wrap it around his neck where it felt like it belonged, was downright sinful. “...Here.”
“This is how you want me to hurt you? Hand around your throat like a whore?”
Katsuki could feel himself lose it when he tightened his hand around Deku’s throat. The noises were muted by the lack of blood rushing to his head, but Katsuki was more focused on the way his eyes rolled back, mouth open. He fell apart while he watched in wonder, felt Deku’s body tremble through his orgasm, Katsuki’s name a ghost on his lips, back arched, their cum ruining his sweater. He'd have Pavlov’s dogged himself if Deku ever wore it again, knowing just what face he made when he was twitching in his hands in bliss.
They were covered in sweat and tears and more fluids Katsuki would like to count, but he was gentle when he raked his hands over Deku’s body, brushing the hair out of his face in a loving gesture.
Breaths coming in panting and pained when he finally spoke. “I thought I lost you.”
Deku pulled him down for a kiss, slow and deep. He could feel the heaviness of his feelings through it. It was overwhelming. “Sorry for running away.”
Katsuki’s smile was genuine for the first time in days. “Unblock me before I give you a knuckle sandwich, twerp.”
(x)
The days following their meeting had Izuku on cloud nine, kicking himself for ever thinking that Kaachan could be anything less than Kaachan. He didn’t have long to dwell on his mistake, because the only thing that he had time to think about was the way he felt so at home.
They cleaned up after the first night, Kaachan insisting to do all the work while Izuku lay boneless on the table, mumbling about how good Kaachan takes care of him unintelligibly. From the way he relaxed at his words, Izuku made sure to keep it up until a couch pillow was pressed abruptly in his face. He immediately made quick work of his promise to feed Izuku after giving him a lecture about the sorry state his fridge was in.
Most of the time they stayed at Kaachan’s place after work, huddled together under covers while they watched and theorized about their favorite superhero movies. It felt so natural to be around one another, like in some parallel universe they grew up together attached at the hip.
The grocery shopping was something he had to get used to. It’s nice to have someone to go with. It feels almost domestic with the way they playfully bicker in the cereal aisle, but Izuku prays for the day he can go alone and buy Cinnamon Toast Crush again without the added argument about the potential to find shrimp stuffed in the bottom of the bag . Kaachan insisted on feeding him properly despite complaining midway through, but Izuku is positive he only does it to hear excited praise when he takes a bite.
Actually he’s certain Kaachan does a lot of things to hear Izuku praise and dote after him. He was surprisingly handy, fixing a faulty light in his bathroom that hasn’t been touched in months because he’s too short and too lazy to deal with it himself. There was a comment about how useless he was somewhere in there, but he replaced the light no matter how many times Izuku told him he didn’t need to. At every corner Kaachan manages to surprise Izuku, so much more romantic and sensitive to his needs than he would have given him credit for.
On air he’s so combative and feisty, and needless to say it translates seamlessly to real life, but he’s also... thoughtful in his own way.
There’s a sense of fondness he gets when he watches Kaachan talk about his friends. It’s the same when he grunts out something dismissive but thought out about a topic he’s passionate about. Izuku didn’t think he could love this man more, but he’s been wrong before.
Izuku has a hard time differentiating whether Kaachan’s need to be touching him at all times is a him thing or if he’s afraid Izuku will disappear again. Perhaps both, but regardless he doesn’t mind the hands caressing his lower back as they stand next to one another, or how when he’s doing his physics homework Kaachan insists on caging him in, his head resting on his shoulder while hands wrap around his waist to keep him still.
They share quick kisses that turn into something deep and carnal when it’s time to leave, his apartment always feeling cold when he does.
Except that’s all that happens. Kaachan won’t touch him more than the heated make out sessions on the couch late at night or sliding a hand against his ass when Izuku bends to check which fruit is ripe enough to bring home. Breath ghosts against his neck because that’s just how Kaachan is, always pressed behind him in one form or another, but never more. Never in the way he wants.
It took a week to get their schedules right for Kaachan to finally meet Ochako and Ida. Apparently he was one to workout strictly mornings, but found the time to surprise him during his afternoon shift at work. Both Ida and Ochako come to stretch after their classes during the week and when Kaachan’s brooding, intimidating presence strolled into the open room like he owned the place, everyone stopped to stare.
Izuku doesn’t blame them, he was also caught staring with his mouth open while he was fiddling with the speaker by the stage.
Fuck him for looking so good, but also fuck him for stalking up to him immediately with that shit eating smirk on his face. Izuku is convinced he’s ready to kill him at any given moment.
“I didn’t expect you to be the stretching type.”
Kaachan shrugged, the orange matt finally coming into view. “Figured I should see how the hell you manage to do that thing you do with your legs.”
“Why? Wanna learn?”
“I like thinking of it like reading the instructions before you play with a new toy. Don’t wanna break you.” How the hell does he just say that in public?
Izuku’s face was burning, immediately feeling the curious looks from the other members' boring holes into them. Kaachan seemed to be aware of the others, but unbothered as he leaned forward to steal a quick kiss.
He wants to kill him for working him up like this on purpose. He was about to do just that before Ochako wiggled her way in between them, Ida right on her trail.
“Is this the famous Katsuki I’ve heard all about?” She was sweet with her words, but Izuku knew just how protective she could be. He was preparing himself for them to be at each other’s throats.
Ida held his hand out quickly to cut the tension. “It’s nice to finally meet you, we’re good friends of Midoriya’s.”
Kaachan tentatively shook it before looking at Izuku, pleading for help before he said something he shouldn’t. Ida specifically is the type of person that would make him feel awkward. Izuku thought it was cute that he was trying to play nice for him, enjoying watching him sweat from restraint. “Uh, nice to meet you Four Eyes.”
Ah, too late. In Kaachan’s defense, that was as nice as it gets. Ida’s face was red with shock, but this time it was Ochako who came to save the day, pushing him towards the back of the room near their matts before the taller one found the words to speak. “Oh boy, we’re going to get ready, y’all make sure not to give everyone a show they didn’t pay for.”
Izuku stuffed his face in his hands at the implication. Kaachan would do it without hesitation too. With how physical he had been since they met, Izuku thinks he would jump at the opportunity to show off in front of a crowd.
The voice in his ear shocked him. “Does he always have a stick up his ass?”
A giggle. “Yeah, but he’s just like that.”
“Hm, well make sure to teach me a thing or too, dork.” He winked before retreating to the front row, setting up where he got a clear view of everything Izuku.
Honestly, fuck that guy. He wants to. So bad.
After a week of not going farther than heavy petting, and months of listening to the raspiness of his voice in the solitude of his car, Izuku was buzzing under his skin. If Kaachan is going to play dirty, then he’s going to do everything to amplify temptation. The sudden chivalry has been like an ice bath. Chivalry should be dead, Kaachan should kill it like he does everything wholesome.
Kaachan makes him feel good about himself. He feels like he’s brimming with confidence with the way red eyes follow his movements, hovering longer than necessary when he bends, lengthening his back, reaching his toes.
It was an advanced class today, bodies brimming with sweat not even ten minutes in, and Kaachan never left his peripheral. He was pleasantly surprised with how well he was able to keep up, core tight and balanced, but unable to stretch as far as he was. It was to be expected, Izuku had been doing this for years, his muscles were used to the push and pull of the complicated positions.
At one point while Izuku was directing everyone through the Humble Flamingo, he felt eyes leave him. He glanced quickly, arms cemented to the ground, face tucked into his feet. His legs and arms made an X from the sides, one calf kicked in the air, muscles warm and blood pumping. Kaachan’s eyes were focused intently behind him, and in that moment he remembered there was a floor length mirror from wall to wall behind him.
He kept that information in the back of his mind for the rest of the class, using that to his advantage. He caught Ochako’s knowing smirk from the back and elected to ignore it.
By the time it was over, the room felt humid even after people slowly shuffled out. Kaachan was on him in an instant, bending down to keep their whispers between the two of them.
“If you move like that every time you’re at work, I’ll have to start coming to visit more often. ”
This was it, finally, in the haze of his yoga studio he felt like he was coming undone. He’d risk it all right here for this man standing tall and proud in front of him, shoulders thick and bulging in the cut outs of his wife beater.
“I’d do it too. Pull you to the bathrooms to mark you up, make you unable to wear such a low cut shirt around anyone ever again.”
Izuku felt dizzy, toes stretching, pushing him up to make it a reality, anything, please.
Buzz. Buzz.
The vibrations in Kaachan’s pockets pulled them apart, Kaachan cursing to himself as he read it.
No, no, no, no. Izuku is so frustrated he could cry right now.
“Gotta go to work soon, fuck. Tune in tonight so I can serenade you, alright?”
As if he doesn’t listen to him every night? Izuku was offended he even had to ask, still unwilling to let him leave just yet.
He did serenade him that night with the same banter and shitty attitude that made Izuku fall for him.
Apparently he had ran into Ochako and Ida in the parking lot on the way out and they had got to talking. He texted Izuku that night about getting together soon. It seems he respects Ochako a lot despite his attitude. Ida, Izuku thinks, he just enjoys bullying.
(x)
Izuku has yet to meet Kaachan’s friends though, which is ridiculous considering one of which he’s been speaking to just as long as he had been the blonde.
That is until Mina finally annoyed Kaachan enough to bring Izuku around to meet everyone. He remembers hearing her through the phone, chastising him for keeping Izuku all to himself. They still text everyday about nonsense, and it wasn’t until Kaachan caught them making plans without him that he gave in.
When Izuku asked him about why he didn’t want them to hang out alone, Kaachan’s ears turned red. “They’ll probably say some embarrassing shit. I don’t trust that alien looking freak.”
He was amused then, still not even sure what Mina looked like, but he assumed that Katsuki forgot about the months of anonymity they shared.
Mina was actually the cutest person alive. If he could use one word to describe her it would be pink. Pink in the way early Paris Hilton would be described as pink if she specifically shopped high end second hand ‘vintage’ clothing. Minus the shady Depop reseller vibe. She’s stylish. He thought it suited her.
They hugged for as long as Kirishima allowed them to, claiming he gets a turn to hug the guy who managed to tame their precious Bakubro. Izuku got a face full of pecs before finally being allowed to breathe.
Denki and Sero were relentless in their attempts to get their arms around him next, and in seconds he was lifted off the ground, both bodies squeezing him from all angles.
“Yo, he’s cute Bakugo! Why’d you hide him away for so long!” Sero, he thinks, beams over to where Kaachan is grumbling in his seat. They were over at Kaachan's place for movie night and he’s never felt more welcome.
Denki puts his hand on his shoulder, shocking him with electricity. “Oh, sorry man! I’m full of static.”
Sero elbowed him in the side. “Don’t let him fool you, he’s fried his brain at this point. Doctors say he came out of the womb sticking forks in light sockets.”
During the movie Kirishima and Mina smoked a bit, the white cloud of miasma filling the room. They both insisted he sit sandwiched between them, Kirishima’s arm around his shoulders holding him tight, and Mina laying against Izuku's chest. The smoke made him feel heavy in a good way and he briefly noted how comfortable he felt like this, like he’s known them forever.
He could feel whenever Kirishima would chuckle or inhale, chest expanding and contrasting with the motions. It was nice, rhythmic. He was practically as big as Kaachan, dwarfing him on the couch. Mina stayed glued to him like a koala, the weight of her head and arms around his waist grounding him in the moment.
He remembers looking over at Kaachan throughout the movie, who was sat in an armchair to the side. He was focused, arms clenched around a pillow with that little frown on his face. With the way he was so possessive, Izuku was surprised how calm he was seeing his friends all over him. He thinks it’s a testament to how close they are, how unthreatened he was. It’s an observation that makes Izuku love him more.
He loves his friends just how Kaachan loves his friends, and he loves Kaachan more for it. The blue light of the TV covered the right side of his face, emphasizing the soft curve of his brow and the purple mark he left high on his neck just yesterday. This moment hardly felt real. Kaachan was his and he was Kaachan’s and his heart felt so full he wanted to cry.
Their eyes meet when red eyes glance at him during one of the most important parts in the movie, a warm smile on his lips. It was vulnerable and too much for his gay little heart, so he buried himself in Kirishima’s chest, arm tightening around him in comfort.
At one point Kaachan kicked out his friends, the TV still playing something soft in the background, but he wasn’t paying attention in the slightest. Izuku was still curled up on the couch in the dark, anticipating finally, finally being alone with Kaachan.
He was wearing those loose sweatpants that hung low against his hips. Izuku was considering filing a complaint against Nike for personally making his life harder. Red eyes immediately landed on his own as we walked back into the room.
They sat next to each other, Kaachan’s legs spread wide, arm retreating against the back of the couch. He seemed uncharacteristically nervous. “So, happy you finally met them?”
He faked being in thought for a moment before giving him a bright smile. “I see why you like them so much. Invite me again next time?”
Kaachan didn’t answer, opting instead to stare at him from the side. His eyes wouldn’t leave his lips, tempting him to just go for it and pounce.
From this distance he could smell the sweet caramel Kaachan was known to permeate, even through the musk of weed. “It still smells like weed in here.”
That seemed to distract him. He snorted, leaning forward onto his knees, reaching for the bowl on the table. “Yeah, I guess it does. Do you smoke?”
Izuku stared at him in disbelief. “I’m way too sexy to know how to work that thing, Kaachan.” Really? He screams I didn’t get invited to school parties because I was very obviously stuck to the flagpole. That never actually happened to him, but ther imagery was there.
There was a laugh as Katsuki reached for the lighter covered in skulls and Thrasher flames. “Do you want to?”
He thought about it. It wasn’t something he ever craved doing, always more of a drinker than anything, but here with Kaachan he feels safe. A better time than any. “Sure, why not?”
Kaachan held the bowl up to his lips and watched intently as he lit it. “I’ll hold it. Put your mouth on it and suck. Inhale, yeah like that.”
He was doing it, feeling the smoke fill up his lungs smoothly until Kaachan started speaking. He breathed in too much when he heard the word suck come out of his mouth like he was commanding him to do something else. The cloudy feeling in his head would have been nice if he wasn’t coughing his lungs out, eyes watering at the corners.
“Not too much or that’ll happen. Here, softer like this.” Kaachan took a hit and Izuku watched the way his head tilted back as he exhaled. It was unfair how hot he was. “Try again.”
Izuku did, stopping before it went down wrong, and his head felt floaty and his arms felt like they were buzzing. It wasn’t a bad sensation, in fact he kind of liked it.
“See that wasn’t so hard, good boy.” His throat was burning as was his face. They way Kaachan can go from vulgarities and filth to condescending praise made his head swim. He could already feel his jeans tightening under the implications.
From the way Kaachan gave him a once over while he took another hit himself, he knew just how he affected him. If he could punch him in his stupid, pretty face he would.
“Here let me shotgun it to you to make it easier.”
He was about to ask what that meant before Kaachan took another hit and pulled his face towards him, mouth open and blowing smoke directly into it. He’s not sure if it’s the weed or Kaachan’s presence so close to his own, lips barely ghosting one another, but his ears are ringing. He wants everything Kaachan is willing to offer him.
The blonde was pulling back, retreating into the comfort of his spot on the couch, but Izuku has had enough of this cat and mouse.
He wants to feel him, all of him.
Green hair follows him back to his seated position, thighs pushing forward to crawl into personal space. He decides straddling Kaachan’s lap and sitting nice and pretty on top of him is the best way to emphasize his point.
He brings their mouths together again, this time no smoke in the way of the kiss. The bowl and lighter were left discarded somewhere unimportant, big hands too busy digging into the meat of Izuku’s hips. He wants it to bruise, wants the reminder to sting for days.
Kaachan holds his hips still as they desperately try to grind against what can only be explained as Kaachan’s very hard cock in his sweatpants. He can feel how much he wants him, so why? Why is he stopping this?
Izuku whines through the kiss, hands snaking upwards to clutch desperately around a thick neck and collar. His name became a mantra on his tongue, the only word he knows how to say. “You won’t fuck me.” It came out more like a statement than a question, disappointment evident in his tone.
Kaachan stayed shocked for a moment before morphing into a face of satisfaction. “Do you want me to fuck you?” The hands on his hips traveled further, into his jeans, barely teasing.
Izuku felt like he could cry, far passed the shame of humiliation, and bit his lip until he tasted blood. “God, yes, please. Please, I’ve been so good. I’ve been waiting for you.” As if to drive his point home further he started to grind into Kaachan harder, moaning at the friction he so urgently needed.
There was a groan from the other as he closed his eyes, head tilted back and out of the way. “Yeah, me too, fuck. Me too.” The hands stuffed into his jeans and cupped against his ass pressed harder, made him grind down so hard he was seeing stars. “Need to get you ready though. Didn’t wanna hurt you, that's why I waited.”
Normally Izuku would think the gesture was sweet, but after the week of pure torture he’s had, it only infuriates him more.
Kaachan made a move to get up, and Izuku was not happy about it. “Gonna carry you to my room. No way in hell I’m doing this without lube.”
He knows it’s because it’s big. He’s seen it a handful of times, felt it hard and pressed up against his lower back more times than he can count.
Somewhere, deep down he’s sure embarrassment was burning bright and hot, but right now he couldn’t care less. He reached into his back pocket for one of those portable lube packets they give out at sex clinics and shitty school functions. “Wanted to be ready for you whenever....”
Kaachan manhandled him until he was pressed flat on his back, the soft cushion of the couch being the only thing to ground him to reality. He wasn’t very high per-se, but his sensations were heightened and heavy and all he could think about was Kaachan.
“God, you’re such a slut. Ready to spread your legs for me whenever I tell you too? Look at how you’re whining. Gonna wake up my neighbors with a voice like that.” The filthy words managed to spur him on, hips bucking up, hands tearing at clothes. “So prepared for me, how sweet. You’re gonna stay here while I grab a condom from my room and you’re not going to move.”
Normally the authoritative tone would be a turn on, make him want to just roll over and obey, but right now he feels like he’s going to go crazy if Kaachan leaves him.
His eyes are pleading as he grasps at straws. “No, no, wait I’m clean please, please, I want you to cum in me. You have to fill me up like you said. Please, Kaachan don’t go.” He was borderline unintelligible with the way he babbled and thrashed about, but he was violent with need.
For once his words seemed to have struck something in him. He wasn’t concerned about condoms anyway, knowing too well how anal Kaachan is about his own personal health, but also shaking with the prospect of finally, finally feeling him like he’s always wanted.
In a flash Kaachan’s shirt is thrown off and onto the floor and Izuku uses that moment to revel in the sight. His own pants were tugged off next leaving him in a similar situation like the first time. “You asked for it you little shit”
The lube packet lay unopened on his stomach, his own shirt finally joining the rest of their clothes. Kaachan roughly tugs his body down to rest level with his own. He wants to touch, to taste, but he knows better than to play with fire.
Kaachan’s fingers were so much bigger than his own and absolutely dripping with slick.
“Always wondered what it would be like to have you like this.” A finger entered him finally, finally, and he moaned at the stretch. It was nothing he couldn’t handle, far too used to the feeling of his own inside him, silently wishing they were someone else.
“Wanted to tear you apart on my fingers and see you break.”
He can’t think except for how he was going to push against the hand that impaled him. Another finger joined the first. Kaachan always made him feel so good.
“You’re better than I imagined. Who knows maybe I will end up fucking you stupid. Would you like that? Turn all mindless and fucked out just for me?”
He only managed a choked moan. It wasn’t enough, he needed more, more, more.
A third burned in the best way. “Wow you’re taking it so well. Did you do this to yourself and think of me? Don’t fucking lie to me.”
Izuku doesn’t know why Kaachan is asking questions he knows the answer to already. It’s frustrating, making his throat close up from being overwhelmed with how good he feels. He tries to nod anyway, words failing him in the moment, because he knows Kaachan wants an answer.
“Yes, yes, I do. I do, ah!- ”
His smirk is sickening. “I fucking knew it.
It felt like eternity. He lay naked on the couch, blurry eyes looking up at Kaachan like he was a God, and perhaps he was. The shine from the TV illuminated his silhouette in a way that couldn’t be natural, couldn’t be real. It took a moment to finally find his voice, but all he could let out were cries of please, please please.
And when Kaachan finally pulled out to release himself from the constraints of his own pants, Izuku thought his heart would stop. He had seen it before, felt it before, but it looked so big, proportional to Kaachan’s overwhelming build. There’s no way it’s gonna fit.
The look on Kaachan’s face was pure evil as he covered himself in more lube and lined himself up. “Then I’ll make it fit.”
Suddenly everything made sense. The feeling so overwhelmingly delicious and good and, fuck, he felt so full. He’s sure his face mirrored the blissed out version of Kaachan’s above him, covered in a layer of sweat.
“Oh God.”
Hands grasped for purchase against Kaachan’s back, undoubtedly leaving marks from his nails, but neither seemed to care.
“You can call me God all you want, but I prefer Katsuki coming from you.”
He could only groan in response, loving the way confidence rolled off of his body while he’s balls deep inside of him.
The strained fucks whispered under Kaachan’s breath when he picked up the pace were like music to his ears, thighs trembling from the force of his thrusts. He hit that angle that was impossible for Izuku to find by himself, and he was finished. His orgasm was unexpected, body seizing and all he could do was chant his name as he came untouched. “Katsuki, oh God, please.”
“That’s right you can cum, go on”
Kaachan devoured Izuku in a kiss as he fucked him through it, twitching and unsure whether he wanted to squirm away or get closer. He was still impossibly hard, teeming with oversensitivity, but Kaachan didn’t seem to care as he wrapped his hand around his cock and set a pace as unforgiving as his thrusts.
He was so sensitive, there’s no way, he can’t cum again. It seems like his body didn’t get the memo with the way he was throbbing painfully in Kaachan’s big hand, tears finally spilling over and onto his cheeks.
He watched the way well defined muscles flexed from the movement of working into tight heat and he was transfixed. Kaachan’s free hand was busy pushing his thighs apart farther, the stretch only adding to more of Izuku’s fuck drunk haze.
He felt the way Kaachan’s rhythm faltered and knew he was close, but his hand didn’t let up. “There’s no way, I don’t think I can cum again, Kaachan- Katsuki, please, I-“
Kaachan only looked at him with his face screwed up in pleasure. “You will.”
During moments like these his body knew just how to listen. His mind was now preoccupied with Kaachan, desperate to feel him cum. He looked down between their bodies to see the soft outline of Kaachan’s cock moving in his stomach and he nearly lost it at the sight. He pressed a hand on the spot to feel the movement himself. “You’re gonna cum right here.” It was more like a statement full of wonder, deaf to his own ears, but Kaachan definitely heard it with the way he groaned loudly in his ear.
They were both so close, so ready to feel their thirst satiated for each other it was overwhelming.
“Deku, fuck you’re so perfect for me.” Kaachan came with a final thrust, and it was when Izuku felt it that his own washed over him.
They were gross and sticky, both of his releases coating his stomach, but neither wanted to move, too exhausted and boneless to do anything. Izuku finally felt his head defog when Kaachan kissed him softly. He used his shirt that was discarded on the floor to gingerly clean him up, and as much as Izuku enjoyed the attention, he’d much prefer to snuggle together in his arms with that ugly, knitted blanket draped over the back of the coach.
Kaachan’s voice broke his train of thought. “Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you did I?” He sounded worried, scared for a split second that Izuku had any regrets.
He thought of the time he compared Kaachan to the people who used to make his life a living hell. How they were similar in the way they used their words like a vice. How they overpowered anyone they came into contact with just by simply being there. He feels silly for even attempting to make a connection like that. The soft look of concern and fondness made all the difference.
Izuku offered him a small smile in consolidation. “You’re perfect, Katsuki.”